Themes: Race change, reality shift, cock growth, hyper cock, ball growth, hairy, muscle growth, tattoos, piercings, implants, silicone, clueless, straight-to-gay, older-younger, mind control, cock shrink, butt growth, submissive, top-to-bottom, humiliation, steroids, dumber, man pussy, man tits

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Chapter 1

July, 2013

James Jorgensen was pissed. “Fuckin’ Wetback!” he swore loudly. “Probably out boning his fuckin’ mistress!”

“James! Don’t be racist!” his wife, Melodie, corrected. “Just because Carlos is Hispanic doesn’t mean he has a mistress!” Her voice held the ‘prison warden’ tone that so grated on James’ nerves.

“They all have women on the side!” James spat, still fuming. He was angry because the contractor for their new home in Arlington, Virginia, had kept them waiting more than an hour in the July heat. Sweat trickled down James’ back despite the fact that he was comfortably ensconced in their new Cadillac Escalade with the air conditioner blasting. 

“There are some of his workers,” Melodie offered helpfully, pointing out the window as she upped the a/c. (At seven months into their latest pregnancy, she was even more sensitive to heat than the coddled James.) “Perhaps they know when Carlos will be here?”

She didn’t say it but her unspoken suggestion was that James go talk to them. He eyed the decidedly ragtag group of men warily. “Those fuckin’ Spics don’t even speak English!” he protested. “And I sure as fuck ain’t gonna talk to ‘em in Spanish.”

Melodie fixed him with those ‘prison warden’ eyes, her blond hair cupping her oval face, and James sighed. He gave her a dirty look as he exited the car, slamming the door behind him to underscore his ill temper.

The construction site was exposed to the blazing sun, only the foundation and the bones of wooden studs erected at this point. There was no shade, save for a lone catalpa tree under which Carlos’ employees were huddled. The workers watched James approach with crossed arms and stony expressions.

Totally lacking in respect for their superiors! They may work for Carlos but right now their asses belong to me! James fumed inwardly. He was reminded once again of the righteousness of his career as a lawyer for a prestigious firm who’d made his living challenging affirmative action and other ‘entitlement’ programs that had infested American society over the past fifty years. In an ideal society, immigrants such as these wouldn’t even be here in the first place. And, in their place instead there would be hardworking, real Americans.

Nearing the group, he didn’t waste any time on niceties. “Where is Carlos?” he demanded, face beet red. “Why isn’t he here?!” The smell of the mens’ sweaty bodies was so redolent he had to fight the urge to cover his nose. Typical! he thought. Fuckin’ Beaners probably only wash once a week!

The men regarded him blankly, unwilling to move out from under the shade of the tree where they were standing. Finally, one of them, a man with the name, Jaime, stitched into his overalls, replied, “Ees no here.”

In the back of his mind, James wondered how anyone could wear overalls on a day as murderously hot as this but that didn’t mean he was going to go easy on the guy. “I can see that, dumbass!” he yelled, getting in the man’s face. “What I need to know is when he’s gonna be here. Me an’ my wife have been waiting FOR MORE THAN AN HOUR!”

Unruffled, Jaime looked back at him with an insolent smile on his face. Belatedly, James noticed that he was taller than his coworkers and quite broad-chested. His jaw was square and his black hair was swept back over his brow. His honey-colored eyes were filled with derision. Without saying a word, his demeanor spoke volumes.

“Well?” James demanded, getting up on his tiptoes to match Jaime’s superior height. “Aren’t you gonna answer me? Or dontcha ‘hah-blah een-glaze, hom-bray’?”

The corner of Jaime’s lip lifted and then he turned his back to James without a reply. The rest of his coworkers did the same and James was left impotently clenching his fists at their casual disregard of his authority. He was opening his mouth to scream imprecations at the insouciant louts when a voice behind him stated coldly, “That’s enough, Mr. Jorgensen. Please do not disturb my employees’ work. They are very busy.”

James whirled to find Carlos Pereira standing with his beefy arms crossed. He looked nonplussed, to put it mildly. Like Jaime, Pereira was a big man, very broad-chested and very tall. He towered over James who, at six feet tall, wasn’t accustomed to looking up to other men.

James fish-mouthed, clenching and unclenching his clammy hands. He intended to shout back at Carlos menacingly but instead found himself inexplicably buckling with humiliation. Instead of the roar he intended, his voice came out as a meek stutter. “Wh-Wh-What took you so long, Mr. Pereira? We’ve been waiting!” He sounded pathetically whiney even to his own ears and he cringed, lowering his head in shame. Where the fuck had his balls gone? He was infamous for possessing a steel pair in the courtroom, never having lost a case during his more than ten-year career. Normally, he had no trouble dominating others with his, well, domineering personality. Right then, however, when confronted by Carlos’ implacability, he withered. He could almost feel his testicles shriveling up their depilated sac.

James scrambled, desperately trying to recapture his usual bravado but the best he could do was snivel, “And your workers don’t look like they’re working very hard to me!” As rejoinders go, this was particularly lame.

“They are on break,” Carlos informed him, still crossing his arms. (Did the guy lift weights in addition to doing construction work? He was ripped!) “When the weather is this hot, I give them plenty of rest. Besides, Mr. Jorgensen, our meeting wasn’t until noon. You’re here an hour early.”

“What? No!” James protested, a modicum of his typical ‘frat bro’ attitude returning. “We were supposed to meet at ten! I can prove it!” He pulled out his phone and opened his calendar, jaw falling open in disbelief when he realized that Carlos was right; the meeting had been scheduled for noon.

Carlos smiled coldly, explaining, “I never book morning meetings, Mr. Jorgensen. Not in July. That’s because our work schedule is from six until noon when it’s hot. I make sure my guys are done before the temperature is unbearable.”

James’ chest deflated and he felt his cheeks, already red from the heat, grow even redder. His dignity–or maybe his privilege?–prevented him from apologizing, though. The best he could do was beat a hasty retreat to his blissfully air-conditioned SUV without a backward glance at Carlos.

“Well?” Melodie demanded when he sheepishly opened the door and clambered back into the Escalade. “Why is he so late?”

James shrugged. “Dunno. Said he’ll meet with us at noon.” He brightened, putting on a cheerful facade to cover his humiliation. “It’s nearly twelve o’clock anyways, right?”

Melodie’s blue eyes searched his face, one hand atop her very pregnant belly. She knew he was lying but decided not to push it. Instead, she said, “I can’t stay any longer, James. I have a lunch meeting. You’ll have to do it.” When he scowled, she added, “And don’t forget it’s your turn to pick up Ely from soccer practice today. He’s done at six.”

***

He was still dripping with sweat when he got back to his office around 2pm. Already in a foul mood after a wasted half day, his stomach sank when he realized he didn’t have time to change before his big meeting with the principal attorneys at Consovoy McCarthy. He’d been hired by the firm barely a year ago after successfully arguing the case, Fisher v. University of Texas, before the U.S. Supreme Court in 2012. As a junior partner, he knew that his reputation was on the line and he couldn’t afford to mess up.

“Get me a towel!” he barked at his secretary, Lois. He waited impatiently for her to retrieve one before storming away toward the men’s restroom. On the way, he passed by Lulu Gutierrez, the newest para pro and gave her a sly wink. He had a thing for women with dark skin and big tits and Lulu really popped his cork. As usual, however, she refused to look at him as he strode past.

In the men’s restroom, James splashed water on his face, trying not to get any on his clothes. He was drenched in sweat and knew stains were spreading around his armpits. He surveyed his suit critically, breathing a sigh of relief when he saw that the sweat bathing the shirt underneath hadn’t soaked through the material of the suit. 

He looked back up at his reflection in the mirror and fixed his blond hair, winking at himself. He looked good, despite being too hot. His thick hair was perfectly coiffed and his Nordic features were both elegant and manly. Possessing a slender nose and tiny ears, his blue eyes sparkled devilishly beneath his pencil-thin, white-gold eyebrows. Below his nose, though, his jaw grew wide and heavy, thrusting forward in an underbite that made him look somewhat like a bulldog. He didn’t care if he did look a bit like a dog; if anything, his appearance matched his naturally pugnacious attitude. James Jorgensen wasn’t a pussy! He was a fighter to the end. A fighter who never lost!

Squaring his shoulders, he turned and strode out of the bathroom, ready to ace the upcoming meeting.

***

He didn’t ace the meeting.

He had only just sat down across the table in the conference room and opened his portfolio when he sniffed delicately. A musky smell permeated the room’s atmosphere, the telltale aroma of body odor. James blanched, stifling the urge to sniff one of his pits. He could only hope that the principals didn’t notice.

They noticed.

Mr. McMarthy reached up and covered his nose as Mr. Blanchard fixed James with a dubious look, asking, “Did you just return from the gym, Mr. Jorgensen?”

James wanted to die. Sinking down in his chair, he cleared his throat. “Uh, no, sir. I, um, was just outside and, well, I guess I must’ve forgotten to wear deodorant today.”

“I’ll say.” Mr. Blanchard looked unhappy. Well, to be honest, he always looked unhappy, it was just at that moment he looked even unhappier than usual. Both he and Mr. McCarthy were a good thirty years older than James and possessed very prim attitudes that verged on prudish. White-haired and thin-lipped, they ruled the law firm with matching iron fists. 

James had learned quickly that his stellar reputation meant little to them; they only cared about winning. As long as he won his cases, they would tolerate him. But should he lose a case…let’s just say he wouldn’t last long. The only reason James stayed was because of the notoriety of listing Consovoy McCarthy on his resume. That and the fat salary, of course!

Mr. McCarthy stood up and grabbed an can of air freshener, spraying it liberally in James’ direction. The cloyingly sweet aroma settled over the room, mixing unpleasantly with his musky body odor. The resulting combination, James thought sourly, was not an improvement. He reached for one of the bottles of water in front of him and guzzled it down, not daring to make eye contact with either of the principals.

Waving a hand in front of his nose, Mr. Blanchard fixed him with a curdling stare. “Let’s keep this meeting short,” he growled. “Please share your proposal with us.”

James swallowed–his throat was so dry!–forced himself to straighten in his chair. Sweat was running down his armpits, back and chest. He could feel it soaking his pants at the waist. Why the fuck did Carlos have to make him wait so long? If not for that fuckin’ Spic, he wouldn’t been back in the office in plenty of time to cool off and prep for this meeting. As it was, he was hot, flustered, stinking and unprepared. 

When he opened his mouth, though, his voice was surprisingly strong, confident and steady. He held forth, giving the principals one of his most cogent and brilliant analyses ever. Speaking smoothly and unfalteringly for five minutes, he wound up with a conclusion that was nothing short of masterful. Second partner here I come!

Silence.

Both Mr. Blanchard and Mr. McCarthy were staring at him with expressions of complete disbelief mingled with outrage. James’ elegant eyebrows furrowed. What was wrong? How could they not be blown away by his intelligence and incredible erudition?

Finally, Mr. Blanchard opened his mouth. “James, while we are, uh, impressed with your obvious command of a foreign language, why don’t you try again…in English this time.”

“What?!” James protested. “I was speaking in English!”

This was too much for Mr. McCarthy. Standing up and slamming his fist down on the table, he yelled, “Are you making fun of us, Mr. Jorgensen?! Is this some sort of joke?!”

James stared helplessly up at him, completely at a loss. Why did Mr. McCarthy think he was joking with them? Hadn’t he just offered the best, most succinct and legally profound analysis ever? What was going on?

At that moment, there was a knock at the door. Mr. Blanchard turned away from James and called out, “Come in.”

The door cracked open and Lulu Gutierrez peered in before entering. She clutched a pile of manila folders over her (very buxom) chest and smiled apologetically. 

“Ah, Ms. Gutierrez!” Mr. Blanchard sang. “I’m so glad you’re here. Perhaps you can assist us in a small matter?” He glanced at James, the corner of his lip curling, before he looked back toward Lulu.

“Yes?” Lulu’s voice was quiet and slightly wavering.

Mr. Blanchard motioned toward James. “Go ahead, Mr. Jorgensen. Please repeat a portion of what you just said to Ms. Gutierrez here.”

James looked from Mr. Blanchard to Lulu and back. He had no idea what the man was after. At a stern nod from Mr. Blanchard, though, he opened his mouth and said, “I was just saying that in the case of–”

Lulu’s eyes went round and she interrupted. “You speak Portuguese?”

James shook his head. “No, of course not! I’m speaking English! Why does everyone suddenly think I’m speaking a foreign language?”

“No, Senhor,” she replied evenly. “Você está falando português.”

“Huh?” This ‘huh?’, however, was directed more toward himself than Lulu. The strange thing was, despite the fact that he knew she wasn’t speaking English, he actually understood her perfectly.

Lulu sighed, adopting the tone she might use to speak to a child. “É verdade. Não estou mentindo.”

James looked from her to Mr. Blanchard and Mr. McCarthy. They smirked back at him with vindication. He looked back to the bemused Lulu, suddenly chilled. It took a herculean effort to keep his voice from cracking as he replied. “But I don’t know a single word of Portuguese! I’ve never even studied a foreign language before!”

“Well, you’re speaking it just fine right now,” Lulu answered with a small shrug. “I suggest you switch back to English now, though. The bosses don’t seem very happy with you.”

James had never felt so disoriented. By this point, he realized that something was definitely wrong with the way he was talking but he was helpless to do anything about it. Every time he opened his mouth, Portuguese words spilled out of it. Even more confusing, though, was how he realized he was losing his ability to understand English. When Mr. Blanchard spoke the next time, he could barely comprehend a word that the man said.

“…you…leave…meeting…home…”

James gaped at him, mind straining to fathom the meaning of these simple, one-syllable words. Realizing that Mr. Blanchard and Mr. McCarthy were waiting for him to respond, he croaked, “Me…no…entendo.” Why did it take so much effort just to utter three words? His brain felt completely exhausted!

This time it was Mr. Blanchard’s turn to slam his fist down on the table. Face red, he pointed to the door and screamed something completely unintelligible. Despite not understanding the words, however, the meaning behind them was abundantly clear: James was being dismissed and told to go home.

“Here,” Lulu said, placing a soothing hand on James’ arm. “Let’s go. I’ll help you.”

Waves of hot and cold were washing over his body and he felt like he was going to throw up. In such a state, he was in no position to resist when Lulu urged him to stand and led him out of the conference room. He staggered after her, flushed and humiliated, unable to understand what the fuck was going on. Was this heatstroke? Should he go to the hospital?

They were passing the restroom when the urgency of James’ full bladder managed to grab his attention. He’d guzzled no less than three bottles of water during that horrible meeting and now had to piss like a fucking racehorse.

“Just a sec,” he mumbled to Lulu. “Be right back.”

He staggered into the palatial bathroom, heaving a sigh of relief when he realized it was blessedly empty. Wobbling over to a urinal, he tugged desperately at his zipper and groped around for his dick. When he touched it, it was a lot thicker and longer than usual but he chalked this up to the urgency of needing to piss; he always got a bit of a semi when he had to pee really bad.

Tugging his pecker out of his fly, though, his fingers recoiled in surprise and he hissed, “What the fuck is that?” There was something attached to the end of his dick! Looking down, he stifled a cry of alarm when he saw what had become of his precious penis: His formerly bare cockhead was now covered by a very long and tapering foreskin!

And that wasn’t all.

James’ mouth fell open in horror, eyeballs refusing to register what he was seeing.

Not only did he now sport a very prominent foreskin but that long, floppy foreskin was also colored deep ebony. 

His cock was turning black!

***

Chapter 2

James gaped at his cock, mind blanking. First off, that…that…Ugh! That foreskin was just disgusting! Fuck, why would a guy ever want something like that on his dick? He’d been happy–no, make that delighted!–by his snipped dick. He was fuckin’ overjoyed that his parents opted to have the doctor remove that unsanitary and ugly piece of useless skin when he was born. He loved the look and feel of a foreskin-free cock. No muss! No fuss! And definitely no stink. He wrinkled his nose at the distinctly ripe odor rising off of his equipment. It was strong enough to compete with his decidedly ripe body odor. The combination of the two stinks was enough to make him nauseated. Yuck!

And why was it black? He was as white as they came, not even being able to maintain a tan in the summertime. His skin was like fine porcelain, the palest white with just a hint of pink. He didn’t even have any freckles or moles. No, he was completely melanin-free and he liked himself that way. He kept his body shaved smooth from head to toe, proudly displaying the supple, white skin that clung to his sleek, muscular body. He was a lean and mean stud and he never let anyone forget it. He was living proof of the superiority of the white race!

As he stared at the disgusting, black foreskin, his eyebrows lifted in shock. What was happening? No! That couldn’t be!

Yes, it could.

With a slight vibration, James watched in alarm as his prick swelled before his eyes. He wasn’t even hard! In fact, ever since he laid eyes on that pruriently contaminated foreskin, any hint of a chubby he might have had from needing to piss had shriveled up.

No, there could only be one explanation for this fact: His cock was growing! 

Even worse, the blackness was spreading. The deep ebony stain was creeping ever down toward the base of his rapidly fattening cock. He let out a strangled yowl, unable to believe this was happening. What the fuck was going on?! And how could he stop it?!

The blackness was like an invader, stealthily conquering his unblemished skin. An inexorable cancer, it burned away his white purity and left only a dirty black stain in its place. The filth was conquering his penis!

