Prologue

A cool breeze brushed Ashton’s shoulder during the night and he rolled over in bed, pushing the duvet aside. He had been so deeply asleep that it took him a while before his disquiet registered.

A cool breeze?

He hadn’t opened any windows and it was too early in the spring for air conditioning. He propped himself up on his elbows and, gaze following the direction of the draft, saw that the sliding glass door to his balcony was open.

Had he left it open before going to bed? Why hadn’t the alarm gone off? He had forgotten to set it? He reached for his iPhone to check to the estate’s alarm app but saw that the phone’s battery had run down and it was off.

Shaking his head, he realized he couldn’t remember setting the alarm when he got home. He’d been toasted when the chauffeur dropped him off at the front door to his estate. The night was a blur. All he remembered was tying up that hot chick and torturing her, stuffing the dirty rag in her mouth and pulling the hood over her head. She’d fought ferociously but he had been ready for her.

Ashton stretched and flinched when he felt the bruise on his side. The bitch had kicked him before he’d restrained her legs. He’d made her pay for it, though. The memory of her pitiful whimpering got him hard and he reached down to massage his cock. His magnificent appendage–his pride and joy!–was already half erect and getting harder by the second. Ashton smiled to himself, throwing off the sheets and pacing into the bathroom.

His perfectly defined and muscular physique, limned from behind by the hallway light, sprang into view as he stumbled inside, multiplied in dazzling grandeur by the dozens of mirrors suspended from every surface. Flipping on the light, he paused to admire his blue eyes and hipster-stylish blond hair and beard. He popped a bicep and smiled, delighting in the fresh whiteness of his teeth, the pulse and throb of his huge cock, the sultry tumescence of his muscles under his flawless skin. He frowned when he saw the darkening bruise under his rib cage but then shrugged. It was only a bruise. The wounds he’d inflicted on the stupid bitch would leave her scarred for life. Ha! Cunt had it coming!

Ashton Koch knew he was the handsomest man in Illinois, if not the entire Midwest. Shit, even the preening fitness models on Instagram couldn’t eclipse his beauty.

He smirked and strode over to the toilet. He was waiting for his erection to subside so he could piss when he heard a muffled creak behind him. Skin tingling with sudden fear, he whirled, his cock and balls flopping painfully against his thigh in the process.

Nothing.

There was nothing.

Ashton reached down and kneaded his now aching package and wrinkled his brow. Must be imagining things, he thought. Yeah, getting jumpy. He grinned to himself and commenced pissing.

The hood had slipped over his head before he had a chance to react. A second later, he was losing consciousness as a noxious odor filled his lungs. His head swam and he collapsed on the floor.

The last thing he remembered was the sensation of his warm piss puddling under his buttocks.

***

Chapter 1

The police captain’s office was at the end of a dark hallway. Pete Lopez’s stomach was aching furiously by the time he reached the closed door and lifted his big hand to knock. There was only a brief pause before the door opened and he found himself staring into the wide, blue eyes of the captain’s secretary, Ms. Ramsey. She was almost ridiculously done up, wearing caked on makeup and a pink dress that hugged her curvaceous body like a second skin. Her voluptuous breasts all but spilled out of the lacy decolletage. Her hair, normally dark brown, had been dyed platinum blonde. Pete could feel his neck growing hot and he had to look away. Reina Ramsey was a potent drug that he couldn’t afford to take.

“The captain is waiting,” Ms. Ramsey pronounced. Her falsetto voice was girlish and coy, reminding Pete uncomfortably of those old ‘Betty Boop’ cartoons he’d seen as a kid.

She stepped away from the doorway, leaving some room for him to squeeze past but not enough for him to avoid brushing against her ballooning breasts. Pete cleared his throat, feeling his cock inadvertently pulse in his uniform. Reina was not his type of woman–she was too exaggerated, too hyper-feminine–but his body responded to her forcefully, betraying him every time. Pete hated being near her.

He had no choice that morning, though. He was trapped with her and the captain in the cramped office with a window that opened on a brick wall three feet away. Until ten years ago, the police department had a view of the river but then the city council had voted to build the municipal building adjacent to it and now all of the windows on the east side faced empty brick walls. It only added to the oppressive feeling of the place. Ms. Ramsey sauntered behind the captain’s chair as Pete took up position in front of his desk, standing erect and uncomfortable as sweat trickled down his back. Was there no ventilation in there?

The captain, a man of about sixty with a white mustache, a barrel chest and a smoker’s voice, was eying him closely from across the desk. He seemed to be sizing him up, something that only added to Pete’s unease. After a very long time, the man nodded, saying with a sly grin, “Take a seat, Ethan.”

Pete blinked. “Captain Reilly?”

For some reason this seemed to amuse both Ms. Ramsey and Captain Reilly. The captain leaned back in his chair, booming with laughter as Ms. Ramsey tittered behind him. Pete stared at them, perplexed. Sweat was now pouring down his back and soaking his shirt where his tight belt gripped his waist.

“Ethan Adelson,” the captain pronounced, obviously deriving great enjoyment out of Pete’s confusion. “Take a seat, Ethan Adelson.” He motioned to the chair in front of him.

Hands shaking, Pete sat down. The chair was too short and he felt like he was eating his knees. The seat hugged his beefy behind and he worried that he would be stuck in it when he tried to stand up again.

“Why’re you calling me ‘Ethan’?”

The captain didn’t answer right away. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, hands steepled under his chin and a sly smile on his lips. Finally, he pronounced, “Yeah, you’ll be perfect. Perfect for the job. Boyish good looks, muscular body. We get you a decent haircut, some spiffy clothes, and a hot car… Shit! You’ll be the perfect lure!”

Somehow Pete found the wherewithal to stammer, “Uh, Captain, sorry but I don’t get it. What’re you talking about?”

The captain answered with a question of his own. “You heard of Ashton Koch, Adelson?”

Pete’s brow wrinkled at the continued use of the strange name before answering, “Uh…no. No, I haven’t.”

Rolling his eyes, Captain Reilly couldn’t keep the disdain out of his voice as he turned to Ms. Ramsey. “Give him the file, Rae.” 

The secretary turned to rummage through a filing cabinet behind the captain’s desk. While she was doing so, the captain slapped her hard on the ample behind, making her jump. She giggled and the captain winked at Pete. A moment later, Ms. Ramsey extracted a fat manilla folder and handed it to the captain. He pushed it across the desk to Pete, nodding his head for him to take it.

Pete opened it to a photo of a young man with blond hair and blue eyes. He was leering at the camera, a shit-eating grin plastered on his handsome face. Everything about him screamed rich asshole. Pete looked up at the captain questioningly.

“Recognize him?”

Pete shook his head. “No.”

“That’s Ashton Koch. He’s heir to a business empire worth more than five hundred billion dollars. He disappeared last night from his home on the city’s west side. Disappeared without a trace.” When this was met with a blank stare from Pete, the captain continued, “He’s the sixth member of a wealthy family to go missing this year, Adelson. All of them have disappeared in the same way, kidnapped from their estates or penthouses. All of them have been young. All of them have been male. And all of them have been huge donors to a certain political party that controls our city’s pursestrings.”

Pete’s lip must lifted with this last bit because the captain smiled ruefully. “Yeah, I know, kid. That party. The one that cut our budget by half, busted up the union, and destroyed our pensions.” He seemed about to say something else but then changed his mind, continuing, “But this may be our golden opportunity, Adelson. You follow?”

Pete shook his head and the captain sighed. Ms. Ramsey had taken a seat behind the captain and was filing her cherry-red nails, the tip of her tongue sticking delicately out of the corner of her mouth. 

“Lemme explain: There is a team of private investigators trying to track down the missing men and so far they have come up short. No trace.” He paused to turn to Ms. Ramsey, asking, “Rae, would be a dear and massage my neck? I got a nasty crimp in it from banging Cheryl last night.” Pete squirmed awkwardly in his chair as the secretary obediently stood up and commenced rubbing the captain’s shoulders. Captain Reilly exhaled deeply, sighing, “Ahhhh, that’s the spot. Right there. Good girl!” Ms. Ramsey smiled vacantly, applying more pressure as the captain moaned in pleasure. Pete cleared his throat and the captain opened his eyes, seeming to have forgotten that he had company. “Oh, yeah, sorry, kid,” he said gruffly. “Where was I?”

“You said there’re a bunch of PIs on the case already…?”

“Yeah, at least fifty guys. The missing boys’ rich daddies haven’t spared any expense but haven’t found anything yet…” his voice drifted off and his eyes rolled back in his head as Ms. Ramsey’s fingers touched a particularly tender spot. When he resumed speaking, the captain’s eyes were glassy. “But that’s where I got this brilliant idea, see?”

“Uh, no, I don’t…”

Reilly wrinkled his lip, explaining, “I got this brilliant plan: Set you up as a rich brat to act as a lure for the kidnapper. We’ll change your identity to ‘Ethan Adelson,’ grandson of that famous bigwig and have you run in the same circles as the other rich kids. I’ve already cleared it with central and the mayor talked to Mr. Adelson himself. He’s agreed to rent us a penthouse downtown for a song. After you leave this office, you will go undercover for the most important case of your life, Ethan. You onboard?”

Captain Reilly’s eyes were boring into Pete’s skull and Ms. Ramsey fixed him with her wide, vapid gaze. Pete shifted in his chair, profoundly uncomfortable. The last thing he wanted to do was pose as stupid rich guy and get his ass kidnapped! He looked down at the floor and back at the captain, noting the intensity of the older man’s expression. Pete Lopez might not be the smartest cop but he wasn’t a dummy, either. He knew that the captain wasn’t asking his permission; he was giving him a direct order.

Shoulders hunching, Pete sighed. “Yeah, Ok, sure. I’ll do it.”

A huge smile crept slowly over the captain’s face as he leaned back into Ms. Ramsey’ kneading hands. “I knew you’d see it my way, kid,” he said finally. “Play this gig out right and the city council will reward the police department in big way. Shit, we may even get our pensions back!”

***

Chapter 2

Ethan Adelson swaggered into the trendy downtown gym later that week, well-groomed and manicured. Every ridge and bulge of his chiseled body was on display under expensive and stylish workout gear. He strode into the lobby, bag slung nonchalantly over his bare shoulder, a confident smirk on his gorgeous face. Standing well over six feet tall and weighing more than 225 pounds, he effortlessly drew the eye of every woman (and some men) in the place. He let the gym bag slide to the floor as he approached the front desk and allowed the pretty brunette to soak in his good looks. His brown hair was swept up and back on the top and faded tight on the sides. His thick beard was meticulously coiffed. His large hand rested easily on the countertop; the only calluses on it were from lifting weights. It was clear to the whole gym that this was a man who had never worked a day in his life.

Arching a plucked eyebrow, he favored the woman with a stunning smile before fixing her with his brown eyes and asking, “How’s it goin’, gorgeous?”

The woman, Kimberly, according to her name tag, looked down and smiled before saying, “I’m doing very well, Mr. Adelson.”

“Puh-leeze, call me Ethan.”

“Oh, Mr. Adelson, you’re so kind.”

Ethan laughed and, picking up his bag, sauntered over to order a smoothie before heading into the locker room. Once inside, his shoulders sagged with relief when he saw that the place was empty. Even though it had only been a few days since he’d assumed the identity of Ethan Adelson, Pete was already tired of maintaining the facade. He chided himself for being such an idiot. Really, he should have been delighted with the turn his life had taken. His days were wide open, leaving him ample time to hone his workouts and perfect the muscular physique he’d been working on since he was a teenager. He lived in a plush penthouse with a full complement of household staff to see to his every need. He slept in every morning and stayed out late every night, visiting the hottest clubs and running up a huge tab. Women swooned over him. In the past three days, he’d already slept with a half dozen eager young ladies.

What more could a guy want?

Casting a weary eye over the opulent decor of the locker room and absently rubbing his wrist where the police department had implanted a tracking chip, he realized he missed the grungy gym in his old neighborhood. Smelling of mildew and sweat, the place nonetheless held a certain nostalgic charm. He knew all of the guys by name who worked out there and had grown up with many of them. It was cheap and unpretentious, loud and uncouth.

Like him.

Not for the first time, he wondered why the fuck he’d agreed to take this assignment. Even before he’d become Ethan Adelson, he’d despised rich people. Living their lazy, grandiose lifestyle hadn’t changed his mind. If anything, he disliked them more than before. There oughta be a law against accumulating so much wealth, he thought darkly, before forcing the thought away. Sighing, he swallowed his regret and forced himself back into the mindset of the arrogant rich brat whose life he’d taken over. 

His locker was in a semi-private cubicle with a stack of scented towels and a speaker playing his favorite tunes. To the side was a glassed-in shower where he could bathe at his leisure, unperturbed by interlopers. The floor was marble, the lockers fashioned from teak. A fountain trickled soothingly in the background.

He was changing into a pair of shorts and a tank top when someone whistled at him across the room and looked up to see Chris Perry, a gym regular and himself a scion of a wealthy family. Pete, now Ethan again, forced a smile and wave, calling out, “Whut up, dude?”

“Nada, amigo,” Chris joked, causing the Pete in Ethan a momentary panic. He was of Argentinian descent but, as Ethan Adelson, he was supposed to be Jewish. Chief Reilly had assured him that he was a dead ringer for the other Adelson kids but Pete had his doubts. Had Chris seen through his disguise? His uncertainty must have shown on his face because the next moment the young guy put him at ease by teasing, “That means, ‘Nothing, friend,’ you dumbass.”

Whew. That was too close.

Pete–er, Ethan–laughed, relaxing. “Just gettin’ here or just leavin’, bro?”

“Just moseyed in. Wanna work out, buddy?”

“Sure as shit,” Ethan said, punching Chris lightly in the arm and pulling his shirt on. Together, the two young men strolled out of the locker room and spent the next three hours lifting their asses off before heading out to go clubbing for the evening.

***

He and Chris hit it off, something that caused Pete no end of consternation. Chris Perry was a clueless asshole who thought the world owed him everything and who only had contempt for the working poor and those of other races and ethnicities–including the Jews, he learned quickly. After a stinging anti-semitic slur, Ethan gently informed Chris that he was a Jew and then watched with wicked enjoyment as the guy scrambled to win his way back into Ethan’s good graces. Like his father, Chris was an avowed conservative and vocal supporter of the current U.S. president, a man whom Pete viewed as petulant child…but whom his alter ego, Ethan, worshipped. Pete soon discovered that being Ethan required him to compromise just about every one of his deeply held beliefs. It sucked. And so did Chris Perry.

And yet…

And yet Chris Perry was also a funny and engaging guy who shared Pete’s taste in music and movies. He possessed a great sense of humor and wasn’t too full of himself to be the butt of a joke here and there. He disarmed Pete with his easy going nature, ceding the role of alpha dog to Ethan without any posturing. The perfect wingman, he treated the women they met at the club later that night with the utmost respect. 

This last part was most surprising to Pete. He’d read up on Ashton Koch before taking on Ethan Adelson’s identity and had been disturbed by the long string of allegations against the man. Ashton, it seemed, had a penchant for deviant sexual practices and several dozen women had filed suit against him, only to mysteriously settle out of court several weeks later. Ashton Koch was friends with Chris Perry, a fact confirmed by Chris himself. (Strangely, Chris seemed untroubled by Ashton’s disappearance, insisting the Ash had simply skipped town for a few weeks.) Did Chris’ association with Ashton mean he shared Koch’s prurient sexual tastes as well? Was his solicitous attitude an act…much like Pete’s impersonation of Ethan Adelson? What if Chris was behind the kidnappings?

Nah, he chided himself. There’s no way that Chris is kidnapper. What would be his motive? The man would have to be incredibly devious to put on such a convincing act. Everything about Chris Perry screamed clueless rich kid. He wasn’t a criminal.

Chris’ voice startled him out of his moment of reverie. “Gonna dance with us, dude?” his friend asked, a funny smile on his face. He was pulling the pretty woman sitting next to him to her feet as she giggled in mock protest.

Ethan looked up just as the music in the club shifted to the sensuous beat of salsa. Unconsciously, his hips had already started shimmying even before he stood up. Holding his hand out to the red-haired beauty sitting next to him (whose name he couldn’t recall), he led her onto the dance floor and proceeded to stun everyone with his sensuous moves. He briefly worried that he was being too ostentatious but soon lost himself in the joyful abandon of dancing. The more attention he attracted to himself, the more likely he was to be targeted by the kidnapper, right?

***

After a week, Ethan Adelson and Chris Perry had become good buddies, spending most days together lifting at the gym and cruising for chicks at night. Seeing them together, people frequently mistook them for brothers, something that amused Chris to no end.

“Dude, I’m a fucking Irish Catholic!” he exclaimed one evening after a particularly hot woman had asked them if they were related. “You and I couldn’t be more different!”

Ethan smiled. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Spare me, Perry. You’re a Jew if there ever was one!”

Chris started to puff up before he realized that Ethan was teasing and laughed. “Good one, bro. Yeah, good one.”

“Ya gotta admit that we are built alike, though,” Ethan continued. “I mean, how tall are you? Six three?”

“Six two and a half,” Chris replied proudly, standing up taller next to the bar stand where they were waiting for their drinks.

Ethan rolled his eyes. “No way. See?” He stood with his back to Chris, pushing up against him and lifting his hand to touch the top of their heads. They stood butt-to-butt, shoulder-to-shoulder, and head-to-head. Exactly the same height. “I’m six two even. There’s no way you’re taller.”

“Taller, better looking, and bigger hung,” Chris joked, turning around to drape his arm over Ethan’s shoulders. His breath was redolent with alcohol; they both had drunk more than their share already that evening.

Ethan shoved his arm off, frowning. “We both know the last one isn’t true, man. I’m the big man in that department.” Ethan had no idea why he said this. He’d never seen Chris naked (and had no desire to). Honestly, he’d never given a thought to the size of the other man’s endowment.

Strangely, Chris’ ears went red and he looked down, shaking his head. “Shit, man! You really know how to knock a guy down, don’t ya?”

Realizing too late he’d struck a nerve, Ethan back pedaled. “Dude! I wasn’t…I mean, I didn’t…oh, shit! I’m sorry. I had no idea that you…:”

“What? That’s I’ve got a small pecker?” Chris challenged. “Yeah, well, I do! You happy? Shit! Why does everyone have to fucking rub my face in it?” He sank down on a bar stool, shoulders hunched and looking miserable. The bartender shoved a drink in front of him but he ignored it. Ethan blinked in disbelief as tears formed in the big man’s eyes. He’d never seen Chris upset by anything before. He must really be drunk!

Taking a deep breath, he settled onto the stool next to his friend, nudging him with his shoulder. Chris stiffened but didn’t pull away. “Hey, man,” he said delicately. “Size is way overrated. Don’t worry about it.”

Chris wiped furiously at his face, sniffling pathetically. “Oh, fuck you! Fuck you, Adelson! You don’t know what it’s like! You have no idea what it’s like when the girls see how tiny my little man is. They laugh at me! Can you believe it? They fucking laugh at me! I haven’t been laid in months. Look at me,” he said, turning to fix Ethan with a baleful stare. “I’m the fucking richest guy in here and I can’t fucking get laid!”

Uncertain what to do, Ethan reached out tentatively and slung his arm over his friend’s shoulder. “Chris,” he murmured. “Let’s get you home, Ok? You’ve had a few too many. You’ll feel better in the morning.”

He thought Chris would protest but instead the dude nodded, looking down at his drink. When Ethan gently lifted him off the stool, he allowed himself to be led out of the bar to his waiting limo.

***

A cool breeze brushed Ethan’s shoulder during the night and he rolled over in bed, pushing the duvet aside. He had been so deeply asleep that it took him a while before his disquiet registered.

A cool breeze?

He hadn’t opened any windows and it was too early in the spring for air conditioning. He propped himself up on his elbows and, gaze following the direction of the draft, saw that the sliding glass door to his balcony was open.

Had he left it open before going to bed?

He couldn’t remember. He and Chris had been pretty drunk. All he remembered was stumbling through the elevator door into his apartment and sending the staff home for the night. Then he must have crashed on his bed but he couldn’t remember exactly. Rubbing his aching temples (he would have a helluva hangover in the morning), he pushed himself off the bed and staggered over to the door to close it. He had just pushed it shut when he heard a sound behind him. Skin prickling with sudden fear, he spun around…

…but he was too late. The hood had slipped over his head before he had a chance to react. A second later, he was losing consciousness as a noxious odor filled his lungs. His head swam and he collapsed on the floor.

***

Chapter 3

“It’s Ok,” a soothing voice pronounced. “You can wake up now.”

Groggy, Ethan opened his eyes and gave a start. “Wha…?” he tried to say but his tongue felt too thick. He tried to swallow and realized his mouth was dry.

“Take a sip of water. It’ll help.”

Ethan looked over at the speaker and felt his skin prickle. He was sitting in a low-slung, leather chair in a living room that was decorated in mid-century modern style. A cozy fire crackled inside a bronze fire drum. The light ash floorboards were covered with a white angora goatskin area rug, on top of which sat an ovate plywood table with tapered legs. An ancient, round-tube television in an elaborate wooden cabinet sat off to the side. Funny dangling lights hung from the ceiling, casting a warm glow across the room. The man sitting next to him with his feet up on the coffee table was dressed in a white angora wool sweater and russet corduroy slacks. Tiny white slippers adorned his shapely feet. He was sipping a martini with a lemon twist and watching Ethan through half-closed eyes.

“Wh-who are you?” Ethan croaked and the man nodded toward the water glass sitting on the end table next to him. He reached down and sipped from it gingerly. When he realized it was just water, he gulped it down. He was parched!

The man waited patiently until Ethan had swallowed before announcing, “I’m Alexei Bortnikov.” His accent was American tinged with a hint of Russian.

Ethan stared at him blankly, causing the man to laugh.

“You don’t know me. No one here knows me. I live under deep cover for…my own safety.”

Ethan couldn’t stop staring at him. Alexei Bortnikov was in some ways unremarkable but in one key way, he stood out. Perhaps in his mid-thirties, he had light brown hair and light brown eyes. His hair was cut in a textured quiff with a cowlick reminiscent of a modern James Dean and his broad, open face was clean-shaven. He had a little dimple in his chin filled with stubble that had stubbornly resisted the razor. Despite wearing clothing that reminded Ethan of Doris Day in the movies that his mother watched late at night, he wasn’t feminine. On the contrary, he radiated an understated masculinity that bordered on menace. It was this steely undercarriage that made the hair on Ethan’s arms stand on end.

Belatedly, Ethan realized he was quite naked, something that caused his anxiety to spike. He started to sit up abruptly but then thought better of it and sat back down in the chair, realizing that its high armrests afforded more privacy than standing up.

Alexei took in his alarm with amused silence. When Ethan fixed him with an angry look, he smiled, offering, “You can get dressed if you like. You’ll have to make due with my clothes, though, since you arrived here like this.”

“Why…?” Ethan started to say and then stopped short. He didn’t want to play the victim here, even though he clearly was at Alexei’s mercy. Something of his police training came back to him and he clamped his mouth shut. He wouldn’t give his captor any leverage over him.

“Why did I kidnap you, Mr. Adelson, or should I say, Mr. Lopez?”

This gave Ethan a start. He quickly suppressed it but not before Alexei noticed. Dropping his head, he scowled…and moved his hands over his crotch.

“Don’t worry,” Alexei murmured. “Your secret is safe with me. In fact, it’s better if you remain Ethan Adelson.” He nodded then, stating firmly, “Yes, Ethan it is.”

He paused then to take a sip of his martini. Rather than continuing, though, he settled back in his chair and stared at the fire. Ethan noticed then that a small dog lay on Alexei’s lap, fast asleep.

They sat like that, Ethan tense and unnerved and Alexei relaxed and confident, until Ethan couldn’t stand it any longer. Turning to Alexei, he demanded, “Tell me what the fuck is going on here!”

The little black and white dog on Alexei’s lap raised its head at this before going back to sleep. Alexei didn’t look away from the fire as he replied, “That would take a long time to explain, Ethan.”

“Start explaining then.”

“Tell you what,” Alexei said, sitting up a little. “How about if I just let you go instead? You’re not the man I was after anyway and as such are of little use to me.” He looked significantly across the room to the foyer where an elegant lamp illuminated the front door. “You are free to leave. The door is unlocked and nothing is keeping you here.”

Ethan was starting to get up when he looked down at his hands covering his naked crotch and noticed a little incision on his wrist. Lifting it, he touched it tentatively and realized the cut was adjacent to the tracking chip embedded in his skin.

“I took it out to hack into it and then put it back,” Alexei explained. “Couldn’t risk letting the police department know where you were until I was ready.”

“Ready?” Ethan asked, wondering why he was still sitting there. He looked over at the door and back at Alexei. If he was free to go, why didn’t he just leave? “Ready for what?”

“Ready to let you go. Once you leave here, it will begin feeding them correct information on your location again. Of course, you could just tell them where I live since you’ll know that soon enough anyway…but something tells me you won’t do that.”

The arrogance of this statement galled Ethan, enervating him and propelling him to action. “I will, too!” Ethan shouted, willing himself to get up and leave. “I’m gonna turn you in! You’re a kidnapper!” 

He was gripping the armrest, preparing to get the fuck out of there when Alexei said softly, “Yes, you’re correct. I am a kidnapper. The men you seek are in my basement, alive and healthy for the most part.”

This revelation stunned Ethan. For a second time that night, he found himself settling back down in the chair, feeling confused and uncertain. “Why,” he began, the back of his neck prickling, “Why are you telling me this and then…letting me go?”

Alexei laughed, a deep, resonant sound. “A ploy perhaps? I am Russian after all and nothing we do is straightforward. Maybe I’m toying with you? Maybe I’m secretly controlling you, making you do my bidding?” Ethan blanched at this, mind racing with these nightmarish possibilities. Before he could reply, though, Alexei continued in a sad voice, “Or maybe I’m just tired. And maybe I trust you.”

Once again, Ethan willed himself to get up and leave. He looked back at the door almost longingly. It was open a crack. He could see the walkway outside glistening in the dim light. It was raining softly, he realized. He could hear the soothing sound of it echoing down from the vaulted ceiling above.

Ethan sat there pondering Alexei’s words. Nothing about Alexei made sense. Why would he kidnap him and then set him free, allowing Ethan to disclose his location? Something didn’t add up. Something important and he had a feeling it had nothing to do with Alexei’s possible explanations. There was a mystery here and he wanted to find out what it was!

Turning away from the door, he reached up to rub his temples before taking another sip of water. He placed the glass back down on the coaster and reluctantly met Alexei’s steady gaze. “I’m tired,” he said simply, feeling something twist inside his chest. “I need to sleep.”

“The guest bedroom is through that door, Ethan,” Alexei said, nodding. “You’ll find pajamas on the bed.”

Only then did Ethan finally get up but not to leave. Warring with himself every step of the way, he staggered down the hall to the bedroom and collapsed on top of the covers, falling into the deep and disturbing darkness of sleep.

***

Chapter 4

Alexei was frying bacon in the kitchen the next morning when Ethan emerged from the bedroom, wearing a plush bathrobe that he’d found hanging on the back of the door. Alexei was similarly attired in a white terrycloth robe. He turned and smiled at Ethan as he settled onto a stool in the breakfast nook.

“Hungry, Ethan?” he asked brightly. He hadn’t shaved and his face was stubbly. His hair was swept back but a stubborn lock had fallen down across his eyebrow. He was a handsome man, Ethan realized. For some reason, this only added to his sense of unease.

With the smell of bacon filling his nostrils and overpowering his rational mind, though, all he could do was growl, “Yeah, fucking starving. I could eat a fucking horse.”

“Start with eggs and bacon,” Alexei said before adding cryptically, “We’ll get to the livestock later.”

Ethan needed no encouragement. He wolfed down the food, scarcely bothering to taste it. Alexei leaned across the counter, sipping his coffee and watching him eat. Occasionally, he’d reach down and feed the small dog a scrap from the skillet. 

Finally sated, Ethan pushed his plate away from him and asked bluntly, “So now what? You still gonna let me walk out of here?”

His captor blinked. “Of course. You are free to go whenever you want.”

“Why don’t I believe you?”

Alexei shrugged. “Dunno. You can test it. Get dressed and leave. I laid out clothes for you in the bathroom.”

Ethan pushed himself up from the counter, regarding Alexei warily. Turning but keeping his gaze firmly locked on the Russian’s face, he sauntered over to the bathroom. Only when he stood before the open door did he look inside. True to his word, Alexei had left a folded pair of Levi’s,  gray boxers, a red cardigan, and dock shoes (with little footie socks) on the sink. Ethan looked over his shoulder at Alexei and Alexei nodded, urging him to get dressed. Taking a deep breath, Ethan stepped inside and closed the door. In a moment, he’d dressed himself and he reemerged, patting his hands down his sides. The clothes were definitely not his style but they fit and fit well. He glanced back at himself in the mirror and admired the way they set off his muscular body. Maybe he could stand to branch out a bit in the fashion department?

“I’ve ordered you an Uber,” Alexei announced, placing his smartphone down on the counter, as Ethan strode back into the kitchen. “It’ll be here in a couple minutes.”

For some reason, Ethan felt a stab of disappointment at this news and was preparing to respond when he looked out the wide picture window in the sitting room next to the kitchen. Outside, the entire city spread forth in brilliant splendor. The red morning sun turned the towering skyscrapers in the far away city center crimson as the last of the rain clouds scudded away. Alexei Bortnikov, he realized then, lived in some of the most expensive and exclusive real estate in the city. The Hill was a district that people dreamed of living in but only the rarefied few could afford to do so.

“Beautiful, no?” Alexei asked, following his gaze. “It’s true I live in hiding but I’ve always found that hiding in plain sight is most effective.”

Ethan was about to reply when he heard a car roll into the driveway. A moment later the driver tooted his horn. Alexei looked over to the front door, urging, “Go, go! It’s time you left.”

A knot had formed in his chest without him realizing until he was walking toward the door. Casting one last look back at Alexei, he saw the man was holding his little dog and lifting a hand in goodbye. Ethan’s hand was on the door. He was opening the door. He was walking outside. He was getting into the Honda Civic and closing the door behind him. They were driving away.

Ethan Adelson had successfully escaped from his kidnapper.

***

“Dude! What the fuck are you wearing?”

Ethan looked down at himself numbly before looking back at Chris Perry. He felt like he’d been sleepwalking through the day ever since leaving Alexei’s house. Knowing he should go directly to the police station, knowing that it was his duty as a police officer to turn in the criminal, he nonetheless hadn’t done so. That was bad enough but it was worse not knowing why. He was unsettled, unhappy, unstable. His head felt all wrong.

Chris was surveying his attire critically. As Ethan paused at a loss for words, though, his friend changed his tune, saying, “You know what? Forget what I said. It works. You look good.”

“Er, thanks,” Ethan finally managed to stammer. “Thanks a lot.”

“No prob, man,” Chris replied, gamely punching his arm. “You will need to change if you’re gonna work out, though.”

“Oh, yeah,” he replied vaguely, causing Chris to laugh.

“Dude, what’s up with you today? Hungover from last night?”

Ethan shook his head, trying to clear it. After a long pause, he said, “Yeah, hungover. I’m just hungover.”

“Well, let’s work out then!” Chris chirped, every bit the enthusiastic cheerleader. “That’s what you’re here for, isn’t it?”

Ethan looked around and realized he was standing in the lobby of the gym. It was odd, he couldn’t remember how he got there. Chuckling softly, Chris steered him by the arm to the locker room where Ethan took off Alexei Bortnikov’s borrowed clothes and stepped into his usual workout gear.

Working out with Chris helped clear his head and, after an hour of sweating, he felt like his old self…or at least like Ethan Adelson, the self that was beginning to feel more real with each passing day. If he thought about how Ethan was more real than Pete, it made his head hurt so he stopped dwelling on it. Better to just focus on the task at hand: Lifting weights and hanging out with his new best bud. Everything else could wait until later.

The strange events of the previous night had retreated into a hazy, half-remembered dream and soon he forgot about them entirely. Chris’ mood had shifted from the night before as well. Gone was the morose self-pity; in its place was a contagious ebullience. He seemed to take it as his personal mission to entertain Ethan and cheer him up. It worked. Chris had Ethan rolling on the floor with laughter when he pulled his shorts up into the cleft of his ass before bending over to do squats.

Looking over his shoulder and winking as he completed a particularly deep dive, he exclaimed,  “I may not have much in front but at least I got something goin’ on in back!” It was true, Ethan realized. Chris had a really beefy butt.

Ethan smacked him playfully, saying, “Come on, dude! Stop it. You’re killin’ me.”

“Maybe I should be a go-go boy,” Chris mused. “I mean, shit, I’d probably get laid more often.”

Ethan crossed his arms, nonplussed. “Yeah, by guys, maybe.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that!” Chris said brightly, straightening and favoring Ethan with a broad grin. “Shit, know what? I’ve never tried guys before. Wanna go out to a gay bar with me tonight?”

Ethan regarded him soberly. “You serious? I mean, really?”

Chris laughed, putting his hands on Ethan’s shoulders. “Sure, why not? It’ll be fun.”

He wanted to say no, he really did, but instead he found himself agreeing. Chris beamed, chattering on endlessly about what a grand adventure it would be while Ethan secretly brooded through the rest of their workout. Something felt wrong…something felt off. What was it?

Not until he caught himself sniffing Alexei’s cardigan in the locker room after his workout did he connect this unease with his strange abduction from the night before. A shiver ran up his spine as he realized that he wasn’t done with Alexei Bortnikov. No, far from done. With a sick sense of dread, he knew with certainty he would be seeing the man again soon.

***

He didn’t change out of Alexei’s clothes when he went to the gay bar with Chris that evening. Striding in, he looked down at himself and then back at the patrons. The place, a swanky new establishment on the edge of the city’s gay ghetto, was filled with guys around his age; a young crowd, really. They were wearing chic clothes much like those filling his closet back at the penthouse but what was he wearing? An out-of-fashion pair of jeans, a cardigan, and dock shoes. He was pondering this when an unmistakable scent caressed his nostrils and he found himself smiling. Alexei’s scent. He was wearing Alexei’s clothes. He squared his shoulders and followed Chris inside.

Chris was in his element. He’d chosen to don the tightest jeans imaginable, a special pair woven with Lycra, he’d confessed to Ethan on the ride there. Beneath them, the supple contours of his ass were unmistakable and even Ethan discovered that his gaze was drawn to the firm, round globes more than once. It was both unsettling and kind of…interesting, he realized.

“Have at me, boys!” Chris announced loudly as he sashayed onto the dance floor and commenced shaking his behind provocatively in time with the beat. Cheeks coloring, Ethan followed at a discreet distance, doing his best to fade into the background. The last thing he wanted was to be noticed.

He needn’t have worried.

Attired as he was, he was all but invisible. Guys looked right past him as if he didn’t exist. He started to feel left out as he gazed at Chris surrounded by a throng of adoring men but then decided he liked it better like this. So what if he didn’t attract attention at a gay bar? He wasn’t trying to get picked up. As long as women continued to find him attractive, that was all that mattered.

Right?

Ethan wasn’t a good wingman that evening but he didn’t need to be; Chris was getting plenty of attention and didn’t notice when Ethan drifted off the dance floor to take up position in a darkened corner near the side bar.

“You’re still wearing my clothes,” a sultry voice commented behind him and he whirled to find Alexei standing there, holding a martini with a lemon twist and smiling fondly. Like the previous evening, his attire was dated, harkening back to the late 1950’s or early 1960’s. The clothes suited him for some reason that Ethan couldn’t quite identify. They must look like quite the pair, he thought before realizing that the silence was stretching as Alexei awaited his reply.

“Uh, yeah,” he said lamely before recovering enough to ask, “This place one of your hangouts? Doesn’t seem like your style.”

“It isn’t,” Alexei stated flatly in his no nonsense Russian manner. “I followed you here. I hacked your chip, remember?”

The hackles of Ethan’s neck stood up at this and he pulled himself up to his full height which was a good half a head taller than Alexei. Before he could say anything, though, Alexei reached out and patted his arm, offering, “Buy you a drink? What do you like?”

Ethan stared at him, mouth opening and closing several times before he heard himself say, “Sure, I’ll take a martini, too.”

Alexei nodded and stalked off to the bar, leaving Ethan gaping. What the fuck was wrong with him? This wasn’t right! This wasn’t…

His gaze was drawn inexorably to Alexei before he could finish the thought. The man walked with such grace, such charm, such…stealth. He was like a sleek, great cat. Sinuous, assured, deadly. He was still standing there with his mouth hanging open when Alexei returned with his drink. Giving him a sly wink, he handed the glass to Ethan before raising his own in a toast. Ethan watched his hand move toward Alexei’s and their glasses clinked.

“To captors and friends,” Alexei said, a slight smile on his lips.

“Which one are you?” Ethan asked, his heart pounding in his chest. The nape of his neck was prickling again and he felt queasy.