Desperate, he flung himself into a bathroom stall and yanked down his pants, gaping when he saw his cock grow even larger. He’d always been averaged-sized for a white guy. When flaccid, his circumcised little man would poke out a jaunty three inches from his smooth pubes, growing to a perfectly respectable six inches when he was erect. Now, though…

His cock was verging on too big.

And talk about fat!

The veins on his forehead bulged as he watched the freakish blackness creep down his ivory shaft, causing his beautiful cock to bloat and elongate as it did so. When the black seeped over his foreskin-covered glans, he clenched his buttocks, yelping in pain. 

And then his cockhead engorged, more than doubling in size before his panic-stricken eyes!

The thickening and lengthening continued unabated, temporarily giving him a club-like organ as the end of his shaft swelled by over twice the size of the base. But then the blackness spread well past the middle and his cock shaft thrust outward, inflating like a veiny balloon.

James gasped for breath, hyperventilating.

WHAT THE FUCK WAS GOING ON???!!!

The ever-fattening, ever-growing, ever-blackening monster now verged on seven or eight inches (not including the nasty, four-inch foreskin dangling off the tip) and easily surpassed three times his former girth. And that was completely flaccid. His mind blanked when he wondered how big it would get when erect. 

NO NO NO NO! 

Melodie possessed an extremely tight vagina. Sex with her had been perfect at his previous, normal size.

But now.

Fuck!

Now there was no way he’d be able to fuck her pussy. No way! Not unless she had surgery to stretch her out first.

FUCK FUCK FUCK!!!

And his balls!

Oh, no! Not his balls, too!

He cupped them frantically, rolling them around in their smooth, hairless sac. It didn’t do any good. The black had already metastasized down there, consuming his flawlessly white and utterly hairless nutsac. Already his testicles were bigger than a pair of plums! 

As he held them, a tremor passed through his body. It started at his feet and worked its way up his legs, zeroing in on his crotch. When the wave hit his cock and balls, he cried out and doubled over, clutching his beleaguered equipment. Finally, the piercing ache subsided and he straightened, looking down at himself.

“WHAT THE FUCK!!!!???”

His shout brought a knock at the restroom door. Lulu cracked the door and called out, “Are you alright? Are you hurt?”

James clenched his jaw, staring down at his manhood in disbelief. He didn’t even recognize his cock and balls anymore! They were ridiculously huge! And black! AND UGLY!

His long, fat, drooping cock was completely jet black from the tip of the loose, dangling foreskin to the girthy base. His balls had just grown bigger than apples. And, speaking of apples, he goggled at his obscenely large cockhead. Squeezed by the hideous, constricting foreskin, his dick looked like a snake that had swallowed a crab apple!

As he stared, his hips bucked involuntarily and he thrust out his crotch, watching in horror as the ‘snake’ grew another three inches, the ‘crab apple’ stuck in its craw doubling in size to a Red Delicious. He felt something slap against his thighs and looked down to see his balls–as big as a pair of oranges now–swaying listlessly in their stretched-out sac.

He gargled helplessly, sweating and panting, as the horrible darkening and disfigurement continued without any sign of stopping.

Goggle-eyed, he stared as the blackness consumed the last traces of white skin on his cock and balls and began to radiate outward from his groin. His cock and balls were now completely black and huge beyond belief!

And that wasn’t all.

He shuddered in revulsion when he noticed something new.

In the wake of the voracious ‘black plague,’ thick, coal-black pubic hair began pouring out of his pores. He gaped in stupefied horror as the shaggy mass of fragrant short-hairs spread outward from the base of his cock, creeping like burnt poison ivy to envelop his entire groin. Soon, he sported a dense mat of black, wiry pubes where just moments before had been smooth, pure, white skin.

And it didn’t stop there.

The blackness and creeping mass of stinking hair continued their march, gobbling up more and more of his soft, satiny skin. Soon, his entire crotch, balls and lower belly were black and furry. And his slender thighs were well on their way to being devoured…as was his perfectly flat tummy.

“Hey!” Lulu called, startling him out of his stunned stupor. “What’s going on? Should I get someone to help you in there?”

“Uh, no, no!” James grunted, surprised by the deepness of his voice. Why did he sound so odd? “I’m fine! I’ll be right out!”

He took a shuddering breath, realizing that he couldn’t just stand there all day. He had to do something! What that was, he didn’t know. Should he check himself into the emergency room at the hospital? If so, what would he tell the doctor? That he was suffering an attack of blackness? It seemed ridiculous but what other choice did he have? There had to be a logical explanation for what was happening to him. A medical cause. He must have some sort of aggressive fungal condition.

Yeah, he had to see the doctor.

The doctors could help him!

He started to pull up his pants when he remembered that he could no longer understand English. Shit! That’s right! How am I gonna talk to them and tell them what’s going on with me? He broke out in a cold sweat. He could ask Lulu to go with him but that would mean telling her…and showing her…what was wrong. His cheeks flamed at the mere thought. And what if, during the exam, she saw his…? He shuddered in horror, shoving the idea out of his head.

No, asking Lulu was definitely out of the question but could he really let a doctor see him like this?

It had been humiliating enough in the meeting with Mr. Blanchard and Mr. McCarthy but how would he explain his situation to a doctor, in broken English no less? He felt his neck and back flush with embarrassment at the thought of lowering his pants and letting a team of physicians examine his huge, uncut, black cock and grotesque, dangling pair of furry bull balls (which were hanging nearly down to his knees by that point and had swollen to the size of softballs!)

Shit shit shit! No way! I can’t go to the doctor! I can’t let anyone see me like this!

Unable to think of a plan of action, he sagged against the door of the stall. 

What the fuck should I do? Oh, fuck! What do I do?

While he stood there waffling, the black stain and ever-thickening carpet of fur continued to engulf his entire lower body. He willed himself to act but was stuck, his poor mind overtaxed and unable to come with a plan. He was too distracted. And panicked. And revolted.

Finally, he gave up. 

I’ll just go home. Maybe if I take a nap, I’ll feel better? He felt his forehead and, realizing it was clammy, was seized by a sudden hope that none of this was real. Maybe he was imagining things? Yeah, yeah! That’s it! That’s what’s going on! I’m hallucinating due to heatstroke. I’ve heard people can go crazy when they’re under heat stress and I’m definitely under stress! 

He forced himself to take a few deep breaths, closing his eyes and trying to regain his composure. I’ll go home, drink lots of water and crank up the air conditioning. I’ll be back to normal after I sleep and cool down. Yeah, it’s nothing to worry about. I’m just too hot. I was out in the sun for a really long time.

Pushing himself back upright, he straightened his shoulders, feeling marginally better. To keep his panic from returning, he kept his gaze averted from his crotch area. He still had to pee, though.

Fuck.

That meant he had to touch himself…down there.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

But it’s just a hallucination, right? Yeah, nothing to worry about. It’s just temporary insanity. You can do it, James!

With shaking hands, he reached down and took hold of his firehose of a cock, shuddering in revulsion when he touched the massive, alien appendage. It was as fat as an anaconda and heavy! He grimaced, fighting the urge to vomit. The girthy shaft sagged like a limp hose in his grasp and he was forced to use both hands to lift it.

And then there was the foreskin.

Fuck, that ugly, long foreskin!

Even though it dangled limply off the tip of the blunt cockhead, it was nonetheless incredibly tight, probably because his dick was so freakin’ huge.

James gritted his teeth, wondering at the realism of this heat-induced hallucination. Logically, he knew he was just imagining this experience and that there was no possible way his cock could actually be this long and heavy. But, shit, it sure felt real!

He groaned involuntarily as he took one hand and pulled back on the repulsive foreskin, nose wrinkling in distaste as the stall was filled with a ripe, mushroomy odor. It seemed to take forever to retract the ‘skin and then there was the matter of getting it over his preternaturally large, round glans. Finally, though, it slid back with squelch and the restroom air caressed his surprisingly sensitive cockhead. His lip curled and nose twitched when he spotted the unthinkable: A fragrant band of cheesy white smegma embellishing the pronounced ridge of the glans. (Great, just fuckin’ great. The only white thing left on my dick is fuckin’ smegma!)

Forcing himself to ignore it, James clenched his teeth and screwed his eyes shut, aiming in the general direction of the toilet bowl. He missed at first and the torrent of urine that blasted out of that ugly cock splattered everywhere, drenching his pants, shoes and the floor. He cursed loudly and cracked an eyelid, quailing in fear as he beheld the true ‘majesty’ of the immense, black penis jutting out from his war-torn crotch. It was at least two feet long!

His knees started to buckle and he had to catch himself. His pants were now completely soaked. And the room was redolent with the odor of urine, smegma, pubic musk and body odor. It was too much. His vision fogged but he managed to catch himself before he passed out. Heart pounding, he miraculously righted himself and redirected his spraying hose into the toilet bowl. The loud gushing noise reverberated against the walls of the stall.

James wanted to die.

He didn’t want to fucking live anymore.

His life was fucking over.

***

Finding an inner wherewithal that he didn’t know he possessed, he managed to stagger out of the stall with his pants around his ankles. He lurched over to the door and, cracking it slightly, begged Lulu to stand guard outside and not let anyone in until he was dressed. She agreed, concern palpable in her tone. He thanked her and, taking a deep breath, bent over and untied his urine-soaked shoes before stepping out of his boxers and pants. He cringed when his new, ungainly elephant trunk slapped against his newly-furred thighs and his giant balls kept getting pinched between his knees. He almost lost it when he saw himself in the mirror.

With trembling hands, he lifted his dress shirt, moaning in dismay. The blackness had now spread down his legs and was quickly moving up his torso. It had nearly reached up to his smooth, square pecs! Worse, his belly was now covered by a pelt of black fur that merged with his dense thatch of pubes. He looked hideous!

Stay focused, James! Stay focused!

Averting his gaze, he rinsed his pants and underwear in the sink, wringing them until the extruded water was no longer quite so yellow. He sighed dispiritedly. The last thing he wanted was to walk out of there with his pants soaking wet. What would his coworkers think? And what if he happened to run into Mr. McCarthy or Mr. Blanchard? He flushed hot at the thought. But what choice did he have? He couldn’t go out there naked!

Fighting back nausea, he bent over and stepped into his boxers, pulling them up his thighs. Stuffing his oversized organ and pendulous balls into the soggy pouch of the underwear was nearly impossible. But he had no choice. He winced, groaning in pain, when he finally succeeded in cramming them inside. His eyes watered with tears of agony and self-pity. When would this horrid hallucination be over?!

Stepping into his pants, he discovered another problem. Well, make that two problems. The first was that his swollen male equipment had grown almost too big to fit in his pants. And the second was that…

Fuck!

He hung his head, cursing his bad luck. Could things get any worse?

As hard as he fought to deny it, though, the truth was his ass–his tiny, perfect ass!–had swelled along with his cock and balls.

And so had his thighs.

He’d been too preoccupied by his growing cock, darkening skin and spreading coat of fur to notice that his body was changing in other unpleasant ways.

James lifted his head and let loose a string of profanity that could have peeled paint.

FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING TO ME???!!!

His lower body was now much bulkier. He stared down at himself, flinching at the mountainous size of his quads.

And his ass–

Fuck! Oh, fuck! It’s getting worse!!!

He fell forward, catching himself on the edge of the sink and thrusting out his behind as another tremor rocketed through his body. This time his crotch wasn’t the focus of the wave, though.

No, this time it was his ass.

He arched his back and strained, yodeling in pain as his glutes inflated, jutting outward until they formed the most bootylicious booty in the world. His buttocks rounded and expanded, becoming impossibly perky. He wailed as he felt them bounce and sway at the smallest movement, their incredible weight and heft forever altering his center of gravity. When he straightened, he could feel the twin, alien masses hanging off of him like a couple of watermelons. 

Trembling, he reached back to cup those burgeoning globes in his hands. His shoulders sagged as his hands confirmed his worst fears. His formerly pert, smooth cheeks had exploded to truly gravity-defying size. He ran his fingers over them, quivering from head to toe. Not only were his ass cheeks immense, they were also really hairy. The same wiry black black that covered his crotch also smothered his ass, especially his crack. He could feel the hairs curling into a tight, dense ring around his butthole. It itched! It fucking itched!

And it wasn’t over yet.

James grunted in surprise as another tremor passed through his body. This time, though, the epicenter was his asshole. He fell forward once again, gripping the sink and gritting his teeth, as his butt cheeks flared. The cool air caressed his tender, virginal pucker for a moment before there was a sudden, urgent contraction. Pop! He yelped in surprise as his tiny, tight rosebud pushed outward, expanding greatly and leaving him with a prominently protruding asshole.

He scarcely had time to process this unwelcome development when another, more intense wave zinged through his body, causing him to keel forward. His ass cheeks flared again, even more urgently this time, and his feet spread farther apart on the floor. 

And that wasn’t all.

The unending ‘fun’ was about to get even more perverse…

James screamed in confusion and pain when there was a sharp crack in his pelvic area. Stabbing pain from multiple locations down there told him that the unthinkable had occurred: His pelvic girdle had just shattered!

As fast as the pain hit, though, it disappeared. His pelvic bones were healing! In moments, they’d reformed, growing thicker and bigger in the process.

This wasn’t good news for poor James, though.

Aghast, he stared down at his much wider hips. Poof! In an instant, his lithe, slim hips had disappeared forever. Now he would never again be described as slim. No, now his hips were nearly as wide as his shoulders!

This latest pair of insults–a super-sized bubble butt and broad hips!–tipped James over the edge and he flipped from horrified shame to indignant outrage. His vision swam red and he felt like he was going to explode. The literal and figurative gravity of his situation burned away any trace of the hope that this was a hallucination and left a searing mental clarity in its wake. In that moment, James knew in his bones that his contractor, Carlos Pereira, was the source of the ignominious curse ravaging his body.

Carlos!

Carlos fuckin’ Pereira did this to me!

He had no idea how but he was certain it was true.

James thought feverishly, trying to figure out how the man could have done this to him. Was it magic? Had he cursed him using voodoo or some other freaky, witch-doctor medicine? His mind spun round and round with all of the nefarious possibilities as Carlos became the target of all of James’ animosity. 

I’m gonna fuckin’ wring that fuckin’ Beaner’s oily neck!

I’m gonna find him.

And fuckin’ kick his Spic ass.

And make him change me back.

And then I’m gonna fuckin’ murder the fuckin’ bastard.

No one.

NO ONE MESSES WITH JAMES JORGENSEN AND GETS AWAY WITH IT!

I don’t fuckin’ care if I end up in jail after assaulting that fuckin’ illegal! 

No, he wasn’t worried about being caught. He was a lawyer, after all. And not just any lawyer. He was James fuckin’ Jorgenson! The best fuckin’ lawyer in the whole fuckin’ U.S. of A! He’d get Melodie to bail him out and then he’d fuckin’ defend himself in court. Not a jury in the land would convict him of murdering Carlos Pereira. He would make sure of it.

The outrage propelled him into action.

Bouncing up and down on his heels, he yanked his pants up his huge thighs, squirming and wriggling until it felt like the seams would rip apart. He was lucky that he’d worn his baggiest suit that day due to the heat. If he’d worn one of his fitted suits, he never would’ve been able to squeeze his giant ass inside. Incredibly, the seams held. And, even more incredibly, he was able to button the pants at his waist. He had to suck in his belly and hold his breath but he managed to push the button through the hole and cinch his belt over it.

Zipping up, however, proved to be impossible. His mutant bulge was simply too tumescent. After fighting fruitlessly, he was forced to concede defeat. The only way he could button his pants was by letting that big bulge spill out of his fly. It thrust out before him like a giant tumor, the fabric of his poor boxers stretched to near transparency. 

It was obscene.

James grimaced as he looked down at it. If he buttoned his suit coat, though, maybe it was long enough to hide it…

Fuck!

Fuck!

FUCK!!!

He gnashed his teeth when he had another unwelcome epiphany: The bizarre growth was not limited to his lower body. Beneath his dress shirt and suit coat, his torso was exploding with new muscles. Suddenly choking as his clothes strangled him, James clutched desperately at his tie, tugging it loose. He then ripped open his shirt. As the buttons rained down on the sink before him, he gulped air like a stranded fish. His suit, however, continued to strain under the assault of his burgeoning muscles. The seams stretched, threads straining. They sounded like they would rip apart at any moment.

James staggered, clutching the sink yet again. When he looked up at his reflection in the mirror before him, he wailed pitifully. The black! The black! The fucking black skin had taken over his chest and was now visible on his neck. Not far behind it, the fur sprouted, curling out like wiry spider legs from his pristine flesh. In no time, his entire chest was smothered by it and thick tufts poured out of the collar of his shirt.

His shoulders swelled, followed soon after by his arms. There was a telltale rip as the seams on the back and arms of his suit coat finally gave way and split open. His deltoids were like a pair of bowling balls and pecs were a heavy, hairy shelf. His arms thrust out from his sides at an obvious angle as his biceps and triceps bloated. Even his forearms grew too big for his sleeves. He gasped for breath, feeling like an overstuffed sausage in his strangling suit.

And then his bones started cracking again.

All at once, his legs turned into spaghetti and he flailed his arms to keep his balance as his femurs shattered, followed soon thereafter by his fibulas and tibias. It didn’t stop there, though. Soon, nearly every bone in his body had cracked apart before rehealing, thickening and lengthening in the process. He threw back his head and arched his back, opening his mouth in a soundless scream. Curiously, though, there was no pain. No discomfort. Nothing. If anything, he felt numb. Maybe because his nervous system was overloaded? He stood there flapping his limp arms as they, too, broke apart and reformed, becoming much heavier and thicker and longer when they healed.

Somehow, the lack of pain made the experience worse because there wasn’t anything to distract him from crunching and shattering noises emanating from deep within his body. His skin rippled like there were thousands of worms tunneling into his flesh. He quaked from head to toe and, for one terrible moment, lost his balance as his spinal column fragmented. With nothing to hold him together, his arms and legs turned to jelly and his fingers stopped working. He moaned in disbelief, flapping his arms like limp rags.

As quickly as it happened, though, his body reformed itself and he watched, mouth hanging open, as his torso, arms and legs lengthened, pushing his head several inches higher in the process. Then his shoulders broadened impressively and his feet grew five sizes, nearly bursting out of his patent leather shoes. His pants, already stretched to the maximum, strained even as they drew upward, exposing his bare calves. His hands thickened, becoming a pair of baseball mitts with sausage-sized fingers. His forearms, now truly massive, pushed out from his too-tight sleeves. Lastly, his neck shot up a couple inches, thickening in the process. He blinked back at his reflection.

He looked ridiculous with his pretty white-boy head perched atop a massive black man’s body.

But that was not to last.

James hollered pitifully, clutching at his neck as if he thought that would stop the creeping blackness from enveloping his head.

It was no use.

First, his fine, flaxen hair tumbled off his head. He grabbed at his precious locks, trying to press them back into his bald scalp. It didn’t work, of course. All he could do was watch helplessly in the mirror as the invasion of blackness marched onward, spreading around the back of his head before creeping up over the top of his crown. Not far behind it came the hair.

A kinky mass of nappy hair sprouted from his scalp, supplanting the follicles only recently vacated by their white-gold tennants. James took his head in his hands, recoiling in horror as his fingers touched that thick, scratchy carpet of ever-growing nap. The hair frizzed out from his head, pushing out more than a foot. In the end, he was left with a lustrous black mane. It wasn’t an afro precisely because the hair became wavy as it lengthened. Nonetheless, this was not hair one would see on a white guy.

James didn’t have time to bemoan the loss of his fine, golden tresses. He was too busy freaking out as the black wave rose and fell across his face. For a brief moment, he was left with a circle of white skin surrounding his eyes, nose and mouth but then, in a final paroxysm, the black devoured the last vestiges of his Caucasian heritage. He blinked at the face staring back at him in the mirror. It was still his face, only black.

But not for much longer.

Suddenly, the muscles and bones and skin on his face contorted and he howled in pain as his features completely changed. Holding his head in his hands, he felt his nose flatten and widen. His perfectly sculpted lips followed suit, growing thicker and fuller. And then his jaw and chin cracked, becoming heavier and thicker when they rehealed. His underbite grew even more pronounced, his jaw thrusting forward.

Full of dread, James looked up in the mirror and recoiled at the misbegotten face staring back at him. He looked like a fuckin’ pug-nosed bulldog! And his eyes! Even his ice-blue irises weren’t spared the onslaught of melanin. He stared in horror as their clear blue muddied into the color black amber. His brow thickened and his delicate white-gold eyebrows fell out, quickly replaced by a squirming mass of caterpillar-like hair. And then came the beard. The fuzz burrowed out of his chin and cheeks, growing into a jet-black beard of unrivaled thickness.

And then…

Then it was finally over and his transformation was complete.

Unfortunately, James no longer recognized himself.

He stared at the stranger in the mirror, stomach churning with bile. He looked fucking ugly! Disgusting! Repulsive! He wanted to vomit!

He took his nappy head in his hands, clutching at the thick mass of hair, and howled pitifully. Unable to believe any of this was possible, he nonetheless couldn’t stave off the horrible, sinking feeling that he was stuck this way for the rest of his life. He knew with a sick sense of finality that there was no going back. He would never be a lean, smooth, blond, handsome white man again.

He was ruined.

His whole life was fucking ruined!

***

Chapter 3

James stood in front of the mirror, frozen in shock at the towering black man reflected back at him. His mouth fell open. He not only looked supremely ugly, he also looked like hell. His hair and beard were a frizzy mess and his clothes were in tatters, hanging off his bloated body. To add insult to injury, at that moment his expensive suit coat decided to shred apart, fluttering down in tatters to land on the tops of his giant feet crammed into the too-small pair of dress shoes. The few remaining buttons on his shirt were in danger of snapping off and thick tufts of black hair spewed out of the gaps. A good six inches of his furry belly were exposed because his dress shirt was too short to cover his greatly expanded torso.

And his pants!

Still wet from being rinsed in the sink, the seams had split up the sides, flapping like soggy flags. His massive, bare thighs were on full display. Only his straining belt kept the tatters of his pants together and the buckle looked like it would snap open at any moment.

And his bulge!

The fly of his pants had split down to the crotch and his monstrous package–barely contained in the threadbare pouch of his boxers–spilled out in front. From the look of it, his cock had grown even longer and fatter…but this was nothing compared to his balls.

He had a pair of bowling balls for nuts!

This was no exaggeration; they were at least as big as bowling balls and nearly as heavy.

He staggered, knees bowing outward as he reached down and hefted those oversized melons in his hands. Even with his new ‘baseball mitts’, he could barely contain them.

Bawling like an frightened bull, he tried desperately to squeeze them back down to a smaller size. This didn’t work, though, and only succeeded in making his eyes water in pain.

He looked like a total freak!

Could he even walk like this?

Beyond that, how could he ever be seen in public again?

All people would see was his giant package jutting out in front of him like a ridiculous tumor!

To say nothing of his massive ass!

James teetered precariously on the brink of utter despair until he remembered Carlos Pereira. The mere thought of the man was enough to make his blood boil and he instantly forgot about everything besides the driving need to get even with the fucker. He would make Carlos pay! He would beat the shit out of him and leave him for the fuckin’ vultures! But, first, he’d make the asshole change him back. There’s no fuckin’ way I’m goin’ through the rest of my life lookin’ like a fuckin’ Wetback freak!

Rage overwhelmed him, washing like molten lava over him and driving him to find Carlos. He forgot everything, even his modesty flew out of the window as he lurched out of the restroom, giant package swaying precariously from side to side. His shoulders were too big to fit through the doorway and he smacked both of them painfully as he barreled out of the restroom, nearly running over the very startled Lulu as he exited.

Windmilling his swollen arms, he barely caught his balance. Somehow, he righted himself and continued his lumbering rampage through the law offices. People in the hallways scattered, some of them shrieking in alarm, when he lurched into view. Eventually, he made it down the stairs and into the employee parking garage. He pulled up short, though, when he got to his parking spot.

His gleaming white Cadillac Escalade was gone and in its place was a rusted-out pickup truck.

James labored to a halt, panting heavily from the exertion of moving such a large and ungainly body. His poor, huge nuts were throbbing from the punishment of being knocked about by his knees. A rip was forming in the overstretched pouch of his boxers and his giant, black ‘anaconda’ was threatening to burst out.

He gaped stupidly at the old truck. It was so rusted and covered in fiberglass patches that he couldn’t even tell what color it was underneath. Black, maybe? Why was it in his parking spot?

He cast around for his Escalade but it was nowhere to be seen.

Just then, a commotion at the stairwell caught his attention and he turned to see a couple of red-faced security guards running toward him. From the fear in their eyes and the way they clutched their tasers, he knew he was in trouble. It was an alien situation for James who had never been on the receiving end of police attention before. Part of him couldn’t believe that they were after him and he started to wave to them. 

Before his hand made it in the air, though, another, more powerful part of him took over and he instinctively reached into his pocket and pulled out his keys. Leaping (with difficulty) into the truck, he was stunned to discover that the keys fit the ignition. He turned them and the engine turned over, sputtering to life. In a moment, the squealing of the truck’s bald tires echoed through the parking garage as James made his getaway.

Only after he’d exited the parking garage did he wake up to how uncomfortable he was. Even though the truck’s cab was roomy, he barely fit inside it and his knees were pushed up nearly to his elbows. His muscular arms thrust out so far that his left elbow knocked against the window. His mutant package forced his hulking quads apart, causing his left knee to press against the door and his right leg to take over half of the passenger’s side of the seat. His big ass was like a pillow under him, lifting his body up so high his head hit the roof of the cab whenever he hit a bump. He had to stick his neck out like a tortoise to see through the cracked windshield.

Despite all this, James didn’t allow anything to distract him from his mission: He was going to fucking track down and murder Carlos Pereira! (After he forced him to lift his curse, of course!)

He disregarded all traffic laws in his haste to reach the one place he knew to look for Carlos: The construction site of James’ new home. After careening through rush hour traffic, he screeched into the dirt driveway of the lot, clouds of dust billowing around the truck. Scanning the site, his vision swam red as he spotted his quarry. He was in luck: Carlos was standing in the shade of a catalpa only a few yards away.

James tumbled out of the truck, nearly losing his balance as he fought against his mountainous body, trying to extricate himself from the cab. Blind to the fact that he was indecent in his tattered rags, his cock and balls thrusting out of the widening rip in his boxers, he stagger-ran toward Carlos, holding his huge mitts out. Only belatedly did he register the fact that Carlos wasn’t alone. His melon head swiveled and his eyes went round. Wait, is that Melodie? he thought. And who’s that guy with her?

WHAT THE FUCK???!!! HE’S TOUCHING HER!!!

Sure enough, his eyes didn’t deceive him; Melodie was indeed present with another man, a handsome, slim, blond guy with flawless white skin who appeared to be in his mid-thirties. He was dressed in an elegant, tailored suit and his shoulders were thrust back proudly, displaying a familiar kind of arrogance. 

As James approached, the man put a hand on Melodie’s shoulder and pushed her behind him. He puffed out his chest at James, demanding in a genteel Northeastern accent, “I say, man! Stand down!”

James’ vision seared red. Who did this fucker think he was? He was acting like Melodie belonged to him. The fuckin’ balls! He barrelled toward the insolent upstart, raising his fist to pummel the man into next week. At the last second, however, Melodie–one hand on her pregnant belly–stepped out from behind the man and defly reached upward.

Clap!

Melodie caught his fist in her hand.

Frozen in place, James was dumbfounded. He found himself abruptly eye-to-eye with his wife, cringing beneath her ‘prison warden’ stare. Somehow, defying all belief, she had caught his fist mid-swing and now held it over her head. He dwarfed the woman, towering a good two feet above her. And he was laden with the biggest muscles known to man!

Yet, despite being utterly mismatched, Melodie held his fist with apparent ease. He’d heard that mothers could develop herculean strength when their children were threatened but had never heard of this when the woman was protecting a man.

“Joel!” Melodie hissed in heavily-accented Portuguese. “What are you doing? You’re supposed to be picking up Elio!”

James’ mouth fell open. Joel? Why’s she calling me Joel? Then he got it. Oh, João.She meant João. I just didn’t understand because of her accent. João started to relax but then stiffened again. Wait, isn’t my name…Jam–? No, that’s not it. What was it? But, try as he might, he couldn’t remember his own name. He felt reasonably certain that his name was not João but was unable to fathom what his real name was. João fit, though. Yeah, somehow it felt familiar. Yeah, my name’s João. It’s always been João.

At that moment, the hot breeze picked up and João’s potent, musky odor washed over the trio. Melodie’s nose wrinkled with distaste and the strange man behind her pinched his nose shut. Carlos, apparently accustomed to man-stink, did nothing.

His pungent smell only added to Melodie’s disgust. “João! João! Did you hear me?!” she demanded before her gaze landed on his attire…or lack of it. Her delicate cheeks colored. “João! Why are you running around like that? You could get arrested! This isn’t Rio, you know.” She sighed, dropping his fist and reaching into her purse to pull out a lace handkerchief. While he watched, stunned, she reached out and tucked the hem into his belt. The delicate fabric fluttered down over his massive man-meat, hiding it for the time being. Actually, it didn’t really hide it. No handkerchief in the world was big enough to cover that monstrosity! Rather than making him appear more decent, it actually did the opposite and drew even more attention to his protruding tumor of a cock.

The man behind Melodie fish-mouthed at João, wavering between revulsion and outrage. His piercing blue eyes raked over João’s body, lip curling in derision when they landed on his swollen manhood. With a stern voice, he whispered something in English that João couldn’t understand but he got the gist: “You know this, um, gentleman, dear?” The man placed his hand protectively on Melodie’s shoulder as he said this, telegraphing his ownership of her.

João’s vision swam with blood and he would have smashed in the guy’s face if Melodie hadn’t stopped him again. Taking both of his huge mitts in her tiny hands, she admonished in Portuguese, “João! Don’t do this. This is one of the reasons I divorced you. You’re always losing your temper!” João gaped as she turned and said over her shoulder in English, “Jeffrey, this is João, my ex. He works for Carlos.” Beside them, Carlos cleared his throat but Melodie ignored him. Laughing nervously, she switched back to accented Portuguese, “I planned to introduce you under…different…circumstances but, well, here you go. João meet Jeffrey Jurgensen, my new husband and the father of my baby.” She patted her belly before looking back at Jeffrey, smiling radiantly. João’s heart clenched. That was the look she gave him! He was the only one that Melodie could look at like that!

Carlos shifted, staring down at his feet. Speaking in Portuguese, he murmured, “Uh, well, actually João doesn’t work for me anymore. I fired him last week.” Melodie’s head whipped around and Carlos held up his hands, soothing, “I told him I’d hire him back, though. If he can get his act together. As you know, he’s got a bad temper and he’s always picking fights with my guys. Plus, well,” his voice trailed off as he searched for words. Finally, he said, “Let’s just say that he likes to drink too much and lets the ‘big head’ between his legs do all the thinking. If he’d learn to stay sober and keep it in his pants, well, we’d all be better off.” His voice, João noticed, was more admonishing than angry.

Suddenly feverish, João thought, But, I didn’t work for him, did I? I’m not a lowly construction worker! I’m a…I’m a…? He blinked, blanking when he tried to remember what he did for a living. It was something important and prestigious, he was sure. Why didn’t he remember?

Melodie looked back at João, gray eyes narrowing. “Believe me, Carlos, I know how much he likes to drink and fool around. Those are the other reasons I divorced him. Plus…” Her voice trailed off and she never finished the sentence, seeming to think better of it. Instead, she locked eyes with João, reprimanding, “When are you going to learn, João? Is this the example you want to set for Elio?” She motioned to his tattered and torn clothing. “Do you want him to become like you? He will be if you keep carrying on like this! He’s already got it in for Jeffrey because your bad attitude has rubbed off on him. You need to learn how to be a positive role model. Try holding down a job for once.”

Elio? João wondered, confused. Does she mean Eli, our son? He shook his head, trying to clear it. No, Elio’s my son’s name, not Eli. It’s always been Elio.

He opened his big maw, trying hard to sound intelligent. The words that came out, however, were laughable. In broken English, he stammered, “M-M-Me do have job! Me work in office!”

Melodie crossed her arms. “Really, João? You don’t need to lie to me. Carlos just told me you’re unemployed…again.”

“No! No!” João protested. “Me work! Me do im-im-im-por-tant w-w-work!” Why was it so difficult for him to talk?

Melodie waved this off, glancing down at her jeweled Rolex and sighing, “It’s nearly four o’clock, João. You have just enough time to go back to your apartment and…ahem, get dressed decently, before picking up Elio from soccer practice.” She fixed him once again with her infamous prison warden stare, ordering, “And don’t be late! He’s always complaining that you forget about him. He’s your son, too, João!”

Mind roiling in confusion, João stared back at her helplessly. His apartment? Didn’t he live with Melodie in a spacious loft that they were renting until their new home was finished? He looked past her to the construction site in the background, remembering belatedly that, of course, he didn’t live with Melodie any longer. She’d divorced him more than a year ago and he’d been living with his cousin, Jaime, in a tiny apartment ever since. And this was the construction site where he’d been laboring until last week when Carlos fired him. Even though Melodie didn’t believe him, he had found a job. A good one, too: He worked at a fancy law firm downtown!

Bitter memories poured over him like acid and he braced, remembering the bile he’d swallowed when Carlos told him that this house would belong to Melodie and her new husband. That was a big part of the reason he’d gotten so drunk and out of control. Knowing that Melodie was with another man nearly drove him insane with jealousy but then being forced to build her new dream home only threw gasoline on the fire of his resentment. It wasn’t fair that she and Jeffrey were living in the lap of luxury while he lived in squalor in a roach-infested box! He clenched his teeth, stomach curdling with rage. He wanted to kick the shit out of Jeffrey in the worst way!

But Melodie and Jeffrey were already leaving. Jeffrey shook hands stiffly with Carlos and turned away, giving João one last, cold look. Revulsion was etched across his delicate features. Despite himself, João had to admit that the guy was well put together and handsome, if you went for white guys with pinched noses and puckered lips, that is. And his skin was so white, so clear, so unblemished. What would it be like to have pure, smooth, hairless skin like that?

Carlos cleared his throat, bringing him back to the present. “So, João,” he began, “your old job is still available if you want it. As long as you can keep your head on straight and quit drinking, whoring and fighting.”

João stared at him, sweat trickling down his broad back. Belatedly, he remembered that he’d come here to do something to Carlos. He clenched his fists, drawing a blank. What was the reason? He struggled to think, feeling his huge body teetering back and forth as the blistering heat finally got to him. Wiping a hand across his heavy brow, he whisked away sweat. Fuck! Why couldn’t he remember? He looked at Carlos one last time, mind working overtime to remember…it was important! Really important! Oh, fuck! He couldn’t forget! But it was no use. His thoughts were too scrambled. All he could do is stare blankly back at Carlos, big mouth hanging open and forehead furrowed in confusion.