“Both, maybe?” Alexei answered with a small shrug. “You tell me.”

“I don’t know.”

“Not knowing is good,” Alexei said wryly. “It maintains the mystery. Opens the mind to possibilities.”

A chill running down his back, Ethan started to say, “Hey, what–” when he was interrupted Chris’ plaintive voice behind him. He turned to see his friend walking sullenly toward them, his hands clasped protectively over his wide bottom.

“Dude,” he whined. “Let’s get outta here. I can’t take this! I feel like a slab of meat!”

Despite his unsettled mood, Ethan found himself laughing, “Ha! Now you know what it’s like to be a woman.”

“Not cool, dude. Not cool,” Chris said reproachfully. “I’m serious. Let’s go back to my place so I can get out of these awful ass-huggers!”

Ethan nodded and was preparing to leave when he remembered Alexei. He was turning to introduce Chris when he stopped cold.

Alexei was gone.

Ethan scoured the bar, searching for the mysterious Russian but came up empty.

The night had swallowed Alexei Bortnikov whole.

***

Chapter 5

Alexei was curled up on the sofa in the sitting room off his kitchen watching a movie when Ethan stumbled in later that night. His little dog, Sasha (whose name Ethan learned later), stared at him with big, brown eyes for a moment before looking up at Alexei. Absently, the man stroked the dog’s chin as he turned to smile at Ethan.

“Ethan! Glad you stopped by.” His rich voice was friendly but it held a note of something else that caused Ethan’s body to break out in a cold sweat.

Miserable and confused and alarmed by his decision to return the man’s house, Ethan collapsed in a small chair facing the window, his back turned to Alexei. He could see the reflection of the movie in the picture window and the twinkling lights of the cityscape far below. His heart was pounding and he was having trouble catching his breath. Finally, he crumpled over, clutching his head in his hands and moaning pitifully.

“W-W-What did you do to me?” he begged. His voice sounded plaintive, almost whiny. He hated how weak he felt around this strange Russian man.

After a pause, Alexei said, “What did I do to you? You mean, besides kidnapping you and letting you go?” He stopped to laugh before answering, “Nothing. I have done nothing to you.”

Ethan smothered his ears with his hands, trying to grind out the sound of Alexei’s beautiful voice. It didn’t work. He heard every word. Panting, he insisted, “No! NO! You did something to me. I know it! I can’t stop thinking about y–” He broke off then, unwilling to finish the sentence.

“Ethan, relax,” Alexei soothed. “I’m not doing anything to you and I certainly would never harm you.”

“I-I-I wish I believed you.”

Silence. Then, “I understand your distrust, Ethan. I would feel the same in your position.”

Ethan lifted his head to stare balefully back at the man. “What position is that?”

In reply, Alexei patted the cushion next to him on the sofa. After a brief but intense inner struggle, Ethan stood up and walked over. Hesitating, he stared down at the man for a moment, drinking in the sight of him, feeling both terrified and intrigued at the same time. Alexei certainly didn’t look threatening. He had changed into a white, cotton v-neck sweater and snug, black pants. His hair was slightly mussed and strands of Sasha’s white hair covered his legs. His signature martini sat half-empty on the end table next to him. His brown eyes were soft as he smiled disarmingly back at Ethan. He was…deadly handsome.

Trembling, Ethan folded himself down on the couch, careful not to touch Alexei. Shoulders rigid and jaw clenched, he turned his attention to the movie. It was a film he’d never heard of, taking place in Italy and featuring a teenage boy who developed an obsession for an older American man. At first, he found it too slow-paced and kind of dull but after a while, he became so engrossed that he couldn’t look away. Only when he realized he was leaning against Alexei’s warm shoulder did he stiffen and sit up straight, determined not to let his guard down again.

When it was over, Alexei reached for the remote and turned off the display, querying, “What did you think of the movie?”

“I…liked it but found it hard to believe,” Ethan admitted, looking down. His shoulder was pressing against Alexei’s again but this time he didn’t withdraw.

“How so?”

“Well,” he began slowly. “The…attraction the boy felt toward the man seemed…weird. I mean, where did it come from? Why was he suddenly so, you know, into the dude? He had a hot girlfriend for chrissakes! Why fuck a guy?”

Alexei didn’t reply for a long time but when Ethan looked over at him, he was smiling.

“What?” Ethan demanded. “What are you smiling about?”

Alexei shook himself. When he spoke, he chose not to answer Ethan’s question. “I also had a hard time with the movie but for difference reasons.”

“Which are?” For some reason, he couldn’t keep the defensiveness out of his voice. Something about Alexei triggered it in him. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. It didn’t work.

“The book upon which the movie is based was clearly written by a heterosexual man and both actors were clearly straight as well.”

Ethan’s eyes narrowed. “How do you know?”

“Just a hunch,” Alexei said, shrugging. “The whole movie felt like a straight man’s imagining of what same sex desire must be like. It’s not something you can pretend. You have to live it.”

The hair had risen on the back of Ethan’s neck again with these words and his mind began racing as some of the pieces of the puzzle that Alexei represented fell into place. He berated himself mentally for being so dense. How had he not figured this out before now? How could he be so stupid?

He swallowed, keenly aware of the way the man’s shoulder was pressing against his own, aware as if for the first time of what he was really doing. What his behavior must look like to Alexei and what Alexei was clearly communicating to him.

When he spoke, his voice broke, just like it had when he was a teenager. It made him sound so young, so naive. “And you…live it?”

Alexei took a sip of his martini and set down the glass. The wind had risen outdoors and Ethan felt suddenly chilly. He hunched his shoulders and reluctantly sank in closer to Alexei. The Russian observed him for a long moment with an unreadable expression on his beautiful face before suggesting, “Let’s go into the living room and sit by the fire, shall we?”

***

He awoke well after midnight to find he was lying with his head on Alexei’s lap. Seeing him open his eyes, the man gently moved a lock of Ethan’s hair away from his eyes. Ethan blinked up at him, feeling his heart beat in his chest. 

“Let’s get you to bed, Ethan,” Alexei rumbled. “You’ve had a long day.”

***

Waking before dawn, Ethan sat up in bed, looking around suspiciously until he remembered where he was. Clothed in red silk pajamas (that he didn’t remember putting on), he was lying in Alexei’s guest bedroom. The wind was still blowing strong outside and the house on the hill creaked around him. He threw the covers off and stepped on the floor, noting in the dim light that Alexei had replaced his borrowed clothing. Beneath his phone and car keys, a new outfit lay out for him on the cedar chest near the door. He paced over and, clicking on the closet light, examined the neatly folded pile.

Continuing with the retro theme, they consisted of a black turtleneck and a pair of high-waisted, tan trousers. Additionally, there was a canvas belt with a brass buckle, a pair of gym socks, and an old-fashioned pair of hightops. Lying beside the pile was a black newsboy cap. He lifted the cap and placed it on his head, turning to look at himself in the side mirror. He looked ridiculous…

…or did he?

Stepping out of his pajamas, he tried on the trousers and cinched the belt before doffing the hat to pull the turtleneck over his head. Replacing the cap and glancing back at the mirror, he smiled tentatively, taking in his appearance. The cap made him look younger but didn’t go with his dense beard. He frowned, reaching up to massage his chin thoughtfully.

Fifteen minutes later, he emerged from the bathroom, wrapped in a towel and trying to get used to the cool breeze on his cheeks now that he was clean-shaven, he beard washed down the drain. He liked it, he decided. It felt right. Even more importantly, he knew somehow that Alexei would approve.

Thinking of Alexei and rubbing his naked chin, he crept down the hallway to the master bedroom. The door was ajar and he peeked inside, pausing in awe to take in the grand king-sized bed upon which the Russian man lay sleeping. The little dog, Sasha, peered over at him curiously as he tiptoed in, stopping to look down at Alexei.

Asleep, he appeared angelic, his face open and full, sensuous lips slightly parted. Even so, he still exuded the same, compelling manliness as when he was awake and Ethan stood there, mesmerized for a long time before shaking himself. He was about to walk out of the bedroom when he spotted a pile of Alexei’s discarded clothes from the night before on the floor. Stalking over, he gazed down upon them, hesitating only a moment before picking them up. He was lifting them to his nostrils when he remembered a scene from the movie the night before where the boy did something very similar with the man’s swim trunks. Cheeks coloring, he dropped them again but then something caught his eye. He leaned over, his heart thudding.

Alexei’s underwear.

Glancing back toward the bed to make sure that the man was still asleep, Ethan bent over and picked them up. They were made from sheer, gray fabric and cut in a style he’d never seen before. A very masculine style. It was weird. They weren’t that different than the square-cut boxers Ethan typically wore but they were subtly improved. The thick waistband was emblazoned with Cyrillic letters. Russian. He couldn’t read the words but he knew they were impressive. They had to be! Impressive and powerful like the underwear.

Like Alexei Bortnikov.

Ethan had dropped the towel and pulled on the underwear before he could stop himself. Looking down at himself in disbelief (and subversive pleasure), he fled the room, getting dressed and leaving Alexei’s house before the man could awake and realize what Ethan had done.

***

He didn’t go back to his penthouse. Instead, he wandered the city in a daze while at the same time reveling in the transgressive feel of the underwear. He loved the way they supported him and made him feel secure. Like he felt when he was with Alexei. He was wearing the same underwear that had cupped the handsome Russian’s…

Coughing with discomfort at this thought, he swerved into a bookstore, realizing belatedly that he was back in the gay ghetto and the place was a LGBT establishment. Before him, prominently displayed on a rack, were copies of a certain book. A book that he was now very familiar with, the one upon which the movie was based that he and Alexei had watched the night before.

He bought a copy and sat down in the bookstore’s empty cafe, ordering an espresso and sipping while he devoured the book. Captivated by the expert and compelling writing, he didn’t hear his phone at first. Finally, after the fourth ring, he tugged it out of his trousers. Looking down at it, he panicked when he realized it was Captain Reilly. Shit shit shit! He rushed into the bathroom and locked the door before answering the call.

“Adelson, are you in a private place where we can talk?” The captain sounded pissed.

Leaning against the sink and trying to keep the shaking out of his voice, Ethan replied, “Yeah, sure, Captain. What’s up?”

“What’s up? What’s up?” the captain repeated in disbelief, voice rising with each word. “Jesus fucking Christ, Adelson! Where have you been? You missed the secure call-in yesterday! We were ready to stake out your location until we realized you at a gay bar. What the fuck were you doing at a gay bar?”

Feeling his neck grow hot, Ethan stammered, “S-S-Sorry, Sir. I was with Chris Perry. It was his idea!”

“Who the fuck is Chris Perry?” the captain demanded. There was a brief pause during which Ethan could hear Ms. Ramsey’s muffled voice in the background. “Oh, him? That Perry?” Reilly muttered off to the side. His exasperated tone had transformed into praise when he resumed talking to Ethan, saying, “Good work, boy! You’re making friends in high places, I see. And it’s not my business what you two do with each other as long as…”

“We’re not dating, Sir!” Ethan interrupted. The heat from his neck had crept up to his cheeks, making him regret shaving his beard.

“…as long as you find out who the fuck is kidnapping those boys,” the captain continued, talking over Ethan. “Speaking of which, do you have any leads on our kidnapper?”

Mind racing as he remembered that he did in fact have a very good lead on the kidnapper and knew precisely where the victims were being held, Ethan stalled. “N-N-Not yet, Sir,” he lied, feeling simultaneously aghast at himself and excited by his daring. “I’m still working on it.”

There was a pause and then Reilly said in a gruff voice, “Well, get on it, boy! Do you know how much it’s costing us to keep up your cover? The fucking bar tabs alone–”

“Don’t worry, Sir!” Ethan chirped before stopping to clear his throat. His voice had cracked again, just like the night before when he’d been talking with Alexei. Something about the captain made him feel young. “I won’t let you down,” he continued, fighting to regain an authoritative tone. “You can count on me!”

The phone clicked in his ear as the captain hung up. When he looked down at it, Ethan realized the Chris had texted him a dozen times that morning. Growing increasingly frantic, the last one read:

>>I fucking got us a fucking date with the CARLSSON fucking TWINS!!! Can U fucking call me????<<

Ethan pushed his cap back on his head and wiped his brow. Glancing at himself in the mirror, he was surprised to see how wide-eyed he looked now that he didn’t have a beard. Shit, he barely looked twenty years old…

Sighing, he tried to calm his raw nerves before calling Chris but it was no use. He was completely wrecked.

***

He met up with Chris at the hotspring spa on the Hill, an invitation-only resort that Ethan had heard about his entire life but never imagined actually visiting. It was the location of many exclusive parties and illicit encounters of the city’s richest set. Chris had rented an entire wing and had his chauffeur drop Ethan off at the spa’s private entrance. Heart beating furiously in his throat, partly because he was still trembling from the lie he’d told the captain and partly because he couldn’t believe he was walking through the door of such a vaunted establishment, Ethan followed a pretty woman wearing a kimono down an elegant corridor to the changing room. Inclining her head, she motioned for Ethan to enter an austere, cedar-walled room, saying simply, “Mr. Perry awaits you inside.”

He stumbled in, starstruck and speechless, to find Chris standing there, wearing a towel around his waist and an amused expression on his face.

“Look at you, man!” Chris exclaimed, reaching up to push the cap off of Ethan’s head and grab his shaved cheeks in a big hand. “Where’s your bicycle and newspaper bag?”

“Stop it!” Ethan protested, pushing him away and scrambling to fetch the cap off the floor.

He was repositioning it on his head when Chris said, “Might as well take it off, dude. Along with the rest of your paperboy outfit. The ladies are waiting for us in the sauna!”

Ethan froze. “They are? You mean you weren’t shitting me? Inga and Olga are here?”

Chris leaned back on his leg and crossed his arms. “Uh, yah, dude! What the fuck? Do you know how long I’ve been trying to get into their panties?” He paused to give Ethan a sly poke in the ribs, saying, “And I have you to thank for it, too. Can you believe it? They saw us together at the club the other night and texted me asking to meet you.”

“I take it this wasn’t last night when we were at the gay bar together,” Ethan commented drily and Chris hit him.

“Nah, dude. I’m over that! I have no idea what the fuck I was thinking. I’m a lady’s man all the way.”

“Glad to hear it,” Ethan said, tossing his cap on a wooden bench nearby and pulling his shirt over his head. “And, fuck! The Carlsson twins! I thought they were still filming their Netflix show.”

“Nope, it’s already in production,” Chris murmured before pausing to look modestly down at the floor. “It was my idea to meet ‘em here and they jumped at the suggestion. They’re probably already naked and sweating in there!”

Needing no further encouragement, Ethan stooped to unfasten his belt and unzip his pants. He was shimmying them and Alexei’s underwear down his hips when Chris started cussing furiously.

“You have fucking got to be kidding me! What the fucking shit? IT’S NOT FUCKING FAIR!”

Ethan looked up in surprise. “What’s wrong dude? What happened?”

Chris refused to answer and instead fixed him with a poisonous glare before turning his back and muttering angrily to himself. Ethan was completely perplexed by his friend’s sudden outburst and started to take a step toward him but his legs got tangled in his trousers and he toppled forward. Chris turned right then and barely managed to catch him before he hit the floor. Still angry, his friend was lifting him by the armpits back to his feet when he stopped and lifted his nose in the air. Ethan stared at him, noticing as if for the first time Chris’ green eyes, wavy black hair, and sensitive lips…. 

Chris’ gaze was unfocused, his nostrils flaring. Time hung suspended in the air between them as Ethan blinked up at him. After a long pause, Chris said absently, “You…smell…really good,” before he shook his head, frowning. Propping Ethan up on his feet, he sank backward onto a bench and lowered his head in his hands.

Ethan watched him with growing concern (and unease) for a moment before kicking his pants off and settling onto the bench beside him. “Chris,” he began tentatively, “will you tell me what’s wrong?” 

Shaking his head, Chris asked, “Why? Why am I the only guy out there like this?”

“Like what?”

In answer, Chris opened his towel with trembling hands. Very deliberately, he unfolded the thick, cotton cloth, laying it aside until he was completely naked. By this point, alarm bells were going off in Ethan’s head but this didn’t stop him from lowering his gaze down and checking out his friend’s body.

Chris Perry was a very robust man. Smooth-skinned with only a hint of body hair, he was stocky without being heavy. The big muscles he’d painstakingly built up during his hours at the gym made his already broad frame even wider and more impressive. His pecs hung down over his rippling abs and the tris and bis on his arms bulged even when relaxed. Ethan licked the corner of his lips, unwillingly taking in his friend’s grandeur. Why hadn’t he realized before that Chris was such a stud?

Somehow, the fact that he was a muscular stud only served to draw attention to what he lacked: Between Chris’ mountainous thighs was tucked a very meager package. His thin, circumcised cock pointed straight up above a tiny pair of testicles. Only a miniscule tuft of black pubic hair peeked out from the around the base of his little boy.

Chris looked over at him then, his green eyes filled with anguish. Slowly, his gaze dropped to Ethan’s crotch. Heat began to creep up his back as Ethan realized he also was quite naked, his own male equipment on full display. He shifted in on the bench uncomfortably aware of the warm wood beneath his bare butt and Chris’ naked leg pressing against his own.

“Fuck,” Chris breathed, staring longingly at Ethan’s exposed package. “Now that’s a cock!”

Ethan looked down at himself, suddenly bashful. Even though he’d seen his cock and balls many times, it was like he was seeing himself for the first time through Chris’ eyes. With acute embarrassment, he realized that his cock was really big, bordering on huge. It was so big that it looked out-sized, almost obscene. His thick, dark foreskin shrouded a very bulbous glans. It dangled down, tickling the bench between his outspread legs. His hairy balls sagged in his sac, resting heavy and full on the wood. He swallowed. Why hadn’t he realized before how freakishly huge his cock was? It wasn’t…right. It was too…big.

Too big?

Why did he think that?

He’d always been proud of his endowment. He was a big guy with a big cock, after all. Why shouldn’t he be proud?

He wasn’t proud now, though.

No, he was ashamed as he stared down at his disturbingly large appendage. The longer he looked at it, the bigger it looked and the more alien it became. Someone like him shouldn’t be this big. Someone like him should be smaller, have a cock more like Chris’…or even littler.

Straightening abruptly, Ethan shook himself, wondering what was wrong with him, trying to break out of the disorienting fog that had settled over him. Where the fuck were these thoughts coming from? And why was he sitting naked next to Chris comparing cocks?

He was starting to stand up when Chris whispered, “C-C-Can I…touch it?”

Startled, Ethan sputtered, “What?” 

Chris made an inarticulate sound in the back of his throat before repeating loudly, “Can I touch it?”

“Why’re you–”

“Dude!” Chris interrupted, sounding desperate. “I will never have a cock like that no matter what I do! The least you can do for me is let me touch it so I can know what it feels like. You owe it to me!”

“That’s just stupid!”

Chris turned and grabbed him by the arms, imploring him with his big, soulful eyes. “C’mon, man! Help a bro out here! I’d do the same for you in a heartbeat!”

Ethan pushed his hands away and massaged his temples. His head felt so strange! Everything felt wrong. Why were they doing this? The Carlsson twins were waiting for them in the next room! Two of the hottest fucking chicks in the whole fucking world were right fucking next door, sweating and naked in a sauna! And what were they doing? Comparing cock size in the locker room and getting ready to…

He shivered despite the fact that it was too hot in the little room. He didn’t pull away, though, when Chris lay a heavy arm over his shoulder, tugging him in close.

“Ethan, do this for me, huh?” he cajoled. “I just wanna know what a big dick feels like for once. This is the closest I’ll come to having one of my own!”

Exhaling in a long shudder, Ethan felt his internal resistance collapse. As if from far away, he heard himself saying in a cracked and resigned voice, “Sure, Ok. Go ahead. It’s yours.”

***

Chapter 6

After Ethan had consented, Chris fell silent for so long that Ethan finally looked over at him. When his eyes met Chris’, the big man gave him a goofy grin and burst out in giddy laughter. His delight was so infectious that after a while, Ethan gave in and laughed, too. 

They sat there laughing like a couple of school boys for a long time. Finally, Chris choked out, “Shit, man! Are we really gonna do this? I mean, can you believe it? I’ve never touched another guy’s dick before. What’s wrong with us?”

“I dunno but I blame you,” Ethan replied after catching his breath. “You started it yesterday with all your gay bullshit. WTF, man?”

“Hey,” Chris said shrugging, “I like to be open-minded, ya know? It’s always worked out for me in the past. ‘Sides, just ‘cuz I grab your dick doesn’t mean I’m gay. I only want to know what it feels like to be so friggin’ huge.”

Ethan lowered his head. “I’m not that big, am I?”

“Dude, you’re as big as I am small,” Chris assured him. When he saw Ethan wilting at these words, he looked over at him questioningly, asking, “Hey, what’s wrong?”

Taking a deep breath, Ethan fought with himself to stop from saying the words that were building inside. In the end, though, he couldn’t suppress them and in a rush he confessed, “I really wish I had your cock instead. I’d trade you if I could!”

This was met with stunned silence. After a while, Ethan cast a sidelong glance at Chris and saw his mouth was hanging open. He snapped it shut a moment later, sputtering, “T-That’s j-just fucking wrong, dude! Wrong, wrong, wrong! How could you say that?”

“I…don’t know,” Ethan admitted. “I don’t know why. It’s just that seeing myself like this next to you, I feel like I should be the small one!”

Chris let out a low whistle as he turned to face Ethan. Shaking his head, he said forcefully, “Jesus! I can’t believe it. How cruel is this anyway? All my life I’ve hated myself for being small and now I’m with a guy who has the perfect cock and wants to get rid of it.” He looked up at the heavens, raising his hands in frustration, exclaiming, “THIS IS JUST FUCKING WRONG!”

“Chris, man,” Ethan begged, “I’m sorry! I really am. I–”

Holding up his hand, Chris interrupted him, saying matter of factly, “Stop! Don’t say it. You’re only gonna make me hate you more than I already do.” He turned away, exasperated, saying loudly to no one in particular. “Jesus fucking Christ! He wants a small cock! Can you believe it?”

Ethan put a placating hand on Chris’ shoulder and his friend turned to him. His expression softened when he saw the contrition written plainly on Ethan’s face. Shaking his head, he said, “I’m one of the richest fucking guys in the world and I want what money can’t buy. There’s no way I can ever have the thing I want the most in the world. How fucking cruel is that?”

Fighting the urge to roll his eyes, Ethan managed to keep a straight face. As much as he liked Chris, this was yet another example of how detached these rich assholes were from reality. He could think of a million more important things than a big penis. As Chris searched his face, looking for some hint of commiseration, Ethan instead decided to change the subject. Sitting up straight, he slapped Chris’ knee, saying, “How about if we get this over with, Ok? The Carlsson twins aren’t gonna fucking wait forever.”

Chris shook himself and nodded, standing up. With his package at eye level, Ethan examined it and saw that it was even smaller than he’d thought. Chris’ little soldier barely poked out of the sparse nest of his pubic hair. Ethan swallowed and felt his neck warm as an uncomfortably familiar realization flooded over him: It was the most desirable cock he’d ever seen and he envied Chris greatly.

“Come on, stud. Up, up, up!” Chris ordered, interrupting his reverie, and Ethan lurched abruptly to his feet.

He felt incredibly awkward standing there naked in front of Chris. His friend’s eyes were fixed on his cock and balls, a hungry leer etched across his face.

“Uh, Chris,” he prompted and the man reluctantly looked away from his package. “How do you want to do this?” He still couldn’t believe that he’d agreed to let Chris touch him…down there and, the weirder Chris’s behavior became, the more he was regretting the decision.

“Here, stand right there and I’ll get in back of you,” Chris instructed, padding around behind him before adding, “I wanna borrow your cock, pretend like it’s mine for a bit.” 

He inched closer until he was so close that Ethan could feel the heat radiating from his body warming his back, butt, and thighs. He coughed uncomfortably and then jerked when he saw Chris’ hands appear at his sides. The man hesitated for a second, leaning forward until his chin rested on Ethan’s shoulder. Ethan stiffened and Chris laughed, “Easy, brah. We’re just a couple of straight dudes exploring, right? Nothing weird goin’ on here.”

“You can’t convince me this is normal,” Ethan muttered through his teeth.

“Ha! Maybe not but it is a dream of mine.” Chris lowered his gaze, looking down Ethan’s front. He exhaled as his eyes locked on their target, breathing, “Oh, shit! That’s fucking amazing! Christ, would you look at that cock?”

“Chris…”

“Hush! This is my time, dude. My time with your huge cock…” His voice trailed off as he squinted. A moment later, he asked in a confused voice, “Hey, I thought you were a Jew. Why aren’t you circumcised?”

Thinking quickly, Ethan answered, “Because my family is progressive. My parents thought it was barbaric to chop off my foreskin, no matter what the custom might be.”

“Huh. Weird.”

“Not as weird as you wanting to touch my dick.”

Chris slapped his butt, scolding, “Shut up, you little bitch.”

For some reason, this caused a thrill run up Ethan’s back and he shivered. Chris noticed and smacked him again, chuckling when a little moan escaped Ethan’s lips.

“You ready for me, big boy?” Chris breathed in his ear. Ethan nodded, feeling his heart begin to pound in his chest. “‘Cuz here I come!”

With that, he reached out and took Ethan’s manhood his calloused palm, gently closing his fingers around his shaft. Ethan let out a little yelp and tried to withdraw but Chris held him tight, cautioning, “Easy, easy, bro. Just relax. Just let me hold it for a while.”

Ethan stood there, stars bursting inside his head. A guy was holding his dick! A guy was holding his dick! What the fuck was he thinking anyway? Something was definitely going on here, something was…

This stream of frantic thoughts was interrupted by a deep growl emanating deep from inside Chris’ chest. It built in intensity until it burst out of him in a thundering roar. Flopping Ethan’s cock up and down forcefully, Chris yelled out, “Fuck, yeah, bitches! Look at Chris ‘The Big Man’ Perry! Fuckin’ A! Who’s got the big cock now? WHO’S GOT THE BIG COCK???!!!”

He became so animated that the flopping hurt. Ethan reached down to stay his hand but Chris batted him away, ordering, “Walk around with me! I wanna fucking STRUT!” Before Ethan could protest, he’d dropped his cock and taken him by the hips, pulling him close. Pushing his hips forward against his ass, he forced Ethan to stroll proudly, rocking his hips back and forth. A moment later, Chris took a hold of his dick again, clamping it in his fist. Ethan flushed, looking down he see that his cock was so long that several inches still hung out past Chris’ big paw. Laughing, his friend slapped it up and down until Ethan’s foreskin retreated and his fat cockhead twirled around obscenely.

Ethan’s mind blanked out. So many new and wrong sensations flooded through his body that he felt drugged. Chris’ muscular and sweaty body was plastered against him so tightly that it felt like they were sharing the same body, Chris’ body. His friend’s hands on him almost felt like his own hands. It was so deranged and so completely bizarre that he lost the ability to resist and surrendered to his onslaught. Chris owned his body and his cock now; he was just along for the ride.

“Fuck! FUCK! FUUUUUUCK!!!” Chris yelled, exalting in the freedom and power of owning Ethan’s cock and balls, sauntering in self-assured, alpha male swagger, reveling in his dream come true. He was a big man with a big cock and a swinging pair of balls.

Finally.

FINALLY!

Chris Perry was THE MAN!

After a while, Chris slowed to a stop and stood there panting behind Ethan, collapsing against his back. His sweat mingled with Ethan’s own and their body odors mixed into a heady perfume. Ethan inhaled and Chris’ hand twitched on his cock. He didn’t let go, though.

“What’s it like when it’s hard?” he asked breathlessly, laying his cheek on Ethan’s shoulder. “I wanna feel it.”

“Chris…” he warned but his friend hushed him.

“C’mon, man! Get hard for me! I already am!” With that, he commenced jacking Ethan’s cock up and down, up and down, up and down while licking up the back of his neck until he scored his earlobe. Nibbling seductively, he stopped long enough to whisper, “I want your hard cock, Ethan. Gimme your cock!”

Ethan moaned, feeling his knees go weak as blood surged into his captive organ. In seconds, he was crying out in forbidden ecstasy as Chris leaned over his shoulder and aimed a huge glob of spit down onto his tool. His eyes rolled back in his back and he sagged backward against Chris. His friend caught him and eased him backward to settle down on the bench, pulling Ethan onto his lap and commencing to rock his hips seductively beneath him in time with his strokes. His thick thighs were hot against Ethan’s bottom and sometimes he thought he could even feel his little nub caress his…

“Oh, yeah! Oh, fuckin’ yeah! OH, YEAH!” Chris’ booming voice reverberated through the locker room. “Watch out, everyone! Chris Perry’s done strikin’ out! He’s got a fuckin’ baseball bat and he’s swingin’ high!”

Looking down at his throbbing cock in Chris’ hand and seeing how huge and veiny and long it was, Ethan no longer recognized it as his own. He blinked, staring down at it. He wasn’t just imagining it. It was true. His cock didn’t belong to him anymore.

Chris Perry owned it, owned his cock.

He had Chris Perry’s big man cock between his legs.

Chris’ stroking slowed then and he tormented the monster between Ethan’s legs with excruciatingly long, sensuous jacking. He would stop at the moment that Ethan was about to shoot, admonishing him, “Wait, wait. My cock isn’t ready to cum yet.” His hand would then resume, stroking even more softly than before, torturing Ethan until he was on the verge of tears and pleading with Chris for release.

At long last, Chris consented and pumped his cock–Chris’ cock–to an explosive orgasm, shoving his face down at the last minute so that the intense jet of semen smothered his face and filled his open mouth. Ethan was left gasping, writhing as wave after wave of pleasure coursed through him. In a far off part of his mind, he knew that the pleasure wasn’t from his orgasm, it was from being allowed the pleasure of Chris’ cock. Chris controlled it, controlled him. He was at his mercy. And he loved it. He wanted nothing more than to be used by the big man, used by his big cock. Smiling with demented glee, the salty, savory, bitter flavor of Chris’ cum overwhelmed his taste buds and Chris’ semen dripped from his eyelashes.

Chris sagged down on the bench, pulling Ethan against him. Ethan could feel a telltale wetness in the crack of his ass and knew that the little cock between Chris’ legs–Ethan’s boy cock!–had shot its load, too. He smiled, swallowing cum and then licking his lips for another taste. It was perverse, he knew, but he liked it. He liked the taste of Chris in his mouth. His whole body felt spent but he was content. Content now that everything was clear, now that Chris owned his cock. He exhaled, savoring the rise and fall of Chris’ chest beneath him.

He lay back blissfully for a long time until gradually he became aware of a low moaning. Realizing it wasn’t coming from him, he turned to look back at Chris but his friend wouldn’t meet his gaze. Wrinkling his brow, Ethan felt his heart clench.

“Chris…” started to say but his friend shook his head, grimacing. He was looking off to the side, an expression of disgust on his handsome face.

As Ethan stared, he moaned, “Oh god oh god oh god. What did we just do? What the fuck did we just do? WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH US?”

Ethan tried to turn around on his lap, tried to reach out to him but Chris shivered and pushed him off. Still refusing to look at Ethan, he stood, wiped himself off with a towel, got dressed, and fled the room.

***

Ethan cleaned himself and got dressed in a fog of despair. With Chris gone, he felt unmoored, bereft, almost like he didn’t know himself anymore. Gone were all thoughts of the Carlsson twins, all thoughts of clandestine pleasure in the saunas with two of the hottest chicks in the world. Instead, he could only think of Chris Perry and how much he missed him, longed to be near him again, longed to have him take his…

He stumbled out of the spa, dazed, and started walking. He had no idea where he was going. His eyes were open but he was blind. After a few blocks, the wind came up and it started to sprinkle down rain. In a few minutes, it was pouring.

The cold April rain finally penetrated through Ethan’s mental fog and he shook himself, realizing his clothes were soaked and he was freezing. He had pulled out his phone to call an Uber when he realized he wasn’t far from Alexei’s house.

Alexei.

Alexei!

Yes, Alexei!

Alexei would know what to do! Alexei help him! Alexei was his friend!

He turned and took off at a run toward Alexei Bortnikov’s.

***

Chapter 7

Ethan burst through the door of Alexei’s house, soaked through and through. He called out plaintively, casting about for the handsome Russian. After a few moments, the door down to the basement opened and Alexei emerged, dressed in a white lab coat and wearing an expression of concern. Before he could say anything, Ethan flung himself into his arms and clung to him, shivering.

“My, my!” Alexei murmured as Ethan pressed his face against his firm, strong shoulder, taking shuddering breaths, trying to suppress the tears that threatened to overwhelm him. “What happened, Ethan? Why’re you so upset?”

Ethan couldn’t answer right away. He burrowed into Alexei’s chest as he tried vainly to master the cascade of emotions washing over him. The Russian’s body was firm, muscular, manly. His arms were holding him so securely that he felt protected. Wedging his nose into the warm cleft of his armpit, he inhaled, savoring the musky, masculine perfume that was Alexei’s scent. He kept forgetting how good he smelled. Just a hint of the man’s dominant odor was enough to relax him. He sighed as his body loosened and his mind cleared. Alexei was his pillar, his rock, his support. He scarcely remembered the time–What was it? Only a day or two ago?–when he’d been wary of the man. Now it seemed ridiculous. Alexei was clearly his friend…and maybe more than that.

Alexei led him to the bathroom. He didn’t resist when the man pushed him down on the edge of the bathtub and started drawing water for a bath. He removed the soggy newsboy hat from Ethan’s head and set it aside, smiling down at him. Ethan’s breath caught in his chest when he leaned down and kissed him affectionately on top of the head.

“You look good with smooth cheeks,” he commented, taking Ethan’s face in his hand and lifting it to examine him closely. Ethan beamed and Alexei smiled, asking, “Now tell me what is bothering you, Ok?” He was starting to lean back against the sink when Ethan frowned. Alexei noticed and changed his mind, taking a seat on the tub next to him and enfolding him again in his arms. Ethan nestled against the soft, exposed part of the man’s neck.

Talking in a small voice, Ethan relayed everything that happened in the spa. He didn’t leave anything out, describing in detail Chris’ words and actions. When he was done, he hung his head, expecting Alexei to be upset with him. 

Surprisingly, he wasn’t mad. He listened intently, smiling at times and nodding with concern at others. When Ethan looked up at him, searching his face, Alexei fixed him with his soft, brown eyes and asked, “Tell me, Ethan. What exactly are your feelings for Chris?”

While he was figuring out how to respond to this question, Alexei reached over and turned off the hot water. The tub was now full of steaming water and Ethan looked at it longingly. He was so cold and wet…

“Don’t,” Alexei warned as Ethan started to lift his turtleneck over his head. “Answer my question first. It’s important. What are your feelings for Chris?”

Ethan swallowed, his heart in his throat, struggling to articulate how he felt about Chris. It should have concerned him more than it did that he no longer thought of Chris as simply a friend. He was more than that.

But what was he?

Ethan frowned and Alexei placed a warm hand on his back, pulling him in closer. Ethan took a deep breath, delighting in the older man’s strong scent. Somehow it helped. It helped the swirling, chaotic thoughts to coalesce inside his skull. All of the feelings, the pent up frustration, the longing, the adoration, the admiration, the envy, the desire he felt for Chris came together then and he knew the answer to Alexei’s question.

He knew it!

He knew what Chris represented!

Taking an uneven breath to steady himself, he wondered if he dared say it aloud. Could he?

Yes, he could!

“He’s…my big brother,” he answered, sniffling. “Like the big brother I never had.”

For some reason, this didn’t satisfy Alexei. Giving Ethan a little hug, he urged, “Is that all? Just your big brother?”

He flushed, looking down. Alexei was right, of course. Chris was more than the big brother he’d never had. In the space of two short hours at the spa, Chris had evolved from his buddy to something else entirely. True, Ethan had elevated him, making him alpha, making him a big brother…but there was something more. As much as he’d resisted letting Chris touch him, he had ended up liking it. He liked the sensation of Chris’ big hands on him, feeling him, caressing him, titillating him. And he really liked it when Chris took control of him, used him, dominated him…

Ethan shifted uncomfortably as his cock pulsed in his soaked underwear. A little frisson of pleasure shot up his spine and suddenly it was clear that he longed for Chris to be more than a brother. He wanted Chris. Wanted him in the worse way. He bit his tongue, though, uncertain if he had the balls to tell Alexei this. It was too new, too radical, too…

“It’s Ok, Ethan,” Alexei reassured, reading his reticence. “There is no wrong answer but it’s important for me to know. It will determine what I do next.”

Ethan blinked up at him, pulse racing. He couldn’t believe it when he admitted, “I want him to be my big brother…and more than that.”

The corner of Alexei’s eyes wrinkled as he smiled. “Ahhh, I thought so. That’s good, Ethan.”

Ethan flushed with his praise. He’d said it! He’d really said it aloud!

Alexei was watching him closely with an unreadable expression. After a pause, he pushed, “And you’re serious about wanting him to have a big penis?”