Carlos smirked. His eyes twinkled as if something really hilarious was happening. João felt self-conscious, like he should know what was so funny. He had a sneaking suspicion that Carlos was making fun of him somehow. But why would that be? Carlos Pereira was a solid dude. He’d always treated João fairly, even if he was preachy and didn’t pay nearly enough. Yeah, Carlos was a good guy. 

Reaching up to pat his hulking shoulder, Carlos soothed, “That’s it, big guy. Don’t fight it too hard. Just relax and let it happen. You were always too smart for your own good anyways. You’re better off like this. Haha! All brawn and no brains! I wish I didn’t have to fire you. You’re strong as a fuckin’ ox!” He winked at João and, laughing merrily as if this was the funniest thing in the world. And then he swaggered off, climbing up into his giant, new pickup truck. The engine roared and the tires spewed gravel as he sped off in a cloud of dust.

***

João stared after Carlos for a long time, mouth hanging open. Finally, he shrugged his mountainous shoulders and lumbered back to his rusted old truck, tugging open the creaky door and squeezing behind the wheel. It was quite an ordeal fitting his bulk inside the claustrophobic cab and he wondered how he’d been able to do it before. He vaguely remembered that he’d come here because something had enraged him but had no idea what it was. The whole day–Fuck, his whole life!–was a blur. Nothing felt real anymore.

He started the engine in a daze. After sputtering a few times, the truck finally came to life. Mindful of Melodie’s admonition, he headed back to his apartment, determined to change into more appropriate attire. Even in this befuddled state, he knew that Melodie was right and he wasn’t in the favelas anymore. He could get away with walking around nearly naked back in Rio but here in the United States… Well, he could get arrested for gross indecency and that was the last thing he needed. The police didn’t treat people with his skin color nicely. And he’d only just gotten his Green Card. He didn’t want to get deported! Yeah, Melanie was right. He needed to clean up his act, starting with his odiferous body. Shit, his reek was repugnant even to his own nose!

Guys catcalled at him when he tumbled out of his truck on the street in front of his apartment in a seedy part of the city. The air stank of rotting garbage and most of the windows at street level were boarded up. A few men lingered in the shade of recessed doorways, listening to loud music and smoking marijuana. Their raucous laughter spilled out into the street. With no trees to offer respite from the wicked sun, the temperature soared well over a hundred degrees. 

Under normal circumstances, João would’ve laughed and joined the guys for a smoke but today was different. He was really out of sorts and the heat was getting to him. Sweat poured off of his body and he was desperately thirsty. He really needed to take a nice, long shower and cool off before picking up Elio.

Staggering like a drunken bull, he climbed the narrow stairs to his apartment, feeling them creak beneath his immense weight. His feet were killing him! He looked down at his scuffed leather shoes in wonder. Where had he gotten such expensive shoes? There was no way he could afford them! Besides, they were at least five sizes too small.

Reaching the top of the stairs, he fumbled around for the keys and, undoing the deadbolts, had to duck and turn sideways to fit through the doorway. Fuck, why were the doors so low? Brow furrowing, he flung himself inside, exhaling in relief when he realized Jaime had left the air conditioner on. It cranked noisily, belching out tepid air, but to João it felt like heaven.

The place was a mess as usual. Beer cans were strewn across the tiny living room. Dirty dishes littered the sink, flies buzzing languidly above them. Roaches skittered in the shadows under the counters. The curtains were tattered and stained and the walls badly needed a coat of new paint. A mildewy odor with overtones of stale beer, piss and marijuana filled his nostrils, powerful enough to compete even with his own stink. Off the kitchen, a door opened into a small bathroom. The toilet lid was open over the piss-stained bowl and the linoleum floor was grungy, having once been white but was now much closer to urine yellow. Black mold crept up the side of the tiled tub and the showerhead dripped rusty water.

João had another moment of disorientation as he took in the sight of the place. It was the weirdest thing: Memories of luxury danced before his eyes. They almost seemed real! He shook his head, attempting to clear it of the memories of expensive leather furniture and a palatial kitchen with black and white tile. And satin sheets of the highest thread count on a bed bigger than this entire apartment…

João shook his head, kneading his temples. The heat must be playing tricks on him! He’d never been rich. All of his life, he’d been stinking poor, barely scraping by.

He got down to business, stripping out of his tattered clothes and casting them in the garbage. He looked at the rags, recognizing that they were made of fine material but not understanding how they had come to be on his body. They smelled like piss and had obviously not been the right size anyway. He remembered how difficult it was to find clothes that fit him, especially shorts and pants because–he patted his massive crotch, smiling ruefully–Well, because of the size of my big man. He might be dumb, broke and ugly but at least he had a big something that put every other guy to shame!

***

After showering, he emerged from his bedroom dressed in a string tank top and a pair of tattered shorts. His furry pecs spilled out of the tank top and his oversized manhood spilled out of the extra large, extra heavy-duty jockstrap he wore beneath the shorts. The shorts–extra large like the jockstrap–were skin tight…just like the tank top. 

Even encased in a jockstrap that clamped down on him like a steel trap, his jaw-dropping cock and balls hung obviously out in front of him. It looked like he’d stuffed a basketball inside his shorts! Somehow, though, the shorts held together, probably due to the generous amount of Lycra woven into the crotch. João had bought a bunch of these shorts the last time he’d been back to Rio years ago. He had to stock up because the guys here in the States were so much smaller…down there…than the real men of Brazil.

He clambered into the seat of his pickup, spreading his legs wide and groaning in pain. No matter what he did, though, driving just was uncomfortable at his size. His poor balls ached furiously, clamped between his meaty thighs.

Elio was waiting for him with his coach in front of the athletic field. João did a double take when he saw the kid, head spinning. Did Elio really have brown skin and brown hair? He could’ve sworn he was white, blond-haired and blue-eyed, just like… He blinked, shaking his head. No, Elio was his son and there was no way the kid could possibly be white. He might have some of Melodie’s sharpness but he was undeniably João’s boy: Chestnut-haired and mocha-skinned. He was tall, too, being a head taller than the other eight-year-olds. Sporting a mop of thick curls, his face had pleasant, soft features and big, doe eyes.

Elio marched up to the truck, scowling. He said something emphatic in English that João didn’t understand. When João merely gaped back at him blankly, Elio sighed and switched to Portuguese. “I thought you were gonna learn English, Papa? Haven’t you been taking classes?”

João opened his mouth but no sound came out. Taking classes? Him? Why would he need to take classes?

Not waiting for him to reply, Elio waved goodbye to his coach and pulled open the door to the truck, jumping up on the seat. When João still couldn’t formulate a response, he sighed, “Just take me to Mom’s. She’s gonna be mad when she finds out how late you are again. Why can’t you ever pick me up on time? Practice was over forever ago!”

João had no answer to this, either. Despite being freshly showered and wearing (somewhat) comfortable clothes, he felt off kilter. His head was all muzzy and he was having trouble forming basic thoughts. He kept feeling creeped out, like something momentous was happening but he had no idea what it was. 

When he remained mute, Elio finally took note of his appearance. His little face scrunched up in distaste. “Papa!” he complained. “You need to go to the barber! Your hair and beard are scary!”

João blinked, hands going up to his head. He grimaced in distaste. Elio was right! His hair was a mess and his beard was out of control, like he hadn’t shaved in months. Watching him, Elio rolled his eyes, muttering something in English under his breath. João thought he recognized a couple of words like ‘mom’ and ‘divorce’ but he wasn’t sure. In the end, what could he do but put the truck in gear and pull away from the curb? The truck sputtered to life and João headed to Melodie and Jeffrey’s loft.

***

His cousin, Jaime, was home when he got back to the apartment. “Yo, dude!” he called out. “Did ya forget ‘bout our ESL class?”

João stared at him, perplexed. “Eee Ace Ell?” he repeated, not getting what Jaime meant.

Jaime grinned, golden eyes lighting up. “C’mon, man! I know yer dumb but even yer not that dumb! Our class, man! The one where we’re learnin’ English.”

João’s skin prickled with inexplicable alarm. The nagging worry that something was very wrong came back with a vengeance. Whatever it was hovered on the edge of his awareness, flashing like a neon sign but, try as he might, he was too stupid to read it. It disturbed him to think he was missing something critical, though.

“Fuck, dude!” Jaime exclaimed, seeming to notice João’s appearance for the first time. “You look like shit! When was the last time you shaved? Or got a haircut? You a mess, bro.” When João blinked back at him dumbly, he sighed, “We don’t got time right now ‘cuz we’re late but we can stop by the barber shop after class.” He shook his head, muttering, “Shit, yer never gonna get laid lookin’ like that!”

João rubbed his temples, trying one last time to figure out what was wrong but nothing came. Finally, he shook himself and forced the unease aside. Smiling back at Jaime, he rumbled, “I’ll only go if ya buy me a beer afterwards.”

“What?!” Jaime complained. “You should buy my beer! After all, I’m the one lookin’ after yer sorry ass. The girls’ll run the other way if they see ya like this! The boys, too.”

***

They took Jaime’s truck because it was marginally newer and the cab was slightly bigger. Jaime was a big dude like João. Well, Ok, maybe he wasn’t quite as big but he was close. Weighing two hundred fifty pounds and standing well over six feet tall, he made for an imposing figure. Next to João, though, he looked almost petite…and that wasn’t even taking the size of João’s massive equipment in account. Jaime was Brazilian and therefore incredibly hung but even he didn’t come close to João’s size down there.

“Yer package is like a third person, dude!” Jaime joked, surprising João by reaching over and patting the hulking behemoth lodged between his outspread thighs. “One of these days I’m gonna get ya fixed just so ya can fit in my truck.” He laughed, still patting João’s crotch, adding, ‘Course, ya keep whoring around like you do and some other dude’s gonna castrate ya first.”

João pushed his hand away. “Just shut up and keep yer hands to yerself.”

“What’s wrong, Baby?” Jaime whined, lower lip protruding in a pout. “We’re kissin’ cousins, remember?” He puckered his full lips, leaning over to João. “C’mon, bro! Lay one on me.”

“Would you stop?!” João grunted, shoving Jaime away. “What the fuck’s wrong with you?”

Jaime giggled gleefully, starting the truck and zooming out onto the street.

***

Held at a local high school, the ESL class was confusing and difficult for João. He found English to be completely nonsensical. Compared to Portuguese (which he could barely write), English was byzantine. His tongue got tied in knots and his head was spinning by the end of the one-hour lesson. He sat with his mounded shoulders hunched in defeat, barely able to fit in his tiny chair. He felt like a complete idiot.

“Beer,” Jaime mumbled, almost as befuddled as João. “I need beer.”

“Yer buying,” João reminded him, pushing up from the tiny desk. “And I’m thirsty. Horny, too.”

Jaime rolled his eyes. “I’ll bet. Remember, bro, we gotta stop by the barber shop first, though.” As he said this, he reached out and patted João’s monster bulge again, this time in front of the departing students. When João slapped his hand away, Jaime complained, “Ouch, bro! What’s wrong with you tonight? Why’re ya actin’ so prissy?”

“I’m not prissy!” João growled, cheeks hot. Several people were watching them and one woman leaned over and whispered something in her friend’s ear. The friend laughed out loud, making João feel even more embarrassed. “Just because I’m big down there don’t mean ya can touch me whenever you wanna.”

Jaime’s forehead wrinkled and he seemed like he was about to say something but then thought better of it and, shrugging, pushed himself up off his chair. “Let’s go man. I need a haircut, too.”

An hour later, João was freshly shorn, his thick, black hair greased back and his beard neatly trimmed. Even though he felt like he was staring back at a stranger the whole time he was in the barber’s chair, he had to admit that the end result was pretty good. He definitely looked more presentable, maybe even slightly handsome…in a bulldog-ish sort of day.

He was perched on a stool at the bar with his big legs spread, displaying his giant bulge for all to see. Beside him, Jaime sipped a beer and flirted with the bartender, a pretty woman with dark hair and wide hips. João liked her, too, but was even more attracted to a couple of big-busted women sitting at a table nearby. They were eying him as well. As he watched, one of them stood and sauntered over to him, a beer bottle dangling from her fingertips.

She said something in English he didn’t understand but it didn’t matter; João was fluent in the language of fucking. It wasn’t long before she had settled her wide, soft bottom onto his lap and commenced gyrating atop his massive bulge like a rodeo rider. João grinned, feeling his monster stir. One thing led to another and they were naked in the bar’s backroom where João was hellbent on entering her from behind.

His tongue lolled out of his mouth and he grunted with frustration as he attempted to cram his oversized cock into the girl’s sloppy, wet pussy. Her cunt was stretched-out but even an experienced pussy like hers was a tight squeeze for João. He barely got two inches inside before she cried out, begging him to stop.

Grunting in frustration, João collapsed on top of her, sweat running down his back. His giant schlong hung down uselessly between his legs and his giant blue balls swung lazily between his knees, aching for release. The woman wiggled beneath him, obviously embarrassed she couldn’t satisfy him. 

“Pssst! Dude!” Jaime whispered, nudging him. (His cousin had followed them into the backroom and was proceeding to get it on with the bartender next to him.) “Try anal. You know pussies can’t take that thing.” João looked over at him sheepishly. He was embarrassed both by his nudity–it was weird being naked in front of his cousin, to say nothing of the bartender–and by his failure to perform. Jaime watched him with amusement, face breaking into a sly grin as he handed over a bottle of lube. He laughed, saying, “I dunno what you’d do without me, bro!”

Soon, João was going at it with renewed vigor, monster cock slathered in lube and the poor woman doing her darndest to accept that massive beast into her butt. It was ultimately a bust but at least they had fun doing it. He almost didn’t care that Jaime was naked beside him, grunting amorously. His cousin’s bare shoulder brushed against João’s as he thrust his sizable cock into the bartender’s pussy.

When they were done, all four collapsed on the slippery, lube- and cum-slathered floor, chests heaving and grinning lazily. 

***

The next morning, João’s alarm blared at six o’clock. He struggled out of bed, the dirty sheets sticking to his sweaty body. (He hadn’t bothered to shower after getting home the night before.) Rummaging through his closet, he found his old suit hanging on a rusty hanger. It was faded and too small but it was the only decent thing he had in his wardrobe. He had to look good for work!

He showered and squeezed into his suit…barely. The sleeves and pant legs were too short but that was the least of his worries. Had his bulge grown even bigger since he’d last worn the suit to his uncle’s funeral five years ago? He’d paid a fortune to have a pouch sewn into the front of the pants to conceal his monster (somewhat) but now he could barely squeeze it in there. To make matters worse, his ass was straining against the seat of the pants. He’d die of embarrassment if it split down the back on his first day at work!

Jaime was eating cereal over the sink–completely bare-ass naked–when João exited the bathroom. “Whoa, dude!” His cousin exclaimed, doing a double take. “Why’re you all dressed up? Got an interview?”

João started to answer but then stopped, wrinkling his lip. “Put some fuckin’ clothes on!” he ordered, pointing to Jaime’s bedroom. “What makes ya think I wanna see ya like that?”

Jaime smiled lazily, scratching his hairy balls with one hand while holding the cereal bowl with the other. “It’s hot, bro, in case you haven’t noticed. And I’m at home. Why should I wear clothes if I don’t wanna?”

“Because I don’t wanna look at your little pee-pee, that’s why.”

“Shut up!” Jaime snapped. “Just ‘cuz I don’t got a Superman Schlong like you…” His voice trailed off before he added, “‘Sides, bro, it’s like yer basically naked all the time anyway. It don’t matter what clothes you got on, everyone can see yer cock and balls just fine.”

João flushed. Jaime had just put his finger on the one thing he was the most self-conscious about: His mutant bulge. And it didn’t help that right then he’d been obsessing about that precise thing. His eyes dropped down to that shamefully large sausage, stuffed ignominiously into the beleaguered crotch of his suit.

His worst fears were justified, he realized; he did look really fucking obscene!

When the silence stretched between them, Jaime grew flustered. Finally, he couldn’t stand it any longer and rushed over to him, apologizing, “I’m sorry, bro! I didn’t mean it! You look great as always! That suit does a good job of hiding it.” He reached out and cupped João’s monster in his hands as he said this, squeezing.

João slapped him away. “Stop touching me!” he grunted in his dull, deep voice. “I don’t like it!”

Jaime froze as if in disbelief. And then his face went red with anger and he stormed away to his bedroom, slamming the door behind him. João watched him leave, perplexed. He shook his head and looked at the clock, realizing he had to leave or he’d be late.

***

He felt really weird walking into the law offices. For one thing, everyone in there was white. And, for another, they wouldn’t stop staring at him. He felt self-conscious enough in his old, ill-fitting suit with his giant bulge sticking out in front, he didn’t need people gaping at him, too!

It had been humiliating when the (white) security guard stopped him at the entrance of the employee parking garage. “Name and ID,” he’d stated in English. When João didn’t respond, he huffed in annoyance, speaking very loudly and slowly, “I SAID, NAME AND ID!”

João jumped, pulling out his wallet and handing his driver’s license over to the man. His truck was idling noisily and there was already a line of luxury cars waiting behind him. The man’s bored gaze flicked from the ID and to João’s face and then back again. Lip curling, he muttered something under his breath that João didn’t understand; he knew it wasn’t nice, though.

“Here.” The guard threw the license back at him and motioned behind him. “Park in the basement with the other temps.” When João didn’t understand, he said it again, screaming this time and spitting saliva in his face. Cheeks burning, João sped off, eventually figuring out where he was supposed to go.

As João walked slowly through the front doors of the building, he realized he was the only black guy in the place. Everyone around him was white, except for a janitor mopping the floor in front of the elevator. He made his way up to his office on the ninth floor, ignoring the stares and whispers as best he could. He was really bad at understanding English but he was certain at one point someone whispered the words, ‘diversity hire,’ before snickering loudly.

The stares grew more intense when he exited the elevator on the ninth floor. One guy–white, of course–almost stopped him but then seemed to think better of it when he realized how huge João was. João’s heart was thumping in his chest and his hands were clammy. The place felt both familiar and foreign at the same time. Once again, he had a nagging feeling that something was terribly wrong but, for the life of him, he couldn’t figure out what it was. It made him feel increasingly unsettled, though, the closer he got to his office.

Arriving at the fancy corner office, he stopped short. All of his stuff was gone! He looked around the room, thinking he’d somehow entered the wrong room but, no, this was his office. It was just filled with stuff he didn’t recognize.

“May I help you?”

João spun around to find himself staring down at a thin, blond white guy. The man was staring up at João with suspicion and something else in his icy blue eyes. As João gaped down at him stupidly, those pale eyes widened with recognition and the man demanded, “João? What are you doing here? How did you find my office?”

At that moment, João recognized the other emotion hiding in the man’s blue gaze: Fear. The guy was afraid of him! 

João’s eyes drifted past the man to the door. Emblazoned in fancy lettering on a bronze plaque was the name, “Jeffrey Juergensen, Esq.” The building seemed to shift under João’s feet as he read the name. His torso grew clammy with a cold sweat. He looked from Jeffrey to the plaque and back again.

In broken English, João stammered, “Dees Jour Oh-Feece?”

Jeffrey nodded, the fear in his eyes becoming more pronounced. “Yes, this is my office, João. You haven’t answered my question yet, though: Why are you here?”

João opened his mouth and his head started spinning as a wave of nausea washed over him. How could this be Jeffrey’s office? It was his office…wasn’t it?

A woman’s voice called out behind him, “Is something wrong?” 

João jumped at the sound and he turned to find himself gaping down at Lulu Gutierrez. 

“Ah, Lulu!” Jeffrey exclaimed, palpably relieved. “Maybe can you help me? You speak Portuguese, right? I think João here is confused. Somehow he made it past security and up here to my office. Can you find out what’s going on?”

Lulu was looking at João as if she didn’t recognize him. He tried to smile in a friendly manner but this only seemed to alarm her. She took a step back before catching herself.

“‘João’?” she repeated as if the name were unfamiliar. He nodded eagerly and she continued in Portuguese, “Why are you here?”

João cleared his throat, extremely self-conscious and incredibly disoriented. Everything felt wrong about this situation and yet he couldn’t figure why. He just had a gut feeling he was supposed to be there, that this was supposed to be his office and not Jeffrey’s. How could he explain this to Lulu, though? The sign on the door and everything inside the office spoke to the fact that the office belonged to Jeffrey. And how could it be João’s office when he was the farthest thing from a lawyer. Lawyers were smart and he wasn’t; he’d barely finished elementary school. What had made him think he could possibly be a lawyer?

He opened his mouth, stammering, “I-I-I thought, I mean, I-I-I-” His voice trailed off when he found himself incapable of being coherent. Sweat was now trickling down his back and dripping down the fur of his armpits.

Lulu’s demeanor shifted then as the light of understanding finally dawned on her face. The fear instantly left her gaze. The emotion that replaced it, however, was almost worse: Pity. Reaching out to put a patronizing hand on his arm, she spoke with exaggerated slowness, “Here. How about if you come with me? I’ll call HR and see if they can help.” Switching to English, she said over her shoulder to Jeffrey, “These temps! I don’t know why HR can’t keep track of them. I’m going to complain to security when I get back.”

What could he do but follow her out of the office and down the hall? Utterly embarrassed and confused, he cast one last hopeless glance at Jeffrey and his office before leaving. Jeffrey’s thin lips were pursed and his forehead was wrinkled. As João and Lulu walked away, he pulled out his smartphone to place a call and João could hear him talking angrily with someone.

***

“Oh, I understand now!” Lulu said with artificial cheerfulness as she put down the phone. “You’re the new janitorial temp!” She looked at João like he was a child, her smile condescending. “I’m surprised that security didn’t call Héctor when you arrived. Here, I’ll take you to him.”

She led João back to the elevator and down to the first floor where she introduced him to the Latino man he’d seen mopping the floor when he arrived.

Pushing João forward, she announced, “Héctor, this is João Da Silva. He’s your new janitor. Please take care of him and don’t let him wander off, Ok?”

Héctor was a small man with a mustache and a wrinkled forehead that made him look like he was perennially confused. He stared up at João, shaking his head and saying in Spanish, “You’re late.”

João didn’t speak Spanish but he understood it for the most part. Lowering his head, he muttered, “Sorry,” in English. He stared down at his huge feet in their scuffed, black plastic shoes. He felt really embarrassed and disoriented and uncomfortable. Why had he worn a suit if he was just a janitor? When Héctor glanced down and beheld his massively bulging crotch with widened eyes, João wanted to die.

“Here,” Héctor said, motioning for João to follow. “I get uniform.” His cheeks were rosy.

He led João to a utility room where he handed him an old pair of blue coveralls. “Wear dese,” he explained. “Dey should fit.” He glanced at João’s monster bulge one last time, suppressing a shudder, and closed the door behind him.

João emerged five minutes later wearing the coveralls. Incredibly, they did fit his giant physique and he was even able to stuff his endowment inside without busting the zipper. Even so, his mutant cock and balls were silhouetted beneath the straining fabric, leaving nothing to anyone’s imagination. 

Héctor eyeballed him with distaste and, holding out a mop, instructed, “Take dis and clean floor. And don’t talk to nobody.”

He walked off, leaving João staring at the mop handle in his big mitt. His ears were burning and he didn’t know why. What had he expected? He was dumb and barely able to speak ten words in English. What kind of a job could he hope to get besides janitorial work?

He got to work, obediently mopping the floor and moving the yellow caution sign along behind him as the surface dried. It was tedious work and he soon grew bored. And horny. There were so many hot babes! He found himself staring at all of the beautiful women as they exited the elevators, heading off to lunch or a meeting with clients. He shook his head, salivating. This was torture!

“Hey, stud.”

He looked up and did a double take when he saw the most gorgeous woman in the world standing before him. Wearing a revealing, red miniskirt with the hem cut dangerously high and skintight, red blouse with the neckline cut dangerously low, she was stunning. Her enormous, silicone-filled breasts jutted out in front of her nearly as far as João’s bulge jutted out in front of him. Her siliconed ass was likewise swollen to jaw-dropping proportions…much like his own giant ass. Her hair, probably originally black like his own, had been bleached blond and her skin was chocolate brown. On her feet were a pair of red stiletto heels. She was, to João’s mind, a walking erection.

She regarded him through a pair of inch-long fake eyelashes and her collagen-filled duck lips protruded in an exaggerated pout as she purred, “Watcha doin’? Wanna, ya know…?” She glanced significantly toward the men’s bathroom.

João’s brain fogged as his enormous manhood grew instantly hard. All thoughts of work disappeared from his head and the next thing he knew, he’d hauled her bodily into the restroom, ripped off her panties, and commenced pounding away at her from behind. Incredibly, she was loose enough ‘back there’ to accommodate his giant and his eyes rolled back in his head as the entire length and girth of his huge man-cock slid inside her. 

They fucked like maniacs, her wailing and him grunting at the top of their lungs, lost in carnal bliss. It was quite simply the most explosive sex of João’s life and he was on the verge of a truly volcanic climax when an wrinkled, white-haired man swept into the restroom. Seeing João and the woman fucking each other’s brains out, his mouth fell open and his pale face became instantly a livid shade of red.

“Marcy!” he yelled, bracing himself against the sink. “What are you doing?”

Saucer-eyed, the woman froze for a moment before screaming at João, “Stop it! STOP IT, YOU MONSTER!” 

João stopped mid-thrust, her squishy ass still undulating beneath him. And then she started slapping him, pushing him violently away. His girthy flagpole slipped out of her ass with a sick squelch and stuck out before him, its full twenty-eight inches defying both gravity and belief.

He stared helplessly as she began sobbing theatrically, throwing herself into the old man’s arms and telling him how João had forced her into the bathroom and proceeded to rape her. Fortunately, the old guy didn’t buy the lie–he had seen how much she was enjoying herself with his own eyes, after all–but, unfortunately, João was still fired for having sex on the job…in a public restroom, no less.

“You just had to go and fuck the boss’s girlfriend,” Héctor admonished in Spanish as João changed out of his coveralls. “You’re lucky Mr. Blanchard didn’t prosecute you.” When João failed to respond–he couldn’t because he had no idea what Héctor had just said–Héctor sighed and shook his head, casting a dark look at João’s bloated appendage as it sagged out of the pouch of his custom-made jockstrap. “You only think with one head,” he muttered. “And it’s the wrong one!”

The next day, João was back at the construction site, begging Carlos for his old job back.

***

Chapter 4

July 2023, ten years later…

“You sure ‘bout this?” Jaime asked, idly scratching his balls on the couch as he watched João squeeze his massive, jockstrapped equipment into a pair of cargo shorts with a specially-designed basket. “I don’t like the way Melodie and Jeff treat you.” As always, his ‘dear’ cousin was naked; Jaime refused to wear clothes at home in the summertime.

Waddling over to the window, João tugged the shades closed. Nervous, he peered through a parted slat to be sure none of the neighbors in the apartment building across the street had seen Jaime in all his ‘glory’. Their neighbors’ windows were only the width of the street away, making him feel like he was living in a terrarium.

“I’ll be fine,” João replied, relieved when he didn’t spot any prying eyes. They had only recently moved into the new apartment; it was a definite step up from their last place and he didn’t want to get evicted because of Jaime’s exhibitionism. “If you’re coming, though, you’ll need to get dressed first.”

“Fuck you,” Jaime said, sticking out his tongue and massaging his cock provocatively. “Rafael likes it when I’m naked.”

Rafael was Jaime’s boyfriend. After years of pining after João, his cousin had finally given up the vain hope that João would turn bisexual and had found himself a man. He still fucked women occasionally but was mostly faithful to Rafael. None of this stopped him from flaunting his nakedness in front of João, though.

João’s lip curled. “Yeah, he might like it but I don’t. Now go put some clothes on. And hurry. I’m leaving in five minutes.”

“What?!” Jaime exclaimed, leaping up from the couch so suddenly his uncircumcised cock and  saggy balls flopped heavily up and down. “I need to shower first!” He sprang into action, scurrying into the bathroom and turning on the faucet. As usual, he failed to close the door behind him and João was treated to the unwelcome sight of Jaime bending over with his legs spread. João shuddered as the dude’s furry ass cleft parted, exposing his very well-used hole. Jaime was the ‘proud’ owner of a gaping man-cunt.

João shook his head, disgusted. Rafael was hung like a fuckin’ horse so it made sense that Jaime’s cunt was so big and sloppy. He knew this about Rafeal because the dude had to wear custom-made shorts and pants like João. Of course, as huge as he was, Rafael was still no match for João’s mega-sized equipment. João still presided over all other males on Planet Earth when it came to his endowment. 

Being so huge was a pyrrhic victory and João paid a dear price for his unrivaled size. First, he’d never found a woman with a mouth big enough to go down on him. Second, he’d only once had sex with a woman who could accommodate his hulking cock and that experience had gotten him fired. Third and most important, he was the laughingstock wherever he went. Unlike Rafael who could ‘pass’ in public by cramming his bulge into a viselike pair of briefs, João could do nothing to conceal his gargantuan member and bowling ball-sized nuts. His jutting tumescence was on public display wherever he went. If anything, it seemed to grow bigger over time and was now even longer, fatter and heavier than ever.

His endowment was nearly as big of a liability as his dark skin and he was sure it was part of the reason he had to fight so damned hard to earn a decent living. Even after ten years of working for Carlos, he’d only just recently been promoted to foreman. Carlos didn’t like his clients to see João and did his best to hide him whenever there was an important meeting on the construction site. He told João that, if the clients saw him, it would damage his company’s image.

This hurt João’s pride.

But what could he do?

He was just a big, dumb ox with a bull-cock that dragged on the ground behind him.

No wonder Carlos sneered behind his back and the guys on the construction crew laughed at him. No wonder he’d never found another job in over ten years of looking. And no wonder no woman ever wanted to marry him. Oh, sure, he had plenty of sex because, even at forty five, he was still in amazing shape thanks to the strenuous nature of his job. And he had his eye-popping bulge to serve as free advertising wherever he went. There was no shortage of ladies eager to hop on and give his tool a workout. The problem was that they never saw past his hulking dick. And, after trying and failing to insert his monster into their various orifices, they eventually gave up. He never saw the same woman twice. 

That was why he was still single after all these years. 

His shoulders slumped with defeat, his good mood evaporating. Yeah, he was a loser just like Melodie always said. Why did he even bother? He’d never own a house or have a family like her and Jeffrey. Fuck, he couldn’t even afford to live on his own! Even Elio never wanted to visit him. His kid always complained about how small and dirty the apartment was. Of course, nothing could compare to the palatial suite of rooms Elio enjoyed at his mom’s house…the house that João had built with his own hands.

“Dude, can you come in here and help me wash my back?” Jaime called from the shower, startling him out of his doom spiral. His cousin opened the shower curtain and looked over his shoulder at João, batting his eyelashes.

João did a double take when Jaime wiggled his big, hairy ass. (Whoa, did he get implants???) Jaime had grown decidedly heavier after he took that desk job in Carlos’ office and carried most of the new weight in his ass. Even so, the massive globes swaying languidly behind him looked bigger than usual. João gaped. Jaime’s ass almost rivaled João’s own!

“Well?” Jaime prompted, smiling over his shoulder at João’s stunned reaction. 

João jerked, realizing he’d actually been admiring that gravity-defying booty. His cheeks colored and he turned away, barking, “Do it yerself! I’m not Rafael!” 

Why did his cock choose that moment to stiffen in his shorts?

***

João drove his new, used truck over to Melodie and Jeff’s. It was bigger than his previous beater and he and Jaime fit inside the cab comfortably. Even better, it was a four-door with a passenger seat in back. This meant that João could carry more than just one passenger and made him more popular with Elio and his friends when he drove them to their soccer games.

They pulled into the driveway of the mansion, parking in the shade of a lone catalpa. João got out and hauled a cooler full of Brahma beer–his and Jaime’s favorite–out of the back, dragging it behind him up the drive and around the back of the house. 

As many times as João had visited the house, he still felt out of place. He had too many bad memories of slaving away under the brutal July sun ten years ago when he’d built the place. And, of course, there was the insult of having to build Melodie’s new ‘love nest’ after she divorced him in favor of Jeffrey. Bile still rose in his throat every time he thought about it.

Jeffrey was waiting for him in the back yard. Sweating and tapping his foot impatiently, he scowled at João. “I told you to be here an hour ago. You know you’re the only one who can run this thing!” He tilted his head toward the immense gas grill beside him, muttering, “And Lord knows I’m not going to stay out here in front of the hot grill when there’s so much to be done.”

João could sense Jaime’s rising indignation behind him. His cousin had never cared much for Jeffrey and seemed to resent the man almost more than João himself. For his part, though, João was unruffled. Actually, he was just happy that his command of English had improved enough for him to understand Jeffrey’s mutterings. The obscure English language might never flow off his tongue like it did for Jaime but at least he understood most of what people were saying.

“Move,” João said, pushing past Jeffrey. “I’ll take it from here. Grab the steaks and burgers and I’ll get cooking.”

Jeffrey bristled at João’s tone; he wasn’t used to being ordered about like a common servant! But one look at João’s stern visage and he backed off, turning meekly to go into the kitchen and get the meat. João gloated as he tied an apron around his waist, positioning it strategically to conceal his bulge. It didn’t provide much cover but it was something. And the grill helped, too. João made a point of manning the grill whenever Melodie invited him over. As long as he stood behind the monstrosity, the guests wouldn’t have a prurient view of the monstrosity between his thighs.

“Huh. Would ya look at him?” Jaime commented, taking up the ‘copilot’ position next to João. “I’ve never seen Jeff act like that before! You ordered him around like he was a dog.” He paused, taking note of Jeffrey’s flabby, shapeless body and sagging posterior. “I’ll bet Melodie’s kickin’ herself now over dumpin’ yer sorry ass. Her hubby hasn’t aged nearly as well as my stud cousin!” He patted João on the perky rump as he said this, pinching a butt cheek.

João braced, pulling away. “Shut up and get me a beer.” He was secretly pleased by Jaime’s observation, though. He’d noted Jeffrey’s speedy decline toward middle age with a smug pride. White guys–especially white guys who sat on their asses all day–didn’t tend to age very well. He loved his big, muscular body and its resiliency. In all his years doing construction, he was still nearly as flexible and energetic as he’d been at nineteen.

And speaking of nineteen…

He looked around, wondering where his son, Elio, was. The kid was supposed to be at the barbecue today. It was the only reason that João had consented to come. Melodie had promised he’d be there!

“Don’t worry, João,” a woman’s voice said behind him. “Elio’ll be here soon. He went to pick up some of his friends. They’re gonna join us for the fireworks.”