Nodding, Ethan said, “Yeah, if he’s gonna be my big brother, he’s gotta have a big cock!” He looked away shyly, adding, “And I need to be small. I’m his little brother.”

Alexei didn’t react to this right away. His gaze was distant as he pondered something. Finally, he asked, “You are certain, Ethan? This is what you want? I need to know for sure.”

Excitement surged through Ethan as he nodded vigorously, almost shouting, “Yes! Yes, it’s what I want!” He didn’t even stop to wonder what Alexei could do with this information. It wasn’t like the Russian could magically cause Ethan to swap cocks with Chris, right?

“Ok, so be it,” Alexei was saying. “Stay there. I’ll be right back.”

Ethan watched him stalk out of the bathroom, feeling giddy and turned on after admitting how he felt about Chris. He hoped desperately that Chris would come around. He didn’t know if he could bear it if Chris didn’t want anything to do with him. He needed Chris!

Alexei reappeared holding packages of sterile cotton swabs and a couple of vials of green liquid. “Stand up, Ethan,” he instructed. “And let me undress you.”

Ethan didn’t hesitate. He obeyed Alexei immediately, standing and allowing the man to unbuckle his belt and pull down his pants. The Russian laughed when he saw that Ethan was wearing his underwear, saying, “There they are! And I thought I was losing my mind this morning. You’re such a naughty boy, Ethan!”

Ethan grinned, flushing crimson, and looked away. A moment later, Alexei was carefully lowering the waistband of the underwear, exposing Ethan’s firm, round butt. He looked back and was pleased to see Alexei admiring it. For some reason, it felt important that the man liked his butt.

“You said that Chris ejaculated on your buttocks?” Alexei queried in his funny, clinical way. “Did you wipe it off afterward or take a shower?” Ethan shook his head and Alexei nodded, ordering, “Good, now bend over.”

Ethan entire torso colored as he did as the Russian instructed, bending over deeply and exposing his bare ass for inspection. He thought he would die when Alexei spread his cheeks, exposing his pucker. No guy had ever seen his asshole before! No guy…

“Ouch!”

He tried to straighten after Alexei stuck something in his butt but the man held him firmly, saying sternly, “Stop! I need to collect his semen.” Ethan whimpered but complied, enduring the humiliation of having a cotton swab rubbed all over his most private spot. Finally, Alexei patted his ass and stood up. Dipping the swab in the vial before replacing the lid, he said, “I think I got enough. It’s a good thing you didn’t wash off.”

Ethan’s shoulders relaxed and he was breathing a sigh of relief when Alexei surprised him by pulling down the pouch of his underwear, retracting his foreskin, and sticking a cotton swab into his piss slit. He cried out in pain and confusion as the man quickly withdrew it. Dipping the swab in the other vial, Alexi apologized, “Yeah, sorry about that. Nobody likes it when I do that so I’ve learned to be fast.”

Specimens collected for his mysterious purposes, he continued undressing Ethan, pulling his underwear down his thighs. Ethan cupped his hands protectively around his hideously huge package, embarrassed. The man shook his head, coaxing, “Come on, Ethan. It’s Ok. Lift up your arms so I can take off your shirt.”

Reluctantly, he did as he was told and raised his hands up, letting his massive organ flop free. He closed his eyes, not wanting to look at it. Chris’ cock wasn’t meant to be on his body!

“It’s not that big,” Alexei commented after he’d removed Ethan’s shirt and hung it to dry on a nearby rack. “I suppose by American standards it’s big but by Russian standards, it’s only average.” He walked around and surveyed Ethan’s equipment critically, adding smugly, “We Russian men tend to be well endowed. A recent scientific study has proved it.” Before Ethan could reply to this, he slapped him on the butt and then playfully shoved him into the tub. Windmilling his arms, Ethan would have made a big splash if Alexei hadn’t caught and steadied him, easing him into the deliciously warm water.

Ethan sank down, luxuriating in the warmth. When Alexei took a seat on the edge and gazed upon him admiringly, he blushed and hugged his knees. It both thrilled him and embarrassed him when the man looked at him that way.

The corner of Alexei’s mouth lifted in a half grin. “Oh, Ethan, you are a godsend. I didn’t know what my life was missing until I kidnapped you.” He reached out and patted him fondly on the head, letting his hand slide down to cup his cheek. Ethan stared up at him adoringly, his whole body quivering as the meaning of Alexei’s words sunk in. Alexei liked him! Alexei wanted him to be in his life! Gradually, a wide smile spread across his face.

For some reason, this made Alexei turn away and Ethan wilted. He whimpered pathetically until the man turned back to him, sympathy suffusing his chiseled features. “Oh, Ethan!” he sighed. “You make me wish I was a better man.”

“You are!” Ethan protested. “You are a good man!”

“Have you forgotten who is in my basement?” Alexei asked. When Ethan reached out to take his hand, he looked like he would resist but then relented, allowing Ethan to hold it against his cheek. Silent for a long time, he finally stated sadly, “I don’t do nice things, Ethan. I…hurt people.”

Ethan stared up at him, his eyes wide and guileless. Nothing in the world could convince him that Alexei was a bad person. Nothing!

Seeing the look of blind worship written across his face, Alexei shook his head, squeezing Ethan’s cheek in his palm. “You don’t believe me? Come with me and I’ll show you.”

***

Alexei toweled Ethan off after he was thoroughly warmed up from the bathwater. His touch was tender and his expression soft as he drank in the sight of his naked body. Ethan looked down at the floor, shyly, and was embarrassed when his cock began to stand up. But Alexei merely laughed affectionately, reaching out to squeeze his shaft, saying, “We’ll have plenty of time for that later, Ethan! Right now, we have business to take care of. I have a job to do.”

Ethan shivered with anticipation at these words. What did Alexei mean? What exactly was he going to do later with Ethan? He couldn’t wait to find out!

Alexei dressed him in a pair of overalls with big, silver buttons and a white cotton t-shirt, standing back to admire him. “Yes, you’re becoming a very handsome boy, Ethan! I can’t wait until you begin to change.”

Change? What did he mean by that?

Alexei didn’t give him time to ponder this mysterious announcement. Straightening up and smoothing his hands down his lab coat, he led Ethan over to the door to the basement. His deep voice was solemn when he said, “What you will see down there is not pleasant. Do you understand? If you feel like it’s too much, tell me and I will take you back upstairs.”

Ethan didn’t understand at all but he found himself nodding nonetheless. What could be so scary in the basement?

The basement stairs were dark and creaky under their feet. The steps themselves were not unusual but that changed as soon as they reached the landing at the bottom. Blocking their way was an immense steel door with a glowing red display. The characters on the display were Cyrillic but Ethan could tell they were a warning of some sort. Alexei lifted his hand and waved it in front of a blue box and then leaned down to stare into a small camera lens. Straightening, he breathed into a tube sticking out from a small hole in the door.

“Precautions,” he told Ethan, looking over his shoulder and winking. “Can’t risk letting anyone in without my permission.”

Nodding earnestly, Ethan stood back as the wide, heavy door swung open. Breathless with anticipation, he peered beyond Alexei. A long corridor opened up beyond, lined with what appeared to be cages. Alexei stepped inside, motioning for Ethan to follow. He took a hesitant step forward, crossing the threshold and lifting his head to sniff the air. It was cool and crisp and smelled distinctly of antiseptic. 

Alexei didn’t wait for Ethan to catch up. He strode up to the first cage on the left, pausing in front of the door to click a small button. A light flashed and then went dim. “I record the progression of their changes for the buyers–after they pay me, of course,” he explained. “They can watch it in real time but it’s better when I send them the time-lapse version. The captives’ bodies transform rapidly but, even so, it takes at least several days, sometimes more than two weeks.” Noticing Ethan’s confused expression, he turned and patted him on the shoulder.

Ethan stared at him, concerned when he saw Alexei’s brow furrow. The man looked away before lifting his head to fix Ethan with a sorrowful gaze. “Ethan, I traffic in humans,” he admitted, voice cracking. “I…procure American men and auction them off on the black market to buyers…after, well, after I do things to them, things the buyers pay me to do.”

Mind spinning with this information, Ethan froze in place. His brain was already struggling to keep up with all of the bizarre events of the day and this nearly overloaded it. His mouth fell open unconsciously and Alexei smiled, reaching out to gently push it closed. It took Ethan a long time but he finally managed to croak, “You mean slaves?”

“Yes, slaves,” Alexei confirmed. “I cater to very specific tastes and my clients are wealthy beyond measure. They prefer the…humiliation…of watching rich, young American men transformed. No price is too high for them.”

Ethan’s brain couldn’t withstand the onslaught of these revelations. A day ago, he would have instantly fled the confines of the basement, running to report back to Captain Reilly. He would have stopped at nothing to have Alexei Bortnikov locked up in prison. As things stood now, though, all he could do was stand there and stare dumbly back at Alexei as he continued talking. 

The Russian’s voice was a dull monotone as he explained, “The Kremlin takes two-thirds of the proceeds from my auctions and invests them in espionage and other disruptive activities. I’m not proud of it but my business has funded the Internet Research Agency in St. Petersburg, the one that your media have termed the ‘Russian Troll Factory’. I have also funneled money to the Wagner Group, a military company that is waging a proxy war for Russia in Syria.”

He stopped and sighed when he saw Ethan’s blank stare. Smiling sadly, he lifted his hand to muss his hair. “I see that I’ve lost you,” he acknowledged before pulling open the cage door. “It’s probably better if I just show you what I’m talking about.”

With that, he pushed the door open and Ethan gaped at the huge mountain of flesh standing before them, waiting just inside the cage. It took awhile for the reality of what he was seeing to sink in. His mind simply did not want to believe it. He gawped dumbly until it dawned on him the thing in the cell was a person. At least, it probably had been a person at one point…

“Meet Erik Freiss,” Alexei announced, sweeping his hand outward to indicate the caricatured creature before him. “Or, Humpty Freiss as he is now known,” he said slyly. “I’m told that his buyer has a fetish for nursery rhymes.” Turning to address the enormous thing, he coaxed, “Come on out and meet Ethan, Humpty.”

The…thing…lurched forward on stick legs to extend a tiny hand out to Ethan. He looked at it aghast for a moment before shaking it tentatively. The creature giggled shrilly, it’s tiny, sunken eyes glittering in the dim light.

Ethan couldn’t stop staring. He tried to look away but couldn’t. The man before him was perfectly pear-shaped…or, more accurately, egg-shaped. There was no distinguable head, chin, ears, neck, shoulders, waist, or hips. No hair, either. The thing’s head was merely a huge dome that swept down and out, a rounded mass of jiggling fat that ended in a wide, fat bottom. Mostly naked, the only item of clothing it wore was a gigantic pair of tighty-whities. Bony legs emerged from the leg holes of ridiculous underwear, ending in little feet that were barely strong enough to hold up the rotund creature. It wobbled precariously as it stood there, peering down at them and grinning vacantly. Ethan was reminded uncomfortably of the horrific fate the character in the nursery rhyme met when it fell off the wall. 

“His mind is mostly gone,” Alexei was saying. “He only retains dim memories of being a fitness model. His new owner will no doubt remind him frequently of what he’s lost, though. He has all of Erik’s old exercise videos to entertain him with. And, of course, there is his twin brother to, ahem, jog his memory.” He laughed to himself before taking Erik/Humpty’s knobby elbow and guiding him over to the adjacent door, teasing, “You’ve missed your brother, haven’t you, Humpty?”

With this, Alexei opened the door to his twin brother’s cell. Standing beside him, the pathetic thing bobbled excitedly, it’s tiny, red lips opening to emit an excited chirp. With a sick sense of dread, Ethan peered inside, convinced he was going to see something similar to Humpty but instead found himself staring at a ripped, blond guy. The young man was completely naked, his long cock and balls hanging down tantalizingly from shaved pubes. Ethan shifted, feeling a tingling in his groin as his, er, rather Chris’ cock stirred in his overalls.

He didn’t have long to savor the sight of the naked man, though. As soon as the door opened, the young guy rounded on Alexei, cursing at him and swinging his arms violently. “Fucking let me go, you bastard!” he screamed. “I demand that you let me go!”

Ethan tensed and was preparing to intervene when the Russian stopped him with a curt nod. Moving quickly, Alexei easily sidestepped the man’s fists and calmly raised his hand, muttering something in Russian. Instantly, the young man froze in place, arms stiff at his side. His cock and balls rocked back and forth for a few seconds before stopping to dangle down inert. His beautiful face was still contorted with rage, however.

“I will let you go, Edward,” Alexei replied in an innocent voice that hardened as he concluded, “After you’re ready.” He laughed to himself as he pulled a syringe out of his lab coat pocket. “I’ve prepared your serum. Once I’ve injected you with it, I’ll attach you to the feeder.”

The young man’s eyes swiveled in his head as Alexei motioned to an apparatus beside him. Standing next to the cell’s toilet, it was a simple rack fitted with shackles. A mask attached to a long, plastic tube hung down from the ceiling. The naked man gurgled as he looked from the rack to the syringe in Alexei’s hand.

“Don’t worry, Edward,” the Russian continued. His tone was silken, soothing as he took a step closer. “Erik will stay with you while you feed and transform. Soon, you will be identical twins again.” He stepped aside and, for the first time, the young man became aware of the mountain of flesh looming behind Alexei. His eyes went round as the Russian continued, ”What’s the matter? Don’t you recognize your brother?”

A whimper escaped Edward’s throat as horrified understanding dawned on his lovely face. His eyes filled with pleading as he fixed Alexei with a desperate stare. If he could have spoken, he would have begged. Frozen under the Russian’s hypnotic spell, though, he could only mewl pitifully. After a few, tortured moments, a tear rolled down his cheek, followed by another. Soon, he was crying freely, the tears splattering down on his plump pecs and trickling over his magnificently defined chest. 

Ethan could feel his agony. He knew he should stop Alexei and help Edward, but he felt powerless to do anything but stand there and watch. The very thought of harming Alexei was enough to quell any impulse to intervene.

Unmoved, Alexei pulled a handkerchief from inside his coat and daubed away the boy’s tears, cajoling, “Oh, come on, Edward. It’s not so bad. You’ll get used to it.” He lifted the syringe menacingly, stepping closer as he said, “You have no choice!” 

Edward’s eyes became circles as Alexei deftly stabbed the syringe into the his thigh, emptying it completely. The boy howled in anguish, his lower lip trembling and his face growing ashen as Alexei tossed the syringe into a Sharp’s bio-waste bin on the wall. Alexei smirked before patting his cheek and exiting the cell. A moment later, Humpty wobbled inside and commenced fastening the shackles onto his brother’s ankles and wrists. Once he was secure, he attached the feeding mask to his face. Ethan looked up at the ceiling as Alexei pressed a button and liquid protein trickled down through the tube, filling the mask. Edward had no choice but to open his mouth and swallow…and swallow and swallow and swallow.

Sensing his horror, Alexei placed a comforting hand on Ethan’s shoulder and then closed the door, punching a few keys. “There, the live feed is active,” he announced. “His buyer will have a bird’s eye view of his transformation.” He paused, adding, “And so will you, Ethan. We’ll watch his progress on my computer.”

Ethan blinked, torn between the dueling emotions of revulsion at and desire for Alexei. His conflict disappeared a moment later, though, when the Russian favored him with a warm smile. “Come on, kiddo. I don’t know about you but I need a break. Let’s go soak in my hot tub.”

***

Chapter 8

Alexei led Ethan back upstairs by the hand. After closing the door to the basement behind them, he placed both hands on his shoulders and looked him in the eye. Ethan got lost for a moment in the splendor of his regard; he felt alive in a whole new way each time the man gazed upon him.

“I won’t apologize for what I do and I am not going to stop doing it, Ethan,” he said evenly before adding, “but I won’t blame you if you leave me after seeing that. I will miss you very much but I won’t try to stop you.”

Ethan gazed into those beautiful eyes. They were filled with such tenderness and honesty that it made his heart twist. He was confused and overwhelmed by what he’d seen downstairs–and had a feeling that there was yet more to be revealed. He knew that six men had been kidnapped and had only seen two. What of the remaining four? Had they been…modified…and sold already? Or were they still in the basement? He’d been so blindsided by what Alexei was doing to the Freiss twins that he hadn’t looked in the other cages. What else was the Russian up to in his basement laboratory?

Despite his alarm, though, losing Alexei was something he refused to contemplate. Regardless of how he treated his victims, he had treated Ethan only with respect, kindness, and love. Perhaps Alexei was being forced to conduct the kidnappings and modifications against his will? Perhaps the Russian government had ways of ensuring his obedience? If that were the case, then Alexei was almost as much of a victim as the men in his basement. He was trapped, forced to inflict horrendous punishments against his will. Yes, that must be it, he decided then. Alexei wasn’t completely to blame for his actions.

“I wanna be with you, Alexei,” he said, swallowing the lump in his throat that surfaced at the mere thought of leaving him. “I belong to you.”

His words clearly had an impact on the man because Alexei blinked and looked away. When he looked back, his face was shining with happiness. “I am so happy to hear you say that!” he exclaimed, pulling him in for a tight hug. Ethan sighed and surrendered once again to the man’s strong embrace. Could anyone be more manly than Alexei?

He didn’t have long to savor the moment before Alexei broke away, steering him back into the bathroom. “Time to celebrate!” he announced, smiling broadly.

Alexei’s idea of celebration involved stripping Ethan naked again and pulling out a white sheet for him to stand on. “Stay right there,” he commanded, opening up the medicine cabinet and pulling out a straight razor. “I need to clean you up before we take a dip in the hot tub.” Ethan stared at the razor askance, unconsciously taking step backward. Alexei laughed, reassuring, “Don’t worry! This is a special razor, Ethan. One of my inventions.” 

Lifting it up provocatively, he sliced it across his thumb. Ethan winced, expecting blood. A second later, though, he exhaled in relief when he saw that Alexei’s skin was intact. 

“It’s dull as a butter knife,” the Russian explained, patting him on the cheek. “It’s designed to only destroy hair follicles. See?” 

Taking Ethan’s wrist in his hand, he whisked it across his forearm. There was a rapid series of zaps and the smell of burnt hair filled the air. The black hairs from his arm tumbled to the floor, leaving his smooth, mocha-colored skin exposed. 

“They’re gone forever,” Alexei announced proudly. “They’ll never grow back, Ethan!”

Ethan lifted his arm to inspect it, turning it over and staring at it before running a forefinger over the shaved skin. It was soft, smooth, and…sexy. A thrill ran through his body as he gaped up at Alexei in amazement.

“Pretty cool, no?”

He nodded excitedly, holding up his other wrist. Alexei zipped the blade over it and the hair fell away, leaving the softest, supplest skin imaginable. Ethan rubbed it against his cheek, sighing. His cheeks colored a moment later when he realized the big cock hanging between his legs was growing hard.

He really liked having smooth skin! (And so did Chris’ monster cock!)

Alexei smiled when he noticed the erection. “Good, it’s easier to get all of the hair off of it if you’re hard.” With that, he swooped down and commenced shaving every last bit of pubic hair off of Ethan’s balls. He left a little tuft of black hair over the base of his cock but otherwise, he was very thorough in eliminating all evidence of Ethan’s manly bush. 

When he was done, Ethan stared down at his shorn cock and balls in amazement. It had been more than ten years since he’d seen them like this and the sight of his smooth genitalia was alien but not entirely unwelcome. Ever since the age of fifteen, he’d had a thick bush of pubic hair covering him up. He’d never been tempted to shave or even trim it, looking with disdain at the guys at the gym who groomed their pubes. He’d felt superior to them, manly.

He felt different now.

Now, he saw it differently.

All that hair was a burden. It was ugly and it covered him up. He knew that he was meant to be exposed, completely exposed so that nothing got between him and the big, sexy Russian man standing before him. He wanted Alexei to own him, own his body just like the guys caged in the basement. He might be free to come and go but he was still Alexei’s. He was Alexei’s to use and enjoy and…torment.

He shivered as he realized Alexei was watching with a hungry look on his face. The hair on the back of his neck stood up and he trembled with expectation, lifting his hands in the air away from his body, inviting Alexei in.

Now that he’d been shorn of pubic hair, he felt liberated.

Alive.

And in love.

He leaned forward and planted a kiss on Alexei’s cheek and the Russian flushed. Veins coursing with the fire of desire, Ethan reached out to hold him but Alexei pulled away gently, urging, “Just wait, Ethan. Wait until I’m done. You have a lot of hair on your body that needs to go!”

Disappointed, Ethan looked down at himself and almost recoiled in disgust at all of his hair. Why had he never noticed how hairy he was before now? Ugh, with the exception of his newly denuded cock and balls, his body was covered with black hair from head to toe! He found it revolting. It was just as out of place as the big, ugly cock between his legs.

It had to go!

Now!

Alexei made short work of it. Only five minutes later, Ethan was gaping down at the huge, black pile of singed hair lying around his bare feet. Alexei had shaved off everything, even the hair off his face (he left Ethan only a tiny bit of down on his cheeks, telling him he’d never need to worry about stubble or a beard again.) He almost didn’t recognize himself and turned to examine his reflection in the full length mirror across the room.

The young man blinking back at him had the most lustrous skin imaginable. It gleamed in the dim light filtering through the window, rendering his body into the likeness of a Greek statue. Lean, sinewy, and…boyish. He would have looked even more boyish (and more like those Greek statues) if it weren’t for his ugly cock and the heavy muscles weighing him down. He frowned, wishing them away. With smooth, hairless skin, nothing stood in the way of him recognizing one ugly fact: His muscles were getting in the way just as much as his big cock. Why had he worked so hard to bulk up? It was crazy! He would look so much better if he slimmed down a bit…

Alexei’s mouth quirked as he watched Ethan, almost like he was reading the thoughts spinning around in his head. Pulling the toilet seat down, he sat and patted his lap, urging Ethan over. “Come on, Ethan. I still need to get the hair on your buttocks and between your legs.”

Obediently, Ethan padded over and folded himself over Alexei’s lap with his butt sticking up in the air. Alexei ran his hand lovingly over his beefy buttocks, pausing to open his legs and expose the cleft of his ass. Ethan quivered with excitement when he felt the cool air caress his hole. He’d never let anyone see his butthole before! He was always careful to keep his butt clenched at the gym when he was bending over. And he was especially careful when he was having sex. It was a part of him that he didn’t want anyone to see.

Except for Alexei (and maybe Chris.)

“Soon it’ll be the perfect boy pussy,” Alexei commented as he skillfully ran the razor over Ethan’s cheeks, brushing off the hair, leaving his ass completely bare…forever. He trembled when it finally dawned on him: For the rest of his life, he would never again grow hair on his ass…or anywhere else on his body. He moaned in pleasure, feeling like he was going to shoot right there on Alexei’s lap.

He was smooth and hairless everywhere! His whole body…!

Alexei blew a puff of air over his hole, scattering the residual hair. Ethan heard him clear his throat and there was a pause before he started in surprise as a wad of the Russian’s spit fell with a splat on his exposed hole. This new and electrifying sensation was quickly followed by another: The mind-blowing experience of being penetrated by Alexei’s finger. He writhed in forbidden ecstasy as Alexei inserted the tip of his index finger inside his butthole, working it slowly around and murmuring in appreciation.

“Nothing tighter than a straight boy’s virgin hole,” he breathed and Ethan purred, pushing his butt up higher, all but begging Alexei to take him. The Russian hesitated, clearly tempted to go further but a few second later Ethan sagged when the man refrained, saying, “No yet. You’re not quite ready for me.”

He patted Ethan on the butt and gently pushed him off. Very reluctantly, Ethan stood and looked forlornly down at him. He wanted Alexei! He wanted all of him!

“Soon enough, Ethan,” Alexei placated. “Soon enough! Now let’s go for a dip in the hot tub, Ok?”

Ethan nodded, his erection drooping in disappoint. He gazed down at himself again, feeling disoriented. His body looked so different without hair! He looked like a…

“Here,” Alexei said, interrupting his reverie. “Put this on.” He held out a tiny, baby blue piece of fabric that Ethan plucked out of his hand. Holding it up, he realized it was a miniscule Speedo.

Whoa! It was so small, so delicate, so revealing. Could he wear something like that? He rolled it around and around in his hand, feeling his heart pound. It was barely more than a tiny pair of water panties!

Alexei folded up the sheet containing all of Ethan’s former body hair and left him alone in the bathroom to change. Ethan was bent over, stepping into the Speedo, when Alexei returned, stopping behind him to place his big hands on his waist.

“Beautiful,” he praised as Ethan drew the delicate, stretchy fabric up his smooth thighs. “Beautiful boy.”

The swimsuit was almost smaller in back than in front, riding both low on his butt and high on his ass cheeks. In front, it was so tight that it gripped his package firmly, holding him in so that there was only a small bulge when he straightened up. He turned to admire the way it concealed his cock and balls in the mirror and smiled happily, meeting Alexei’s admiring gaze in the reflection as the man peered over his shoulder.

“The tub is at temperature, Ethan. Let’s go.”

Casting one last amazed look at himself in the mirror, he turned to follow the Russian out of the room.

Wait. Whoa!

He halted abruptly when he saw that Alexei had also changed into a Speedo. Unlike Ethan’s, though, it was a boldly masculine square-cut, black with red racing stripes. The Russian’s blocky, muscular buttocks were clearly outlined as he sauntered through the living room. When he turned to see why Ethan wasn’t following, Ethan’s jaw dropped.

That bulge.

Holy shit.

That fucking bulge!

How was that fucking possible?

He gaped at the lascivious outline of Alexei’s huge endowment. The poor Speedo strained to contain him and appeared ready to bust open in front at any moment. Ethan had no idea that it was humanly possible to be so hung. Glancing down at his own bulge and back at Alexei’s, he realized that his was meager in comparison.

Alexei hadn’t lied; he really was hung like a Russian.

Ethan began to smile as he gazed upon the magnificent specimen of manhood, realizing it wasn’t just Alexei’s package. It was everything. Everything about the man was big, dominant, and strong. His muscles were perfectly proportioned and defined, telegraphing his ease and confidence wordlessly. His shoulders were broad and his back striated, tapering down to a narrow waist and prominent ass.

He was beautiful.

Ethan swallowed, desire and love washing over him. Alexei Bortnikov was a beautiful man.

And Ethan belonged to him. 

Feeling almost giddy, he sighed with relief when he realized he didn’t need feel so self-conscious about the size of his equipment. No, he didn’t need to be self-conscious at all! He was small in comparison and he loved it. He loved it!

It was more than that, though.

Ethan understood at that moment something that his body had known from the first time he met Alexei: He would never have to worry about anything again, not his size, his body, his job, his life, his future. Nothing.

Alexei would take care of him.

Alexei was his man.

Ethan practically ran out of the bathroom when the big Russian motioned for him to follow. Nothing was going to come between him and Alexei!

***

“Wake up, Ethan.”

He wrinkled his nose at the acrid odor filling his nostrils. Blinking, he opened his eyes and saw that Alexei was holding a vial of smelling salts, his handsome face clouded with concern. Ethan coughed and tried to sit up. Gradually, he became aware that he was immersed in hot water and sitting face-to-face with Alexei on his lap. Eyes opening in alarm, he scrambled to get off but Alexei held him in place.

“What are you doing?” he demanded, searching his memory frantically, trying to remember how he had ended in a hot tub with the mysterious the Russian.

“I had to dial back on the strength of the pheromones,” Alexei explained cryptically as Ethan continued to wrestle to get away. It was no use, though. The man held him firmly in place. “You were becoming a little too passive.”

“Pheromones?” Ethan demanded. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“The scent chemicals I used to attract you,” the man said simply, as if this should have been obvious to Ethan. “Didn’t you think it was strange that you suddenly found me so compelling? They permeated your clothing so strongly that you ended up entrapping your friend, Chris, too.”

Ethan froze. “Chris? What’re you…” his voice trailed off as everything came back to him then. Everything. The events at the spa, his flight to Alexei’s, the horror of what he’d witnessed in the basement, the razor. Bracing against Alexei, he stared down at his denuded torso in disbelief.

It was real.

He’d thought it was just a demented dream.

“WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO TO ME?” he shouted, pummeling his fists against Alexei’s chest, trying to force him away, trying to hurt him, make him pay for everything he’d done. It was all in vain, of course; he barely succeeded in reddening the Russian’s skin. Alexei allowed him to beat away at him for a while until he grew tired of it and took Ethan’s hands in his own.

“Yes, I definitely prefer you with a little fight left in you,” he said wryly, reigniting Ethan’s ire.

“You’re a fucker! A fucking monster!” he yelled but his voice lacked conviction. “A fucking…”

“Yes, Ethan,” Alexei urged in a bored voice. “Go on. Tell me what a horrible man I am.”

Cheeks reddening, Ethan lowered his head. He just didn’t have it in him to fight the man when he could feel his cock straining against the flimsy pair of water panties he was wearing. Every one of the Russian’s ridges and bumps and bulges touching his delicately smooth skin was enough to set him on fire with lust. Alexei repositioned Ethan’s legs so that they wrapped around his waist and settled his butt more firmly onto his lap. Leaning in, he kissed him tenderly.

Ethan wanted to pull away but he didn’t. And when Alexei’s lips brushed his…

“You’re terrible.”

“I know.”

“What did you do to me anyway? I don’t understand how you could…change me like this.”

Alexei kissed him softly again before answering slowly, “I can, well, shift your attraction.”

“Uh, yeah,” Ethan said sarcastically. “I think I figured that one out. But how is that possible? How did you make me fall for you?”

Alexei shrugged, looking off to the side before saying, “I didn’t.”

“Right…”

“No, I really didn’t!” His tone was so injured and Ethan smiled in spite of himself. “I can stimulate attraction,” Alexei explained finally, “but even I couldn’t make you fall in love with me. It…was a gamble. I had a feeling, that’s all.”

Ethan’s mouth quirked. “A feeling that you’d nabbed a sucker? Well, yeah, I guess you did.”

“No, Ethan,” Alexei said seriously, “I knew when I slipped the hood over your head…”

“You really have mastered the art of sexy talk during your time in the United States,” Ethan interrupted drolly, earning a smack on the side of the head. He yelped and rubbed his temple as Alexei fixed with an angry glare.

“Hush, boy! Let me finish!” His lips were already curling into a smile, though, and Ethan smiled back mischievously.

“Oh, I’ll let you finish alright,” he murmured, leaning forward on the big Russian’s lap. “I can’t wait to let you finish…”

***

Alexei treated Ethan like a perfect gentleman, a little too perfect for Ethan’s taste. The big Russian insisted on drawing out his seduction, calling it a ‘courtship’ and telling Ethan that he preferred to take it slow with him.

“You’re a fucker, you know it?” Ethan pouted, wrapping his arms around Alexei’s thick neck and nuzzling his ear. “You kidnap and turn me gay, making me thirsty for your sexy bod, and then you tell me to wait? WTF, man? You’re just being cruel!”

“I want you to beg me, Ethan,” Alexei replied evenly. “Are you ready to beg me to penetrate you?”

Imitating the Russian’s deep baritone, he repeated, “‘Are you ready to beg me to penetrate you?’ He rolled his eyes, continuing, “Why do you talk like that? Nobody talks like that?”

Alexei shrugged, his slavic, no nonsense attitude intact as always, saying, “I am Russian. This is how we talk.”

“I would think it was funny if you weren’t so fucking sexy,” Ethan admitted. “But it actually works. I don’t know why, but it does.”

“Glad to hear it. Now, are you ready to beg me to penetrate you?”

Ethan harrumphed, settling his butt down onto the man’s huge bulge. The Russian was very turned on by the feel of things down there…and so was Ethan. The longer he wore the water panties, the more he loved them. But that bulge…shit! It was big!

“If your dick wasn’t tree-sized, I would beg for it,” he conceded, looking down. “But that thing would split me in two. I’m straight, remember? I’ve never taken it up the ass before.”

Alexei nodded. “It is as I thought. We are better off taking our time. I will treat you gently.”

Mouth quirking, Ethan teased, “Not too gently, I hope!”

In answer, Alexei pulled him close for a lingering kiss, opening his mouth this time and tasting Ethan’s lips. Ethan opened his mouth, inviting him in, quickly becoming drunk with desire. He had kissed many women but never a man. It wasn’t as gross as he’d thought it would be. Shit, far from gross, kissing a dude was a fucking huge turn on. And Alexei, of course, was more than just any dude. 

With exquisite tenderness, he pushed Ethan backward and lowered his muscular body on top of him. Ethan surrendered, savoring the dense weight of the Russian driving down on him. He was only a little disappointed that they never removed their swimsuits. The friction of their cocks against the sheer fabric of their Speedos was enough to get them both off, though. When Alexei finally lifted off of him, Ethan realized he was longing for more. Part of him didn’t know how much longer he could wait before they took it to the next level.

Afterward, Alexei carried Ethan back into the house and made dinner for him while he watched, holding Sasha on his lap and salivating over the sight of the big man in his package-hugging swimsuit. Maybe it was the fact that his body hair was gone or maybe it was something else but Ethan’s awareness was continually drawn back to the sensation of his butthole pressing against his little water panties. He rotated his hips, suppressing a shiver as he dreamed of Alexei taking his ass virginity…

***

He awoke sprawled out naked in Alexei’s giant bed the next morning with Sasha snoring comfortably beside him. There was no sign of the Russian, though. He propped himself up on his elbows and sniffed the air, catching a whiff of brewing coffee and the man’s intoxicating scent. Even though he now knew Alexei’s odor was a chemical attractant, he still loved the smell. He stumbled out of bed, his cock already half-hard in anticipation…

Hand already on the door to the basement, Alexi smiled pleasantly when he emerged from the bedroom, saying, “Good morning, Ethan.” He raised his eyebrows as he took in the sight of Ethan’s nude body, long cock bobbing in front of him. “You look much better hairless.”

Ethan looked down at himself and blushed, still not accustomed to the sight of his denuded skin. It was so weird to no longer have body hair! He reached down and massaged his crotch, marveling at the smoothness. Not even a trace of stubble. Alexei’s razor really had permanently removed his hair! It didn’t seem real yet, though. Maybe in a few days…

“I’m heading down to work,” Alexei explained unnecessarily, stepping forward to plant a chaste kiss on his cheek. Ethan noticed that he was wearing his white lab coat again. “There’s a pot of coffee and breakfast on the stove waiting for you.” Ethan must have looked crestfallen because the sexy Russian pulled him in for a deeper kiss while dropping his hands to caress his smooth butt cheeks. Breaking off the kiss, he cradled Ethan’s face against his neck, saying, “I’ve prepared the medicines for you and Chris, too. They’re on the counter. Yours is in the light blue bottle and his is in the dark blue one.”

Heart suddenly pounding, Ethan stepped back and stared at him with wide eyes. “My…medicine?”

“Yes, the medicine you asked me to prepare yesterday. Remember?”

He started to shake his head but caught himself when he remembered Alexei swabbing his butt, collecting samples of Chris’ cum. He gulped, saying, “I thought…that you were just teasing me. You mean, you really can…?”

“Ethan, when have I ever teased you?” Alexei admonished, shaking his head. “You were in my basement. You know what I’m capable of doing.” 

His cock pulsed almost painfully with this incredible news, something that didn’t escape Alexei’s notice. Reaching down to squeeze his hardon, he instructed, “Massage the oil all over his body. Every part, even his scalp. Got it?”

Ethan nodded dumbly, feeling mind-blown.

“Good. Then have him do the same with you. You will notice the results very soon.” He opened the basement door and started downstairs, saying over his shoulder before he closed the door, “Come back tonight and I’ll show you the rest of the slaves, Ok?”

Ethan ate breakfast in a daze, unable to concentrate on anything but the two little, blue bottles of ‘medicine’ sitting on the counter next to his elbow. After he was finished, he pulled on the outfit that Alexei had laid out for him (a green, button-down shirt with an argyle vest and tan short pants) and ordered an Uber.

It was time to pay a visit to Chris’ apartment.

***

Ashton Koch

He awoke to the sound of his cell door clanging open and scrambled backward in surprise. He’d been left naked in the little cell with only a toilet for company for so long that he’d lost track of time. How long had he been in there? Hours, days, weeks? He’d lost count of the trays of food that had appeared under his door. They would slide in only after he pushed the empty ones back out. (It had taken him a while–and a very empty stomach–to figure that one out.) Occasionally, he would get so thirsty that he was forced to drink out of the toilet bowl, something that bothered him almost as much as being imprisoned. He had no idea who had taken him but he assumed he was being held hostage and his kidnappers were negotiating ransom with his family. 

After recovering from his initial surprise at the sight of the opening door, he looked up expectantly, hoping that he would finally be set free…

A big man wearing a white lab coat and an ugly expression on his face stalked into the room. Before Ashton could utter a word, he had lunged at him and, grabbing him by the throat, lifted him effortlessly in the air over his head. Ashton writhed in the air, gagging and gasping as his windpipe was slowly crushed. The man shook him fiercely, banging his head against the steel wall in back of him. Ashton’s eyes bugged as he struggled vainly to free himself. There was nothing he could do, though; he was helpless.