He turned, smiling, to find Melodie exiting the pool area. She was in a one-piece swimsuit–red, white and blue, of course–and her blond hair was wet. She dabbed at it with a towel as she returned João’s smile. Unlike Jeffrey, she had aged gracefully and still had a decent body. The tummy tuck after her fourth baby had no doubt helped but João also knew that, unlike Jeffrey, she at least exercised. Not that he found skinny white women like her attractive. He still wondered what it was about her that had attracted him in the first place.

It didn’t take him long to remember: The Green Card. 

Melodie had consented to marry him so he could get citizenship. They were only supposed to pretend to be married but, well, one night they’d both gotten drunk and…nine months later, Elio had been born. He was a miracle baby in a number of ways, not the least because João had managed to ram his enormous cock far enough into Melodie’s tight pussy to conceive him. He shivered at the memory, wishing he could expunge it permanently from his mind. Then again, he thought, as much as I regret it, I’m glad I got Elio out of the deal. He’s a good kid.

Melodie turned at the sound of a squeal of delight to find her three youngest children–the ones that she’d had with Jeffrey–running gleefully out of the pool to swarm around João. They laughed, jumping up and down and splattering water, as he gathered them up in his big arms. He had to admit he’d grown to love these kids despite the fact their father was Jeffrey. Ranging in age from ten to five years, their names were Carson, Katie and Elise. Blond and blue-eyed like Melodie and Jeffrey, they made for a cute trio.

They smothered him–and Jaime, too–with hugs and kisses, only reluctantly leaving after Jeffrey shooed them away. “João has to cook,” Jeffrey said sternly, handing João a pair of tongs and a platter of meat. “Now go play until the other kids arrive.” The kids obediently left, casting longing glances back at João. Jeffrey stalked off, retreating into the comfort of the air conditioning.

It was a hot day but João was used to it. He worked outside all year long and had developed a tolerance for extreme temperatures. Having dark skin helped, too. He barely noticed the hot sun overhead as he started up the grill and got cooking.

Elio arrived about a half hour later just as the rest of the guests were trailing in. “Papa!” he yelled, running up the driveway and throwing himself in João’s arms. “I didn’t think you’d be here!”

João laughed, fondly stroking his son’s head. Elio had grown into a tall and handsome young man, taking after João in all the right ways. He had his height and strength without any of his ungainly muscles and, more importantly, he’d apparently inherited his endowment from the white side of the family because he lacked João’s massive size…down there. He was dark-skinned and dark-haired like his father but his features, rather than blocky and bulldog-like, were elegant. His brown eyes were tender and wide; even at age nineteen, he still possessed the innocent doe-eyes of his childhood. 

In short, Elio was a very attractive boy and had more than his share of female admirers. The truth was, however, that João had never known his son to have a girlfriend, much less a girl crush, and suspected Elio might be gay. He didn’t care, though. He was proud of Elio no matter whom he (eventually) fucked.

“You’re gonna stay for the fireworks, right?” Elio had detached himself from João to give Jaime an affectionate hug. “Please tell me you’ll come to the fireworks!”

João was opening his mouth to respond when he spotted a girl and boy standing behind Elio. He didn’t recognize them and for some reason felt an almost instantaneous dislike toward both. They were white and seemed to be around the same age as Elio. The girl was watching Elio with a barely-concealed sneer on her pretty face while the boy looked off into the distance, bored. Everything about them screamed rich and overly privileged and João wondered why Elio was hanging out with them. 

It didn’t take long for him to figure it out.

Noticing João’s attention, Elio let go of Jaime and walked over to the boy’s side, saying, “Papa, this is Beck Hamilton, my new housemate, and his girlfriend, Tanya.” 

The way Elio stared at Beck with utter adoration spoke volumes. Instantly, João went from suspecting that his son might be gay to knowing with certainty that Elio was a homosexual. A homosexual who was utterly in love with Beck, that is. 

João politely squeezed Tanya’s (clammy) hand and gave Beck a curt nod, thinking, Jesus, Elio! Why’d you have to pick him? He’s obviously straight and isn’t the least bit interested in you!

Beck had to force himself to acknowledge João’s presence. Dripping with icy aloofness, his blue eyes flicked briefly to João’s before dropping down to his crotch. He flinched, lip wrinkling with distaste, when he saw that enormous bulge jutting out from his shorts, so big it dwarfed a basketball. He turned away.

Fucking prick, João thought, giving Beck the cold shoulder in return. Still, he had to admit that the kid was pretty cute; he could see why Elio had a crush on him. Resembling a young Zac Efron from his High School: The Musical days–João had been forced to watch those movies with Elio more times than he cared to admit–Beck was muscular and of medium height. His blondish-brown hair was conservatively styled but left just messy enough to be rakish. He had an upturned nose, full lips, and just a hint of stubble on his cheeks. Wearing a football jersey with his last name stenciled across the back and a tight pair of jeans, he exuded ‘jock’ from his very pores. There was something about his jawline, though, that hinted at an underlying softness. The next moment, though, Beck’s expression hardened and any trace of tenderness disappeared. He was once again an alpha jock, too proud and haughty to be seen with the likes of João.

Tanya was much the same as Beck, only in a girly sort of way. She clearly knew she was hot and enjoyed flaunting it. With her hair dyed black and wearing too much chalky makeup and fake eyelashes, she attempted to come across as goth but was too pretty and well-dressed to pull it off. João rolled his eyes; in his many years living in Melodie and Jeff’s shadow, he’d met plenty of rich girls just like her. And, to be honest, he’d had enough of skinny, white bitches to last him a lifetime.

João ignored them and turned back to Elio and the grill.

Elio was clearly delighted that João was there and, unlike previous visits, hung around him and Jaime the whole time. He chattered about soccer and the start of his freshman year at college in the fall. He asked if João could drive him and a couple of his friends to a pre-season match in Falls Church next week and bragged about being selected to play on the university’s team. João praised him, nodding and folding his arms in approval. Elio lapped it up, practically peeing all over himself with happiness.

João shook his head. He had no idea why Elio looked up to him. By his own admission, he’d been a terrible father and had barely been present for the kid. Plus, he could never compare with Melodie and Jeffrey when it came to wealth and opportunity. Still, he’d tried to be there for Elio at the important times and knew that Elio appreciated his efforts, even if he refused to ever spend a weekend with João.

The other guests had arrived by then and the spacious backyard was crowded. As usual, people steered clear of João and Jaime. He was convinced that these stupid rich people thought they were catering staff. He caught more than a few of them casting stares in his direction. Some were intrigued and some were flirty. Mostly, though, people looked at him with derision. He was used to it. Being a hulking black man living in America was to be a target of racial animosity, fear and revulsion. 

And sometimes desire. 

Yeah, he was more than aware of White America’s obsession with ‘Big Black Cock’. Being as ridiculously endowed as he was, he got more than his share of it. He steered clear of such people, though. The last thing he wanted was to be treated like nothing more than a penis. Besides, he preferred black women.

Melodie and a sweaty, disheveled Jeffrey mingled with the guests. Every once in a while, João could hear Melodie’s ringing laughter over the buzz of conversation. He was certain that one time he heard his name and the words, ‘Green Card,’ but, when he looked over, Melodie ducked her head and pretended not to see him. João gritted his teeth. If it weren’t for Elio, he’d never have fucking come!

“Can Beck and Tanya ride with us in your truck to the fireworks, Papa?”

He turned to find Elio standing beside him, clasping his hands together and smiling charmingly. Beck and Tanya were a few feet away, their backs turned; Beck’s arm was slung over Tanya’s shoulders. João shook himself, not really wanting to but also not wanting to say no to Elio. “Sure,” he grunted. “All three of you fit in the back?” He ignored Jaime’s groan of protest; he knew without asking that his cousin found the two rich kids just as repugnant as he did.

“Yeah, ‘course!” Elio chirped, clapping his hands together like a little kid. “You’re the best, Papa!”

***

João and Jaime got stuck on childcare duty when they got to the park. The fireworks didn’t start until after dark which was still more than an hour away. Melodie and Jeffrey wandered off to stake out territory for prime viewing, leaving Carson, Katie and Elise in João’s capable hands. Elio and his friends disappeared as soon as they arrived but Elio promised they’d be back to enjoy the fireworks.

Jaime grumbled a bit but João didn’t mind. It was better than hanging out with Melodie and Jeffrey! He let the kids lead him over to an old playground with rusted equipment. There was no one around, something that seemed odd to João until he looked over to see another, newer playground nearby.

“Why don’t we go over there?” He pointed to the new playground.

“No!” Carson protested while Elise and Katie shook their heads. “We wanna play here! It’s funner!”

João looked at the bedraggled equipment, thinking it wouldn’t be out of place in a poor section of Rio. Still, who was he to complain? He shrugged and gamely got down on all fours while the kids took turns riding him like a bucking bronco.

They played for a long time until João was hot and sweaty. Finally, he held up his hands, panting, “Ok, that’s enough. Let’s go find your parents.” Jaime nodded hopefully but Carson once again put his foot down.

“No! I wanna go down that!” he said, pointing to a tube slide that emptied out into a weedy sandbox. “And I want you to go down with me!”

João looked askance at the slide. The tube slide was child-sized, clearly not designed to fit someone of his enormous girth. When he waffled, though, Carson threw a tantrum and finally João gave in. The girls, however, were tired of playing. Taking Jaime by the hand, they called out, “We’re going to find Momma and Daddy!” Jaime smirked back at João, shrugging his shoulders as if to say, ‘What can I do but go along?’ João scowled back at him as Carson tugged him over toward the slide.

He managed to distract Carson for a long time by offering to push him down the slide. Eventually, though, the boy pleaded, “Uncle João! You go down now! I’ll push you!”

João held up his hands. “Uh, no. I don’t think–”

“BUT I WANT YOU TO!” Carson cried, tears suddenly appearing in his eyes. “YOU PROMISED!”

João capitulated. What choice did he have? He assessed the opening to the tube, thinking, Maybe if I roll my shoulders I’ll fit? In the end, he took a deep breath and curled his broad shoulders like a potato chip, hoping desperately he wouldn’t get stuck.

He made it almost to the end of the slide before the chute narrowed slightly, trapping him. He was left there with his legs flailing through the opening at the bottom while his upper body remained lodged painfully inside the tube.

“Carson!” he called out. “Help me! Pull on my feet!” The little boy obliged but was far too small to be much help. Finally, after a few failed attempts, João asked, “Are you Ok going to find your parents by yourself?” It was nearly dark by then and João worried about the boy. Even though Carson was already ten years old and more than capable of such a task, he didn’t want to face Melodie’s wrath when she discovered that João had abandoned the kid. What else could he do, though? He was well and truly stuck and needed someone strong to pull him out.

“I-I-I think so!” Carson wailed.

“Good,” came João’s muffled reply. “Go find them and bring Jaime back with you. He’ll be able to get me out.”

The boy disappeared, leaving João trapped in the rapidly darkening tube. The park was completely deserted and he could only hear the far off noise of the crowd gathered for the fireworks. He struggled a bit more but it was no use; he was really stuck.

Finally, after it was pitch black and he could hear the distant thud and boom of fireworks, he heard the scuff of someone’s feet on the dirt nearby. “Oh, thank god, Jaime!” he sighed in Portuguese. “You’re finally here.” When Jaime didn’t reply, he called out in English, “Hey! Is that you, Jaime? C’mere and help me out! I’m stuck!”

Silence.

Just when he thought the person had disappeared, he heard footsteps again, closer this time. He kicked his feet, pleading, “Please help me! I can’t get out!”

In answer, he felt someone take hold of his belt and pull. He was momentarily relieved when he felt his big body slide down a few inches but then he grew alarmed as his momentum stopped and the person unfastened his belt. A moment later, his ‘rescuer’ unbuttoned his shorts, too, and proceed to yank them off! João yelped. He was now bare-ass naked, clad only in his super-sized jockstrap.

“Hey! Stop it!” he yelled. “Put my shorts back on!”

The person didn’t stop, though. João withered in utter humiliation when he felt his jockstrap slide down his mountainous thighs and his more than two-foot-long schlong and bowling-ball-sized nuts flopped free.

He was naked in public!

Even though it was dark and he couldn’t see anything, he knew then without a doubt who the other person was. “JAIME!” he screamed. “This isn’t funny! Put my shorts back on right now or I’ll fuckin’ kill you when I get out of here!”

This tirade was met with utter silence.

 And then the unthinkable happened.

Jaime picked up his giant cock and began to stroke it with both hands! 

He grimaced, fighting the surging arousal that threatened to overwhelm him. He couldn’t get hard! Not in public! And not with his cousin! He’d be deported for a sex crime! 

And yet…

His cock didn’t give a fuck who was jacking it. 

In seconds, blood rushed into his girthy shaft, giving him the biggest, fattest, longest erection in the history of mankind. He felt his pole swell to truly gargantuan proportions as Jaime continued stroking him harder and harder.

“Jaime,” he gasped pitifully. “Stop! Please! Stop!”

Jaime didn’t stop. No, far from stopping, he proceeded to completely blow João’s mind (and cock) by peeling back his voluminous foreskin and lowering his lips onto his glistening glans.

And then he swallowed.

!

!!

!!!

Jaime had swallowed his cock!

No way!

He couldn’t believe it.

No one had ever managed to take all of him inside their mouth (and throat and stomach.) Never! João had gone his entire life without ever receiving one measly fucking blowjob.

His wide hips bucked and his sphincter clenched as he let loose a long, low groan of pure ecstasy. By that point, he didn’t fucking care if he was in public being blown by his own cousin. All he desired was the exquisite feeling of those full, soft lips and the enveloping warmth of that throat. His eyes rolled back in his head and he felt his balls begin to spasm. He willed the impending orgasm away, though. He never wanted this blowjob to end!

He had no idea how Jaime managed to position himself to take nearly the full length of his massive organ inside his mouth. Had he brought a step ladder? Was he dangling from a crane? Held in place by a series of gears and pulleys? He couldn’t think too much about it, though, because he was succumbing to wave after intense wave of orgasm. His balls churned, spewing forth a truck load of the hottest, juiciest jizz imaginable. Jaime was a pro, though, and swallowed every last drop, licking João’s glans clean and caressing the folds of his foreskin with his tongue before pulling it back over like a protective turtleneck sweater. João’s erection was subsiding by that point and Jaime dutifully pulled his jockstrap back up, stuffing his equipment inside before zipping up his shorts and buckling his belt.

And then, with a fond pat on João’s monster balls, Jaime sauntered off into the night, leaving João just as stuck as ever.

João almost didn’t care, though.

He was too busy drifting off into the pleasant pink haze of post-coital bliss.

He’d gotten a blowjob!

He’d finally gotten a fuckin’ blowjob for the first time in his goddamned life!

***

Chapter 5

Things didn’t go well for João that night.

First, no one found him until an hour after the fireworks which meant he was lodged in the tube for over two hours, kicking and squirming and yelling the whole time. Then, when Jeffrey finally tracked him down, he wasn’t strong enough to pull João loose. Jaime was nowhere to be found so Jeffrey had to call 9-1-1. And then João spent another hour stuck in the slide while a crew of firefighters struggled to free him.

In the meantime, the video crew and a reporter from a local news station happened upon the scene and filmed the whole rescue operation on live television. (When João saw the footage, he was humiliated beyond belief, not the least because the station blurred out his crotch area, making it seem like he was naked.)

Finally, adding insult to injury, one of the firefighters had gotten handsy during the rescue and fondled João’s equipment, even reaching down the back of his shorts to finger his asshole. João had gone berserk but, stuck firmly inside the tube, he was helpless to fight back. All he could do was lay there and let the guy manhandle his precious manhood and virginal ass pucker…while the cameras rolled.

Later, in the truck on the drive home, João was still fuming.

“The fucker groped me!” he shouted in Portuguese, slapping the steering wheel. “On fuckin’ live television!”

“Calm down, dude,” Jaime soothed, reaching over to squeeze his knee. “At least he gave you his number! He’s fuckin’ hot! You should call him!”

“Oh, fuck you, Jaime!” João spat, yanking his knee away. “He was gross!” He sat there, seething, until Jaime’s touch reminded him of something else. Turning to his cousin, he fixed him with an incendiary glare. “And YOU!” he shouted. “You’re no better! You took advantage of me! I could fuckin’ kill you!”

Jaime’s forehead wrinkled. “Me? What did I do?”

“You know very well what you did,” João growled, face burning with outrage and humiliation. “I can’t believe you’d do that to me! I’m your fuckin’ cousin! Your cousin, Jaime!”

“Um, help me out here, bro. What exactly do you think I did?”

João glanced away from the road and fixed his cousin with an icy stare. Jaime blinked back at him innocently. The fucker’s a good liar, João thought. But I’m on to him! He took a deep breath, spitting, “You blew me, that’s what! You pulled down my shorts and blew me when I was stuck inside that fuckin’ tube and couldn’t do anything to stop you!”

Jaime’s mouth fell open. He stared at João with wide eyes. In the dim light of the dashboard, João watched the color drain out of his face. “J-J-João,” he stammered, “I didn’t…I mean, I wouldn’t! I would never take advantage of you like that!” He paused before revealing, “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’ve wanted to blow you for as long as I can remember. In fact, more than that, I’d love to–”

Before he could finish the sentence, Elio called out from the back seat. “Did you guys forget I speak Portuguese?”

João and Jaime froze, sheepish. They’d been so worked up that they’d forgotten that Elio and his friends were riding along in the back. João’s neck grew hot with shame. “Elio! Oh, god! I’m sorry!” he sputtered. “I-I-I-” He looked in the rearview mirror, meeting Elio’s nonplussed gaze. Beside his son, Beck and Tanya were silent; it was clear from their blank expressions that they had no idea what João and Jaime had been talking about.

“It’s Ok, Papa,” came his son’s reply. “I know Jaime’s bi and I know you get a lot of sex. But maybe you could refrain from, you know, talking about it so graphically in front of me and my friends?”

João hunched his big shoulders, mortified. “Ok.” He looked over at Jaime, hissing, “We’ll talk more about this when we get home. You’ve got a lot of explaining to do!” Jaime nodded meekly, just as chagrined as João.

“I mean, it’s, um, obvious,” Elio continued, leaning his elbows over the seat, “why everyone comes on to you, Papa. If anything, I’m envious. I wish I had inherited your–”

“No!” João shouted, startling both Jaime and Elio. “No, you don’t, Elio! I wouldn’t wish…this,” he gestured down at his mutant crotch, “on anyone. It’s a fuckin’ curse!”

“If you say so, Papa.” Elio sounded unconvinced. “But I still would give anything for even a quarter of your so-called curse. I mean, it’s not fair! How did I end up on the, uh, short end of the gene pool with you as my father?!”

“Can we, uh, not talk about this now?” João’s cheeks were flaming. “I’m sorry I got so worked up and I’m sorry I said, um, the stuff I said to Jaime. Now, let’s just forget all about it, OK?”

Elio sat back in his seat, crossing his arms unhappily. Jaime gave João a wry glance that he ignored. They rode in silence for the rest of the ride home.

***

Jaime denied everything. He was pretty convincing, too. In the end, João was left wondering if it really had been his cousin who blew him in the park that night. But, if it wasn’t Jaime, who had it been? He’d probably never know.

As mortified as he was about getting a blowjob in public, he was also secretly elated. As the weeks rolled by, he found his thoughts going back to that night over and over. The memory of those full, soft lips engulfing his monster and then that warm mouth and throat devouring him whole…Ungh! It had been heaven! In his heart, he longed to meet the person again…as long as it wasn’t Jaime, of course! He really didn’t want it to be a once in a lifetime experience.

August came and Elio started college. João helped him move his bedroom furniture from Melodie’s place into his rental house near campus, grunting and sweating as he labored up the stairs, Elio’s sofa loaded on his hulking shoulders. Elio followed along behind, carrying a divan and his favorite down comforter. 

When João looked around the place, he was impressed. The house put his and Jaime’s apartment to shame! This is what money’ll do for you, he thought, staring at the opulent surroundings. No wonder Elio never wanted to visit him!

“Lemme take you out for lunch, Papa,” Elio said, placing an affectionate hand on his arm. “Beck’ll join us.”

Beck? It took João a moment to remember who Beck was. Ah, that rich brat! Why does he have to come along? He wisely kept his mouth shut, though, and grunted his assent. He wondered where Beck was; he hadn’t seen the kid the whole time he’d been unloading the truck. Lazy asshole!

Lunch at a nearby diner was uncomfortable. Beck stared off into space the whole time, studiously ignoring them and refusing to participate in the conversation. His face was a stoic mask as if he were too lofty to be seen in public with common folk. Elio didn’t seem to mind his silence but João was fuming by the end of the meal. He couldn’t believe how rude the little fucker was! If Beck were his son, he’d fucking kick his ass until he learned some manners!

He was particularly annoyed because he and Elio were forced to speak in English out of respect for Beck (who was monolingual.) João hated English even after all of these years. It took so much energy to think of the right words and then translate them in his head! After a half hour, his brain was tired and he could barely string a coherent sentence together. His accent became thicker as he grew tired and he bristled when he saw Beck smirking at him.

Fuck you, you arrogant jock! he thought. Let’s hear you speak Portuguese and see how well you do!

It didn’t help watching Elio fawning over Beck. João stared with a clenched jaw as his son cut up Beck’s food into bite-sized pieces and fed them to him, smiling ingratiatingly the whole time. He wanted to vomit. For fuck’s sake, Elio! Have some pride! The stupid fucker doesn’t even know you exist!

Beck sat there, smug as fuck, making João’s blood boil. He wanted to reach across the table and strangle him but somehow managed to keep his anger in check. He couldn’t stop himself from casting malevolent stares in the kid’s direction, though. The little brat was so pompous! 

Wearing a backward-turned baseball cap and a tight-fitting tank top, Beck’s white skin was pleasingly bronzed and the tufts of his exposed hair were sun-streaked. His blue eyes twinkled and his full lips were curved in a sphinx-like grin. He practically radiated health and wealth. João wondered what it would be like to waltz through life clad in such overwhelming privilege. It seemed like the kid didn’t have a care in the world and took it for granted that he was young, rich and desirable and therefore could do whatever the fuck he wanted. It galled João to no end.

The waitress approached their table at that moment, distracting João from his simmering resentment. She was quite pretty, after all. Just the kind of woman he liked. With big breasts, broad hips and a jiggly butt, she knew how to work her attributes to her benefit. She placed her hand gently on João’s knee and smiled down on him as she laid the check on the table. She had a really nice smile, too, he noticed. And her brown skin glowed with luster in the sunlight pouring through the window. As he returned her smile, her gaze slid meaningfully down to his crotch.

“I, um, get off work in fifteen minutes,” she said in Portuguese, her sweet voice lilting through the air to caress his eardrums. “If you would like to…”

João’s big cock throbbed and he grinned wolfishly back at her. He was about to reply when Elio shifted across the table. He looked over and saw his son’s cheeks were rosy, betraying his discomfort. João didn’t give a fuck, though. After suffering through lunch with Beck, he felt entitled to a little fun. A good fuck would be just the thing!

He was opening his mouth to make a pass at her when Beck cleared his throat loudly. “I’ll take some water,” he said coldly, eyes riveted on the waitress’s hand on João’s knee. When she hesitated, he added, “Now. If you please.” It was the first time he had said anything the entire meal.

The waitress faltered, lifting her hand away. “Y-Y-Yes, sir,” she stammered in accented English. “Just one moment.”

She scurried away, leaving João seething with anger. He looked over at Beck, lip curling. Beck merely blinked innocently back at him before turning back to stare out the window.

Elio put his hand out to take the check but João stopped him, clapping his big mitt over the piece of paper. “No,” he said gruffly. “It’s on me.”

The waitress came back at that moment with Beck’s water and placed it in front of him before turning back to João hopefully.

“We’re leaving,” Beck stated, glaring at the woman. “You may go now.”

That was enough!

João slammed his hands down on the table, startling everyone and spilling Beck’s water. The waitress backed away and Elio and Beck turned fearfully to him. João opened his mouth, preparing to rip Beck a new asshole but Elio stopped him. 

“Papa, please!” his son pleaded. “Don’t make a scene!” He looked around the restaurant where several customers had turned to stare in their direction.

Chest heaving, João fought for self-control, finally managing to pull himself together after a few deep breaths. Giving Beck a murderous glare, he spat, “Let’s the fuck out of here. The sooner I dump you off at home, the better!”

***

“Beck’s really a good guy,” Elio soothed after they pulled up in front of his house. (Even before João parked, Beck had thrown open the door of the truck and stomped away.) “You shouldn’t be so mean to him.”

João merely stared back at Elio, not trusting himself to reply. Finally, he forced a smile that never reached his eyes, saying, “I’ll see you soon? Maybe sometime you could come stay at my place? Our new apartment has a guest bedroom that you can use.”

Elio looked off to the side. “Yeah, maybe. It’ll depend on my schedule. I’m awfully busy right now.” When João’s shoulders fell, he added, “But I’m going to Beck’s season opener on Saturday. Why don’t you come with me? His parents can’t go and they gave me their tickets.”

João had to struggle to school his features. He did pretty well, too; only a slightly clenched jaw gave away his inner turmoil.

When he remained silent, Elio sweetened the deal. “We get box seats along with access to the fifty yard line. There’ll be free food…”

João deliberated. The last thing he wanted was to go watch Beck play football. He never wanted to see the kid again! (And, quite honestly, he felt that American football was the dumbest, most boring game in the world. He had no idea why it was so popular when soccer was the real football.) On the other hand, he really longed to spend more time with his son. If he went, Beck would be busy playing football and not around to cause trouble. That meant that he’d get Elio all to himself for three hours.

“Sure, count me in,” he rumbled, trying not to sound too unhappy.

“Great! See you here on Saturday morning at eleven!” Smiling broadly, Elio leaned over and kissed him on the cheek before exiting the cab. 

***

Saturday morning rolled around and he was out in front of Elio’s house at the appointed time. Elio was waiting with Beck. João scowled when he saw the boy. Doesn’t he have a car of his own? He’s richer than shit and still has to mooch a ride off of me!

Beck slung his heavy duffle bag into the back seat and slammed the door, sitting back with his arms crossed. He didn’t even say hello. Elio, noting the tension between his father and best friend, did his best to keep the conversation going. João wanted to be a good sport but the mere presence of the spoiled little rich brat in his back seat was enough to annoy him. He was only too happy to drop Beck off at the entrance to the sports complex, smirking happily as the boy snatched his gear and stalked away from the truck without a backward glance.

The box reserved for family members was palatial. Even better, as Elio promised, there was tons of free food laid out on banquet tables. After politely waiting his turn, he grabbed a plate and joined Elio, looking down at the football field. The stadium was filling up, the crowd a sea of mostly white people wearing orange and black. The fans of the visiting team only occupied a small section of the bleachers, their pitiful blue and gold colors barely registering. João looked around the box, noting that the family members of the team were quite a bit more racially diverse than the makeup of the fans in the stadium. Hmmm…

“His team’s quite promising this year,” Elio offered, distracting João from his thoughts. “Beck is their quarterback, even though he’s only a freshman. He totally dominated the old quarterback, forcing him back to second string. I’m super excited to see how he does!”

João stuffed a burrito in his mouth, not trusting himself to speak.

“Maybe when you’re done eating,” Elio continued, placing a hand on João’s shoulder, “we can go down on the field? I wanna be there when he runs out with the rest of the team.”

João swallowed bile but nevertheless found himself nodding. They took a private elevator down to the fifty yard line which was conveniently located next to the team’s entrance onto the field. Elio stood by his side, even putting his arm through João’s elbow. João knew his son was trying to cheer him up…and it worked. He smiled down at his boy, ruffling his wavy hair affectionately.

“Are you from Rio, too?” a woman asked in Portuguese behind them. 

João turned to find himself staring at a totally stunning beauty. She was tall and dark-skinned with stylish black hair and brown eyes. She appeared to be around his own age and was in remarkably good shape. Her dress was about as short as she could get away with in this part of the United States. João found his eyes invariably drawn down to her legs and then to her very  prominent posterior. She was fuckin’ hot! He was starting to salivate when he caught himself and forced his gaze back to her face.

“Uh, yeah,” he said, all but panting. “How’d ya guess?”

The woman smiled. “Your ass. It’s written there.”

João flushed, forgetting he’d worn his favorite pair of shorts with the words, ‘Carioca,’ emblazoned across the butt. “Oh, yeah.” He looked back at his own very prominent posterior, smiling when he saw the bold letters.

“Is your son on the team?” The woman’s eyes were doing to João’s body what he’d just done to hers. Predictably, her gaze locked onto his massive bulge. As always, it jutted out before him like he was smuggling two bowling balls and a kingpin in there.

João smirked, thrusting his crotch out further and savoring her delighted reaction. “No, not my son,” he said. “Just a friend.” Next to him, Elio squirmed and João took the opportunity to offer, “This is my son.”

“What a handsome boy!” the woman cooed, reaching out to pinch Elio’s cheek. He was remarkably tolerant and didn’t pull away, although João could tell he was really uncomfortable. Elio never liked it when he flirted with women.

“He is,” João agreed. “Like his father.” 

The woman laughed and Elio elbowed him in the ribs. “True, true,” she said. “His father is very handsome.” She seemed like she wanted to say something else but instead offered, “My son is a defensive lineman. He’s quite handsome as well. Just, well, sort of fat.”

João laughed and was about to reply when the band started playing the school anthem and the football players came pouring out onto the field amidst much fanfare. Beck was in the lead, of course, clad in his orange and black football jersey with his last name, Hamilton, and Number Ten stenciled on the back. Even wearing his football gear and helmet, he was instantly recognizable by his peacocking stride. The kid always strutted like a prize rooster and it drove João nuts. Elio and the rest of the crowd went wild, roaring with excitement. The only person who was dead silent in the whole stadium was João.

As he stood there rolling his eyes, he grudgingly admitted that Beck was a good looking guy. He had an extremely athletic build and his body really filled out his uniform. His butt, in particular, was exceedingly voluptuous for a white guy and João found himself eying it critically until he caught himself and looked away. 

When Beck turned to face the crowd, João smirked; the kid might have a great body and bubble butt but it was clear from the crotch of his white tights that he lacked any discernible bulge. The trend these days, João knew, was for football players not to wear cups so he had an unobstructed view of the boy’s decidedly boy-sized package. Cocky little fucker! he thought. Serves him right!

“My name’s Rosario,” the woman said after the hubbub had died down and the teams were facing off against each other on the field. “I’m single.”

João’s cock surged to life in his shorts with these words. He was so captivated by Rosario and the prospect of hooking up that he didn’t even hear the referee blow the opening whistle. He turned, a lascivious grin plastered on his face, and was opening his mouth to reply when a football came zinging in from the field and clobbered him right in the oversized nuts. He doubled over, screaming in pain.

His vision washed over with a haze of agony and he lifted his head to look out on the field. A player was jogging across the turf toward them. As he watched, the guy stooped and picked up the rolling ball. “Sorry!” he called out. “Bad throw!”

It was Beck.

Fucking Beck Hamilton had hit him in the balls with a fucking football!

***

“Papa! I’m sure it was an accident!” Elio insisted as João lay on his back, pressing an ice pack against his aching balls. “People get hit all the time on the sidelines. It’s our fault for standing too close!”

“That wasn’t a fuckin’ accident!” João spat. “That asshole did it on purpose!”

Elio’s eyebrows drew together. “But Beck adores you, Papa! He’d never hurt you on purpose!”

“Adores me? More like he’s trying to cockblock me! How come every time I see the little fucker, he goes out of his way to fuck up my love life?”

Elio opened and closed his mouth, clearly hurt by João’s words even though they weren’t directed at him. His eyes filled with tears and he sputtered, “I-I-I love Beck, Papa! He’s the best friend I’ve ever had! P-P-Please don’t hate him! And please don’t call him names. I can’t stand it!”

João could never stand it when Elio cried. Feeling like he was the worst father in the world, he sat up and, grimacing pain, drew the boy against him. “I’m sorry, Elio,” he murmured, hugging him close. “I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry!”

Even as he said, he wondered why he was the one apologizing. It really chapped his ass that Elio blamed him for the ‘accident’ rather than admit his precious little ‘boyfriend’ was a raging asshole.

***

A week went by and João’s balls finally stopped throbbing from the football strike. Horny as fuck and craving alcohol, he was home by himself on a Friday evening, getting ready to head out to the bar. There was a new microbrewery nearby that catered to South American tastes and he was eager to try it out. Even better, Jaime said the place was crawling with single women. He smiled, huge cock plumping up between his thighs.

Knock, knock.

He looked up from the sink at the sound of someone at the door. He was trimming his beard after a shower with his bathrobe open around his waist. His immense club and nuts swung lazily between his thighs, foreskin drawing figure-eights on the floor at his feet. Curious, he looked over at his phone to see if there was a text from Rafael. Jaime’s boyfriend sometimes forgot his key and needed João to let him in. The weird thing, though, was that Jaime was spending the weekend at Rafael’s so it would be highly unusual for the guy to stop by now.

The phone’s screen was blank; there were no texts.

Huh? Must be one of the neighbors, João thought. Prolly need me to feed their cat or something.

He tied the drawstring on his robe and padded over to the door. Opening it, his eyes bugged out of his head when he saw who was standing outside. “What the FUCK are you doing here?!” he spat, not caring how rude he was being.

Beck hunched his broad shoulders and looked off to the side. “I, um, I mean, that is…I’m here to meet up with Elio. Is he around?” Standing on his tiptoes, he stared past João, scanning the apartment as if his friend might be hiding somewhere within.

“Elio?!” João barked, making Beck jump. “What the fuck? He’s never even been here! I don’t think he even knows where I live!”

Beck recovered from his shock quickly, typical nonchalance reasserting itself. “I dunno. He just said to meet him here. Mind if I come in?” He started to push past but João’s big hand on his shoulder stopped him.

“No, you can’t. I was just leaving.” His tone was hard. Very hard. ”And so are you. Now.”

Beck shrugged off the hand, looking up at João with his disconcerting blue eyes. The kid really knew how to eyeball a guy! “Where are ya going?” he asked, eyes narrowing in suspicion. His voice was light but there was an edge to it that made João’s blood boil.

“None of yer fuckin’ business,” he growled. “Now go away.” He pointed to the exit, blocking Beck’s entry into his apartment.

“Are you going out to the bar?” Beck pressed, crossing his arms defiantly. “Take me with you.”

João’s mouth fell open. “Are you outta yer fuckin’ mind, you little shit? You’re not even twenty one. And, even if you were, there’s no fuckin’ way I’d ever take ya with me!”