“I made the mistake of reading your police file before coming down here,” the man shouted in a Russian-accented voice. “You are a snake, a dog, and a devil!”

Ashton gurgled pitifully in response, his hopes of imminent freedom vanishing.

The Russian sneered at him as he continued coldly,  “I normally use anesthetic on my slaves but you don’t deserve it.” 

Ashton goggled as he lifted a scary-looking stainless steel implement in his free hand and brandished it in front of his face. Pausing to fix him with a grim stare, the man thrust him against the wall and squeezed his hand tighter around Ashton’s throat. When his mouth popped open, the man thrust the evil tool between his jaws and snapped it in place. Instantly, Ashton’s mouth was forced open in a wide gape. 

The man smiled with satisfaction before letting him fall to the floor. Ashton mewled, clutching at the thing in his mouth and trying to scuttle away from his attacker but he was too slow. The man kicked him savagely in the stomach and then pinned him down as he curled up in pain. In a moment, both of his wrists were chained to the floor and the man was quickly fastening shackles onto his ankles. The evil device still attached to his jaws, Ashton twisted his head, trying to figure where the shackles had come from. They appeared to have launched themselves out of the floor on their own volition.

Immobilized and helpless, he squirmed pathetically as the man stood over him. His eyes went round when he pulled a pair of shears from his pocket. The wicked scissors flashed blue in the dim light as the man leaned forward to reach inside of his mouth. In a moment, he’d grabbed Ashton’s tongue. Light exploded in his head as his assailant pronounced, “A snake should have a forked tongue.” With that, he lowered the shears and snipped a deep wedge out of his tongue, tossing the piece of flesh casually off to the side.

Pain screamed through Ashton’s mouth as he let out a strangled howl, cheeks filling with blood. His vision went white before going dark as he lost consciousness. The horrible man didn’t let him escape into oblivion for long, though. A few seconds later, he was revived as the man waved an acrid-smelling vial under his nose. The pain in his mouth was so blinding that he didn’t notice the smell of burning flesh until his torturer stated, “There. It’s cauterized. The bleeding has stopped.” He removed the vial and commenced wiping up the blood pooling on the inside of Ashton’s gaping mouth.

Ashton whimpered, mind and body awash in pain. Madly, he tried to figure out what was going on. What had he done to deserve this? Why hadn’t he been rescued? He was one of the richest men in the world. He should have been freed by now! Men like him weren’t kidnapped and tortured. Men like him weren’t…

He gargled in terror again as the man produced a pair of pliers from somewhere and paused, holding them inches in front of his face. Pronouncing his words clearly and crisply, he said flatly, “Time to defang the snake.”

***

Chapter 9

Arlington Kraft

His jail cell was comfortably appointed with a wide-screen television (and a Netflix account), a pull-out sofa, a toilet, and even a small refrigerator. The best part, however, was the tiny studio space along the back wall. There was a mirror and a bar where he could stretch and he had just enough room to practice his routines. Seeming to think of everything, his captor had even provided him with several pair of ballet tights and slippers.

Dancing was the only thing that had kept Arlington sane since his kidnapping. He didn’t have much room but at least the ceiling was high. There was barely enough space for him to stay active and in shape. He had no idea whether it was morning, noon, or night but he could estimate time by practicing while watching movies on Netflix. By this measure, he spent several hours a day training.

Food appeared regularly through a hole in the door and the refrigerator was stocked with drinks while he slept. He tried to stay awake so he could confront his abductors but somehow never woke up when they visited his cell.

He’d given up trying to escape after many hours of trying. Even though he had plenty of objects in his cell, none of them proved useful in breaking out and he lacked the imagination or inventiveness to figure out a brilliant means of tricking his captors. In the end, he decided that they must not want him dead or they would have killed him already. Further, the creature comforts of his cell meant that they weren’t interested in abusing him. The logical conclusion was that he had been kidnapped to extort money from his father. As the owner of a major NFL franchise, his father had enemies but Arlington had never suspected that he was in any personal danger. Hopefully, this would all be straightened out soon and he would go free. It was only a matter of time.

The door opened quite unexpectedly one day while he was getting ready to practice, leaning over with one leg propped up on the bar in front of the mirror. Startled, he stared at the reflection of a large man in a lab coat entering through the doorway behind him.

“Arlington Kraft,” he announced in a deep voice tinged with a Russian accent. “I am here to begin.”

Arlington straightened, pulse racing. “Who the fuck are you?”

“My name is Alexei Bortnikov,” the man said, inclining his head slightly. “Your kidnapper.” He sauntered over to the sofa and sat down, patting a cushion next to him and saying, “Care to join me? I have some questions.”

Arlington stiffened, regarding the big man uncertainly. Alexei had left the door ajar and his eyes darted to it before returning to the handsome man’s face.

Alexei laughed. “I don’t advise it. I have complete control over you. You wouldn’t make it more than two steps.”

Eyes narrowing, Arlington decided to test this assertion and made a dash for the door. The man lifted a finger and muttered something in Russian. The next instant, Arlington froze in place. His muscles refused to move even though his brain was screaming at them. Only his eyes were free to move about in his head and these swiveled in Alexei’s direction.

“See?” the Russian said simply. “How about if you sit down and we have a little chat before I begin?”

His legs betraying him, he watched helplessly as they moved against his will and he lurched like a scarecrow over to the couch. He fought with everything he had but was powerless to resist the urge to sit down. He sighed in defeat as he folded himself down on the cushion, so close that he could feel the heat from the Russian’s thigh near his own.

Alexei was silent for a long time, appearing to be lost in thought. Finally, he turned and fixed Arlington with his soft, brown eyes and smiled sadly. “I dislike destroying homosexual men such as yourself,” he murmured. “But your buyer has given me no choice.”

The sheer unbelievability of these words slammed into Arlington like a truck. “My…BUYER?” he shouted. “I have a FUCKING BUYER? What am I a fucking SLAVE?”

“Not quite a slave,” Alexei corrected. “You see, your purchaser does not wish to own you after…I finish working on you. He wishes instead to use you as a warning to your father and the other NFL team owners.”

His head felt like it was going to explode. If he could have moved his arms, he would have reached up to massage his forehead. All he could do was sit there, though, completely immobile. His body (with the exception of his mouth and eyes) was at the whim of his captor. Mouth opening and closing several times, he croaked, “A warning? What sort of warning?”

The Russian chose not to answer this directly. Instead, he surveyed Arlington’s athletic body, pausing to take in his long, elegant legs and lean frame. Arlington was a dancer and as such possessed a lithe, sinewy body. He was tall and extremely well-proportioned with fine bones and a delicate beauty. Boasting alabaster skin that was free of any blemish, bright red hair, and crystal clear, blue eyes, he was the epitome of effete male beauty. He always danced the lead role in productions because of this; he might not be the best ballet dancer but he was the prettiest. 

The Russian’s eyes lingered on the little, perfect bulge outlined in his ballet tights and Arlington’s ears burned. If he could have repositioned himself away from the intrusive gaze of the horrible man, he would have.

“You are quite delectable,” Alexei pronounced. “It is such a shame.”

“Fuck you, asshole!” Arlington spat, losing patience with this tiresome game. “Just fucking let me go! Whatever your buyer may have offered, my father will pay double!”

“That may very well be true, Mr. Kraft,” Alexei said, shaking his head. He had a strange, retro haircut that reminded Arlington of men’s hairstyles from the 1950’s. “But it matters little. The deal has been closed and your buyer has paid the requisite fee.”

As Arlington struggled to come to terms with this outrageous information, the man continued, “I am curious, though, if you really meant what you said about the football players who refuse to kneel during your national anthem. The rant you posted on Twitter was quite inflammatory.”

Taken by surprise by this, Arlington stared wide-eyed at Alexei. “My…rant? So, that’s what this is about? I’m being punished for calling those imbeciles unpatriotic?”

Alexei blinked. “You said rather more than that, I’m afraid. You called them any number of offensive names.”

“So what if I did?” Arlington spat. “It’s all true. I don’t even know why my father bothers with them. I told him to sell the team and invest in more…culturally enlightened enterprises.”

Crossing his arms, Alexei queried innocently, “By ‘culturally enlightened,’ do you happen to mean ‘white’?” Before Arlington could respond, the Russian extracted his smartphone from his pocket and, swiping his finger across the screen, read, “These thugs are drooling monkeys with more muscles than brains…” He paused before continuing, “…beasts of burden who don’t respect their betters…uncultured he-men…and mutant bovines.” Looking up, he asked, “Sound familiar?”

Arlington’s lip curled at this and he looked away. His whole body was trembling with fury. If he could have strangled Alexei in that moment, he would have.

“Well, Mr. Kraft,” the Russian pressed. “Do you stand by your words?”

Furious at being treated in such a patronizing manner, Arlington forgot for the moment that he was a captive and therefore at the mercy of the big man. Drawing himself up (or fighting against his frozen body to do so) he hissed, “Yes! Yes, I do. I don’t regret one word!”

“I see,” Alexei said, nodding. “That makes my job a little easier at least. I find it easier to destroy contemptible men.” He slapped his hands on his knees and stood up, smiling brightly as he announced, “Sit up, my boy. It’s time we got started.”

***

Ashton Koch

He awoke to a light in his eyes. Groaning, he tried to roll over but found he was still chained in place. His mouth was dry, so dry, and stuffed full of…cotton? And it was hard to breathe because his nose was covered with something. His ears, too, felt smothered and warm. Was he wearing ear muffs? He opened his eyes, squinting into the bright light.

“I would have let you sleep,” a muffled voice informed him, removing the pen light long enough for Ashton to recognize the face staring down at him. He shuddered involuntarily. He would never forget that face as long as he lived. The speaker, his abductor and torturer, continued, “Sleep is better for your healing but I’m fighting against a deadline here and don’t have much time before your buyer claims you.”

Ashton closed his eyes, the nightmarish memories of his captivity and…maiming washing over him. Tears formed in the corner of his eyes and rolled down his face.

“I wonder,” his Russian captor murmured. “Did the women you mutilated cry as well? Did you take pity on them when they did?” He paused before answering his own question, saying, “Of course, you didn’t, Mr. Koch. You seem to be incapable of feeling pity or remorse.”

Ashton tried to grimace but his face was held immobile and his mouth was too full of cotton anyway.

“Open your eyes,” the man urged. “Take a look at my handiwork, snake!”

Fear gripped his chest with these words and he fought to keep his eyes closed but he was still powerless to resist the man. In the end, his eyelids fluttered open and he stared up at the ceiling.

There was a mirror on the ceiling above him. The man must have installed it while he was passed out because it hadn’t been there before. His gaze was drawn to his naked body, his arms and legs were outspread, his wrists and ankles chained.

That wasn’t the worst of it, though.

No, not by half.

He gurgled, choking on the cotton in his mouth, and struggled weakly when he noticed the bandages. White bandages were wrapped around his fingers and toes, nose, ears, and lips. He could see his blue eyes staring wildly back at him from the reflection above as he realized that the man had been busy…very busy while he was out.

A little rattle next to his ear startled him out of his horrified fascination. A moment later, the Russian dangled a plastic bottle in front of his face, shaking it for effect. Ashton’s eyes focused on the container briefly before going wide. The bottle was filled with human teeth.

His teeth.

“I kept your toenails and fingernails as souvenirs, too,” the man announced with a smile. “You can take them with you when you go if you like.” 

Ashton panicked then, his mind going blank and he would have fainted if the evil man hadn’t slapped his cheek painfully, admonishing, “As I was saying, Mr. Koch, I would have let you sleep but I don’t have the luxury of time right now. I need you awake for the next modification.”

His captor straightened, tugging a funny, pen-like object attached to a long cord into view. Ashton stared at it in confusion, wondering with no little dread what sort of contraption it was. Noticing his interest, the man explained, “This is a laser. I have restrained your head so you cannot move it but you will have to make sure you do not look directly into the light as I do my work.” He paused to wag a finger, adding, “You wouldn’t want to go blind now, would you?”

A muffled wail escaped Ashton’s mouth but was lost in the wads of cotton. This seemed to amuse the Russian because he smiled again. His voice was silken when he lowered his lips to whisper in his bandaged ear, “You rolled the dice, Mr. Koch, and they came up snake eyes.”

***

Ted Marcus and Steph Cameron (in Alexei’s basement)

Steph scratched his armpit and slouched farther down on the couch, casting a weary eye over at Ted. The big man appeared to be half asleep but he stirred when he noticed Steph watching him and scowled. Steph returned the scowl, thinking for the millionth time how stupid Ted looked wearing only a skimpy red wrestling singlet. He turned back to the television, feeling like he was going to go insane if he had to watch any more Ren and Stimpy reruns.

They had been trapped in the cell together for an ungodly length of time with only television and gym equipment to keep them occupied. Neither could remember how they got there, only that they had awakened lying on the floor next to each other, clothed only in the ridiculous wrestling singlets. 

Steph looked down at himself and frowned, realizing he looked every bit as stupid wearing his tiny, blue singlet. The fabric was sheer and revealing, leaving nothing to the imagination. He’d quickly grown tired of seeing the outline of Ted’s long hose running down the leg of his singlet. And then there was the salacious crease of his buttocks as the thin material rode up his crack. Ted had a really beefy butt; it went with the rest of the big man. Yeah, Ted Marcus was a really huge dude.

He scratched again, trying to get some relief from the fabric hugging his skin. Across the couch, Ted did the same thing. The uniforms were bad enough without being so damned uncomfortable. Something in the fabric was really itchy. Neither man could get any relief and they were left constantly shifting around, scratching and rubbing and pulling on the skin-tight material in the effort to get comfortable.

Nothing worked.

Since neither man was willing to remove the clothing to walk around naked in front of the other, they were left in a state of perpetual misery. Add to this the fact that they hated each other with a passion and you had a recipe for pure hell. Steph had never experienced anything like it. As a member of a very wealthy family, he was unused to enduring awkward and disagreeable situations. Until now, if he didn’t like something, he would just get rid of it. This included people. He was notorious for making his parents terminate servants he didn’t care for. He couldn’t get rid of Ted Marcus, though, and he hated it. His only satisfaction was knowing that Ted despised him just as much.

Life together had been torture.

There was only one bed in the cell and that was the fold-out sofa upon which they were now sitting, watching cartoons. Steph had tried sleeping on the floor but it was too uncomfortable and he had very reluctantly been forced to share the bed with Ted. The big man liked to sprawl across the thin mattress, leaving Steph curled up on a tiny corner. He hadn’t gotten a good night’s sleep the entire time he’d been imprisoned.

It wasn’t fair!

He turned away from the television and his gaze landed on the toilet in the middle of the room. That was another one of the indignities of captivity. Steph and Ted were forced to urinate and defecate in front of each other. It was disgusting the way Ted grunted and strained, seeming to take endless pleasure in his bowel movements. Steph almost hated the lack of privacy more than anything else. He was not meant to share a room with anyone! He needed his space! How was he supposed to live like this?

Ted changed the channel on the television, eliciting a bark of protest from Steph. Sighing heavily and rolling his eyes, he changed it back to the Cartoon Network. Steph crossed his arms and surreptitiously scratched his stomach.

He wanted to workout but knew that as soon as he went over to the little weightlifting area, Ted would follow him and insist on lifting with him. The big man was a lot stronger than Steph, who was both shorter and thinner. Until his captivity, Steph had been proud of his lean physique and small but defined muscles. Now, though, Ted wasted no opportunity to chide him about his small size, his weaker muscles, his inadequate endowment. (Steph was averagely hung but compared to Ted he was small.) The big man would leer down at his package while Steph was struggling to bench press and make dismissive comments. Steph wanted to kill him!

Why was Ted Marcus such an asshole?

The door opening interrupted the downward spiral of Steph’s thoughts and both men turned to see a tall, muscular man wearing a white lab coat entering their cell. In unison (and for once acting as a team) they jumped up and charged at the interloper, intent on taking him down and forging their escape.

They didn’t make it very far.

The man raised his hand and murmured something in a foreign language. Instantly, both Steph and Ted froze in place; they had barely made it more than two steps from the couch. Their eyes went round as they realized their bodies were not under their control and they fought to break the strange spell but, of course, it was no use; they could not move.

“I’ll make this brief,” the man announced in accented English, stepping forward to inspect them carefully. Steph bridled inwardly when the man’s eyes traced their way down his torso, lingering for a moment on his modest bulge. To his humiliation, a small smile touched his lips as he continued, “Normally, I like to talk with my victims but I have no time today. I wanted merely to tell you that you will both be set free very soon.”

Steph took this news in with suspicion. He tried to speak but his mouth was frozen. He desperately wanted to know why he and Ted had been taken captive in the first place. Were they being held for ransom? That seemed the most likely because the combined wealth of their families totaled many hundreds of millions of dollars. 

But…

But, the man didn’t dress like someone who was merely holding them for ransom. Why, for instance, was he wearing a lab coat?

Seeming to read his mind, the man stated, “I also wished to tell you why you both were chosen for this experiment.”

Experiment?

Experiment!

They were being held for experiments! Steph’s chest clenched. He didn’t like the sound of this. 

The man’s next statement, though, only heightened Steph’s confusion.

He paced back and forth before them, hands clasped behind his back. “Both of your families donated large sums to Trump in 2016,” he said before turning to face Ted. “And you, Mr. Marcus,” he announced, “went above and beyond by making an even more generous donation to his campaign.”

Steph had no idea why this mattered. It was public knowledge that Ted and his family were huge donors to the Republican party. Ted boasted frequently that he had picked a winner as if Trump was a thoroughbred in a horse race. (Ted Marcus’ gambling habit was widely known and was yet another reason that Steph despised him.)

“But you, Mr. Cameron,” the man said, halting before him and fixing him with his unnervingly direct gaze. “You broke with the rest of your family and secretly donated millions in support of candidate Bernie Sanders.”

Steph went cold at these words. How the fuck did he know that? He thought he’d masked his donations thoroughly by funneling them through a shell corporation. Even though he couldn’t see Ted at that moment, he could feel the man’s eyes boring into the back of his head and he broke out in a sweat. If his family found out that he had donated to that money, he would be disinherited…or worse.

“Which brings me to the reason behind your abduction and this experiment…”

Steph almost didn’t hear him. He was too worked up about being outed as a Sanders supporter. He’d been a clandestine liberal ever since his college days at Middlebury but he thought he’d been extremely careful not to reveal this to anyone in his family or their circle of friends. How the fuck had he been found out?

“You see,” the man was saying. He was standing in front of Ted again, surveying his beefy body with obvious pleasure. This dude, Steph thought, is really beginning to creep me the fuck out. “Some prominent clients from across the political spectrum have paid a lot of money to settle a bet. In these politically divisive times, they want to find out if it is possible for the lion to lie down with the lamb…” His voice trailed off as he smiled to himself before concluding, “Or, more appropriately perhaps, for the elephant to lie with the donkey.”

Steph’s eyes narrowed at this, feeling an ominous premonition descend upon him as the man turned and walked out of the room. 

As he closed the door, he teased, “Have fun, gentlemen. I am very curious to see which one of you comes out on top.”

The door clanged shut with finality as the mysterious hypnotic spell holding them in place dissolved and both men collapsed on top of each other in a heap on the floor.

***

Chapter 10

Chris made Ethan wait a long time at the door to his apartment before he was allowed in. A pretty young woman (dressed provocatively in an old-fashioned French maid uniform) answered the door when he knocked. After asking his name and the nature of his visit, she drifted off and was gone for some minutes. She reappeared eventually and ushered him inside, saying in a bored tone, “Mr. Perry is through there.” She pointed down a long marble hallway leading out to the patio.

Alexei’s mysterious blue bottles were burning a hole in his pocket and Ethan couldn’t resist fondling them as he strode down the hallway and out into the cool spring air. He found Chris beside the pool, slouched in a chair before a teak table, eating breakfast…or at least contemplating doing so. He looked pale and sickly, his face blotched and eyes puffy. He was wearing a bathrobe open to the waist that he cinched abruptly when he saw Ethan approaching.

Not bothering to look up at him, he mumbled, “S’up, dude?” as he reached out to take a sip of black coffee before setting the cup down again and massaging his forehead.

“Lemme guess,” Ethan said cheerfully, “a hangover?”

“Yer a regular Sherlock alright.” Chris lifted his head to fix him with a scowl, adding, “Among other things.”

Undeterred by his friend’s attitude, Ethan settled into a chair and helped himself to a glass of orange juice. His friend gave him a sour look and then turned away. Ethan sipped the juice, leaning back in the chair and enjoying the bright morning sunlight. Chris’ penthouse apartment looked out over the city from a protected viewpoint, much like the one that police department had rented for him. Ethan briefly remembered his assignment, being undercover and living under an assumed identity, and laughed to himself. He could barely remember who Pete Lopez was anymore and didn’t much care. He was having too much fun as Ethan!

“That a new haircut?” Chris asked, bringing him back to the present. His friend’s voice was tinged with disdain. “You look like a kid. And what’s with those clothes, dude?”

Ethan smiled back at him, shaking his head and luxuriating in the feel of the freshly-cropped bangs swaying across his forehead. He’d stopped by a salon on the way and gotten a trim, adopting a classic fringe hairstyle. He loved the way it matched the retro clothes that Alexei had picked out for him. Looking down at his bare legs beneath the cuffs of his short pants, the sight of his smooth, brown calves and lower thighs thrilled him. He felt his cock twitch. He loved his new look! It made him feel so young and alive!

“Well?” Chris demanded, glowering at him. “Why the fuck are you here anyway? If you’re gonna try to make me do more gay shit, you can pack up and go.”

Refusing to be baited, Ethan asked instead, “What if I told you that I can help you grow a big cock?”

Chris regarded him with narrowed eyes for a moment before growling, “What the fuck are you talking about? We both know that’s never gonna happen. Now get outta here.”

Ethan smiled back at him, remaining seated. Slowly, he reached into his pocket and, withdrawing the dark blue bottle, pushed it across the table to his friend.

Chris eyed it suspiciously, asking, “What the fuck is that?”

“God, you’re such a grouch this morning!” Ethan teased before explaining, “It’s something to make your dick grow. I got it from a scientist friend. He guarantees it’ll work!”

Snorting, Chris started to stay something dismissive before he changed his mind and picked up the bottle. He rolled it around in his hand and then lifted it up to examine it. Finally, he popped the lid and took a little sniff. “Hmmm, smells good,” he commented. “What’s in it?”

“Dunno,” Ethan said, shrugging. “But I know it’ll work. He knows what he’s doing.”

Chris pushed it back across the table, shaking his head. “I don’t buy it. How about if you leave now? I’m tired and feel like shit and am doing my best to forget about what happened yesterday.”

“Aw, Chris,” Ethan said, reaching out to put his hand on his arm, “you can’t say no to this! Lemme give you a massage. You’ll feel better and get a big cock out of the deal. What could be better?”

“You wanna massage that stuff onto my skin?” Chris asked, wrinkling his nose. He didn’t push Ethan’s hand off of him, though.

“Yeah, that’s how it works. It’s like massage oil.”

Chris was silent for a long time, obviously warring with himself. In the end, though, his curiosity got the better of him and he got up stiffly, walking over to a massage table stationed next to the pool. He shrugged out of his bathrobe and Ethan’s eyes lit up when he saw that he was wearing a navy blue Speedo not unlike the one that Alexei had worn the night before. He felt his cock harden when he remembered he was still wearing the little water panties under his clothes. He’d slipped them on again before leaving Alexei’s, loving the way they felt against his newly shaved skin…

“No gay bullshit,” Chris warned, climbing onto the table and lying face down. “Just rub it on me and go.”

“Aye, aye!” Ethan said, giving him a mock salute. Hesitating only a moment to soak in the glory of Chris’ broad, muscular, and mostly naked body, he squirted some of the oil into his palms and commenced rubbing it onto his friend’s back.

The oil was really weird stuff. It went on greasy, spreading out quickly so that only a few drops were needed to slick up a wide area of skin, but then it dried up almost immediately, leaving Chris’ skin smooth and tender to the touch. It wasn’t long before his friend was moaning with pleasure at his ministrations.

“Fuck, man! Fuuuuuuck! That’s stuff’s da bomb! FUUUUUCK!” His deep voice echoed across the pool, sending a frisson of pleasure through Ethan’s body. Chris Perry was such a stud!

When he reached Chris’ butt, the big man didn’t protest as Ethan gingerly lowered the waistband of his Speedo, exposing the twin mounds of his magnificent ass. Ethan paused before running his hands beneath the snug fabric and grasping those firm, muscular globes. The two guys laughed nervously a moment later when a low moan escaped both of their lips simultaneously.

Heart in his throat, Ethan was certain that Chris would pull away at any moment when he began slathering the oil over his naked buttocks. Slowly, slowly, slowly, he worked his fingers inside of the man’s incredibly deep cleft. He held his breath, working as carefully (and slyly) as possible until the tips of his index fingers caressed his hairy hole.

Chris braced, warning, “Careful, brah,” but didn’t resist as Ethan greased up every last bit of his prominent man ass, including a careful swipe over the wrinkled skin of his pucker.

Pushing his Speedo down his beefy thighs, Ethan continued working the oil into his skin. By this point, Chris was moaning freely and seemed almost intoxicated with the sensation of Ethan’s hands on his body. “Oh god oh go oh god oh god oh god,” he sighed as Ethan kneaded his hamstrings. “I’ll give you a hundred years to stop that, man.”

Ethan smiled and continued working downward. Once he had covered Chris’ toes and the bottoms of his wide feet with the ointment, he paced back to the head of the table, pausing to readjust his throbbing erection in his water panties. Chris Perry was a smokin’ hot dude!

“Hey! What’re you doing that for?” Chris demanded when he began massaging the oil into his scalp and forehead.

“Shhh,” Ethan soothed. “Doctor’s orders. You wanna big dick, right?”

“Yeah, but…”

“Just shut the fuck up for once,” Ethan teased, earning a slap on the ass from his friend. He giggled and continued rubbing the oil into Chris’ beard, cheeks, and neck before prompting him to roll over onto his back, saying, “Time to get your front! Almost done!”

Pulling his Speedo back up, Chris obliged and Ethan was rendered momentarily speechless by the sheer manly beauty of his friend’s broad shoulders, bulky pecs, ridged abdominals, narrow waist and muscular hips. Chris Perry is fucking god! he thought to himself, realizing belatedly his hands were shaking. So many new thoughts and feelings were coursing through him by this point that Ethan had stopped noticing he’d broken almost all of his personal taboos around homosexuality. The sudden, fervent desire to be at Chris’ complete and utter mercy, though, awakened him from his trance and he straightened, overwhelmed by his strong feelings for his friend. He had to brush at his cheek when a tear escaped from the corner of his eye.

Cracking a eyelid, Chris noticed his hesitation, and asked, “You doin’ Ok, brah?”

Ethan shook himself and gave him a wan smile, saying, “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Good! Now keep goin’! My hangover’s almost gone!”

He resumed massaging Alexei’s ointment into Chris’ burgeoning muscles, becoming increasingly aroused. He could feel his cock straining against the tight confines of his water panties and reached down again to rearrange his equipment. Having a big dick was a pain!

Chris propped himself up on his elbows when Ethan reached his waist, watching him closely. Ethan was so preoccupied with slathering the oil over the bumps and dips of the man’s rock-hard abs that he was taken aback by the tiny but obvious tenting in his man’s (his man’s?!) Speedo.

“Little guy’s all excited,” Chris teased, rotating his hips and thrusting his bulge upward. “His likes what you’re doin’ to me, bud.” Ethan flushed with pride at these words and then beamed when his friend reached out to pat him fondly on the head.

Inch by inch, he lowered the big man’s Speedo. When Chris’ erect cock sprang out proudly, he had to swallow quickly to keep from drooling. Once again, he was overcome envy. Oh, how he wished his cock was that small! It wasn’t fair! But, then again, he thought, if Alexei’s oil really does work, he just might join the vaunted ranks of short-dicked men. He quivered at the mere thought of this, feeling the cock in his own shorts–that alien monster!–throb.

He was so distracted by these exciting thoughts that he didn’t notice Chris’ hand behind his head until he’d already grabbed him. With one quick motion, Chris forced his head down on his little knob. Almost involuntarily, Ethan’s mouth opened and his mind exploded as his lips wrapped around Chris’ perfect cock. What choice did he have but to suck it? With eagerness tempered only by a lack of experience, he went down on him. Chris moaned loudly, grinding his pubes into Ethan’s face and he inhaled the rich, musky odor that was Chris Perry.

He was sucking Chris’ cock!

Ethan Adelson was a cocksucker!

Because Chris’ penis was so tiny, Ethan was able to take the whole thing–balls and all!–into his mouth at once.  He quickly recovered from the shock of having a cock in his mouth and settled in for the long haul, intent on giving his friend the best blowjob of his life. He wanted to be so good at sucking cock that Chris never thought about going back to women again.

He succeeded.

His tongue made love to every millimeter of his buddy’s squat shaft. Somehow, the fact that Chris was circumcised only heightened Ethan’s pleasure. He loved licking the prominent ridge of his glans, realizing that Chris’ organ was shaped just like a mushroom with a very wide cap. He cherished the way his fat cockhead dwarfed the skinny stalk of his shaft, resolving then that, if he did get his wish and his cock shrank down to micro-size, he would have his foreskin removed, too. The extra skin would only get in the way and he didn’t want anything to add to the size of his boy-sized dick. It wouldn’t be right! Chris and Alexei were the big men and Ethan was meant to be small.

Chris exploded in his mouth just as he finished tickling his piss slit with the tip of his tongue. (For a small cock, Chris sure had a gaping piss slit!) He wriggled his tongue around, swallowing mouthful after mouthful of potent seed and delighting in the paroxysms of pleasure contorting his friend’s body beneath him. Chris held his head with both hands, keeping his mouth locked around his organ, until the last shudders of his violent orgasm dissipated.

“Fuuuuuuck, that was fucking incredible!” Chris gasped, chest heaving as his hands dropped away from Ethan’s head. Ethan looked up at him happily and Chris laughed at the cum dribbling out of the corners of his mouth. He wiped it away with a finger, holding it out and teasing Ethan with it as his tongue darted out to lick the tasty spunk off. “Shit, bro, you know how to work a tool! You were born to have a cock in your mouth!”

“Just imagine what it will be like when your cock grows huge!”

Chris’ gaze became distant as he contemplated this possibility and a dreamy smile creased his face. After a while, he urged, “Well, come on, dude! Keep going! If I’m gonna get that big cock, you gotta finish putting that lotion on me!”

Ethan nodded, pulling Chris’ Speedo off and tossing it aside. In a moment, he resumed massaging the last drops in the bottle on Chris’ lower body. There was just enough to cover him from head to toe.

***

“Sheeeee-it!” Chris exclaimed when Ethan unbuttoned his shirt and set it aside. “What the fuck happened to all of your chest hair? You were covered in it yesterday!”

Ethan looked down at his newly smooth skin and smiled. “I got it removed, dude. It’s never coming back. Whaddaya think?”

Chris didn’t answer right away, stepping back and contemplating Ethan’s hairless torso for a long time. Finally, he murmured, “I…don’t know. It’ll take some getting used to.”

“Yeah,” Etha agreed. “I get it. I’m already loving it, though.”

He ended up falling asleep when it was his turn to be smothered with oil. Chris had initially been resistant to massaging him, his original discomfort returning briefly until Ethan talked him out of it. (‘C’mon, man!’ he urged. ‘It won’t work unless both of us get coated!’) Finally, the big man complied, reluctantly at first but then becoming more at ease as he worked his way down Ethan’s body. He awoke when Chris was done, feeling relaxed and tingly all over, the warm sun baking down on his naked skin. It was probably his imagination but he swore he could feel the ointment working already! Small cock here I come! he thought excitedly.

“Whoa, man! Would you look at you?” Chris said, letting out a low whistle and stepping back, only then seeming to notice the tiny, baby blue water panties hugging Ethan’s hairless crotch. “Where’d you get those?”

Ethan answered, “A friend gave ‘em to me,” before he could catch himself and then immediately regretted it when he saw the effect of these words on his friend.

Stunned, Chris drew himself up to his full (impressive) height, demanding, “And who THE FUCK is this friend?”

Ethan looked down, cheeks burning. “Um, it’s the same friend who made the ointment we just put on.” Chris stood there clenching and unclenching his fists, face darkening ominously. Ethan reached up to take his hand and his friend briefly looked like he was going to snatch it away again but, in the end, he let Ethan stroke it as he explained, “He’s a super nice guy. I’ll introduce him to you someday, Chris, I swear!”

“Yeah,” Chris said flatly. “I wanna meet him. I wanna meet him and give him a piece of my mind…and maybe my fist, too. But I ‘spose I’ll forgive him for buying you those sexy panties if the fucking ointment does its job.” He paused before holding up a finger in Ethan’s face and warning, “But don’t you let that bastard do anything to you. He needs my permission to touch you!”

Marveling at this rapid shift in Chris’ demeanor (Not even thirty minutes ago, the big man hadn’t wanted Ethan to get near him and now this?), Ethan nodded obediently. He had no idea how or even if he could keep such a promise–Alexei wasn’t one to take orders from anyone but the Kremlin–but he would do anything right then to soothe his friend. He loved–fucking loved!–how protective Chris had gotten. He felt safe and adored, just like he felt when he was with Alexei.

His life just kept getting better!

Chris stood there seething for a few tense moments before his shoulders fell and a fond smile spread across his handsome face. Then, taking a step forward, Chris stooped down to lift Ethan off the table and carry him into the pool. He sat down on a low step in the shallow water and bounced him on his lap, admiring the panties on his slim hips. The water was deliciously warm and Ethan chirped in delight when Chris nuzzled his neck. He almost passed out with pleasure when the big man’s lips touched the tender skin below his ear and he whispered, “You and me, little bro. It’s you and me forever.”

***

After cuddling in the pool, Chris fed Ethan breakfast from his plate, still balancing him on his lap. He wrapped him in the folds of his bathrobe when they were done and hugged him tight, urging after a while, “Let’s go to the gym, dude. My hangover’s all gone and I feel like I could lift a million pounds!” 

Ethan needed no further encouragement–he would take any excuse to share the big man’s company!–and allowed Chris to dress him and lead him out of his apartment, his heavy arm draped protectively over his shoulders. It was clear to everyone they passed that Ethan belonged to Chris Perry and he would kick anyone’s ass who got in their way.

***

Ashton Koch (in Alexei’s basement)

Someone was shaking him and he twitched, reluctant to wake up from the sweet dream he was having. In the dream, the woman he’d tied up was crying out in the most arousing way. He tightened the clamps on her nubile breasts and felt his cock pulse as she screamed…

“Time to remove the bandages, snake,” a familiar voice whispered in his ear. “I have to start on your next batch of modifications. I only have a couple of days to finish up!”

Ashton groaned as the memories of his captivity poured over him. He refused to budge, refused to open his eyes. Cotton still filled his mouth and his nose, ears, lips, fingers and toes were still taped.

“Oh, come on, snake!” the evil man coaxed in a smooth voice. Ashton wished the bandages over his ears were better at blocking out noise but he could hear every horrible word. “You won’t want to miss this. Against my better judgment, I injected you with a medicine that speeds up healing. I would have preferred to let you suffer but your buyer is waiting and I needed your wounds to close.”

He groaned again, unable to believe that he had been sold into slavery. Slavery! Rich, white men weren’t slaves! It just didn’t happen!

He folded up in a fetal position, keeping his eyes closed. He would not give the man the satisfaction of seeing him helpless! He wouldn’t speak. He wouldn’t move. He wouldn’t do anything the man wanted him to do. He was still a man after all! His captor would never succeed in breaking him!

The man sighed with resignation at his obstinance and grabbed one of his feet, commencing to tear the bandages off his toes. “I had to remove your toenails and fingernails,” he explained as Ashton tensed, trying to curl up his toes. It was no use. The man continued to patiently peel away the bandages. “I can’t risk you hurting your new owner. He specified that you were to be rendered completely harmless.”

He turned his attention to Ashton’s head, taking it between his big hands and murmuring something in Russian. Instantly, Ashton’s body went limp. The man flipped him over onto his back and then shocked him by ripping off the bandage on his upper lip in one, quick swipe. Ashton’s cry was lost in the gauze filling his mouth. A moment later, his captor ripped off the bandage on his lower lip in the same brutal manner. The bandages on his nose and ears were similarly removed. He concluded by fishing the sopping cotton out of his mouth and tossing it aside.

Ashton’s relief at being able to breathe easily again was short lived. He had forgotten about his brutalized tongue and was momentarily surprised when he discovered that the tip was gone and there were twin forks in its place. A snake’s tongue.

He had a snake’s tongue!

And no teeth.

He howled in disbelief when his forked tongue touched the empty sockets where his perfect, white teeth had once been.

“Whath arth thoo dooingth?” he hissed before he could stop himself. He forgotten his vow to not speak to his captor.

“Isn’t it obvious?” the man asked, laughing. “Open your eyes and you will see for yourself.”

Ashton screwed his eyes shut but found himself opening them at an unintelligible word from the Russian. He couldn’t believe how easily his body betrayed him! He was powerless to resist, completely powerless. This wasn’t happening! This wasn’t possible!

Fighting against his eyelids, Ashton was ultimately defeated as they cracked open. Light streamed in and he desperately looked to the side, determined not to see what the man had done to him. 

He wasn’t fast enough.

The walls of his cell were covered in mirrors. There was nowhere he could look without seeing his reflection. He screamed and tried to cover his eyes but the Russian stopped him with another word. Ashton froze and then his eyes swiveled to his reflection.

“A snake needs to look the part, no?” the man taunted as Ashton’s scream turned into a keening.

He couldn’t believe that the…creature…staring back at him was really him. It couldn’t be him! Ashton Koch was known for his stunningly handsome features. His delicate nose and ears, full lips, crystalline blue eyes, and wavy, blond hair.

This thing gaping back at him had none of that. His lips had been cut off and the gaping slash of a mouth that he’d been left with was twisted in a permanent, ugly leer. His empty gums and forked tongue were clearly visible until he clamped his jaws shut. Even then, he couldn’t close his lips…because he didn’t have any. He looked hideous!

His nose was gone, sliced off entirely and the hole closed, leaving him with only two little slits for nostrils that were flat against his face. It gave his face a reptilian appearance and bile rose in his throat as he realized why the man had been calling him a snake. 

He had a snake’s nose.

A snake’s mouth.

A snake’s tongue.

And worst of all, he had snake eyes, too.

Trembling and unable to stop wailing in horror, he saw that his blue eyes were gone. Both eyeballs were stained blood red. Even the whites were red. And his pupils were little more than black, vertical slits.

He blinked and then tears were spilling down his cheeks. Somehow, though, the tears only made his snake eyes even more grotesque and he sobbed, struggling to look away from the mirror. He couldn’t, though. He was frozen. Forced to take in every one of his mutilations. He was not allowed to miss one thing. The wicked man would not let him look away.

The tips of his ears had been sliced into long, sharp points. He goggled at himself in the mirror, mind refusing to believe what he was seeing. Unable to believe any of this was real. It was too impossible, too hideous, too evil. Too…

Despite himself, his attention kept being drawn back to his reflection, back to his face. With uncompromising clarity, he realized that between his missing nose, his gashed mouth, snake eyes, and pointy ears, he didn’t just look ugly…

…he looked demonic.

His captor reached out and tilted his head, examining his handiwork as he chuckled evilly.

“I do good work, snake,” he teased. “You have inspired me. By the time I’m through, you’ll be a masterpiece. I’m sure your buyer will be very pleased.”

He cupped Ashton’s chin in his hand, savoring Ashton’s humiliation. Ashton hated himself for noticing then that the man was quite handsome. His eyes were soft brown, almost tender. And his body was obviously muscular under his lab coat. The man caught Ashton’s gaze and winked, saying, “Ah, you’re noticing another one of my modifications, aren’t you? You’re turning into a hopeless slut, you know? Soon you will spread your legs for any man and beg him to fuck you up the ass.”

Taken aback by this, Ashton’s whole being rebelled. There was no way he was turning gay! That wasn’t possible! There was no way someone could make him into a faggot! He was one-hundred percent straight! Yeah, one-hundred percent fucking straight all the way! The man could damage his body but he couldn’t break his mind. He couldn’t take Ashton’s heterosexuality away. No one could do that! 

The Russian read the defiance that briefly flared in Ashton’s (snake) eyes and smirked. “Just wait, snake. Soon you won’t be able to stop yourself. I shall enjoy watching you debase yourself as you beg for cock.”

“Futh thoo!”

“Soon enough, snake. Soon enough.”

Ashton glowered at him but the man didn’t seem to notice. He had moved his hand up to Ashton’s forehead. Gathering a lock of his matted hair in his hand, he tugged gently and…shockingly pulled it out almost without effort.

“The depilatory injection is taking effect, too, I see,” he observed, holding the clump of hair in front of Ashton’s face. “Soon all of your hair–everywhere on your body–will fall out. You’ll be as smooth and slippery as a snake all over…”

Ashton promptly forgot his anger at being called gay and began to panic. His hair! His beautiful hair! What the fuck?! The man was determined to rob him of everything! Everything he treasured about himself. Everything! He tried to crumple but his body was still being held upright by the mysterious force. He lost it when the man reached up and pulled out more of his gorgeous, thick hair and, holding it out in front of him, let it trickle through his fingers as it fell ignominiously to the floor.

“Such a mess!” he tsked. “And I thought your blood was a pain to clean up.”

Ashton stared slack-jawed at his falling hair and bawled, not caring that he sounded like a pathetic child.

***

A sharp pain in his buttocks forced him out of the downward spiral of self-pity and he yelped, reaching back to rub his butt cheek where the man had just emptied a syringe. He stopped when he realized how tender his fingertips were with the nails removed. Fingernails were something he never thought about…until he no longer had them. 

A moment later, there was sharp pain in his other cheek. Ashton had just clapped his other hand over the spot when the man surprised him by reaching between his legs to grab his balls. White hot pain exploded in his brain as the man pierced each testicle with a long, thick needle. The pain became unbearable when the man squeezed the syringe, pumping his balls full of caustic fluid. He screamed, collapsing in a heap and cradling his balls. The agony of having his teeth yanked out was nothing compared to this!

“Hush, don’t be a baby,” the man cajoled as he lifted Ashton’s hands away from his crotch. Ashton stared down helplessly, his entire body throbbing with pain as the Russian pulled a thick, metal ring out of his pocket. Holding it out for Ashton to see, he said, “This will go around your balls. You’ll see why when you wake up again. For now, though, I need you to go back under for the next round of alterations.”

With practiced brutality, he took one of Ashton’s nuts in his fingers and thrust it through the heavy, black ring. While Ashton was screaming, the man forced the other in after it. Soon, both of Ashton’s balls were held tightly inside the ring.

“It will never come off,” the Russian assured him in a cold voice. “Trust me on that.”

***

Ted Marcus and Steph Cameron (in Alexei’s basement)

“Get the fuck off of me, you asshole!” Steph hissed as soon as the door closed behind their mysterious captor.

“Awww, precious,” Ted teased, settling his ponderous bulk more heavily on top of him, “I thought you lib-tards liked being the underdog.”

Steph elbowed him in the stomach. Ted grunted in protest but still didn’t move. “GET OFF!” he yelled finally, struggling fiercely.

“Ok, Ok! God, you’re such a prissy little bitch.”

Ted rolled off as Steph scrambled away, harrumphing. He backed up against the sofa and held his knees to his chest. He refused to look at Ted as he settled on the floor beside him, a bit too close for his taste.

Holding his head in his hands, Steph tried to understand what was going on. He’d thought that he was being held captive to extort money from his family but, if the man was to be believed, this was something else entirely. He wracked his brains, trying to remember if he’d ever heard of Republicans–or Democrats, for that matter–being taken hostage for a warped betting scheme like the man described. He hadn’t.

It was crazy.

Shit, it was beyond crazy.

It was diabolical.

As poisonous and crazy as the political climate was in the United States, even Americans weren’t devious enough to come up with a plan like this. What would be the point?

There wasn’t one. 

If prominent members of Republican families were being kidnapped and auctioned off, it wouldn’t benefit the Democrats because they would be the first ones to be blamed for the disappearances. And that would only add to the chaos and discord. The Democrats would lose. The Republicans would lose.

Everyone would lose.

So, who would win under such a scenario?

Sitting bolt upright, a light clicked on in Steph’s head as he finally understood. He got it!

“Shit!” he swore. “It’s the fucking Russians again! This is another one of their twisted plots!”

Ted exhaled beside him, reaching down to scratch himself. When he spoke, his voice was heavy with disdain. “The Russian boogeyman, really? You really are a fucking liberal, aren’t you? You think Russia is behind everything.”

“You heard his accent,” Steph insisted. “He’s Russian. He’s a fucking Russian agent! They are kidnapping Americans and brainwashing us! We’re their fucking pawns!”

“Brainwashing? Oh, for fuck’s sake. That’s just stupid.”

“Oh, yeah?” Steph challenged, unconsciously reaching down to rub his crotch. “How do you explain what he did to us? We charged him and he made us freeze in place! We’re completely under his control and now he’s gonna make us…”

Ted stopped him, waving his hands in his face. “Hold on! Hold on, cupcake! That’s not brainwashing!” He paused, dropping a hand onto his crotch, too, and scratching vigorously. “That’s just hypnotism. There’s a huge difference. It doesn’t mean he’s controlling our thoughts, making us love Mother Russia or some dumb thing like that.”

Steph was about to reply when he noticed something. “What’s wrong with your face, dude?” he queried, squinting over at Ted. The big man had a round face with a close-cropped, brown beard and sandy brown hair. He was, Steph guessed, a handsome sort of guy…if you could somehow separate his obnoxious personality from the rest of him. But something was different…

“Nothing’s wrong with my face!” Ted scoffed, rolling his eyes. A moment later, though, he reached up to feel himself. When his fingers touched his nose, he jumped in surprise.

“The tip of your nose looks like it’s a…”

“Shud up!” Ted hissed in a muffled voice as he held his hand over his nose. A moment later, though, he rubbed his nose again and moaned loudly.

“Ted,” Steph started to say and then stopped, flaring his nostrils and taking a deep sniff. What was that smell? It seemed like it was coming from Ted. It was rich, and strong, and… He had licked his lips before he realized what he was doing. He forced himself to ignore the delectable odor and was preparing to say something when he felt a sudden, sharp pain in this mouth. He doubled over, crying out, and was straightening up again when something fell out of his mouth and rolled down onto his belly. Curious, he picked up the object and examined it.

A tooth.

It was one of his teeth!

“Shit! What the f–”

Another sharp pain and another tooth fell out of his mouth.

Panicking, Steph looked over at Ted with wide eyes. His friend was covering his nose with his hands, a mix of fear and bliss in his eyes.

“Ma  theeth!” Steph exclaimed, losing two more teeth in the process. “I’m loothin’ ma theeth!”

“That’s not all yer losing, bro,” Ted said spitefully. “Go look at yerself in the mirror, ass face.” He went back to rubbing his nose and moaning with barely concealed pleasure.

Ted’s taunt made Steph go cold. What was happening to him? Crawling forward on shaking arms and legs, he approached the huge mirror on the wall in the back of the room. When he saw his face reflected back at him, he bawled out in alarm.

“Whuth the futh!”

The bugged-eyed, misshapen man staring back at him with a gaping mouth of loose teeth could not be him! He was handsome! He had a perfect, heart-shaped face with sensitive lips, a button nose, and tiny ears. His thick, brown hair was the envy of the many women he’d dated.

He turned away, horrified at what was happening to him. This is impossible! This is impossible! This is impossible! He thought furiously. A movement behind him told him that Ted had come to gloat. He was turning to yell at him when his whole head was wracked with such a ferocious onslaught of pain that he collapsed onto the floor, grabbing his face and writhing in agony.

When it had passed, he was left spitting out the rest of his teeth, completely dumbfounded by what had just happened. (This isn’t real! This isn’t real! This isn’t real!) But he hadn’t imagined it. No, he couldn’t deny what his own hands had already confirmed. His fucking skull had just reshaped itself in his hands! His fucking skull had reshaped itself! What the fucking hell?! 

He blanked out, reviving a few moments later to the grating sound of Ted’s laughter.

“Shit, you really are an ass face! What a fucking ugly bastard!”

Whimpering, Steph folded in on himself, curling into a little ball and willing his body to stop changing.

It didn’t work.

He trembled with shock when his tongue touched the giant, flat, new molars pushing up from the sockets left by his old teeth. As he mewled piteously, his mouth stretched and stretched and stretched as more huge teeth emerged from his jaws. Soon, his mouth was filled with blunt teeth, lining his preternaturally long jaws. And his tongue…

Shit! His tongue!

It was beyond huge. Long, sloppy, and fat, he could barely keep it from flopping out of his mouth. As his mind screamed in horror and confusion, his tongue finally did flop out. When it touched his enormous lips, he lost it.

“HAAAAWWW HAAAAAAAWWW HAAAAAWWW!”

Steph froze, belatedly realizing that the guttural sound echoing through the room was coming from him. He closed his mouth, more of a muzzle now, and whined.

The man’s cryptic parting words now made sense. He hadn’t been talking figuratively about the symbols of the American political parties. He literally meant…

“Ha! Look ath you, freakth!” Ted jeered in a strange-sounding voice. “Whath an uglee fuckther!”

Steph lifted his head to stare pathetically up at the big man leering over at him, glorying in his humiliation. He blinked, though, when he saw what had happened to Ted’s nose. And the teeth were doing strange things in the big man’s mouth, too. His own big lips twisted into a satisfied sneer when he realized that Ted had been cursed, too.

With extreme difficulty, he managed to pronounce, “Dickth headth.”

At first, Ted didn’t understand him but then his words sunk in and his insult connected. Eyes flaring, he reached up to cover his nose but it had grown too large by then to conceal. Worse, in moving his hands up to touch his nose, his fingers grazed the long, wide teeth jutting out of either side of his mouth. He froze and his eyes went round with surprise. A confused bellow built in his chest and he opened his big mouth, wailing inconsolably and collapsing on his knees next to Steph.

Steph wished he could savor his nemesis’ misery but he was too deeply mired in his own. And then there was that odor… He grimaced as he felt his newly enlarged nostrils flare and he sucked in Ted’s scent. He smelled deliciously like the barnyard or, even better, the zoo…

“Whuth’s happething thoo meee?” Ted whimpered, forgetting his dislike for Steph and taking him by the shoulders. He shook him almost painfully before Steph stopped him.

“Yoo? Whuth abouth mee?” Steph complained. “Ah’m a futhing donthee!” He choked as his voice trailed off into a loud HAW!

“Buth lookth ath my noze! And my tuskths!”

He thrust his face into Steph’s, fixing his panic-stricken eyes on him. Steph blinked, taking Ted’s drastically changed appearance in and trying to figure it out. When he’d first noticed Ted’s nose, Steph had thought it was just enlarging but it was clearly doing more than that. With difficulty now that his head was so misshapen, Steph’s eyes focused on the details of Ted’s face. 

That nose!

Shit, that nose!

It was beyond belief, making even Steph’s incredible changes seem mundane. It was beyond even bizarre. Beyond even…

But, wait! 

Something didn’t add up.

If Steph was supposed to be a donkey, shouldn’t Ted be turning into an elephant? That would make the most sense. Yeah, it would still be horrible but at least it would fit with the theme. He was growing the elephant tusks but not a trunk. As long and hose-like as his nose was, that mutant appendage wasn’t a…

No, Ted’s nose wasn’t turning into a trunk.

Definitely not a trunk!

It was turning into a very large, very ugly penis.

The huge tool sagged down over Ted’s fat lips, hanging past his chin and dripping–ugh!–white goo like a fucking hose. The wadded up sheath of an oversized foreskin trailed down off the fat glans like sodden hood. It looked disgusting.

And completely out of place on his face.

How the fuck could Ted’s nose turn into a cock?

Steph was momentarily distracted by the sight of his reflection in the mirror over Ted’s shoulder and he shuddered as he saw that his own face had become a hideous caricature of its former beauty. His eye sockets had shifted to the sides of his head and his nose and mouth had fused and elongated to form a pronounced snout filled with horsey teeth. His ears were long and hairy. And his hair…

He forced himself to look away. He couldn’t take it and he needed to be able to focus. Forcing his attention back to Ted, he was struck by a thought. Before he could think better of it, he blurted, “If yer noze ith a dickth, then whuth happenth thoo yer…?”

Ted’s face blanched deathly white at this question. In horrified unison, both men’s gaze dropped down to the crotch of his wrestling singlet where a very large, very long surprise awaited them.

Ted’s deep bellowing was loud enough to carry through the foundation of the basement and into the outdoors where Ethan heard it just as his hand grasped the knob to the front door of Alexei’s house.

***

Ethan

“What was that?” he asked as he pushed through the front door, sighing with relief (and admiration) when he saw Alexei sitting on a stool in the breakfast nook, sipping coffee. His dog, Sasha, was sleeping peacefully in a pool of sunlight on the floor next to him.

Fixing him with an innocent look, Alexei replied, “What? I didn’t hear anything.”

Ethan’s mouth quirked and he all but skipped across the room, closing the distance between them in a breathless second. He couldn’t wait to be in Alexei’s arms again!

“Ah, you’re my boy!” Alexei murmured, rising to take him in for a hug and squeezing him tightly. Ethan soaked in the warmth of his body and drank in his masculine scent, a delirious smile on his face. “My beautiful boy!” the man repeated. “I love your haircut.”

“Thanks. Chris didn’t like it at first but I think he does now.”

“Hmmm, I can imagine. You treated him with the medicine? How’d it go?”

“Alright, I guess.”

Alexei smiled, stroking the back of his head with a big hand. Ethan leaned against his chest, looking up with adoration as the man queried, “You guess? Have you noticed any changes yet?”

“Not really. I mean, when I changed at the gym, my dick was still just as big as–” his voice broke off as he realized something. He was looking up at Alexei. Up. A day ago, he’d been at least a couple inches taller than the Russian! His eyes went round as he took this in, only belatedly realizing that Alexei was watching his face with amusement. 

“I’m…getting shorter?” he asked finally, heart pounding in his chest. Alexei nodded and Ethan protested, “But I didn’t want to shrink! I just wanted to give Chris my big dick!”

“Don’t worry, Ethan,” the Russian soothed. “You’ll learn to like it. It’s better this way.”

“But what if I don’t?” Ethan demanded, voice cracking. When he spoke again, he had to struggle to recapture his usual deep tone. “What if I don’t wanna be small?!”

“Hush now. Why don’t you take off your clothes and try this on for me?” Alexei lifted his hand and Ethan forgot his dismay when he saw that Alexei was holding a tiny white posing strap. It was barely more than a couple of pieces of string and tiny triangle of cloth. As he stared in wonder at it, the man continued, “Then we’ll go down in the basement and I’ll let you have some fun with my livestock.”

“But…”

“Ethan,” Alexei warned, his voice hardening. Clearly, he wouldn’t take no for an answer. “Just do it.”

Cowed, Ethan took the proffered thong and stepped away to undress, mindful all the while of Alexei’s lingering eyes. He was tugging off the little pair of water panties when Alexei stopped him. “Hold up your penis, Ethan. Let me see it.”

Doing as he was told, Ethan reached down to take his cock in his hand, pausing briefly to admire how different it looked now that he didn’t have any hair down there. His lifted his dick for Alexei’s inspection.

“Excellent! It’s already smaller.”

He wrinkled his brow, examining it more closely. It looked just as big as ever. He looked back up at Alexei, confused, and the big man said, “Your hands, Ethan. Look at your hands.”

Still puzzled, he opened his palm and wiggled his fingers. Wait… Whoa! His fingers were smaller, thinner, and shorter. The callouses on the pads of his hands had disappeared, making them look young and tender.

“Your cock is smaller; it’s just that your hands are smaller now, too, so it’s harder to see.” Alexei reached out and took Ethan’s hand in his own, easily enclosing his entire fist in his grasp. “Soon, though, you won’t be able to mistake how tiny it is. It’s going to shrink up to almost nothing!”

A thrill rippled through his body with this news and Ethan felt his cock plump up. He looked down at it, trying to imagine what it would look like when it was just a tiny nub. Soon, his (still sizable) erection was flying at full mast as Alexei looked on with approval.

“The poser,” Alexei prompted after a while. “Put on the poser, Ethan.”

Somewhat sheepishly, Ethan bent over to step into the little posing strap. It was so delicate, so little, so…

“Ouch!” He jumped up, rubbing his bottom and looking over his shoulder as Alexei tossed an empty syringe on the counter. “What was that for?”

“You’ll see,” Alexei answered, shrugging as he filled another syringe from a small vial and gently stabbed it into Ethan’s other cheek. “You’ll see soon enough.”

Scowling and trying to ignore the throbbing pain in his ass as the mysterious solution was absorbed into his bloodstream, Ethan pulled up the little thong. He squeezed his still-hard cock into the pouch and shivered with delight as the string rubbed up against his delicate pucker. Looking down at himself, he had to admit that it looked pretty cool. Even better, Alexei couldn’t take his eyes off of him and he teased the big man by sauntering around the room, swishing his hips. He looked over his shoulder and winked, grinning from ear to ear at the hungry leer on the man’s face.

“Soon, it is I who will beg to penetrate you,” Alexei murmured, reaching down to adjust his package (it was very noticeable even under his lab coat), “not the other way around.” 

Ethan giggled and shook his butt provocatively. “I’m all yours, Daddy,” he teased and then stopped, wondering why he had just called Alexei ‘daddy’. He shook his head, realizing he felt high, almost like he was on drugs or something. Maybe it was the effect of the ointment that Chris had rubbed on him?

He didn’t have time to ponder this because Alexei was already standing by the basement door, motioning for him to follow. “Come on, Ethan,” he urged. “We had best get back to work before I ejaculate in my trousers.”

Ethan shook his head and laughed. He didn’t care if he was drugged! He loved Alexei and he loved him even more when talked like a nerdy scientist.

***

Edward (aka ‘Dumpty’) Freiss in Alexei’s basement

Ethan reveled in the feeling of the cool air on his naked skin as he waited for Alexei to open the sophisticated door to the holding cells. Alexei kept getting distracted as he admired Ethan’s body and finally made him step away so he could concentrate. A moment later, the door opened wide and they stepped inside.

Alexei motioned to the second cell to the left, the one that Ethan remembered contained the handsome, slender blond man and his mutant, monstrously large twin brother. “Why don’t you go in there, Ethan, and cheer up Edward? He’s in need of some loving.”

The Russian paused before the cell door and waved his hand. A moment later, the steel door swung open and Ethan peered inside. Edward’s brother, Humpty, was blocking his view, his mountainous, egg-shaped form quivering as he bobbled excitedly. He let out a high-pitched chirp as he lurched out of the cell, pulling Alexei against him with his stick-like arms and hugging him tightly. Alexei chuckled and fondly reached up to pat the top of Humpty’s bald pate.

“Ah, there’s a good boy!” Alexei cooed, pushing Dumpty gently away and turning to Ethan. “I’m going to see the animals, Ethan. Call if you need me.”

Ethan barely heard him. He was too busy staring at the man strapped to the rack, heading sagging down in defeat. Humpty must have removed the feeding mask because it was hanging at Edward’s side, still attached to the tube that hung from the ceiling.

Edward Freiss had changed. His slim, lithe, and sinewy form was disappearing into rolls of fat that hung languidly down on his hips. His arms were already scrawny and shrunken, though not nearly as twiggy as his brother’s. Behind him, his ass–once firm and full and taut–was bubbling out, growing heavy and round and beginning to merge with the flab around his middle. His neck had thickened but not from muscle. No, not from muscle. The muscles on the once beautiful adonis were atrophying, being replaced with cottage cheese-like fat.

Lifting his head, he fixed Ethan with a baleful look and Ethan saw that his face was already plump, his cheeks growing rounder as they sagged into his widening neck. “What?” Edward demanded. “Why’re you here, you little freak? Come to laugh at me?” He rattled his bonds menacingly at Ethan before wilting again, chest heaving with the exertion.

Ethan’s eyes landed on the young man’s cock and balls and he remembered how heavy and long they had been. These, too, were starting to shrink, though it wasn’t clear how much of this was from being absorbed into the growing rolls of fat that threatened to swallow his pubes. He guessed that they were about half as big as they had been. Still prominent but no longer bordering on “porn star” huge.

He padded over to stand before him, feeling his cock twitch in his posing strap. He couldn’t put a finger on it but for some reason, he found Edward even more attractive now. Maybe it was the syrup of self-pity and humiliation dripping off of him? Or maybe it was just the fact that he looked extra hot with all the added weight? Whatever it was, he didn’t dwell on it, opting instead to savor the man’s burgeoning body.

He heard sniffling and looked up to see tears rolling down Edward’s face. Without thinking, he reached up and wiped his cheeks, giving him a small, sympathetic smile before casting about for the key to unlock his bonds. He spotted it a moment later lying on a steel table nearby and he picked it up and moved to open the manacles. Once freed, Edward slumped down into his arms and Ethan briefly struggled to hold up his great weight. Somehow, though, he managed to heave him up and over to a chair in the corner where he sat down, easing the big man onto his lap. His cock was straining against the tiny pouch of his thong but he ignored it and focused on soothing Edward. He wrapped his arms around him (able to reach only about halfway) and lifted his lips to kiss his ear.

“Fuck you,” Edward muttered but his voice lacked conviction. A moment later he’d started crying again and he sobbed deeply as Ethan held him. 

Ethan loved the soft, pillowy rolls of his fat and couldn’t resist running his hands up and down his torso. Surprisingly, Edward didn’t resist. If anything Ethan’s touch seemed to relax him and he soon was nestling comfortably against his chest.

After a long time, Edward moaned, “Help me. You have to help me escape. I can’t live like this.”

“Shhhh,” Ethan breathed, licking Edward’s ear and making him giggle involuntarily. His voice, Ethan noticed then, was getting higher and he guessed soon it would be shrill just like his brother’s.

“Why are you helping him?” Edward demanded in his high voice. “He’s a monster!”

“Who? Alexei?” Ethan asked. “He’s not a monster. He’s just a businessman and scientist.”

“But he’s gonna sell me and Hump–I mean, Erik! He’s destroying me!” Edward exclaimed, voice rising with each word. “I used to be a fitness model, dammit! Now look at me!”

“You look hot,” Ethan murmured, reaching forward to dig around under the overhang of Edward’s big belly. He exhaled in satisfaction a moment later when he found his target and his fingers closed around the man’s shrunken pole. Edward tensed and took a deep breath as if he was about to protest but then he moaned and his cock came alive in Ethan’s grasp. Soon, the little rod was rock hard and Edward was grinding his corpulent buttocks into Ethan’s crotch.

They writhed together in a growing frenzy until neither could stand it any longer and they climaxed in unison, Ethan shooting his load into the pouch of his posing strap and Edward smearing his big belly with thick wads of semen. Ethan wiped it off carefully before lifting his hand and licking it clean.

“You’re disgusting,” Edward sighed, leaning back and undulating his hips against Ethan’s deflating cock. A moment later, though, he was guiding Ethan’s hand down to his little cock once again where it quickly sprang back to life. “Let’s do it again!” he begged.

***

Ethan

Ethan awoke with a little start, taking a moment to remember where he was. He opened his eyes and sighed, feeling his body pressed against a warm, comfortable bulk. Smiling sleepily, he snuggled in closer when he realized he was cuddled up on Edward’s big lap.

“I didn’t want to wake you,” Edward murmured, reaching down to pull Ethan against him. He kissed the top of his head, saying, “You are such a beautiful boy. What is your name?”

“Ethan.”

“Cute and sexy.”

Ethan flushed with pride and then moaned as Edward’s hands cupped his buttocks.

“There is something about you, Ethan,” Edward said, taking obvious delight in pronouncing his name. “Something that makes me feel like I’m gonna be fine. Humpty and me will be just fine.”

Nodding seriously, Ethan fixed him with his soft gaze. “You are. You will be fine, Dumpty. Alexei knows what he’s doing.”

“Dumpty,” Edward murmured, testing the name on his tongue. “Hmmm…Dumpty. Maybe it’s not so bad…”

***

Arlington Kraft (in Alexei’s basement)

Alexei was in the next cell down the hall when Ethan finished reattaching Dumpty to the feeding tube and herding his brother, Humpty, back inside. Alexei looked up and smiled as he took in the telltale stains on the pouch of his posing strap.

“I see you and Dumpty hit it off,” he commented, turning back to the operating table and readjusting the overhead light.

Ethan nodded, blushing, before taking interest in what Alexei was doing. “Who’s that?” he asked, stepping through the doorway and taking in the surroundings. This cell was much nicer than Dumpty’s, containing a furnished living room, complete with an entertainment center and a small dance floor in the back.

Alexei glanced down at the naked man lying on the table beneath him. “This is Arlington Kraft, Ethan. Take a good look at him now because you won’t recognize him the next time you see him.”

Regarding the naked man soberly, Ethan realized he was quite good looking with long, muscular legs and well-proportioned thighs. His skin was flawless and smooth. There was only a tiny bush of bright red pubic hair around his average-sized penis. His torso was well-defined but not overly muscled. His face was quite handsome, despite his being unconscious with his mouth hanging open. His fire-engine red hair was elegantly coiffed. Yeah, no doubt about it, Arlington Kraft was a beautiful man.

While Ethan was busy studying the pretty man, Alexei had turned and was draining cloudy liquid out of a big plastic bin into the drain in the floor. The bin contained a host of strangely-shaped forms. Ethan wrinkled his brow, trying to figure out what they were. They appeared to sculpted out of some sort of white, spongy material. He crept closer, curious.

“What is that stuff?” he asked finally.

“This,” Alexei stated proudly, “is a masterpiece in bioengineering, Ethan. This material will bond seamlessly with human skin, absorbing directly through the pores and melding with the sinew beneath. It will even bond directly to bone if I treat it with the proper reagents. It can be easily dyed, too, taking on any color permanently.” He straightened, giving Ethan a fond smile before adding, “Your American military developed it in the aftermath of the invasion of Iraq as a treatment for wounded veterans but we Russians stole the technology and improved it. It has become invaluable to my work here, as well as the work in other Russian ‘body shops’ around the world.”

“‘Body shops’? What’re those?”

Alexei answered with a question of his own as he stepped back from the operating table and shrugged a surgical gown over his shoulders. “Are you familiar with the Cold War, Ethan?”

He nodded. He wasn’t really but he didn’t want Alexei to think he was dumb.

“Good. I started the first of the so-called body shops back in 1952, the year before Stalin died.”

Ethan blinked, looking up at Alexei in surprise. “But that’s…”

“Yes, that was many years ago when I was a young man,” Alexei acknowledged. When he noticed Ethan was still staring at him with his mouth hanging open, he stopped and laughed. “Oh, yes, I forget how young I look. You probably thought I was only about thirty-five years old, didn’t you?”

Ethan nodded dumbly, his mouth still open.

“Figuring out how to stop and reverse the aging process was one of my first breakthroughs,” Alexei explained. “Sadly, though, I had to keep it a secret even from my compatriots in the KGB. Can you imagine what would happen if everyone in the world suddenly stopped aging and no one ever died?” When Ethan gave him a blank look in response, Alexei chuckled. “Trust me, Ethan. It would not be good. You will be happy to learn, though, that you and Chris are the lucky recipients of my anti-aging elixir. With it, I am dialing back your biological clock to approximately age sixteen and I will hold Chris’ age at twenty-three.”

This information was too much for Ethan’s struggling mind to process. He had no idea what Alexei was talking about. What did he mean that he was ‘dialing back’ his biological clock to age sixteen? It didn’t make sense.

Alexei noticed his confusion and smiled reassuringly. “Don’t worry about it, Ethan. You’ll find out soon enough.” He paused to pull out a surgical mask, twirling it around on his finger as he concluded, “I will tell you more about the body shops after I’m done here. For right now, I will need you to step out of the room while I operate on Arlington.”

With that, he pulled the mask over his face and donned a pair of latex gloves. He was reaching into the plastic tub and pulling out a long, thin sheet of whitish material as Ethan turned and closed the door obediently behind him.

***

Ethan

Wandering back upstairs, Ethan opted to keep wearing the little poser as he rummaged through Alexei’s refrigerator looking for something to eat. After he found a Coke and some Cheetos in the cupboards, he pulled his phone out of his pants (still in a pile in the middle of the living room floor) and collapsed on the sofa to watch television and surf the Internet. Sasha crawled up next to him and Ethan fed him snacks. 

There were a few Snapchat messages from Chris, including a provocative pic of the big man’s crotch encased in a jockstrap with the tagline, ‘With love from yer BIG bro.’ Ethan’s cock swelled at the sight of his friend’s manly bulge (and his heart swelled at the affectionate tagline.) Chris’ package was looking bigger. Still not huge but definitely bigger. 

He was lying there, messaging Chris, when he became aware of a curious sensation in his buttocks. At first, it was just a tingling but the feeling changed rapidly into something else. His cock plumped up further in the (crusty) pouch of his posing strap and he suppressed a little moan, wriggling his butt against the couch cushions.

>>Pulse<<

Whoa! What was that? 

He could have sworn that his butt just expanded a little, causing his hips to lift almost imperceptibly upward.

>>Pulse. Pulse.<<

There it was again!

Ethan looked down at his waist and realized it wasn’t his imagination. His hips really were higher than a minute ago. And then there was that burning sensation around his butthole. Smiling devilishly to himself, he lifted his knees before reaching down to finger his tender little hole.

Holy fucking shit!

Fuck fuck fuck!

FUCK!!!

That felt so good!

>>Pulse. Pulse. Pulse.<<

The throbbing in his buttocks was more noticeable and he was getting increasingly turned on. When his butt pulsed again, he looked down in amazement as his hips lifted even further upward.

His butt was getting bigger!

But how was that possible?

???

Oh, yeah.

Alexei.

He’d forgotten about the shots that the sexy Russian man had given him right before going downstairs. But was it really possible to…?

Breathlessly, he reached down and cupped his ass in his hands.

HOLY SHIT!

HOLY FUCKING SHIT!!!

His ass was bigger!

And his hole…!!!

Quivering with excitement, he fingered his hole again and almost shot his load into the over-used pouch of his poser.

Fucking shit! That felt AMAZING!

He messaged Chris: >>Can U believe my ass just got THICC?<<

Not ten seconds passed before Chris replied: >>SEND PICS!!!<<

Smirking, Ethan sat up on his knees on the sofa and reached around behind himself to snap a pic of his ass. At the last instant, he surprised himself by leaning forward and spreading his legs just enough to expose his virgin hole. When he examined the result, he couldn’t believe the boy in the photo with the phat ass was really him. His waist was so slim and his ass cheeks were rapidly approaching bubble territory. And the sight of his little, pink hole caressed by the slender thread of his posing strap.

UNGH!

His cock throbbed almost painfully as he clicked send.

Chris’ response was immediate:  >>FUUUUUUCK!!!<< and then >>WHERE R U?<<

This gave Ethan pause. He remembered Chris’ jealous admonition from early, commanding Ethan not to see Alexei again without his permission. And yet here he was at Alexei’s. What should he say?

In the end, his ass saved him from having to make a decision. It pulsed so insistently that he toppled forward, eating the cushions. When the pulsing ceased, he could tell from the added weight behind him that his ass was even bigger. 

Holy fuck! Holy fuck! Holy fuck!

He moaned loudly, disturbing Sasha. The little dog gave him a sideways look before hopping off the couch and slinking into the bedroom. Ethan didn’t notice. He was too busy writhing in ecstasy as his hole came alive, demanding stimulation. He pushed his butt up in the air and reached back to run his index finger delicately around his pucker. The loud wail of happiness and release that echoed through Alexei’s house was enough to bring tears to his eyes.

Holy fucking goddman shit! Who the fuck knew that it could feel so good to touch your asshole?

His ass pulsed almost savagely again and Ethan gnawed the cushion, salivating and feeling like his cock was about to explode in a hands-free orgasm. 

If he’d been less overcome by the desire to stimulate his asshole, he might have wondered what all of this meant for his future. For instance, if his ass continued to bubble out, would he even be able to find pants that fit him? How would he feel knowing that everytime he went out in public, his ass would be on prominent display? 

And he probably would have been very worried about this driving hunger to have his asshole filled. Even more than growing a bubble butt, the voracious desire to get his hole filled signaled a fundamental change in his life and orientation. Until then, he had never wanted to stick his finger in his butt. He carefully minimized any contact with his asshole and tried very hard not to think about it unless he absolutely had to. Until a day or two ago, he’d regarded men who engaged in ass play as effeminate sissies and avoided any type of sexual activity involving his anus. 

Not anymore.

If he’d been more aware, he might have been horrified by this sudden about face. He might have done something to stop himself. He might have left Alexei’s. He might have sought help or gone to a doctor.

But he didn’t.

He didn’t care.

He really didn’t give a fuck.

He was turning into an insatiable bottom slut and all he wanted was to get his fucking hole packed and packed soon!

Beside him, Ethan’s phone buzzed and buzzed and buzzed as Chris’ messages became increasingly frantic but he was too far gone by then to hear.

***

Chapter 11

Ashton Koch in Alexei’s basement

He awoke sprawled lengthwise across a chair with his knees on the floor, chest across the cushion, and his arms open wide, hands bound to a 2×4 piece of lumber that kept his arms spread. His body was throbbing with pain again but in different places; his butt, his cock and balls, his forehead, his nipples. His head was cruelly locked in a brace and tilted upward so that his gaze was involuntarily drawn to his image reflected back to him by a mirror on the ceiling.

He gargled in horror at his reflection, no longer able to recognize the hideous creature gaping back at him.

The hair on his head was now completely gone and his skull was bald and shiny.

That was bad enough but it wasn’t what made Ashton tremble with shock.

No, losing his beautiful, long, blond hair was bad but it wasn’t the worst thing the man had done to his head.

He had horns!

HE FUCKING HAD HORNS!!!

WHAT THE FUCK WAS GOING ON???

He tried to look away but he couldn’t move his head. He tried to close his eyes but his captor, stationed behind him, commanded, “No, demon! Keep your eyes open. I want you to admire my handiwork.”

His eyes–evil, red snake eyes with slitted pupils–stared upward and he cringed, writhing against his bonds in a vain attempt to free himself. It didn’t work. It never worked. He should have realized that by then, that there no escape, that he was powerless, that his life as he knew it was over…

He started to cry and earned a slap on the side of his head. “Shut up and lie still, snake! You don’t want me to slip, do you?”

There was a weird tugging sensation on his left buttock and he cringed involuntarily when he realized that it had been numbed. Well, mostly numbed anyway. It still hurt like hell but the tearing pain was somewhat dulled. He looked up but couldn’t see what the man was doing back there. He knew it wasn’t good, whatever it was. 

His cock and balls felt different, odd, heavy…almost like they were getting heavier by the second. His snake eyes focused on his reflection and he could see a couple of IV stands stationed alongside his waist. Each one contained a big plastic bag filled with some sort of viscous material dripping through long tubes downward. The tubes disappeared under him and he could only guess where they were connected…

He wailed again in misery and despair and earned another harsh whack on the side of his head. He whimpered. The wicked-looking pair of black metal horns embedded in his skull must have just been implanted because his skull ached where they’d been drilled into him. A tear ran down his cheek as he tried again to understand what he’d done to deserve being tortured and altered like this.

It wasn’t fair!

He was rich!

His family controlled a vast fortune and a business empire!

Things like this didn’t happen to people like him!

“There,” the man was saying behind him as he finished up tugging on Ashton’s butt. “Once it heals–and it will heal quickly!–it won’t leave a scar. I have to say that I’m surprised that I could fit the entire implant in there. That skin-loosening reagent I injected really did the trick.” He paused to pat his butt cheek fondly. Ashton cringed when he realized that part of the tugging ‘back there’ was due to the added weight of his buttocks. He tried (and failed) to lower his head in shame when the man bragged, “You now possess the biggest ass I’ve ever seen on a skinny white boy!”

He suppressed a whine as the man shifted to examine the IV tubing, murmuring, “Yes, yes, this is going very well, too! It’s almost time to inject another liter. I’ll have to elevate you soon before your cock and balls sag down on the floor. They’re starting to bloat up nicely!”

Ashton stiffened when the man moved his hand under his chest and cupped one of his pecs, laughing as he commented, “I almost couldn’t squeeze those pec implants in there! Good thing I’m persistent! What good is a huge booty without a hefty pair of udders to balance it out!” He tweaked Ashton’s nipple, causing him to bark in protest, adding, “The suction on your nipples is working fast! Your little nipples are turning into a delicious pair of man teats!”

The intentionally sadistic comments continued as his defiler grasped one of the horns implanted in his skull. Ashton flinched. The wound was still raw and his skull ached furiously from being drilled out and then filled with metal.

“Black steel mounted on titanium. Once your bone melds with the metal, they will never come out,” the horrible man said in a soft, cruel voice. “Most of your life, Mr. Koch, you have been a devil and now you look like one. I’d say that’s appropriate.”

Ashton was shivering by this point. His beleaguered brain couldn’t take in the onslaught of horrors being perpetrated on his body. Yet he couldn’t look away, couldn’t close his eyes. He was trapped, forced to see every single way his body had been maimed, mauled, and modified to suit the incomprehensible whims of this evil Russian man. How could things get any worse? He had already been ruined beyond recognition. There was no way he could ever go back to the way he had been before he’d been kidnapped. There was no hope for him.

No hope.

Except maybe–finally?–the man was done with him? Maybe his torture was nearing an end? Maybe once it was over, he could figure out how to escape and find his way back to his family? His father was beyond wealthy and could afford the best doctors in the world. If Ashton could get free, the doctors might be able to restore some of his former good looks. He might never be as flawless as he had been but maybe he could get close?

Yes, all he had to do was wait until the man was done with him and then escape!

Find his father.

Beg him for help.

Yes, his father would never let this man go unpunished and he would stop at nothing to–

He froze abruptly at a new sensation. He could have sworn that he felt something…move…behind him while he plotted his escape and eventual restoration. For the first time since his captivity, he’d been feeling hopeful, defiant, and angry. Feeling like he might yet stand a chance.

Shit!

There it was again!

What the fuck was it?

He concentrated hard, trying to figure out what he’d done to make the strange weight behind him move. It was almost as if he had something attached to him…back there. And if he got excited, he could make it move.

!

!!

!!!

Something twitched!

Something twitched that was part of him–

–that shouldn’t be part of him!

What the fuck was it?!

There it was again!

Fuck.

What the fuck was it?

Chest clenching with dread, Ashton looked into the mirror again, purposely ignoring the way he looked and trying instead to recapture the excitement he’d felt when he contemplated escape. After some effort, he succeeded, feeling the wild hope surge in his chest and then…almost unconsciously, he squeezed his ass cheeks and shimmied his butt. 

And felt it move again. 

Only this time he could see what it was.

“AAAAAAAAAARRRRRRGGGGGHHHH!”

Something black and sinuous lifted up behind his buttocks and slowly, hideously rose into view.

He screamed again and his captor laughed, a deep, ugly sound. “Ah, yes, I have given you a forked tail. Remember I called you a snake, a devil, and a dog? It was both a promise and an observation. Now, wag your tail, dog!”

He did.

And almost vomited. If there had been food in his stomach, he would have. Instead, he could only retch as his new, satanically-black, scaled tail lifted in the air and wagged obediently behind him. He tried to stop but it wagged and wagged and wagged, like a demonic dog’s.

He couldn’t stop staring at it. There was something almost obscene about it, something against man and nature, something that was never meant to be part of a human. And yet it was now part of him. Yeah, part of him. The more he wagged it, the more inseparable it became. Soon, he knew he could make it move in any manner of ways. Worse, he knew that he couldn’t stop himself from doing so. With a building sense of doom, he knew that this devil’s tail was just as much a part of him as his arms and legs.

He was fucked.

And a fucking monster.

A fucking monster!

He screamed one last time, this time with bitter resignation. He’d lost. He didn’t understand why or how but he knew that this tail signified his complete and utter defeat.

“Hold still, dog,” his abuser commanded, reaching around to pull a strange gun-like contraption off a nearby stand. He flicked a switch and the machine whirred to life. Ashton gaped as he stared at it and then he began to howl when he recognized what it was: A tattoo gun.

The man held up a hand and Ashton fell silent. His whole body became rigid and he could not move. Only his eyes were still able to rotate in his sockets. And rotate, they did! They rotated in fear as he stared fixedly at the tattoo gun. It was a lot bigger than the guns he’d seen at tattoo parlors and the canister of black ink attached to it was industrial-sized. There appeared to be several dozen needles aligned closely in a wide row across its tip.

His body filled with terror as his captor positioned the tattoo gun over his right arm. The man paused to wink encouragingly before lowering the tip. His arm screamed in pain as the needles pierced his flesh. 

Ashton stared helplessly as the gun pumped night-black ink deep into his skin.

***

Ted Marcus and Steph Cameron

Ted and Steph gaped at the long, fat hose wriggling around inside the crotch of Ted’s wrestling singlet. The monstrous appendage was working its way upward and eventually sprang out of the low-cut neckline of the garment. The two men watched in stunned silence as it slapped against Ted’s chest with sloppy, wet sigh. 

Ted howled.

His once proud cock was no more.

Steph stared at the thing, struggling to comprehend how this bizarre transformation was anatomically possible.

“Ith’s a trunkth!” Ted moaned, reaching up to cover his face. “A futhing trunkth!”

When his hands touched the ugly, dangling cock that had been his nose, though, he grimaced in distaste. The tusks jutting out of his lower jaw had continued to push outward and now were nearly a foot long and over an inch wide at the base. His dripping cock/nose had likewise lengthened and thickened, verging on truly incredible proportions. If it kept growing at this rate, Steph reasoned in a faraway part of his mind, it might even rival the freaky, sinuous trunk that Ted had sprouted between his legs.

Steph shivered, realizing that, given Ted’s freaky transformation, he had come out on the better end of the deal. His own transformation was limited to his face. He looked at himself again in the mirror and suppressed a shudder when he saw his new, buck-toothed donkey muzzle and huge bovine eyes. His long, hairy ears drooped in resignation as he thought, Well, then again, maybe I did get a raw deal. All traces of his former beauty had been erased. His shoulders tightened and he unconsciously gritted his teeth, shuddering when he was reminded of how big they were. The fucking monstrosities protruded from his lips, making him look like an ass.

But it was just his face.

Just his face…

Really, who cared what he looked like anyway? He was still rich.

And the rest of him was still the same, old Steph.

Right?

Surreptitiously, he reached down and cupped his package, breathing a sigh of relief when he felt the usual contours of his less-than-average-sized cock. It was unchanged.

Thank god for small things, he thought, squaring his shoulders and resolving to make the most of his situation. He just needed to free himself and find a good plastic surgeon. After all, he could afford to hire the best in the country. They could work miracles with facial reconstruction these days…right? There must be some way to fix the damage the evil Russian had done. There had to be!

His train of thought was interrupted by a sound that Steph thought he would never hear: Ted Marcus crying. He looked back to see that his erstwhile nemesis had collapsed, burying his face in his knees. His tusks poked out from between his legs as he sobbed. Steph watched in fascinated disbelief (Ted Marcus was crying!) as the guy’s trunk wormed through the gap in his knees. The two big holes on its end flared and then exhaled in a deep sigh, splattering Steph’s face with moisture.

He regarded it with a mixture of horror and intrigue, wondering again how it was anatomically possible for Ted to breathe through both the trunk in his crotch and his mouth. Could he also breathe through the piss slit on his cock-nose? (!!!)

His trunk was wide and fat and distinctly elephantine, except that, rather than gray and thick-skinned, it was pink and appeared to be exquisitely tender…just like you’d think a man’s cock would look if it suddenly grew really long and reshaped itself into a…well, reshaped itself into a trunk.

Ted’s sobbing interrupted these perverse thoughts as his cries grew in volume and intensity to melodramatic proportions. Steph regarded him, debating what to do. On one hand, he was feeling pretty devastated by his own changes and Ted was kind of an asshole. On the other hand, it bothered him to see the guy so distraught and–Ungh!–there was the delectable scent emanating off of his bulky bod. Steph inhaled deeply, savoring the musky aroma and was somewhat chagrined when he felt his cock twitch against the skin-tight fabric of his singlet. 

Why was he getting turned on by Ted’s smell?

Uh oh, he thought, cringing as he felt his cock continuing to plump up. This isn’t normal…

He was preparing to move away when Ted wailed so pathetically that Steph lay a hand on his shoulder without thinking. “Heyth, budthy,” he soothed, hating how difficult it was for him to talk through his horse teeth and misshapen mouth. “We’ll be Okayth. We’ll geth outtha oth hereth.”

Ted lifted his head far enough to expose his eyes, being careful to keep his cock-nose and tusks hidden behind his knees. Even so, Steph blinked when he noticed that Ted’s ears had expanded, growing big and floppy…like a baby elephant’s. He forced himself to ignore them and focused instead on calming his friend. (Well, at least now he won’t tease me about my ass ears!) Tears were streaming down Ted’s round cheeks and his eyes were puffy and red; however, he giggled inadvertently when he saw Steph face.

Steph’s eyes narrowed and he pursed his thick, horsey lips, saying, “Yeahth, well, futh thoo!” The sting of his rebuke was ruined, though, by the loud “HAW!” that came out of his mouth involuntarily at the end and Ted guffawed loudly, his cock-nose slipping out and hitting his knees with a loud slap.

Steph brayed at the sight, earning a poisonous glare from Ted that faded a moment later as his eyelids wrinkled.

Ted was smiling.

Or at least that’s what Steph guessed he was doing. It was hard to tell because most of his face was still hidden from view. 

That cock-nose, though.

Shit!

It was huge and dripping and ugly and fat.

And funny.

Really fucking funny!

The sheer ridiculousness of their plight struck him then and Steph began unselfconsciously braying at the top of his lungs. His loud HEE HAW HEE HAW HEE HAW was soon accompanied by the deep trumpeting of an elephant and then both men were rolling around on the floor, the woe of their inexplicable transformations evaporating as a rare, sublime humor took its place.

Later, Steph couldn’t remember how he ended up on top of Ted. All he knew is that one moment they were lying next to each other, chests heaving with laughter, and the next Ted was staring meaningfully up at him as the huge cock on his face levitated into the air, growing fatter and harder by the second. Steph froze, mesmerized.

“Thuck ith,” Ted mumbled. “Pleasth thuckth ith!”

Steph hesitated and Ted’s eyes grew pleading as he moaned, “Your mouth! Your mouth ith perthecth for thuckinth!”

He swallowed, the meaning of these words settling into his brain as he stared at the monster cock rising up to meet him. Ted’s nose-cock was more than a foot long and easily three inches wide. Its long foreskin was shiny and wet as his bulbous glans slid out to greet him, the long piss slit expanding and contracting. (Ted was breathing out of his cock!)  Steph licked his thick lips with his preternaturally long tongue and realized his own cock was straining almost painfully against his singlet. He looked down at it and blinked. The outline of his erection looked…different.

Wait, what…?

“Thuckth ith!” Ted begged, shaking his head. His huge tool slapped Steph on the cheek, leaving a smear of precum dripping down his muzzle.

Steph’s gaze was torn away from his crotch and recaptured by that gorgeously disgusting member waving tantalizing close to his long muzzle. He licked his horsey lips again, still uncertain. Finally, he couldn’t stand it and ignored the voice of his (former) heterosexuality screaming inside his head.

He dove for that cock.

>>Slurp!<<

Ted rammed it inside his mouth and Steph’s eyes went round as he tasted cock for the first time. Holy shit! He had a cock in his mouth! He was sucking guy’s cock! (Or was he sucking a guy’s nose?) He shook himself, unable to believe how good Ted’s tool tasted.

Shit! Ted’s hose was delicious!

He slurped and slurped and slurped, growing more exuberant as the fire of lust took over. He stopped abruptly, though, when he opened his eyes and realized that Ted was staring at him with his big, brown eyes, an expression of such tenderness and affection on his face that it melted Steph’s heart.

“I wanth thoo, Stheph,” he murmured, a tear forming in the corner of his eye. “I really wanth thoo.”

Steph sighed through his big, horsey nose, feeling the last vestiges of his heterosexuality slip away. All he cared about then was the fat, dripping cock in his mouth and the beautiful man beneath him, so bulky and solid and…soft. Ted took him in his strong arms and hugged him close and their bodies merged. They writhed together, Steph sucking tenderly and Ted stroking the sides of his neck with his tusks as his trunk curled between them, wuffling in Steph’s ear. Their eyes remained locked onto each other and Steph felt like he was living a lifelong dream. Yes, he knew then that he was living a dream that had haunted his sleeping life since his boarding school days when he and Ted had shared a dorm room.

Ted Marcus.

Ted Marcus!

Who would have guessed that Ted Marcus could be so fucking irresistible, especially now that he was turning into an elephant?

Ted startled him then by struggling to get out of his singlet. Steph hesitated for a moment before assisting, lifting himself off of the sweaty man and resting his weight on his elbows. Ted slid the uniform down his wide torso and over his huge thighs with surprising dexterity and soon, he was completely naked. He moved his trunk down between Steph’s legs and enfolded him once again in his arms.

Steph resumed sucking his lover’s (Lover! Ted Marcus was his lover!) cock, losing himself in pure bliss. 

After a while, he became aware that Ted’s trunk was working its way slyly between his legs and over his butt. He ignored the sensation until the trunk had wormed up his back and curled around the low collar of his singlet. Soon, the prehensile appendage was working the uniform off his body. Smiling to himself, Steph gave in and shrugged his arms out of the fabric. It didn’t take long before Ted had pulled it down to his hips and then Steph slipped it off in one lithe movement, thrusting his naked body firmly against Ted’s.

Lights went off in his head.

Fucking shit! He was naked with Ted Marcus and it felt fucking awesome!

But…

Something wasn’t right.

What was it?

He rotated his hips, savoring the way Ted’s thick trunk filled the space between his legs, snuggling tightly against his taint and ass crack. It was so long that it reached all the way to the back of his head where the wide nostrils at the tip huffed soothingly in his ear. He sighed. Ted’s beefy body merged perfectly with his own skinny one. 

With one exception.

Lifting his head off of Ted’s nose-cock (and getting a mewl of protest in response from his lover), he pried his body away and looked down at himself.

“Whuth the futhing sthith?!”

“Shhhh,” Ted cajoled, following Steph’s horrified gaze downward to his crotch. “Ith’s hoth!” Taking Steph’s head between his hands, he forced it back on his cock, ignoring his struggles of protest, ordering, “Justh thuckth!”

Try as he might, though, Steph couldn’t get over the shock of seeing what was happening to his manhood…

Because, well, because it could no longer be called his ‘manhood,’ could it?

Nope.

Not any more.

Because, you see, men don’t have enormous, black donkey cock’s encased in furry sheaths, do they?

***

Ethan

His phone started ringing as he writhed in joyful ecstasy on the sofa, fingering his nubile hole and moaning loudly. He hadn’t even worked more than a fingertip inside yet and it was already sending him on a wild ride of bliss. In a distant corner of his mind, he knew that Alexei’s injections must have done something to rewire his nervous system, concentrating receptors in his anus. There could no other explanation because touching his asshole had never elicited these almost painful bursts of pleasure before.

Now, though!

Shit, now he was on fire and couldn’t keep his hands away from his hole!

The phone rang again.

He ignored it.

After the smartphone rang a fourth time, he finally lowered his butt (which was sticking straight up in the air) and sank down onto the cushions, reluctantly reaching over to answer it. Swiping with a finger (liberally coated with his ass juice) across the screen, he sighed when he saw it was Captain Reilly.

“Adelson?” the captain barked. “Adelson? Why the fuck did it take so long to answer my goddamn call?”

Ethan sighed again, saying, “Hello, Chief.”

There was a startled pause, then, “Who the fuck is this?”

Clearing his throat in a desperate attempt to lower his voice to its usual baritone, Ethan found he couldn’t do it. His voice was now permanently higher. The best he could do was mumble and hope that was enough to convince Reilly it was him.

“It’s me, Captain. Officer Lopez.” It was really weird saying that. The name ‘Pete Lopez’ seemed to belong to someone else. A strange pit formed in his stomach when he realized he had become his alias and Pete Lopez was gone. He was now Ethan Adelson. Only Ethan Adelson. Why didn’t it bother him like it should?

“Jesus fucking Christ, Adelson!” the captain shouted, startling him out of his reverie. “Don’t use your fucking real name! Are you a fucking rookie?”

“Sorry, Captain.”

There was a loud, exasperated sigh. “Where the fuck are you, Adelson? Your chip says that you’re at a gay bath house downtown but our officers on stakeout never saw you go in. I even, er, sent one in to look for you. Poor guy had his towel ripped off and his cock sucked before he could…”

“Huh,” Ethan said, interrupting as he felt his cheeks redden. Alexei must have fed the bath house location to his tracking chip to keep the police away from his house. “Nope, I’m not there. My chip must be malfunctioning.” Thinking quickly, he added, “I’m at home, Captain. Just woke up from a nap.”

“A nap? You’ve been taking a nap? Why the f–” His voice broke off and Ethan heard Ms. Ramsey’s voice in the background. When the chief came back on he sounded confused. “Our boys on stakeout say they just saw you enter your apartment building.”

“What?” Ethan demanded, panicked. “But that’s imp–!”

“…who looks just like you walked inside a minute ago,” the captain continued, talking over Ethan. He was about to say something else when he stopped abruptly. When he resumed, his confusion had deepened. “What the fuck is going on here, Adelson? You’re not where your chip says you are, you sound like a fucking adolescent, and now your fucking body double appears out of nowhere at your building?”

Ethan broke out in a cold sweat as he struggled to come up with a coherent reply. In the end, though, he failed. The best he could do was say, “Dunno, Captain. But I really am at my apartment. I don’t who know your guys saw, but it wasn’t me.”

“Something is fishy, Adelson,” the captain murmured. “Very fishy. You had better not be lying to me. And you’d better fucking come up with a lead on our kidnapper soon or I’m pulling the fucking plug on this whole thing. So far, it’s been a gigantic waste of money!”

He hung up then, leaving Ethan staring at his phone. The thought of having to go back to his life as a police officer was enough to give him indigestion. He couldn’t do it! He was Ethan Adelson now and didn’t even know if he could be Pete Lopez again. He had to figure out a plan! He had to convince Captain Reilly not to terminate the operation.

But how?

Acting on instinct, he stalked over to the pile of his discarded clothes in the middle of the living room and got dressed (pulling his pants over his enlarged buttocks with difficulty) before calling an Uber and heading back to his apartment downtown.

***

Chapter 12

Ethan

When he opened the door to his apartment, the maid seemed confused. She started to say something but then noticed the key fob in his hand and shrugged, turning back to dusting the paintings in the foyer. He mumbled a hello and set off for his bedroom. Underneath his clothes, he was still wearing the soiled posing strap and needed to take a shower. His whole body felt gross, sticky, and unwholesome and he couldn’t wait to be clean.

“There you are.”

He stopped frozen with his hand on the doorknob, staring at the bearded man seated on his bed. Wearing just a tiny pair of shorts and compression tee, he was tall, dark-skinned, muscular, and very handsome. Strangely, his eyes appeared to be red from crying and he was staring at Ethan with a mixture of longing, anger, and relief. It wasn’t his expression, though, that gave him pause. No, it was something else entirely. Something quite impossible. The hair on the back of Ethan’s neck stood up and he took a step backward.

“You look just like…” he started to say but never finished.

The man leapt off the bed and seized him in his arms, embracing him fervently as he leaned down and captured Ethan’s lips in a hungry kiss. Ethan’s mind went blank as he was devoured by the big man, his smooth cheeks rubbed raw by the guy’s thick beard. Overcome with an urgent need to completely own and dominate Ethan, the man thrust his hot, probing tongue into his mouth and sucked voraciously until Ethan’s littler, more delicate tongue met his. The man whirled him around and pushed him back onto the bed, landing on top of him and smothering him with his bulk.

Fighting to break free, Ethan managed to turn his mouth aside long enough to beg, “Stop! Wait!” His voice sounded so high and plaintive that he almost didn’t recognize it. He coughed, trying to clear his throat, trying to sound manly again.

It didn’t work.

His voice would never be deep again.

He cleared his throat again, feeling a sudden bout of sadness at losing another part of himself. Who was Ethan Adelson? Who was he now that Pete Lopez was gone?

The man, however, distracted him from this crisis of identity by taking his face in his hands and staring meaningfully into his eyes. Ethan lost himself in the depths of those beautiful, brown eyes, filled with such passion and tenderness.

“Ethan, I love you!” the man declared. “I want you!”

That voice.

That voice!

He knew that voice!

“Chris? But what happened to–”

Chris ignored him, lowering his lips and kissing Ethan again. This time, he was gentle and his full lips teased him even as his tongue darted out to lick his teeth. Chris laughed, eyes filling with joy as he pronounced, “You’re my little brother. You’re finally my little brother!”

He lifted Ethan in his arms and cradled him in his wide lap. Ethan could only gape up at him, his thoughts whirring in his head as he desperately tried to come to terms with everything that had happened to Chris…and to him.

He was now dwarfed by Chris Perry. Chris’ torso, arms, neck, waist, thighs…well, everything about him was man-sized. This included the very noticeable bulge pressing insistently against Ethan’s (big) bottom. He was big in all of the ways that Ethan was now small. Ethan looked down at himself, noticing for the first time his thin arms, narrows shoulders, and inverted chest. 

What had happened to his muscles?

And his size?

He was slight and boyish compared to Chris.

Chris watched him with a funny, almost proud look on his face. His eyes were dancing in delight as he tugged Ethan’s vest over his head and reached to unbutton his shirt. Before he could take it off, though, Ethan stopped him.

“Chris, do you realize what’s happened to us?”

His friend’s face creased in a wide smile. “‘Course, I do! That ointment you rubbed on me gave me your big cock and now I’m your big brother.”

“It gave you more than that, Chris,” Ethan replied soberly in his new, higher voice. “Look at yourself.”

Chris started to reply as he turned to stare at the mirror on the far wall. His voice died in his throat as he gaped at his reflection. Ethan turned, too, and was almost equally as shocked by the wide-eyed boy blinking back at him.

He looked like he couldn’t be older than fifteen or sixteen.

In the back of his head, he heard Alexei’s voice, ‘I am dialing back your biological clock to approximately age sixteen…’ At the time, Ethan hadn’t understood but now the meaning of the Russian’s words was all too clear: Alexei’s lotion was turning Ethan back into a teenager and it was turning Chris into…

“I am you!” Chris sputtered, easing Ethan off his lap and stumbling over to the mirror. He ran a hand through his thick, brown hair and took in the sight of his unfamiliar brown eyes. The structure of his face had shifted so much that almost nothing of the old Chris remained. And the rest of his body was similarly realigning to fit Ethan’s posture. Even the way he shifted his weight onto his left leg and crossed his arms was a typical ‘Ethan’ stance. Typical ‘Pete Lopez’ stance, Ethan corrected himself. Chris hadn’t turned into Ethan Adelson; he had become Pete Lopez.

Chris lifted his arm and stared at his skin, now burnished a rich brown. He was, Ethan realized, very attractive and manly. How come he had never realized how handsome he was when he was Pete Lopez? A shiver ran through his body and he felt his cock pulse in his pants. Chris was a hot stud!

His friend seemed to become aware of the same thing at that moment and his eyes met Ethan’s in the mirror. Ethan froze on the bed as Chris squared his shoulders and very slowly, very deliberately sauntered back to the bed where he stood looking down at Ethan with a satisfied and confident grin. Slowly, his gaze lowered down to his tenting shorts. Ethan’s eyes followed and he gulped.

“It’s time I broke you in, little bro,” Chris pronounced in a deep voice that was so soaked with authority that Ethan backed away from him on the bed. 

“Yeah,” Chris continued, his lip lifting in a little sneer. “Time your big bro taught you your place in the family.”

***

Ashton Koch in Alexei’s basement

“Wakey, wakey,” the Russian teased as he shook Ashton’s shoulder. “I’m almost done with you but I want you to watch as I make one last change.”

Ashton moaned in pain, every part of him on fire with agony. He didn’t want to look but the man snapped his fingers and Ashton’s eyes snapped open in response. He stared at himself in the mirror, crouched down like a begging dog, his long tail lifted in the air behind him. He gaped.

His skin!

His…cock? And balls? No.

No.

NO!!!

“AAAAARRRRRRRRRGGGGGGHHHHHHHHH!!!!”

“Evil snake, black snake!” the man commanded. “Stand. Stand up!”

Whining in protest as tears ran in rivulets down his ruined face, Ashton tried to resist but his body would not listen to him. He quivered as his legs strained to lift him off the floor. The tremendous weight of his over-inflated chest, butt, cock, and balls was too much and the best he could do was squat miserably as his chest weighed him down, his back bowed and his hideous genitals sagging like millstones off his crotch.

His inability to stand amused his captor and the man loomed over him, smiling as Ashton cowered before him.

“Look, snake! Look at yourself!”

He looked.

Sniffling and moaning, his eyes swiveled to the mirror before him. His skin was stained midnight black from head to toe and his red eyes gleamed demonically back at him in their ebony sockets. Even his eyelids were pitch black. The horns implanted into his skull gleamed dully in the light of the cell and his pointy ears stuck out nearly perpendicular from his head. His gash mouth was open and leering, the pink of his toothless gums almost as startling as his lizard eyes.

Slowly, his gaze traveled down his torso to his distended pecs, so full and heavy that they hurt his back. He flinched in embarrassment when he saw the man had left his suction-enhanced nipples untouched by the tattoo gun. They dangled fat and pink from his monstrous pecs.

He swallowed, feeling his body grow clammy as waves of nausea washed over him.

His cock.

His cock!

What the fuck had the man done to him?

And his balls!

God, oh god! What the fuck had he done?!

Even though he was far from turned on, his cock was permanently frozen in an enormous erection. It thrust more than two feet in front of him, unnaturally straight and fat. It must have been more than six inches wide! His glans had been enlarged to the size of a small helmet, the ridge was perfectly symmetrical all of the way around. It looked more like an oversized dildo than a real penis. And judging from its dulled sensitivity, there was probably more silicone in it than actual flesh. The thing jutted out, leaden and inert. Some strange inner suspension must have kept it pointing at a right angle from his crotch because it should have collapsed downward under its weight.

His balls were likewise almost scientifically symmetrical and enlarged beyond belief. They hung down in his sac, the little black ring choking them off from his cock. They were verging on bowling ball size. Yeah, he thought as he fought back the urge to retch, they were like big, black bowling balls and just as heavy. His lower back was already complaining from the effort required to squat without falling over.

Unconsciously, he curled his tail around his feet and hung his head. When would this nightmare end? When would the man let him go? And could he ever recover enough to enjoy his previous life?

He couldn’t see it but he knew his butt had been grotesquely enlarged, too. He could feel his buttocks open and spread salaciously as his leathery tail caressed his hole. What had the man done to his hole? He clenched it and groaned inwardly. It felt…all wrong. Too big. Too fat. Like it was protruding outward. He clenched it again as more tears slid down his cheeks.

A movement to his left caught his attention and he turned to see the man holding a device that looked like a sophisticated flashlight. As Ashton stared, he pulled a pair of black goggles over his eyes and flicked on the light, aiming the intense blue-violet beam at Ashton’s forearm.

Ashton cringed backward involuntarily but the man stopped him with a snap of his fingers. Instantly, he froze in place, unable to do anything but stare as the man focused the light on his skin.

He blinked.

What?

But that was impossible!

Incredulous, he watched as his tattooed skin twitched under the harsh light before going slack and..

WHAT THE FUCK!?

Once the light was removed, his skin didn’t return back to its normal fleshy form. Instead, it was left shiny and slick and…rubbery.

Rubbery?

Awash in fresh horror, Ashton watched his delicate skin become thick, shiny, and rubberlike everywhere the beam of light touched him. In seconds, his entire forearm looked like it was coated with black latex.

Only.

Only.

Only.

Only it wasn’t latex.

It was his skin!

His mind exploded and he would have collapsed if the hypnotic spell wasn’t holding his muscles rigidly in place. He was forced to sit there immobile as the skin over his entire body grew inexorably thick, glossy, and plasticlike under the man’s mutating light.

***

Ethan and Chris

Chris stood towering above him, hands on his hips. Ethan stared up at him from the bed, inadvertently pulling the covers up over himself. His head felt funny as an almost familiar sense of disorientation settled over him.

Chris wasn’t Chris Perry anymore.

Chris was Pete Lopez. Chris had become the man that Ethan had once been and now Ethan was just a…

He gaped as the man wearing his face leered down at him, watching him with obvious amusement. Heat crept up Ethan’s shoulders and neck as he struggled to figure out what the fuck was happening to them. His breath was ragged and his heart was pounding in his chest.

“Chris…”

“Shut it, bro!” Chris snapped, his voice so commanding that Ethan jumped. When he lowered his head and obediently closed his mouth, Chris exhaled in satisfaction, saying, “Let’s see who’s the big man now.”

With that, he caught Ethan by surprise, lunging at him and wrestling his pants off. There was a loud tearing as the fabric ripped and he scrambled backward on the bed, naked from the waist down save for his little, stained posing strap.

Chris’ face lit up when he saw it and Ethan hugged his knees protectively to his chest. In doing so, he noticed how much thinner his thigh muscles had become, leaving him with slender, shapely legs.

Creeping forward on his hands and knees like a great cat, Chris stalked toward him across the bed, a feral and hungry look in his eyes. He halted before Ethan, so close that he could feel the heat emanating off his body. Almost casually, he paused to tug his muscle-hugging t-shirt over his head. He tossed it to Ethan who caught it and lifted it to his nose before he caught himself.

“You’re a little fucking slut, aren’t you?” Chris teased, stretching and displaying his magnificent chest and abs. They were, Ethan couldn’t help noticing, covered with thick, black hair now.

When he didn’t answer, Chris gave him a funny look before springing on top of him. In a flurry, he ripped the rest of Ethan’s clothes off and pinned him to the bed, holding his wrists over his head. His great chest was heaving and his eyes were on fire with lust as he gazed down upon Ethan’s naked body. Ethan felt his cock plump up in pouch of the little poser that still clung precariously to his slim hips.

“Fucking hot,” Chris murmured, eyes caressing every curve and contour of Ethan’s lithe body. “Fucking hot little slut.”

Ethan could only stare up at him helplessly. Chris now outweighed him by over fifty pounds and was far stronger. He was at his mercy. And he loved it! His cock pulsed insistently and he let out a little sigh. Chris’ grin deepened and he moved Ethan’s hands downward until they were stationed over the waist string of his poser.

“Hold it there a sec, bro,” he ordered, letting go of Ethan’s hands and pushing himself up onto his knees. He positioned his own hands on the waistband of his shorts, instructing, “Lower ‘em when I count to three. I wanna see who’s got the big cock now.”

Ethan swallowed and nodded, fingers looping under the thin string on his hips.

“One.”

Chris’ eyes were locked on the pouch of his poser and Ethan was staring fixedly at the bigger man’s burgeoning crotch. There was a wet stain on the front of Chris’ shorts and his cock strained so hard against the flimsy fabric that it didn’t leave much to Ethan’s imagination. It looked fucking huge.

“Two.”

Ethan’s fingers trembled as he started to push the string of his poser downward, exposing his smooth, hairless pubes. Chris’ shimmied his shorts down, too, stopping as the thick, black mass of his bush popped out. He briefly looked up to Ethan’s face and winked. Ethan’s cheeks went rosy.

“Three.”

In one quick motion, Ethan flipped his pouch down and his cock sprang free. Chris did the same and they stopped, bodies frozen in expectation as their eyes focused on their respective packages.

Silence.

Chris was the first to speak, puffing up his chest and letting out a low whistle as he wagged his hulking, dripping monster in Ethan’s face. “Yup,” he declared in smug tone. “I’m definitely the big man now. Look at your pathetic little pecker!”

Ethan lowered his head in shame, turning away from the sight of his erection. Somehow, the dream of having a small cock fell far, ahem, short of the reality and he curled up, snuffling into his pillow as the full force of his stupidity hit him. What the fuck had he done? Why, oh, why had he begged Alexei to give him a small cock? What was wrong with him? He had just done the dumbest thing in his whole life, forever branding himself as a reject and a loser.

Who the fuck asked for a small cock?

Only a fool.

A stupid, stupid fool.

Hot tears overwhelmed him as he tried vainly to erase the sight of the tiny nub between his legs but he couldn’t forget it now that he’d seen it. It was burned into his memory. A cold fist closed around his heart as he realized he’d made a deal with the devil and lost his most precious possession. His manhood.

Ethan Adelson was now a boy in every way.

***

Arlington Kraft in Alexei’s basement

A deep groan startled Arlington awake. Bright lights overhead momentarily blinded him and he reflexively lifted his forearm over his eyes, starting in surprise when his skin touched a foreign object. Blinking, his eyes adjusted to the light and he found himself staring through the grid of something covering his face.

It was a visor.

A visor?

He groaned and then stopped at the sound.

Shit, that deep bass was coming from him! 

He coughed, wondering if he was coming down with a cold and groaned again.

Shit, why was his voice so deep?

He struggled to sit up but gave up when it took too much effort. His body felt heavy, so heavy. He must be really tired! He lay there, chest heaving, as he caught his breath from the exertion of trying to sit up. What was going on? Why was he so tired and why did his body feel so leaden? In exasperation, he turned his head to the side. When the visor rotated with the movement, he finally recognized what it was.

A football helmet, colored bright red from what he could see from inside of it.

He was wearing a football helmet and the visor was a faceguard!

Huh?

Gingerly, he reached up to take it off but it wouldn’t budge and his hands were encased in something tight that made his fingers clumsy.

Gloves?

He blinked as he held his hands in front of the visor of his helmet, staring at them.

He was wearing shiny, red leather gloves. Football gloves.

What was going on? Why was he wearing gloves and football helmet?

He lay his head back down with a sigh, trying to remember where he was. It took him awhile because his brain felt sluggish but finally he recalled that he was being held captive by a strange Russian man. The man had visited him just before he passed out and said some really weird stuff. Arlington thought hard but couldn’t remember much. All he knew was that the man had threatened him and then he’d passed out.

He groaned again, startling himself again. His voice was never this deep, even when…

Wait.

What was in his mouth?

A big, boxy thing was covering his upper teeth.

A mouthguard?

Shit! Why the fuck did he was he wearing a mouthguard?

Opening his mouth and attempting to wedge his tongue under the guard, he tried to spit it out but, like his helmet, it wouldn’t budge. It was either stuck to his teeth or really tight. He tried and failed again to dislodge it.

What the fuck was going on? Why was he dressed up like a football player? He fucking hated football and football players almost as much as his father loved them. They were ugly, fat, coarse. Fucking gladiators who fought in the arena like dumb bulls, too witless to understand or appreciate the finer things in life. It must be the man’s idea of a joke to dress him up like a football player while he was passed out. The moron. So much for a menacing captor! The man was obviously just a crazed fool.

He tried to push himself up again and this time succeeded in sitting up. It took a lot of effort, though, and he was winded. As he sat there huffing, trying to catch his breath, he smelled something. He wrinkled his nose in distaste.

Body odor.

Man stink, specifically.

He cleared his throat, again starting at the guttural sound coming out of his chest. He must have a bad cold. That would explain his fatigue and his weirdly distorted voice. He reached up to run a hand through his hair and touched the slick, hard surface of the helmet.

Shit! He kept forgetting that he was wearing a helmet!

Taking it in both hands as best he could (the gloves were really bulky!), the pushed upward, trying to remove the stupid thing from his head.

Nothing.

It wouldn’t budge.

Even weirder, when he touched it, it almost felt like it was…part of him.

???

But, how…?

He looked off to the side and spotted his ballet tights lying on the sofa in front of the television. And next to them… His breath caught in his throat as he saw the ornate sapphire and silver doublet that he’d worn in the lead role of Romeo in Prokofiev’s Romeo and Juliet. Instantly, he was transported back to those halcyon days of rave reviews, encore performances, and starstruck boys following his every move. His name had been on everyone’s lips and photos of his svelte bod had graced giant, glowing billboards throughout the theater district. It had been the highlight of his life…

He smiled to himself (trying and failing once again to spit out the stupid mouthguard stuck to his teeth.) He didn’t know how the doublet had made it into his cell but obviously his captor felt bad for antagonizing him earlier and was extending an olive branch. Yes, that was it. The man recognized Arlington’s impeccable reputation and regretted his attempts to sully it.  It was good to be recognized for his preeminence in the classical arts, his refinement, his grace, his beauty, his…

Glowing with gratitude, he lurched to his feet and was reaching out to take the doublet when he caught his reflection in the dancefloor mirrors in back of his cell.

He froze, the warm feelings toward his captor evaporating.

His jaw fell open as he realized what he was seeing and he bawled loudly, collapsing onto his knees and fighting fervently once again to remove the horrible helmet stuck to his head.

That could not be him!

That…thing…he’d seen in the mirror was not him!

It was just his imagination!

Just a…

Before he could stop himself, he looked down.

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!”

“NO NO NO NO NO NO NO!!!”

Arlington’s mind went blank with horrified disbelief. He didn’t register that the bovine bellowing echoing through the room until much later when he finally began to emerge from the fog of denial. When he did, he snapped his mouth shut, biting down so hard that he might have broken a tooth if not for the bulky mouth guard. 

He willed himself to close his eyes, to steady himself, to regain his composure. Try as he might, though, he couldn’t look away from that big belly protruding against the skin-tight, brilliant crimson football jersey that adorned his mutant body. 

It couldn’t belong to him! It couldn’t! 

He was lithe and thin and graceful. Not an ounce of fat marred his exquisite physique. He prided himself in his physical perfection, his fluid grace, his delicate…

He moved his gloved hands down to feel the belly, face growing hot as he squeezed a roll of flab. He stared down at himself, noting for the first time the bulky pads encasing his shoulders and the way the obscenely tight jersey hugged his chest and belly, leaving nothing to the imagination. He grimaced in distaste at the thick nipples outlined obscenely just below the shoulder pads. He had tiny nipples not man teats!

Arlington began to shake as his gaze traveled down, skipping past his pronounced gut to the painted-on pair of white tights, complete with bulging thigh and knee pads. The crotch of the tights was partially unlaced and, underneath, he could see the yellowed pouch of a stained jockstrap. A fetid, musky odor emanated from the disgusting thing.

But that wasn’t what made Arlington wrinkle his nose in distaste.

No, it was what was inside that dirty jockstrap that gave him pause.

An enormous set of cock and balls was pressed luridly against the jock and tights, so swollen and huge that he could even make out the veins running down the thick sheath. The meaty thing was so big that it looked bloated, profane, hideous.

He gagged both from the smell and the repulsiveness of the organ between his thighs, reaching down to cover it. Another wave of shock pulsed through him when he noticed his bare arms. They were corded with oversized muscles and covered in crude tattoos. Ugly, black tribal designs crawled from his wrists to his biceps. What little bits of his skin that had been left un-inked were covered in moles and freckles. His skin was sun-damaged, like that of an older man who had spent too much time outdoors.

Seemingly a small thing compared to everything else, this leathery skin bothered Arlington the most. He ran a hand over his arm, frowning at the blemishes and trying to console himself that a trip to the dermatologist would fix it. He could get the tattoos removed with lasers and then he could…

Or maybe not?

His skin looked really awful. It would take a lot of work to restore it and even then it would still be noticeably wrinkled. But it was just the skin on his arms, right? Just his arms…

Forcing himself up on wobbly legs, Arlington paused to catch his breath again. God, it took so much effort to stand! He felt like he’d put on over a hundred pounds. And why couldn’t he find his balance? His center of gravity had shifted with the weight gain but that wasn’t the only thing making it hard for him to stand. He looked down at his feet and scowled when he saw he was wearing a pair of black, cleated shoes. While cleats might provide needed traction on a football field, on a tiled floor they were ungainly and he had to work hard to keep from slipping and sliding.

With difficulty, he turned to the mirror, heart pounding in his chest both from fear and the exertion of standing up. He had to see his face.

His face.

Everything that had been done to him might be reversed or at least mitigated. He could take off the uniform (somehow), he could lose the weight, he could have a urologist fix his disgusting cock (they could perform penis-reduction surgery, right?), he could regain his sinewy muscles with lots of cardio and supplements. In short, with a lot of money and effort, he might be able to regain his previous life but…

He had to see his face.

Unfortunately for him, it was obscured by the face protector. He stared at the mirror, consciously ignoring everything else about his alien body. He squinted, trying to see himself but his face remained shadowed inside the hulking, red helmet. He reached up again to take the helmet in his hands as he staggered over to the mirror. Gritting his teeth, he gave it one last, great tug and nearly passed out from the shooting pain in his skull.

The fucking thing felt like it was bolted to his head!

He howled, folding over to clutch at the helmet with his hands. He sat there panting, waiting for the pain to subside before heaving himself up again to resume his inspection. 

What?

No way!

Standing near the mirror, his body was turned at slight angle but it was enough for him to catch sight of the massive ass hanging out behind him.

HOLY FUCKING SHIT!

He goggled at the mountainous globes, straining against the sheer football tights. They were almost graphically outlined. No, not almost! They were graphically outlined against the sewn-on tights. He swiveled his hips awkwardly and gaped at the deep cleft of his buttocks. His skin was completely naked under the tights save for the distinct straps of his jock. The straps, though, only made his ass look more massive. He didn’t remember football tights being quite so revealing. These had to be made from the thinnest material imaginable. His cheeks flamed hot as he took in the sight of the jiggling butt cheeks jutting out behind him. Even the coarse, curly hairs on his ass were silhouetted against the fabric.

He shuddered in disgust.

His ass had always been perfect! Perky and muscular, a classic ballet dancer’s butt. He could never don a ballet pair of tights with this obscenity hanging out behind him!

Forcibly removing his gaze from his mega-sized ass, he tried to fight back against the despair threatening to overwhelm him. How the fuck could this be happening to him? How was it even possible to go to sleep and wake up hours later in such a radically altered body? If his body didn’t look and feel so real, he might have assumed this was a nightmare. The awful changes inflicted upon him had been lifted directly directly out of his worst fears. It was like the Russian had found every one of his weak spots and exploited them cruelly.

He stiffened when he realized that there was only one weak spot that remained.

His face.

Sick with dread, he lifted his head to regard himself in the mirror. So far, the man had done his best to ruin him. What had he done to Arlington’s face?

The bulky helmet did a good job of concealing his face and he had to lean forward, pausing inches from the glass of the mirror to see himself. He took in his thick, bull neck with schooled stoicism but when he saw the aging, gap-toothed hillbilly staring back at him through the protective bars of the facemask, he lost it.

He was lying on the floor wailing in like a crazed bull when a familiar voice called out behind him.

“Come, come, Tex. Pull yourself together. You have a game coming up.”

Arlington choked on his tears, lifting his head and looking up at the Russian fearfully. The man was quite handsome, he realized in spite of himself. He was regarding Arlington with amusement, still wearing the white lab coat he’d had on earlier, his arms crossed in front of his chest as he tapped his foot impatiently on the floor.

“A game?” Arlington repeated in a voice so deep it sounded like a rumble. He didn’t know if it was the mouthguard fused to his teeth or something else that made his pronounce the word ‘game’ as ‘gay-um’.

“Yes, that’s right. As the team mascot, you have to be in top form to amuse the players and fans.”

“Math-cot?” he repeated dumbly, the guard preventing him from enunciating clearly.

“That’s right,” the man replied, nodding his head. “I’ve designed you to the exacting specifications of your purchasers. You can thank them for your new life as a frivolous object to be laughed at…and used.” 

His laughter rang out harshly as Arlington struggled to come to terms with this information. He was having an increasingly difficult time keeping his thoughts straight, though. It was almost like his mind was…draining away or something. He groaned, reaching up to cradle his head, trying to drown out the unpleasant sound of the man’s laughter. The helmet prevented him from covering his ears, though, and he tried again desperately to pry it off.

“You don’t want to do that, Tex,” the man warned, a smug smile on his lips. “It’s part of you now. Just like the rest of the uniform. You see,” he continued, coming to stand over him, “it’s not a uniform. It’s an extension of your body, your bones, your skin. It’s all you now. Even the filthy jockstrap is you, although I did leave a gap so you can extract your penis and testicles.” He paused, shaking his head, adding finally, “Not that it will do much good. The whole thing is only for show.”

“Thow?” God, why did he sound like an imbecilic redneck when he talked?

“Yes,” the man confirmed. “Just for show. Sadly, you will never be able to have an erection again. It’s one of the side effects of the procedure, I’m afraid. I did try to make up for it by giving you an extraordinarily sensitive anus–and even left a little ‘access slit’ in back of your pants. When you bend over and your owners drive their big, black cocks into your hole, you will scream like a little girl.” He stopped and laughed at the thought, adding wryly, “A little girl, that is, with vocal cord issues.”

Arlington wasn’t listening. He was too busy plucking at the fabric of his tights.

Shit! It fucking hurt when he pinched it!

Increasingly panicked, he grabbed one of his gloves and yanked hard to pull it off, only to cry out again. Now desperate, he took hold of a cleated shoe and tugged…with the same result. 

The man wasn’t lying.

It was true.

He was trapped in the disgusting uniform!

The sheer impossibility of his predicament brought tears to his eyes and he began bawling again, trying to come to terms with the horror of his new body. The man allowed him to wail for a few moments before silencing him with a word in a foreign language. Arlington froze, voice dying in his throat even as tears continued to pour down his withered cheeks.

“Listen to me closely,” he instructed in a cold, clear voice. “Your name is now Tex Buford and your new owners are awaiting outside my house in a white van.” He turned to point to the half-open door behind him and Arlington…now, Tex…followed with his finger. “You will walk out of this room and up the stairs and forget everything that you see as soon as you exit my house. You will still remember your previous existence as Arlington Kraft but you will be unable to communicate this knowledge to anyone. Two minutes from now, it will be as if Arlington Kraft never existed. You understand me?”

Dumbly, Tex nodded even as he felt his mind growing dimmer and his thoughts becoming sluggish. It took everything he had to concentrate on what the man was saying.

“Good. Now go.”

Tex Buford staggered to his feet and stumbled, slipping and sliding across the floor. His hand had just landed on the doorknob when the man called out, “Oh, and one last thing. Your new skin exudes an acid that will eat through clothes. You will never be able to cover yourself.”

Tex looked back at him before departing. His reflection in the mirror on the back wall caught his eye and he noted for the first time the double zeros emblazoned in glowing white numerals on the front of his crimson football jersey.

Double zeros.

Double zeros were the numbers reserved for team mascots.

***

Chapter 13

Ethan and Chris

Ethan shoved Chris’ hands off of him when he reached out to console him. A deep growl built inside the big man’s chest and, before Ethan knew what was happening, Chris had flipped him onto his knees and pushed his face down into the pillow, leaving Ethan’s bare ass sticking straight up in the air.

“Listen, little bro,” he warned in his new gravelly voice, “You’ll do whatever the fuck I want you to from now on. Got it?”

Ethan froze, mouth opening and closing as he struggled to breathe against the pillow. Finally, he lifted his face enough to chirp, “Yeah, yeah! Ok! I got it!”

“Good. Now spread your legs.”

Heart pounding, Ethan did as he was told.

Silence.

More silence.

Finally, Ethan turned his head so he could see behind him. The big (handsome!) man had gone completely still and was staring at Ethan’s big butt cheeks with an expression of surprise, admiration, and pure animal lust. Seeing that Ethan was watching him, he shook himself and gave him a funny, half-dazed smile.

And then he launched himself at Ethan’s ass, opening his mouth as he descended. He landed with seismic force, slamming Ethan into the pillow so hard that he banged his head on the headboard and he briefly saw stars. He cried out in pain and then again in delight as Chris devoured his asshole, slopping and slurping with reckless abandon. The sound of his sucking and contented moaning soon filled the bedroom…and commingled with Ethan’s higher, more plaintive whining. 

Ethan had never had his asshole sucked before. His eyes rolled back in his head and he thrust his butt up and back, straining to meet Chris’ mouth, tongue, and teeth. He didn’t care if the man’s thick beard was giving him a rash. He didn’t care when Chris opened his jaws and chewed on his butthole and taint. Shit! Why would he care? Instead of complaining, he reached back and pulled his huge cheeks apart, imploring his big bro to eat him senseless.

Chris was more than happy to oblige.

He even paused long enough to spit on his fingers and reach between Ethan’s legs to stroke his tiny cock. Because Ethan no longer possessed a shaft, Chris could do little more than work his finger into the folds of his foreskin and massage his little cockhead. It was more than enough, though. Fuck, it was more than enough! In ‘short’ order, he had worked Ethan into such a frenzy that he was ready to shoot.

“Stop, Chris! Stop!” Ethan cried as his arousal approached critical levels. “I’m gonna cum!”

Chris didn’t stop.

Instead, he ate and fingered Ethan to the biggest, most explosive orgasm of his life, leaving him screaming in ardent fervor as his nub pumped thimbleful after thimbleful of pearlescent jizz onto the bigger man’s fingers and palm.

Chris sat back, pulling Ethan onto his lap. He nestled his newly massive cock into the deep cleft of his buttocks and licked his cum off his hand. Ethan’s body was still quivering from the afterglow of orgasm but he clenched involuntarily when he felt his big brother’s bulbous cockhead push insistently against his hole.

“Shit,” Chris murmured, reaching down to yank down on his sheath. “That fuckiing foreskin! Why did you have to give me your ugly foreskin, too?”

Ethan shook his head, ignoring the question. He was too preoccupied with where his big bro was going with his cock. “Chris, I–”

“Shhh, lil’ guy! I’m not gonna take your virginity yet. I wanna make you beg for my big cock.”

Ethan wrinkled his forehead, remembering Alexei saying exactly the same thing. He didn’t know how he felt about this. Was it reassuring or patronizing? He didn’t have time to decide because Chris was already swiveling him around. He lifted Ethan’s left leg up and over so that he was straddling Chris’ lap, facing him. His big friend bucked his hips slightly, thrusting his cock insistently against his tender hole, and smiling when a the look of shock crossed Ethan’s face.

“Suave, bro, suave.”

Suave? Chris said that word with a hint of an Argentine porteño accent, similar to the way that Ethan used to speak when he was still Pete Lopez. He looked questioningly into Chris’ beautiful, dark eyes and tried to remember how they had looked when they were green. All traces of Chris’ former ‘Black Irish’ looks had disappeared, though, and he could have blended in on the streets of Buenos Aires without a problem. It was disorienting and Ethan had to look away as a wave of dizziness washed over him.

Chris didn’t seem to notice. He was too busy studying Ethan’s little cocklet as a fond and slightly superior smile crossed his face. “You’d look hot with a pussy, bro,” he suggested wryly, laughing as Ethan’s face darkened. He dipped his head and kissed him lightly on the lips before continuing, “I mean, look at you! It’s so small that it’s practically a pussy already.” He reached down and pressed Ethan’s shrunken cock and deflated ball sac into the crease between his thighs and let out a low whistle, shaking his head and licking his lips.

“Fuck you!” Ethan hissed. “I’m not gonna let you–”

Chris held up his hand, cutting him off. “Could your friend do this?” he asked excitedly. “I mean, if his ointment could do this to our cocks, it should be easy for him to give you a pussy…”

Ethan blanched, moving his hand down protectively over his meager package. “Chris! No! I’m not gonna–”

“I’m just teasing ya, bro!” Chris said, laughing. “What would I do with two pussies, huh? The one between those big bubbles behind you is all the pussy I need. I can’t wait to stick my pole in there and fuck the shit out of you!”

With that, he folded down on top of Ethan and chewed his lower lip until he relented and allowed Chris’ fat tongue inside his mouth. The two guys rolled around on the bed, losing themselves in the pleasure of exploring their greatly changed bodies.

***

Ashton Koch

He awoke curled up on a warm pad, swathed in cozy blankets. He was so comfortable and sleepy that it took him awhile to realize he was no longer a captive in the nightmarish holding cell that had been his enforced home for so long. He cracked an eyelid, realizing he was in a small, cramped space. The molded plastic walls were perforated with holes and soft light poured through. Firelight. He lifted his head to look around, curling his tail protectively around himself and flicking out his tongue to test the air.

He was in a plastic crate. An animal crate.

An animal crate?

But…where was he?

It looked familiar.

He shifted in his blankets, his elbow rubbing against the wall of his crate. It made a squeaking sound and he cringed, remembering what the cruel Russian had done to him just before he lost consciousness. He lifted his hand and stifled a sob, realizing that he hadn’t dreamed it; his skin really had turned into black, shiny latex. Shorn of fingernails, his hand looked like a glove, his fingers ending in blunt, perfectly rounded stumps. His skin even smelled like plastic. He wrinkled his nose in distaste. How much worse could his life get? Every time he woke up, something horrible happened to him.

A movement outside his crate caught his attention and Ashton shifted again, ignoring the squeaks his body made as he uncurled enough to look through the hatch. His breath caught in his chest and he whimpered excitedly when he finally recognized where he was.

Home!

He was home!

The light was coming from the fireplace in his father’s den!

But how?

How had he gotten there?

He struggled to roll onto his knees but his ridiculously oversized cock and balls prevented him and he ended up slipping and sliding all over the place, landing on his chin instead.

“Thadthee! Thadthee!” he hissed excitedly, his tail thumping happily against the wall of the crate.

From the other side of the room, he heard muffled voices and then there was the sound of the door opening and footsteps–his father’s footsteps!–approaching.

Ashton was beside himself with relief by this point. Wagging his tail frantically, he rattled against the door of the crate. He had no idea how his father had done it but he’d found him and rescued him! His father was his hero! His savior!

He’d been worried that his father had forgotten about him. He and his dad had never been close and Ashton had always felt like he was a disappointment to the man. His older brother had received all of the attention when he was growing up and Ashton had been left alone, usually to get into trouble…for which he’d been punished severely, sometimes to the point of violence.

He forgot all about the wrongs of the past, though, as his father–his powerful and wise father!–approached the crate. Ashton knew–just knew!–that his father would make everything alright. His father was one of the richest and most influential men in the world. If anyone could fix the evils perpetrated against him, it was his dad. He smiled (or at least tried to – it was difficult without lips) to himself, thinking about how his father would hunt down the Russian man and punish him. Soon the tables would be turned and Ashton would be the one torturing the Russian. He would make him pay! He would show no mercy! He would…

“Ashton?” came his father’s confused voice, interrupting his fantasies of revenge. “Is that you, boy?”

“Thadthee! THADTHEE!” he hissed, overcome with sudden tears. He threw himself against the crate door in the effort to get free.

His father knelt down to release the catch and Ashton tumbled out, head over squeaky heels as he thrashed about on the floor, trying to right himself, trying to express with the overwhelming joy he felt at being set free. His inflated and distorted body made it difficult for him to find purchase on the slippery floor and he had to struggle for a while before he could pull himself into a crouch. He sat there, cradling his enormous cock and balls and staring excitedly up at his father.

He was met with stunned silence.

His father’s eyes went wide as he took in his shiny black skin, long tail, inflated chest and genitalia, and, of course, his hideously deformed face and red, reptilian eyes. He took an inadvertent step backward and settled back against his desk, massaging his forehead. 

Ashton mewled piteously, reaching out to him. “Thadthee,” he cried, “a badth manth dith thith thoo meee!”

His father recovered at the sound of his voice and knelt to clasp him about the shoulders. His eyes were filled with shock and he blinked, his mouth opening and closing several times. Before Ashton could stop himself, he’d turned his head and his long, forked tongue had flicked out to lick his father’s hand. His father flinched at this bizarre sign of affection but didn’t recoil. He seemed to be lost in a daze as he studied his son and tried to come to terms with his radical, new appearance.

Finally, Ashton couldn’t stand it any longer and he threw his arms around him, hugging him fiercely. He was so happy! So happy to be free! So happy to be with his father again!

After a short pause, his father returned the hug, pulling him against his shoulder. Ashton cringed as his huge pec implants bit into his flesh but he didn’t cry out. He buried his face in his father’s warm, soft, welcoming chest. 

He was home! 

He was safe! 

He was free!

They hugged for a long time before his father lifted his head and pronounced, “I didn’t think you could do it, Alexei. But I should know by now to never doubt your…abilities.”

Alexei? Who the fuck is Alexei?

Ashton gaped up at him in bewilderment. His father was gazing across the room and Ashton turned, an icy premonition descending over him.

He froze.

His mouth opened and he hissed menacingly.

No way!

No FUCKING way!

It was the Russian.

The fucking Russian!

His entire body ignited with fury as Ashton lunged at the man, intent on ripping him to shreds. He didn’t care if he lacked fingernails and toenails, he would do whatever it took to hurt, injure, and maim him. He would make him pay! He would make sure that he–

Strong hands grabbed him and pulled him back. In stunned disbelief, Ashton looked down to find his father’s hands clasping him about the shoulders. When he looked up, he was met with a glare of disapproval. He opened his mouth to protest but his father shook his head, muttering something in a strange language. Instantly, Ashton’s body went slack and his father released him to sink to the floor in a heap. His head slammed against the corner of the crate and he was left staring sideways across the room at the evil man. 

His captor. 

His defiler. 

His enemy.

The man regarded him with a half smile on his handsome face. He was wearing an old-fashioned, gray suit and a porkpie hat. Ashton’s heart began to pound and his head swam with confusion as the man tipped his hat to his father.

“It was my pleasure, Mr. Koch,” he murmured. “The least I could do for an old friend such as yourself.”

Ashton gargled in horrified confusion as his father chuckled softly. “You’re too kind. Too kind. I don’t know how I can repay you for this. This is the culmination of a lifelong dream. You have earned yourself my eternal gratitude.” His father reached down and stroked Ashton’s shoulder fondly as he continued, “Perfect. He’s absolutely perfect.”

“I had to lower his body temperature to prevent him from overheating,” Alexei explained in an offhand manner. “He can’t sweat now that his skin is latex so you’ll have to be careful not to let him get too warm. I would keep him in a cool place and give him a hot rock to lie atop, much like you would do for a reptile.”

Ashton’s ears burned as his father laughed at this. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing! This couldn’t possibly be happening! His mind was awash first with horror and then with revulsion and outrage when his father replied, “Yes, of course. I’ve prepared a room for him. A rumpus room, if you will. We will retire there in a moment. I’ve decorated it to his tastes. Lots of whips and chains and clamps!”

Alexei raised his eyebrows mischievously. “Ooh, now that does sound like fun!”

“Would you care to join us, my friend?” His father asked, earning a hiss of shock from Ashton.

Alexei ignored Ashton, bowing instead to his father and taking a step backward as he explained, “I would love to but maybe another time? I have an urgent matter downtown that demands my attention. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be going.”

His father’s voice was silken, almost slimy, as he replied, “Of course! Of course, my friend! Please give my regards to Vladimir the next time you talk to him. And tell him that everything is going according to plan.”

Alexei turned and exited the room, leaving Ashton’s mind reeling as he lay catatonic on the floor. He couldn’t believe what he’d just heard! He couldn’t believe that his father… He couldn’t! It wasn’t possible! He must be dreaming! This had to be a nightmare! His father wouldn’t have–

His chaotic thoughts were interrupted by the distinct sound of a belt unbuckling. Ashton’s pulse spiked with anxiety. A moment later, his father moved into his field of vision. As Ashton goggled up at him, his father’s lips curled into an ugly grin and he unzipped his pants. Slowly, they came undone and his father slid them down his pale thighs, murmuring, “Get on your hands and knees, Baby Boy. Get on your hands and knees for Daddy.”

***

Ethan & Chris – at Ethan’s apartment

Chris withdrew from kissing Ethan to rummage around in the nightstand next to the bed.

“What’re ya looking for?” Ethan queried in a soft, almost delicate voice. He closed his mouth, surprised again by how different he sounded. 

Chris ignored the question and continued searching while settling his magnificent bulk more fully on top of Ethan and thrusting his giant cock (Was it getting bigger?) against his little nub. Ethan whimpered, head swimming as waves of pleasure threatened to overcome him, and Chris smiled. He rubbed his huge, slippery cockhead against him over and over, laughing as Ethan let out a high-pitched squeal.

“Where you keep the lube, lil’ bro?” he asked finally, letting his cock rest firmly against Ethan’s tummy. 

He was twisted to the side and every muscle (and hair) on his chiseled body was illuminated in the soft light of the bedroom. The tip of his tongue was sticking out of the side of his mouth and his dark skin glowed a rich chestnut. Ethan watched him, mesmerized by his hulking, masculine beauty. Was it possible that Chris was even more muscular and hairier than he’d been just an hour ago? He lifted his head to lick Chris’ armpit and the big man chuckled softly.

“Shit, you are just fucking perfect, you know?” he breathing, forgetting his search for the moment to stare down fondly at Ethan. “The only thing that would make you more perfect is that pussy I was talkin’ ‘bout earlier.” He laughed at Ethan’s irritated expression, reaching down to press a thick finger over his lips before he could complain. “Shhhh, I know, I know! But at least think about it, Ok?” He closed his eyes, shivering, adding, “A lil’ bro with a lil’ pussy between his legs? What could be better?”

Behind them, a man cleared his throat, saying, “A big, strapping son with his daddy’s cock up his ass, perhaps?”

Chris froze before whirling around in surprise, nearly toppling off Ethan. “Who the FUCK are you?” he demanded as he struggled to catch his balance. Ethan watched proudly at his big brother instinctively positioned himself between Ethan and the mysterious man…who was a stranger to him but not to Ethan.

Ethan smiled broadly as he stuck his head around Chris, calling out, “Hi, Alexei!”

The man nodded politely as he took off his old-fashioned hat and tossed it on a chair. Chris stiffened next to him, his brow wrinkling as he grumbled,  “Wait! You know him?”

“‘Course, I do!” Ethan chimed in happily. “He’s my friend! He made the ointment for us.”

“Huh,” Chris said gruffly before turning back to Alexei. When he saw that the man was loosening his tie and removing his (exceedingly well-tailored) suit coat, Chris held up his hands, saying, “Whoa, whoa, whoa! Stop right there, Mister…?”

“Bortnikov. My name is Alexei Bortnikow,” Alexei stated before adding provocatively, “And you and Ethan now belong to me.”

If Chris had been shocked at Alexei’s sudden appearance, it was nothing compared to the pyrotechnics that erupted with this announcement. Ethan blinked as his brawny big bro launched himself off the bed, roaring thunderously and reaching out to grab at Alexei, no doubt intent on tossing him out on his ear. Ever unruffled, Alexei stepped to the side at the last instant and Chris hurtled past him, barreling through the open door of Ethan’s closet. Alexei shook his head and continued undressing, taking off his suit coat and draping it carefully over the arm of the chair. He then pulled his red tie over his head and commenced unbuttoning his crisp, white oxford shirt.

Ethan sat up on the bed, clapping his hands together. He had quite forgotten his dismay at discovering that Alexei had robbed him of his manhood and now was overcome with delight at the unexpected appearance of the suave, sophisticated, and handsome man.

Daddy, he thought to himself. He’s my daddy!

Alexei favored him with a smile as he removed his shirt. Ethan swallowed in amazement. If anything, Alexei’s body was even more impressive than Chris’. Chris might possess bigger muscles but Alexei’s taut frame radiated a power and grace that Chris lacked. It was, Ethan realized, a kind of self-assurance that developed with age. And no one could rival Alexei in that area.

Alexei stripped down to his underwear before turning to help Chris out of the closet. The big man moaned and rubbed his head as Alexei pulled him to his feet. Once he was standing again, Russian paused to survey his changed body, nodding his head approvingly.

“Yes, yes. You make the perfect eldest son,” he murmured, raking his eyes up and down his naked body. “My perfect eldest son.”

Chris shook his head and gaped at him, still groggy from his collision with the closet wall. When Alexei slapped him playfully on the butt, urging him back on the bed, Chris didn’t resist. He clambered up and somewhat surprisingly took up position on all fours, sticking his ass in the air and looking back at Alexei with a confused expression on his face.

“That’s a good boy!” Alexei praised, climbing up behind him and running his hands over Chris’ back and chest. He tweaked his nipples playfully, earning a funny little grunt from the big man. Pleased by his new son’s obedience, he positioned himself behind Chris’ buttocks and reached down to grab his thick, dripping cock.

“Are you ready, son?” he teased, leaning forward to drape himself over Chris’ back and thrusting his crotch against his outspread cheeks. Chris’ face clouded with a mixture of shock and confusion but, rather than resisting, he swiveled his hips upward and arched his broad back, all but begging Alexei to have at him.

Ethan watched them with amusement as his little nub sprang back to life. Almost nothing that Alexei did surprised him by this point. The man had taken on near godlike proportions in his mind and Ethan had given up trying to figure him out. He sat back and savored watching him–watching his daddy!–as he took charge of the situation and the man before him.

“Good,” Alexei said, reaching into the nightstand and pulling out the bottle of lube that Chris had been unable to locate earlier. He squeezed a generous blob into his hand and reached forward to slick Chris’ pole. Chris shivered at the sudden cold of the lube and lifted his head, meeting Ethan’s gaze. He looked stoned, Ethan realized, his eyes unfocused and his mouth hanging open. Had Alexei drugged him? Or was it simply the mesmerizing effect of the Russian’s presence?

“Come here, Ethan,” Alexei urged and Ethan wiggled back on the bed next to Chris, eagerly turning over and presenting Alexei with his ass. When the man slathered his nubile hole with lube, he began trembling with excitement. 

He was turning to look back at Alexei when he realized how much smaller than Chris he was now. His thin arm was pressing against his big bro’s but he barely reached up past his elbows. He could have scooted under Chris and still had room to spare! Alexei seemed to realize the same thing right then and he urged Ethan underneath Chris with a sharp slap on the ass. Ethan blushed when he felt his ample butt cheeks vibrating in response. They were so much bigger and heavier!

Chris folded himself instinctively over Ethan’s body as he moved beneath him. Ethan sighed in contentment, savoring the bulk and weight of his big bro. He felt so snug and warm with Chris pressing down on top of him! He let out a little yelp, though, when Alexei positioned Chris’ huge, hot erection against his little hole.

“Now, Chris,” Alexei instructed. “You’re going to break in Ethan while I do the same to you. Understand?”

Chris nodded dumbly while Ethan squealed in protest. He wasn’t ready! He couldn’t take a cock that big!

“It’s Ok, Ethan,” Alexei soothed. “Just relax. Chris will take it easy on you…the first time.”

Behind him, Ethan heard the unmistakable sound of Alexei sliding his underwear down and slicking up his cock with lube. He was trembling with fear and anticipation, not at all certain that he wanted this. Wasn’t he supposed to beg for Chris’ cock up his ass? He wasn’t begging!

There was a long, terrifying pause that stretched on forever. Ethan’s nose twitched as he inhaled Chris’ rich, masculine odor mingling with Alexei’s irresistible scent. Trickles of Chris’ sweat poured down his body, running down Ethan’s chest and arms and pooling on the bed. Chris’ breath was tight and labored as he froze above Ethan, clearly just as terrified as he was at what was coming.

Alexei took a deep breath behind them and then…

Chris bellowed like a sick bull when Alexei thrust his cock inside him, not even bothering to loosen his mahole up with a finger. Ethan ate the pillows as Chris bucked forward and collapsed on top of him, bawling in agony. Fortunately for Ethan, Chris spared him the abuse that Alexei was meting out on him and his bro’s giant cock lodged against his hole but went no further. Ethan sighed in relief when he realized he could easily clench and keep it out.

His asshole was safe!

For now.

Alexei pummeled Chris, raping him savagely and mercilessly as the big guy cried out, pleading with him to stop. Eventually, Alexei’s assault wore him down and he began to roll forward and backward in time with the Russian’s thrusts. As he did so, his blunt cockhead rocked back and forth against Ethan’s hole. Ethan’s eyes widened as he felt himself give way and the tip of Chris’ lubed-up cock began to spread his hole.

Ethan yelped.

And yelped again.

He couldn’t hold back against this onslaught for much longer.

He could feel his muscles screaming with fatigue as he fought to keep that massive rod from splitting him open.

Chris grunted, shoving against him even harder as Alexei’s hips slapped his hairy buttocks. A deep growl built in Alexei’s chest that was soon echoed by Chris. Ethan gritted his teeth, fighting hard for breath (his face was smooshed against the pillows) and to retain his ass virginity.

He was fighting a losing battle.

He cried out plaintively as he felt his tender hole stretching wider and wider until…

“FUUUUUUUUUCK!”

Chris was in!

Ethan’s hole shredded as the big man’s cock broke through his resistance, sundering his ass muscles and leaving his tiny, nubile hole permanently gaping. Chris’ cock was so big and penetrated him so deeply that Ethan could feel it pressing against the bed through his stomach. And Alexei’s cock was so huge that Ethan could feel it pushing against his back through the wall of Chris’ abs.

Both Chris and Ethan found out what it is like to be fucked by a huge cock that night. They found out many times, in fact. Alexei’s stamina was superhuman and he came no less than a half dozen times before finally sagging down on top of Chris, winded and sighing with contentment. The bedroom smelled like a barn and Chris was so drained that he collapsed on top of Ethan, smothering him with his bulk. Ethan struggled weakly, his asshole on fire with agony as Chris’ mega-sized tool softened but remained firmly lodged inside him.

“Get up!” he cried. “GET UP! I can’t breathe!”

In response, Alexei shifted off of Chris and Ethan clawed his way out from under his big brother, feeling a sickening pop as his cock exited his inflamed chute. He sat up on his knees, teetering in a daze as he regarded Chris’ hulking, sweating, hairy body. His buttocks were rubbed raw and dripping with globs of cum. Ethan reached back and cupped his own massively-enhanced bubble and realized it felt much the same. When his fingertips grazed his asshole, he flinched at its wide bore. Chris had totally wrecked him!

Alexei made up for his assault by lavishing them with exquisite care as he led them into the bathroom and turned on the shower. They stood there in a trance until the Russian urged them under the warm spray and then spent a long time washing them with a soft sponge, caressing their weary and beleaguered bodies with loving kindness. Somehow, Ethan ended up sandwiched between both of the big men as they kissed above him. He felt Chris’ cock pulse behind him and then Alexei’s giant began to press against his belly. He slipped out just as their arms locked around each other and they began mashing insistently.

His dad and big bro were two of the hottest men on the planet, Ethan decided as he fingered his nub and watched them go at it. It was hard to decide who was more impressive because each possessed a certain magnetism of his own. Chris was bursting with youth and vigor but Alexei matched him with the potency of his supreme dominance.

In the cock department, though, it was no competition.

Alexei’s hose eclipsed Chris’ in both girth and length, making his big bro look almost small in comparison. Russian men were indeed massively hung and Ethan was suddenly glad that it had been Chris and not him on the receiving end of that monster. When Alexei spun Chris around and bent him over, forcing him to spread his big ass cheeks, Ethan was privately pleased to see that Chris’ manhole gaped much wider than his own. He clenched his cheeks in sympathy as Alexei thrust his manpole inside Chris, feeling his own sagging pucker respond with a half-hearted tug.

Would he and Chris ever be the same?

***

Ethan awoke on the bed between Alexei and Chris. He snuggled into the covers with delight when he realized they were lying on their sides, heads propped up on elbows, regarding him with affection. He knew they had been talking about him while he slept and it made him feel special…and loved. He smiled up at them angelically, wiping the sleep from his eyes.

“I know you don’t agree,” Alexei was saying, “but I got his formula wrong and made him too small. I will adjust it when we get home and give him back some muscle and a couple of inches of penis size. He’s supposed to be a teenage boy after all!”

Chris exhaled in annoyance but didn’t complain. Instead, he surprised Ethan by saying, “Whatever you say, Dad.”

Alexei nodded approvingly. “Good. I’m glad you’re beginning to see things my way.”

Chris started to grimace but caught himself and smiled apologetically. “It’s gonna take me a while to get used to it but I guess I…like it.” He paused before continuing, “No, that’s not true. I don’t ‘guess’ I like it. I really do like it. I like being your son!”

“That’s good, Pete,” Alexei said. “Really good.”

Ethan’s eyes widened at the name and Chris stared at Alexei, demanding, “Pete? Who’s Pete?”

Alexei watched them both with half-closed eyes for a moment and Ethan forgot his alarm as he lost himself studying his beautiful features. Alexei was the sexiest daddy a boy could want! Finally, Alexei’s face broke into a smug smile as he explained, “Ahhh, I see Ethan has been keeping secrets from you. You didn’t know that his name is–or was, rather–Pete Lopez and that he was an undercover police officer?”

The expression of surprise on Chris’ face might have been comical if Ethan wasn’t so freaked out. How could Alexei reveal his identity to Chris?

“He…but, I mean,” Chris looked down at Ethan, his face full of confusion. “But you…how? I didn’t–”

Ethan looked away, ashamed. Chris reached out to him but he pulled away, turning to give Alexei a wounded stare. His dad gave him a reassuring smile, saying, “Yes, Pete Lopez’s went undercover as Ethan Adelson. His job was to find out who has been kidnapping the young men from rich families and he did an excellent job. He managed to find the kidnapper and tomorrow,” he paused significantly as his eyes searched for and held Chris’ gaze, “he is going to stun the city by turning the villain into the police.”

***

Chapter 14

Ethan & Alexei in the basement

“Ethan, stop playing with it!” Alexei chastised and Ethan dropped his penis and tucked it back inside his shorts.

He’d been trying to loosen the bandage around his cock, eager to see what it looked like now that he was circumcised. The Russian had snipped off his foreskin that morning and covered up his penis with bandages just before injecting him with another serum to make his body–and cock!–mature back to that of a sixteen year-old boy. ‘A sixteen year-old boy with an unusually small penis,’ Alexei had said at the time. ‘You’ll top off at around three inches erect but at least you won’t have a micro penis anymore.’

He looked down at his crotch and frowned, wishing the bandages away. He wanted to see his cock!

Alexei sighed and stopped fiddling with the door to Edward ‘Dumpty’ Freiss’ cell long enough to explain, “It will be completely healed by this afternoon. You only have to wait a few hours!”

“But, Dad–” Ethan started to complain when his voice cracked. He stopped, feeling both proud and chagrined at the same time. He was glad that his voice was deepening but worried that being stuck forever as a sixteen year-old meant that his voice would never stop cracking. “But, Dad,” he began again, smiling when his voice settled into a deeper tone. It wasn’t as deep as Alexei’s or Chris–er, Pete’s–but it was deep enough. “I wanna see it! Can’t I look at it?”

“Later, Son! Let’s get Edward moved into the hardening chamber. He should be just about ready.”

With that, he swung open the door to Edward’s cell. Humpty Freiss, Edward’s already transformed twin brother, stumbled out first and Ethan gaped up at him. He would never get used to the enormous ‘egg man’ no matter how often he saw him! Humpty’s beady eyes were alive with excitement as he pitched precariously forward. If Alexei hadn’t caught him, Humpty would have indeed had a great fall!

Helping him back into a standing position with effort, Alexei patted Humpty fondly on the head and eased him away from the cell door and into the hallway.

Ethan craned his neck, trying to see into the cell. When his gaze landed on Edward, he froze, exclaiming, “Holy fucking shit!”

“Ethan, your language!” Alexei warned and Ethan looked up at him apologetically before turning back to Edward.

He squinted, trying to see the old Edward in the new Dumpty but he couldn’t. Edward’s once taut body had ballooned to well over five hundred pounds and his arms and legs had shrunk down to twigs. His head, neck, and torso had merged into one vast blob of jiggling fat. Rolls of it poured off of him. 

Ethan stared curiously at his crotch, trying to see what had become of his once long and dangling penis but it was covered by an apron of flab. It had probably shrunk away to nothing like his brother’s, he guessed, feeling a little stab of disappointment. Shrugging his shoulders, he went back to studying Edward’s mountainous body.

His skin was pasty white and there wasn’t a trace of hair left on his body. Even his head–if you could still call it that–was shiny and smooth. When Ethan’s eyes met Edward’s, he saw that the egg-man-to-be was peering at them with tiny, red-rimmed eyes and pursing his cherry-red lips in distaste.

“You have destroyed me!” he shrilled, staring past Ethan to fix Alexei with a poisonous glare. “You’re a monster!”

Alexei took this in stride, returning his glare with a smile as he answered smoothly, “Monster? Hmmm…interesting choice of words, Dumpty.”

Dumpty’s drew himself up on the chair (that was barely able to contain his vast, sagging bulk) and was preparing to launch into a vituperative diatribe when Alexei nodded to Ethan and he darted into the cell, slinging one of Dumpty’s arms over his shoulder.

“C’mon, Edward!” he urged. “Let’s get you up. Don’t you want to get out of this cell?” 

Before the immense man could reply, he heaved upward. With a herculean effort (Ethan was glad that Alexei’s second serum was giving him back some of his upper body strength), he managed to lift Edward to his feet. They stood there, wobbling back and forth for a moment while Ethan caught his breath, and then he lurched forward, pulling Edward along with him. With Alexei’s help, he moved Edward out of the cell and into a side room where a strange contraption awaited him.

It looked like a huge, iron egg covered in a network of tubes and wires. This, Ethan realized, was the mysterious ‘hardening device’ that Alexei had told him about. The Russian had constructed it with the sole purpose of completing Edward and Erik Freiss’ transformation into Humpty and Dumpty.

Ethan steadied Edward (who was panting with the exertion of walking the dozen or so steps to the room) while Alexi cracked open the iron egg and ushered Edward inside. The big man stared at it fearfully and balked. Before he could protest, though, Alexei shoved him inside and slammed the door behind him.

“There!” he said brightly. “We’ll let him cook in there for an hour. By the time he comes out again, his body will have hardened into a permanent egg shape just like Humpty’s and his mind will be little more than a bowl of mush!”

Ethan started to smile in response but caught himself. As much as he loved his dad, he had to admit that the man could be a twisted bastard at times. In fact, if he thought hard enough, he might even begin to resent Alexei for transforming him into a little… Shaking himself, he decided not to go down that road. 

Alexei placed a warm hand on his shoulder and was guiding him back upstairs when they heard a loud banging on the door. A moment later, men’s voices filled the basement as a dozen or more police officers poured down the stairs and into to Alexei’s prison.

“Get your hands up in the air!” A familiar, deep voice commanded and Ethan looked up to see his big brother, Pete, scowling at them as he leveled his pistol at Alexei’s chest. He gave Ethan a sly wink before rounding on their dad and repeating, “I said, GET YOUR FUCKING HANDS IN THE AIR, ASSHOLE!”

Alexei did a good job of acting frightened as he complied. He allowed himself to be handcuffed while an officer read him his rights. In less than a five minutes, they had whisked him out of the basement and into a waiting squad car. One of the police officers, a pleasant woman with a concerned smile, escorted Ethan upstairs where they interviewed him for over an hour about his father’s activities. He answered as truthfully as he could, omitting only the details about his true identity. As far as the police were concerned, he was Ethan Bortnikov, Alexei’s adopted son.

When they had finished, they drove him downtown to the police station and phoned Child Protective Services. As a minor, Ethan could not be released without a guardian and he was forced to wait in a room directly across from his old office as CPS tried to find a foster family to take him on such short notice.

***

Ted Marcus and Steph Cameron

“Yer beauthifulth!” Ted exclaimed as he looked up at Steph, a tear forming in the corner of his eye.

Steph shook his head. He was poised atop Ted, his body lifted in the air as he stared down at his crotch. Ted raised his arms, clasping his hands around Steph’s neck and fixing him with a look of pure adoration. Steph refused to look at him and instead kept his gaze glued to the disgusting hairy sheath and donkey cock hanging between his thighs. The ugly cock was thrusting out of the sheath, all slimy and black and dripping yellow precum. The horrible thing was nearly two feet long and no longer bore any resemblance to a man’s penis. 

He gritted his teeth as Ted repeated, “Beauthifulth!”

“Shuth up! Juth shuth up!”

In answer, Ted slid his hands off his neck and down his face to grasp his long muzzle. Then he lifted his head and kissed him. Or tried to. He ended up poking Steph in the eye with his huge, mutant cock-nose. One of his tusks jabbed him painfully on the lips and Steph growled, wiping pre-cum out of his eye and fixing Ted with an angry look.

Ted grimaced in apology, looking truly hideous now that his tusks were nearing elephantine proportions and his cock-nose was almost as long as Steph’s donkey dong. Steph was preparing a sharp retort when he realized something.

He stopped, feeling his big cock stiffen. A little moan escaped his fat lips as he struggled to fight against the dawning recognition.

Shit shit shit! he thought. What is wrong with me?

He closed his eyes and reopened them, willing the feeling away…and caught a whiff of Ted’s strong scent. He shivered and redoubled his resistance. Try as he might, though, he couldn’t deny his feelings and soon he was forced to admit that not only did he find Ted Marcus irresistible, he also found him incredibly fucking hot. 

He hung his head in defeat as a wave of lust splashed over him, leaving him drunk with desire. As if he sensed Steph’s resolve fading, Ted removed his trunk from resting atop Steph’s shoulder and lowered it down his back, pausing finally to tickle his asshole with its fleshy tip. Steph shuddered, feeling his donkey cock contract almost painfully as a little jet of precum spurted out, landing with a splat on Ted’s big belly.

“Futh me,” Ted breathed. “Futh me with yer donthey cockth!”

“Waith!–HAW!–No!” Steph protested by Ted had already grabbed his fat cock. In a second, he’d whipped his trunk out of the way and thrust his legs up and over his shoulders. Steph looked down in surprise at the sight of his friend’s unexpectedly pink, tight pucker. 

His donkey cock pulsed insistently in Ted’s grasp.

Ted chortled in a happiness as he felt Steph’s organ grow even harder and he guided it down to his hole, pausing to slather himself with gobs of Steph’s donkey pre. When he lifted his gaze back to Steph’s face, Steph melted inside. He didn’t resist when Ted positioned his cockhead against his expectant hole. His friend caressed Steph’s belly with his trunk before wrapping it firmly around his waist and pulling him downward.

“You sure abouth thith, budthy?” Steph asked, suppressing with difficulty the loud ‘HEE-HAW’ that wanted to come out of his muzzle whenever Ted touched him.

“Yeth,” Ted murmured and Steph’s eye widened when he felt his friend’s slicked-up hole relax against the flat head of his big, black cock.

Steph took a deep breath before sighing, “Othay!”

Lifting his hips, he thrust against Ted Marcus’ tight asshole and burst out braying as his donkey cock drove in for the win. 

Outside the cell, the police officers stopped in confusion at the sound of a donkey braying and an elephant trumpeting. When they opened the door, though, they witnessed firsthand the age-old answer to resolving bitter partisan divides. You see, it isn’t about who is on top or on bottom. It’s not even about give and take. It’s about something more fundamental. Something both exquisite and rare.

As ugly as Steph and Ted’s bodies had become, their union awakened something beautiful in them. And, even though the return to their former lives was both difficult and painful, neither man ever lost sight of the beauty he saw in the other’s eyes.

***

Pete Lopez at the police station

The police captain’s office was at the end of a dark hallway. Pete Lopez’s stomach was aching by the time he reached the closed door and lifted his big hand to knock. There was only a brief pause before the door opened and he found himself staring into the wide, blue eyes of the captain’s secretary, Ms. Ramsey. She was almost ridiculously done up, wearing caked on makeup and a pink dress that hugged her curvaceous body like a second skin. Her voluptuous breasts all but spilled out of the lacy decolletage. 

Pete stared at her, hoping frantically that he remembered everything that Ethan had told him. He couldn’t afford to fuck this up; his future–not to mention Ethan and Alexei’s–depended on his being convincing.

“The captain is waiting,” Ms. Ramsey pronounced. Her falsetto voice was girlish and coy, almost stilted. When she turned away, Pete narrowed his eyes. Something about Reina Ramsey felt…off. What was it?

Ms. Ramsey stepped away from the doorway, leaving some room for him to squeeze past but not enough for him to avoid brushing against her ballooning breasts. Pete cleared his throat, uncomfortably aware that his intuition was sending him clear warning signs about the woman. Yeah, there was definitely something up with her. He would have to be extra careful!

Captain Reilly, a barrel-chested man of about sixty with a white moustache and a smoker’s voice stood up from his desk and saluted him when he entered, booming, “Good work, Lopez! Good work! You caught the bastard!”

Pete returned his salute, smiling broadly as Ms. Ramsey sauntered behind the captain’s desk and regarded him blankly. The office, Pete noticed, looked out a brick wall, adding to his growing sense of claustrophobia. He forced his gaze away from the window and caught Ms. Ramsey watching him with glittering eyes. When she noticed his attention, though, her gaze became vacant again.

“‘Course, I had my doubts,” Captain Reilly was saying. “I still don’t know how you nabbed the fucker. As far as we could tell, you spent all of your time at bath houses downtown.”

Pete cleared his throat and looked down, rubbing his wrist where Alexei had embedded Ethan’s tracking chip under his skin. “Well, um, it turns out,” he lied, “the bath house was how I met Chris Perry and he turned out to be the key to finding the kidnapper.”

The captain wrinkled his brow. “He was? Poor bastard. His family has been calling non-stop since he went missing. We hoped to find him in the fucker’s basement but so far haven’t found any sign of him.” He was about to say something else but instead pushed himself away from his desk and stood up, motioning to the door. “Let’s take a walk, Lopez,” he suggested, “and you can tell me all about how you cracked the case.”

Pete was only too happy to go along with this, especially when he saw that Ms. Ramsey was staying behind in the office. The woman seriously creeped him out. 

He followed the captain downstairs to a basement smelling strongly of mildew. Dim lights lit a long corridor that Reilly stalked down, stopping in front of a big window of one-way glass that looked in on an interrogation room. Looking in, Pete shivered and Captain Reilly gaped before recovering.

Inside, there were two enormous, egg-shaped…things…bobbing and weaving in agitation as several police officers attempted to corral them into a holding cell. Their bodies were devoid of hair and essentially genderless, although one of the huge creatures wore a ridiculously oversized pair of tighty whities, suggesting that he might be male. The pale skin encasing their inflated bodies appeared perfectly smooth and rounded, mimicking egg shells. This egg-like quality was exacerbated by the fact that they lacked discernible heads, necks, or torsos. The only thing that made them recognizable as human were their tiny, stick-like arms and legs. They were glaring at the police officers with rat-like eyes and their indignant shrieking was so shrill that it even carried through the thick glass.

“You say that’s Edward and Erik Freiss?” The captain’s voice was hoarse with disbelief.

Pete nodded, feeling ill. “Yeah, that’s what the kid told me.”

“We’re waiting for test results from the DNA lab to confirm their identities,” the captain said, massaging his forehead. “Had to pull one of ‘em out of a huge cooker when we busted into the basement. By the time we got him out, his brain was fried. Hard to say if their family will thank us for returning their sons to them in this condition.”

Pete’s stomach was curdling at the sight of the two monstrosities and he forced himself to look away. He didn’t object when the captain steered him by the elbow to the window of an interrogation room further down the hallway. Peering inside, they were greeted by an equally disturbing scene, albeit one that was slightly happier.

Two ghastly mutants sat side-by-side at a desk before a pair of shocked-looking officers. Pete squinted as he studied the nearest one and then straightened, taking an inadvertent step backward. Captain Reilly noticed and laughed, slapping him on the shoulder.

“I know, right? I didn’t think it was possible for a guy’s nose to–”

“Is that a penis?” Pete interrupted. “Does he have a penis for a–”

“Yep. And those are tusks coming out of his mouth,” the captain confirmed. “Don’t forget about the trunk, though. He’s a got a fuckin’ trunk where his…”

Pete had to look away. His heart was pounding in his chest and he tasted bile in the back of his throat. Clenching his fists, he wondered if he knew what he was doing. Did he really want to protect Ethan and Alexei? Was he really ready to leave his old life as a rich playboy to become a lowly cop? Lifting his hand to rub his eyes, he had to fight to stay on his feet. He felt woozy and nauseated.

Captain Reilly surprised him then by placing an arm over his shoulder and giving him a brief hug. His gruff voice took on an almost soothing tone as he said, “C’mon, Pete! I know it’s hard to see this stuff but you did good. You did real good. Your work on this case has given everyone here a real shot in the arm! For the first time in years, my officers are happy to come to work and it’s all because of you.”

Somewhat heartened, Pete lifted his head and smiled inadvertently when he saw the donkey man sitting next to the guy with the tusks and cock-nose. The man’s head had elongated into a huge, toothy muzzle filled with square teeth. Long, tufted ears adorned his head and a shock of thick, tangled hair crested his head in a unruly mane. As Pete stared, the ugly creature nuzzled the elephant man, sticking out a prehensile tongue and licking his puffy cheeks. The elephant dude stopped talking and looked over at his friend with such loving affection that even the captain chuckled.

“Ted Marcus and Stephen Cameron,” Pete pronounced, still unable to believe their transformation. “They always hated each other–” His voice broke off as he realized that, in his persona as Pete Lopez, he would have no way of knowing this bit of information. Thinking fast, he added, “Or at least that’s what the kid told me.”

The captain nodded, still watching the donkey-headed man and the tusked brute with the dripping cock nose. “Yeah, that’s what I read in their file. Poor bastards. They’re gonna have a rough go of it when they get out.”

Pete nodded in agreement, unable to make his mouth work properly. The sight of those two men so hideously transformed–He’d grown up with them, gone to the same boarding school, attended the same university!–really affected him. What the fuck was he getting himself into? Alexei Bortnikov was…

“The kid,” Reilly murmured, interrupting his thoughts. “I need to ask you about him.”

He guided Pete down the hall to a small gym where several off-duty officers–both men and women–were playing a game of basketball. One of the players, however, was a lot smaller than the officers. A little thrill ran through Pete’s body as he recognized Ethan and he lost himself momentarily, soaking in the welcome sight of his little brother.

Ethan Bortnikov had grown since Pete had seen him the night before and taken on the slightly gangly demeanor of an adolescent boy. Long, shaggy bangs covered his eyes and he had to keep brushing them aside as he darted to and fro on the court. His body had firmed up with some new muscles and his dark, beautiful skin had deepened to the point that it now matched Pete’s own complexion perfectly. He was wearing a baggy pair of basketball shorts (baggy, that is, except in back where they hugged his curvaceous booty like a second skin) and a too-large Cleveland Cavaliers tank top with the name ‘James’ printed in bold letters on the back. 

Pete watched as his little bro sprang nimbly for a layup only to have it blocked by one of the taller police officers. Ethan frowned as he recovered, springing into action to recover the ball. He scrambled between the legs of one of his opponents to make another desperate jump but was thwarted when the man grabbed him around the waist, staggering backward and holding the boy aloft before him. The captain laughed at the look of outrage on Ethan’s handsome face and then coughed uncomfortably when he realized that the officer holding him was gazing up at his prize with a look of pure adoration. Next to him, Pete stiffened, clenching his fists. Ethan noticed his captor’s adoring look, too, and returned it with a sly wink. The officer dropped him and they resumed playing but now there was a palpable charge in the air. 

Pete gritted his teeth.

Apparently, he wasn’t the only one who found Ethan irresistible.

“Looks like I need to have a word with Robins later,” the captain muttered, eyes narrowing.

Pete coughed, feeling his neck grow hot. He was ready to march inside and beat the shit out of Robins himself. No one touched his little bro! No one! (Except, of course, their daddy.)

“That boy, Ethan,” Captain Reilly continued, still watching the game closely. “How’d he find you again?”

Pete made himself take a deep breath as he fought to keep the jealousy out of his voice. He had to turn away from the game, though, before he could regain his composure. After a while, he managed to choke out, “He, uh, came to my apartment yesterday to warm me that I was the next victim on Bortnikov’s list.”

“But how did he know where to find you?” Captain Reilly queried. “How did he even know who you were?”

Pete shrugged, acting as nonchalant as possible. He could feel his armpits begin to trickle sweat, though, and his uniform suddenly felt too tight. If he fucked this up… 

“Chris told him about me after Bortnikov kidnapped him. Chris told him where I lived.”

The captain was silent for so long that Pete’s heart began to tighten in his chest. When Reilly spoke, though, nothing in his tone indicated that he didn’t believe Pete. “Yeah, that’s what he told our detectives, too. I wonder why he suddenly decided to rat out his father, though? We looked up Ethan’s records and everything is kosher. He was adopted from Argentina by Bortnikov ten years ago when he was six. Apparently, he was an orphan.”

Keeping his voice neutral, Pete offered, “He said that he had no idea what his father was doing down in the basement until he heard Chris screaming a couple of days ago. Somehow, he sneaked into the basement without Bortnikov noticing and discovered the holding cells and some notes. My name was at the top of the list. Chris told him how to find me.”

“Huh,” Reilly grunted. “Weird.” 

While Pete fought to maintain the appearance of being composed next to him, the captain studied Ethan through the glass. The boy had just scored a three-point shot from halfway down the court and Officer Robins was giving him a high-five. Pete’s neck grew hot when Reilly turned back to look at him, raking his eyes up and down Pete’s body.

“You know, Lopez,” the captain began speculatively, “that kid looks almost like he could be your brother. Aren’t you from Argentina, too?”

Pete fought desperately to school his features as sweat began pouring down his back. It took everything he had to keep his voice light as he joked, “What? You saying we all look alike, Captain?”

“Ha!” the captain exclaimed, reaching out to clap him on the back (while Pete hoped desperately that he didn’t notice the sweat soaking through his uniform.) “Good one, kid! Good one! I suppose yer right, though. I suppose–”

He never finished the sentence because at that moment they heard the unmistakable sound of high heels clicking down the hallway and looked up to see Ms. Ramsey hurrying to meet them. Taking tiny, mincing steps, she was holding a piece of paper aloft and appeared quite agitated.

“Rae, what is it?” Reilly asked. “What’s wrong?”

“The prisoner,” Ms. Ramsey gasped in her unnaturally high voice. “The prisoner has been pardoned!”

“WHAT?” Captain Reilly demanded, grabbing the piece of paper out of her hand and squinting down at it. “He hasn’t even been arraigned yet!”

Pete looked over his shoulder, eyes widening as he recognized the source of the letter. Printed on heavy, cream-colored parchment, there was an enormous capital “T” emblazoned in gilt lettering beneath the official seal of the President of the United States. Captain Reilly gaped at it, mouth opening and closing several times before he commenced cussing violently.

Ms. Ramsey and Pete froze in stunned silence, unable to do anything but exchange bewildered glances as the captain’s voice echoed through the hallway. Finally, Reilly swore loudly one last time before pronouncing, “There’s nothing we can do! We have to let the bastard go free! All charges have been dropped and we have been forbidden to continue this investigation.”

***

EPILOGUE

Sitting on a bench next to the basketball court in the housing project where he’d grown up, Ethan lowered his head into his hands. He refused to watch as Pete Lopez ascended the steps to his mother’s apartment complex.

It was too painful.

He grimaced, blinking back tears and wondering for the hundredth time that day if he’d made the right decision. Was he really ready to walk away from his life as an adult, heterosexual man who had a career, friends, and the independence to do whatever the fuck he wanted? Did he really want to be a teenage boy with enhanced buttocks, a tiny prick, and a reduced frame for the rest of his life? Was having Alexei as a daddy and Pete as a big brother worth the tradeoff?

Losing his resolve, he lifted his head and watched Pete saunter up the steps, still clothed in his muscle-hugging officer’s uniform and carrying a bunch of carnations. He looked so grown up. So confident. So manly.

So unlike him.

Ethan stifled a sob and crumpled on the bench as despair washed over him. He was so overcome that he didn’t hear the woman approach. He didn’t even notice when she took a seat next to him. Not until she cleared her throat and placed a warm hand on his back did he register her presence with a startled yelp.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

He looked up at her, eyes going round with surprise when he recognized her.

“Yes, it’s me, Ethan,” Reina Ramsey said in a low voice. Her tone was different, though. Deeper, more resonant.

Realizing that he was gaping, he closed his mouth. Something about his expression must have amused her because she favored him with a wry smile. He couldn’t stop staring at her, though. She looked so different! For one thing, she wasn’t ridiculously done up. Instead, she wore a modest blouse and a pantsuit with flats. She’d only applied a thin layer of makeup and had tied her bleached-blond hair back in a ponytail. While still beautiful, she wasn’t her usual hyper-sexualized and hyper-feminine self.

And it suited her. 

He liked her better like this, Ethan decided, feeling his shoulders relax.

A few boys had emerged from the housing project to play an evening game of basketball and Ms. Ramsey watched them for a while before commenting, “I used to play basketball. Was pretty good at it, too. Almost went pro after college.”

“You…did?”

“Yes, Ethan,” Reina said, laughing. “I know it’s hard to believe but I was a jock like you once.”

Shaking his head, he repeated, “Like me?”

Still smiling, Reina pushed down the bill of his baseball cap before fishing her wallet out of her purse. She rummaged around in it for a while before withdrawing a photo ID badge. Handing it to Ethan, he took it and examined it curiously. A very handsome, dark-haired man stared back at him from the faded photo. The caption read, ‘Agent William T. Ramsey, Central Intelligence Agency.’

He stared at it, skin prickling, and lifted his head to study Reina, eyes darting back and forth from her face to the man in the photo. Finally, he stammered, “Y-Y-You mean, y-you were…?”

Ms. Ramsey nodded. “Yep, I was Bill Ramsey in my previous life. Before Alexei caught me sniffing on his trail and decided to make an example out of me.”

Ethan’s mind went blank with this unexpected bombshell and all he could was stare back at her in shock. After a long time, he looked away, mumbling something incoherent.

His reaction amused Ms. Ramsey so much that she burst out laughing again. Her laugh was rich and deep and infectious and soon Ethan found himself giggling along with her. After a while, they sobered and sat watching the boys play basketball in silence. The guys were playing shirts versus skins and Ethan found himself staring longingly out at them. It was a warm, late spring evening and their taut bodies were pouring sweat. Ethan noticed that a couple of them–the captain of the skin’s team in particular–were very well developed for their age.

“He wanted to make an example of me,” Reina continued, bringing Ethan’s attention back to their conversation, “but I ended up falling in love with him.”

“You did?” Ethan asked, amazed. “But he…”

“Yes, he ruined me,” she agreed, shaking her head ruefully. “But you should know Alexei well enough by now, Ethan, to know that he is…very skilled at, um, breaking his victims and then making them thank him for it. I would do anything for him. Shit, I have broken the law for him! Who do you think managed to keep all of those detectives and government agents off of his trail for so long?”

He stared back at her mutely, unable to think of a reply

“What I’m trying to tell you, Ethan,” she said, sitting up straighter on the bench and slinging her arm casually over the back in an almost masculine manner, “is that I know what you’re going through and I am here to tell you that you’re better off this way.” Her mouth quirked at the look of skepticism that crossed his face and she added, “Look, you got a hot daddy and a big brother who will do anything for you. What more could a boy want?”

He was struggling to come up with a response when they were interrupted by a voice nearby.

“Eh, Chupo!” a boy called out and Ethan turned to see the (magnificently) bare-chested captain of the skins team standing before them. He was stocky and dark-skinned and sweat was dripping down the cleft of his burgeoning pecs. Shifting his weight to his left leg and holding the basketball against his thigh, he challenged, “Know how to play? We just lost a man.”

Ethan looked over at Ms. Ramsey and she winked knowingly before getting to her feet and urging, “Go on! I was just leaving anyway.”

The boy smiled and tossed him the ball. Forgetting all about Reina Ramsey, Ethan caught it and set it down before rising and stripping off his shirt. He paused, giving the captain a sly smile when he noticed the guy was checking him out. The boy pretended not to notice but Ethan thought he detected a certain spring in his step as he jogged back onto the court.

That spring in the captain’s step grew more pronounced when Ethan lunged for the ball during a particularly rough play and one of the other players tugged down his shorts. Ethan looked back with chagrin to see the top of his big, round buttocks framed by the hot pink waistband and string of his thong. He pulled his shorts up quickly but not before every guy on the court got a good view of his wide, girly butt.

The game changed after that with the players doing their best to rough Ethan up. He had to dodge elbows and knees in a desperate attempt to stay in control of his body. His butt attracted the most attention, of course, and he grew tired of swatting grabby hands away. He was relieved when the game was over and he didn’t have to worry about being groped and fondled.

“You play good, Chupo,” the captain said afterward, slinging a sweaty arm over his shoulders as they walked off the court. Ethan jumped a little when the boy let his hand slide down his back to land suggestively on his buttocks. “And, shit, man! Those nalgas of yours are driving me wild!” His fingers drifted beneath the waistband of his shorts and Ethan shivered a little as he tugged playfully on the the string of his thong. 

Giving him a wink and reaching over to cover his lips with a thick finger, the boy steered him behind a wall where they were sheltered from public view by a tall hedge. He paused briefly to face Ethan, placing his hands on his shoulders. They stared into each other’s eyes for a long time, drinking in the other’s beauty with hungry eyes. 

The captain was beefy to the point of carrying a bit of a paunch but this only got Ethan more revved up because it added to his casual dominance. He was blessed with broad shoulders and a wide, round, trustworthy face. His big, brown eyes regarded Ethan both with lust and appreciation and Ethan was momentarily lost of the warmth of his adoration before the boy pushed him gently downward. Ethan looked up into his tender gaze and the boy smiled impishly as he tipped Ethan’s baseball cap off his head.

“Know how to suck cock?”

Ethan nodded and the boy’s smile widened.

“Thought so. Suck on me awhile and then I wanna fuck your big ass.”

With that, he shoved Ethan down on his knees and pulled his fat, dripping, uncut cock out of his shorts. Ethan marveled at it. It was so freaking fat! Even though it was short compared to Alexei’s, it easily surpassed it in girth. He looked up at the boy and licked his lips.

“Gruesito, no?” he teased, wagging his fat cock proudly in Ethan’s face. “Think you can fit it in those pretty lips of yours?”

Ethan nodded and slicked back the boy’s long foreskin before diving for that gorgeous piece of manhood. He slurped and sucked delightedly as the boy’s hips bucked forward and he thrust deep inside his mouth. Ethan worked him into a frenzy and only barely pulled back before the guy shot his load.

“Suave, bro! Suave!” the captain chided. “I still gotta fuck that girly ass of yours!”

“It’s not girly,” Ethan complained and the boy laughed, reaching down to pull him up. 

“I’ll be the judge of that, Chupo,” he teased, shimmying Ethan’s shorts down his hips until they landed in a heap around his ankles. He paused to admire the sheer, pink thong encasing his tiny member. Ethan looked down to see his little man poking insistently against the pouch, a wet spot spreading conspicuously in front.

The captain pulled him into his damp embrace, Ethan savored the guy’s sweaty odor. He shuddered with delight when the boy reached down to cup his humongous ass cheeks in his hands, squeezing them and sighing, “Just like a chica. Just like a fucking chica!”

Ethan moaned and the boy laughed. “Bet your pussy is all stretched out like a puta’s, too. You’re a slutty puta, aren’t ya?” Ethan whimpered in response, eliciting a harsh bark of laughter from the boy.

And then his lips were on Ethan’s and they were kissing deeply, madly, and passionately as the boy peeled his thong off and slipped it down his wide hips. When his fingers worked their way into his hole, Ethan mewled, pulling back to nuzzle the boy’s neck.

“Mi putita,” the guy breathed in his ear. “Mi putita suelta.”

He spun Ethan around and pushed him against the wall, removing his jockstrap and stuffing it in Ethan’s mouth to stifle his cries of ecstasy as he pounded his hole. His thighs slapped noisily against Ethan’s massive ass cheeks, turning them red with the savagery of his onslaught. Ethan collapsed on his knees in the end and the hung his head as he felt his hole tearing wide open. He knew that he would never be the same after the guy had finished with him and he loved it.

He fucking loved it!

It was then that he realized that Ms. Ramsey had spoken the truth. Alexei had taken everything from him–robbed him of his masculinity, his size, his cock, his muscles, his dominance, his age–but he’d given Ethan something even more precious in return.

He smiled to himself as he choked on the boy’s rancid jockstrap. He was a cockslut and a whore but he was happy. Wildly happy for the first time in his life.

He was Ethan Bortnikov.

***

The guy came inside him, clutching Ethan’s hips in his broad hands and pulling him close as his cock spewed hot jizz down his chute. He held him like that for a long time, his thick cock pulsing and his low-hanging balls gently slapping Ethan’s engorged taint as the two of them fought to catch their breath. Finally, he folded himself down on top of Ethan and wrapped him in a tight hug.

Ethan was in heaven, luxuriating in the full feeling of that huge cock inside him. Spitting the soggy jockstrap out of his mouth, he turned his head and met the boy’s lips, giggling when he nibbled his lower lip.

“Oops,” the guy murmured. “I forgot that I never introduced myself before fucking you. I’m Joe. Joe Garcia.”

“I’m Ethan,” he replied before adding proudly, “Ethan Bortnikov.”

Joe lifted his head and was about to say something when they were interrupted by a deep voice behind them. Ethan cringed as he recognized his big brother’s voice and Joe reflexively pulled Ethan tighter against him.

“Ethan Fucking Bortnikov,” Pete Lopez boomed, placing his hands on his hips and glowering down at them. “You are in so fucking much trouble. Get the fuck over here right now!”

***

Ethan raced Sasha through the woods, whooping at the top of his lungs as he jumped over logs and scampered around overhanging branches. He had gotten up early to run through the huge park behind Alexei’s house and was enjoying his favorite part: The wild, cross-country run at the end when he and the dog bushwhacked through the undergrowth, vying to be the first one to reach the front steps of their home.

Sasha won as usual and greeted him with a wagging tail as Ethan emerged dripping with sweat from the forest at the edge of the lawn. He dropped down, resting his hands on his knees as he labored to catch his breath. He was wearing a special Under Armour compression jock that held his massive ass in place. It was the only thing that allowed him to enjoy his favorite pastime–Favorite sports pastime, that is. Being a slutty whore would always be his all-time favorite pastime–and he was deeply grateful to his big bro, Pete, for buying it for him.

The morning sun was streaming through the trees and Ethan smiled, feeling deeply content in a way that had been unfamiliar before he’d become Alexei’s son. Now, though, it was with him all the time, this contentment, and he loved it. He fell down onto the grass and laughed when Sasha dashed over to lap at his face. Yeah, he loved it. He fucking loved it!

Pete looked up from sipping coffee when they burst through the front door. He was dressed for work in his tight, sexy police officer uniform and Ethan paused to admire him for a moment. Pete was so damned sexy! Ungh. He was the fucking hottest big brother in the world! Pete noticed his scrutiny and gave him a sly wink. He was about to say something when Alexei called out from the kitchen.

“Ethan,” he warned, stepping away from the stove where he was making breakfast, “we have to leave in a half hour if you’re going to make it to school on time.” He paused to wave a spatula at him, asking, “Did you get your chores done?”

“Yeah, Dad,” Ethan answered, fighting the urge to roll his eyes. “Everything’s all done.”

“Everything?” Pete pressed slyly, shifting down in his chair and unzipping his trousers. “I can think of one job that you haven’t done yet this morning…” Ethan gulped as he watched his big brother’s huge cock flop out. It was fat and dark-skinned and gooey. Pete smirked as he waved it at Ethan, saying, “Come give your bro a blowjob, Ethan. I need those magic lips on me before I can get through the day.”

Walking forward on wooden legs with a watering mouth, Ethan licked his lips and knelt down under the table. He swallowed Pete’s behemoth in one practiced motion even as his father complained behind them.

“You boys are terrible! Don’t make your brother late again, Peter. He’s already been tardy three times this semester.”

“Ungh! Ah! Oh!” Pete grunted. “Don’t worry, Dad! The little guy’s timing–Oh, fuck!–is always perfect.”

THE END.