“I have a fake ID,” Beck offered, undeterred by João’s attitude. “And I’m buying. C’mon. Get dressed and let’s go.”

João crossed his beefy arms, unable to believe he was even having this conversation. “I told you–”

But Beck had already ducked past him, shooting inside the apartment before João could react. As the football team’s star quarterback, Beck possessed a preternatural ability to evade even the most stalwart blocker.

João whirled around, trying to catch the kid’s collar but Beck was too fast. He sped past João and took a seat on the sofa. Adopting his familiar imperious demeanor, he ordered, “I said get ready. Didn’t you understand? You do speak English, right?” He crossed his legs and leaned back dismissively.

João’s face, neck and back boiled hot with rage. He balled his fists, looming over the insolent brat. Beck looked up at him blandly, unphased. João fish-mouthed, completely flummoxed by the boy’s chutzpah. With great difficulty, he somehow managed to rein in his ire, though. His rationality slowly returned as he cooled off and he calmly pointed out, “What about Elio? I thought you were meeting him here.”

“I’ll text him the location of the bar if you tell me where we’re going,” Beck replied. “He’ll meet up with us.” When this didn’t appease João, he suggested, “Why don’t you call Elio if you don’t believe me? He’s the one who told me to come here.”

“Ok, I’ll do it.” João pulled out his phone and called his son. The call went to voicemail so he texted him, >>Bec heer sez u kumming ryte<< He pressed send and waited for a reply.

Five minutes later, Beck cleared his throat. “Dude, why don’t we just go? He’ll catch up with us later.”

João glared at him but nonetheless found himself reluctantly going into his bedroom to get dressed. His actions befuddled him. Why was he so obedient? He hated Beck. HATED him. And yet he ran around and did whatever the boy ordered as if he was some sort of dog. Angry with himself, he’d only just slipped out of his bathrobe when he heard the door open and turned to find Beck watching him from the doorway. He jumped, causing his massive equipment to flop heavily up and down. His bowling ball-sized nuts smashed painfully against his knees and he howled in pain. Again! he thought, seething. What is it with this kid and my balls?

“Dude, how do you do it?” Beck asked, ignoring João’s howling. “What’s it like being so hung?”

“GET OUT!” João yelled. “GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!” He hobbled over to the door, his nuts swinging back and forth so severely that they threatened to unbalance him. Pushing Beck out of the way, he slammed the door and locked it.

What the fuck was wrong with the brat? Did he have brain damage? Was he just so rich and privileged that he thought he could go wherever and do whatever he wanted? Pulling out his phone, he tried calling Elio again and almost left a voicemail pleading for him to come over but thought better of it. He didn’t want Elio to know how exasperated he was. The kid already thought his temper was out of control. Would a frantic voicemail convince him otherwise?

He emerged from the bedroom a few minutes later, still incandescent with rage. Beck looked up from scrolling through his phone, an amused expression on his boyish face. “Whatsa matter, bro?” he asked. “Why’re you such a pussy ‘bout bein’ naked in front of another guy? Did ya forget I’m on the football team? I’ve seen everything!”

João pointed down at the basketball-sized bulge jutting out from the crotch of his cargo shorts. “This!” he said. “This is why. I’m fuckin’ tired of people staring at me! That’s all they do all the time! I’m over it! I’m fuckin’ over it!” He shook his head wearily. “You’d think I could have some privacy in my own home.”

“It’s nuthin’ to be ashamed of,” Beck observed. “Fuck, I’d give anything to have a cock your size. You should see the little peanut I’ve got between my legs. It’s embarrassing.” He looked away, unable to meet João’s gaze.

João opened his mouth but then stopped, disarmed by the boy’s honesty. He wanted in the worst to kick the little fucker out of his apartment but instead found himself grumbling, “You don’t. Trust me. You don’t want this.”

Beck looked up at him, a fire burning in his blue eyes. “You’re wrong! I’d do anything to be like you. Anything! I’d even give up football. Shit, I’d even give up all my money and disown my family! I’d do it all just to be like you for one month. I’d even sell my soul to the devil, if there was such a thing!” He pushed himself up from the sofa as he said this, feverish with passion. Before João knew what was happening Beck threw himself across the room and stood before him with tears in his eyes. “You don’t know it,” he said between gritted teeth. “You don’t know what it’s like to be me.”

João had no idea what to say. He wanted to laugh at the kid’s theatrics–Seriously, how bad can this kid’s life be? So what if he has a button dick? He’s fuckin’ richer than shit!–but his smile faded and the laugh died in his throat as he looked down into Beck’s sad eyes. When a tear slid down his downy cheek, João reached out and wiped it away. “Beck,” he said with unexpected tenderness. “You have it–”

“DON’T!” Beck spat, pulling his face away from João’s hand. “I know what you’re gonna say and you’re wrong. WRONG!” Regaining his composure, he dropped his hands from João’s arms and stepped away, muttering, “C’mon. Let’s just go. I need a drink. Bad.”

***

Despite Beck’s pronouncement, it was João who got roaring drunk that night. Maybe because the arrogant little prick–Literally a little prick, João thought, laughing to himself–was buying, he overindulged far beyond his usual ten beers. (João was a big guy who could really hold his liquor.) He ended up droning on and on about himself, mostly in Portuguese but occasionally in English, to the unusually attentive Beck. The boy listened intently to everything he said, peppering him with questions about his life and getting especially interested when João talked about the time he was under the delusion that he was a prestigious lawyer. He expected the little cocky jock to wave this off but Beck sat up on his tool and leaned in closer, eyes blazing with interest.

“Tell me more,” he said, placing a warm hand on João’s wrist. “I wanna hear all about it.”

“Ish juss nonshense,” João slurred. “I’m soooo thoopid! Me? A fuckin’ law-yer? Haha!”

“I don’t care how stupid it sounds,” Beck replied, motioning for the waiter to bring João another beer. “Tell me everything.”

João did. At least as much as his beer-addled brain could recall. It was a fantastical story, one he’d never told another soul because it was so unbelievable. Somehow, though, Beck’s interest made him feel like maybe he wasn’t crazy. Maybe there was something to it? But, nah, that was impossible. João had always been dumb as an ox. How could a guy who barely finished primary school ever be a fancy lawyer?

He soon became so drunk that he forgot everything and would have collapsed if Beck hadn’t been there to prop him up. He took João into the bathroom and helped him empty his bladder, unzipping his shorts and tugging them down his mounded thighs. João smiled blearily down at the boy as Beck reached out and took hold of his monster schlong, positioning it over the toilet bowl and holding it while João’s torrent of urine gushed out.

He lost consciousness after that and didn’t remember anything beyond little snippets here and there. When he awoke the next morning, his head was pounding and he felt like shit. He looked around the room, groaning in the bright light, glad that at least he’d made it into his own bedroom. He pushed himself up on his elbows and, feeling the sheets against his bare skin, looked down and gave a start. He was naked in bed! He never slept naked! Never.

What the fuck?!

***

Chapter 6

It got weirder.

João realized the bed next to him was warm…as if someone had slept there. He looked over and saw the impression of the person’s body, eyebrows lifting in alarm. He sniffed the air and smelled an unfamiliar musky aroma. 

A man’s aroma.

He sat bolt upright, panicking. What the fuck had happened last night?

His heart pounded against his ribcage as some of the hazy events from the previous night seeped into his consciousness. He saw Beck smiling up at him in the bathroom stall. And then the boy knelt down and opened his soft, full lips and–

He tossed the sheets aside, shoving the thought aside. There was no way that happened! No way! 

Besides, Beck was nowhere to be seen.

But who had removed his clothes and helped him into bed?

And then slept next to him?

At that moment, he heard muffled sounds coming from the kitchen. Lifting his nose, he smelled coffee and…sausage? Despite being so freaked out, his mouth watered. Wrapping the sheets around his wide waist, he staggered out of the bedroom. Had Jaime returned early from Rafael’s?

It wasn’t Jaime.

João’s eye nearly popped out of his head when he saw Beck–naked except for a jockstrap and an incongruously cute pair of furry fox ears on his head–standing with his back to him at the stove. João’s throat went dry when he saw the boy had a tramp stamp tattoo on the small of his back. It was a luscious peach emoji. Its succulent juices were dripping down toward the cleft of his…

João gaped.

Beck’s ass.

Shit, Beck’s ass!

He’d never seen such a juicy peach on a guy before, much less a white guy. He goggled, convinced he was seeing things. But, no, his eyes weren’t deceiving him. Naked, that ass was even more delectable than encased in his football tights. 

There was no doubt about it. The jock possessed an impossibly perky bottom. His broad back tapered down to the slimmest hips and then widened into a pair of tantalizingly ripe buttocks. The jockstrap’s waistband accentuated the narrowness of those hips and its straps underscored the impossible pertness of that rump. Those luscious globes of goodness were rounded on top and heavier on the bottom, a dusting of brown fuzz emphasizing their perfect shape. They wiggled ever so slightly as the boy scrambled a bunch of eggs over the stove.

João blinked, noticing that there were two more tattoos on the boy’s ass: In black and orange ink, the numbers 1 and 0 were stenciled in huge varsity lettering on each cheek. Number Ten. João remembered vaguely that 10 was the number on the back of Beck’s football jersey. He couldn’t help chuckling at the little prick’s arrogance in rating his own bottom but, staring at it, he realized it was no exaggeration.

Yeah, that ass was a ten. 

A perfect ten.

“You’re up. Here, drink this.”

João’s cheeks grew hot when he realized Beck had caught him staring at his peach. He accepted the mango juice from the jock and swallowed it dutifully, mindful of Beck’s knowing gaze. When he had finished it, Beck handed him a couple of pills and a glass of water,

“These’ll help your hangover,” he explained. When João hesitated, he added, “It’s just Advil and some electrolytes I take on hot days during football practice. They’ll rehydrate you.” He flashed João a smile, wiggling his bottom enticingly as he did so.

João swallowed the proffered pills, feeling incredibly disoriented and alarmed. Why was his big cock starting to stand up? He wrapped the sheet more tightly about himself, unable to believe he was getting turned on by a guy’s ass. He’d never even looked at a guy in that way before!

When he remained silent, Beck smiled again. “You’re welcome, by the way.” João blinked, brain short-circuiting with confusion. “For breakfast,” Beck added. “And for last night. Bet you didn’t think you’d ever get a blowjob like that again.” João’s mouth fell open and Beck laughed. “Yep, that wasn’t Jaime at the slide that night.”

Beck seemed to find João’s flummoxed reaction supremely funny and couldn’t help chuckling as he padded over. He looked up at him with those blue eyes, the little fox ears flopping over adorably, and brazenly placed a hand over João’s rapidly hardening member. “Somebody’s ready for another go, I see.” He winked salaciously, cocking his head. “Let’s have some breakfast first.”

This was too much for João and he pushed Beck away from him so abruptly that the kid had to windmill his arms to keep from falling over. “What THE FUCK are you doing?” João demanded. “Stay away from me! I’m not even gay! And, even if I was, I would NEVER be interested in you.”

There was that icy blue stare that he knew so well. (Although, João realized, the fluffy fox ears detracted somewhat from the full effect.) It was like Beck had never been told no. (When João thought about it, he realized he probably hadn’t.) He didn’t know the meaning of the word. Beck, the rich and entitled brat that he was, simply did whatever he wanted and got whatever he wanted. Period. End of sentence. It was always like that and would always be like that.

“Put some clothes on,” João ordered, looking over his shoulder at the front window. The blinds were open, giving his neighbors across the street a view of everything happening inside his apartment. He stumbled awkwardly over, his big balls and ungainly erection tripping him up, and closed the curtains. “And then go home. We’re done here.”

“No.”

He turned back to find Beck standing with his arms crossed.

“We’re gonna eat breakfast and then go for a run in the park,” the boy informed him. His tone had the ring of finality to it and somehow João knew that he would never be rid of him. He had a sick sense that he was stuck with him for the long haul. “Trust me,” Beck added with another wink, “I’ll make it worth your while.”

He went back to preparing breakfast, shaking his cute, perky bum alluringly the whole time and driving João to distraction. When he set the kitchen table and motioned for João to take a seat, the jock settled down on the chair next to him, hand on his knee. João tried to shake it off but Beck merely put it back, holding on so tightly that João couldn’t dislodge it.

“I put a napkin down on my chair before I sat down,” Beck pointed out helpfully. “So my asshole won’t leave any skid marks. Although,” he said, looking critically at the other chairs, “it looks like somebody else around here isn’t quite so sanitary. I’m gonna give this place a good cleaning after our run.”

“I don’t run,” João said gruffly, angry at his cock for still throbbing painfully between his legs. It was lifting up under the sheet like the neck of a brontosaurus. “I can’t run. Not with this thing.” He jerked his chin down at his stiffening cock and monster-sized balls.

Beck made no reply but his silence was eloquent. It was as if he said, ‘Oh, yeah? You’ll run if I say you’ll run.’

João ran.

He couldn’t believe it.

Beck talked him into putting on three of his super-sized jockstraps and then wrapped a couple of elastic belts under his monster bulge, tugging it up high before tightening it down. When he was done, João’s package was securely held in place. It made his eyes water with pain but all that support kept him tied down. He bounced up and down on his heels, staring down at himself in wonder. It worked! It actually worked! He completed his attire by pulling on a pair of blue nylon shorts that Beck produced seemingly out of thin air. They had even been specially-designed to accommodate his oversized bulge.

“You look hot, bro.”

João looked over at the cocky jock. Beck was clad in a micro pair of red mesh shorts. They were so tiny that the wide elastic band of his jockstrap rode up over the waist and the lower third of his lightly-furred buttocks hung out the bottom. The white straps cupping his amazing peach were clearly displayed for the world to see. Oh, and he’s donned a gray cotton crop top, exposing his rugged abs in front and tramp stamp in back. 

They made quite a pair.

When they got out of João’s truck at the park, people stared. But João was used to that; they always stared at him when he was out in public. It was part of his curse. He had no way of hiding his massive equipment no matter how conservatively he dressed. He’d gotten used to it.

What he hadn’t gotten used to was being gay. Because, you know, that’s what it looked like. And Beck did everything to reinforce this perception. When they got to the park, he held João’s hand, tugging him along behind him. And when they ran, he stayed right in front of him, never allowing him to look away from his perfect, bouncing buttocks. When they stopped for João to catch his breath, Beck bent over in front of him, ostensibly to stretch, but João knew he did it just to make him salivate.

It worked.

He couldn’t take his eyes off of that beautiful boy butt. It was the most mesmerizing thing he’d ever seen. It seeped into his brain and took over his thoughts, tormenting him and titillating him until his cock was throbbing and so hard that it threatened to burst free of its elastic prison.

On top of being the proud owner of the juiciest peach in the world, Beck was also cute.

Super cute.

Bent over before him, he looked back at João from between his legs, blue eyes dancing with humor and desire. He’d kept his little fox ears on and even painted whiskers around his nose with an eye liner. His blondish-brown hair was mussed up in the most alluring way. In short, he radiated boyish charm and naughtiness.

It wasn’t just João who was mesmerized by him, either; everyone who saw Beck was taken by his magnetic good looks. João heard the words, ‘Just like a younger, hotter Zac Efron!’ more times than he could count as passersby stopped to gawk at his boy.

His boy?

Yeah, his boy.

Beck was definitely his boy.

The young jock made it abundantly clear that he belonged to João and João only. He snuggled under his big arm when he was done stretching, gazing up at him with pure adoration. It was enough to almost melt João’s heart. Almost.

“What about Tanya?” he panted finally, face hot and waves of lust falling over him like a fever. “Isn’t she your girlfriend? I thought you were straight.”

Beck shrugged. “She’s just a beard.”

“A beard?”

“Shit, you really don’t know anything, do you?” Beck laughed. “A ‘beard’ is a cover. I use her to keep my parents clueless.” When João still looked back at him blankly, he sighed. “My parents think I’m a straight football jock and I’m not about to tell them otherwise. I refuse to give ‘em the satisfaction. They were at the cookout at Melodie and Jeffrey’s where I met you and I needed Tanya with me to keep up the fiction that I’m straight. Don’t worry! I pay her handsomely for the privilege. She knows her role and plays it perfectly.”

He leaned against João’s sweaty body, rubbing himself into him until he was soaked. His hair was slicked with sweat; it dripped down on João’s protruding bulge. Beck grinned devilishly, reaching out with his tongue to lap the sweat off of João’s armpit hair. “You’re really hairy,” he observed. “And smelly. I like it.”

João’s cock throbbed painfully with these words and he had to gasp for breath. He looked around self-consciously, noting that several people nearby were staring at them and one woman had pulled out her smartphone to snap pictures.

“Wh-Wh-Why me?” he finally managed to gasp. No matter how hard he fought it, he was growing lightheaded with desire. Apparently, he wasn’t as straight as he’d always thought. “I-I-I thought you hated me.”

Beck smiled. “Isn’t it obvious?” He patted João’s crotch. “This is why. I want it. If I can’t have one of my own, I’ll have yours.”

João moaned, eyes rolling back in his head. He couldn’t believe this was happening. It went against everything he stood for. He hated it when white people treated his big, black cock like it was their property! He hated it when people touched him in public! And he really hated people thinking he was gay! (If he were gay, he would’ve fucked Jaime years ago because Jaime was fuck all more appealing than Beck in many ways.)

What was it about Beck that was different?

***

He was in pain by the time they got back to his apartment. His balls were the problem: Even though they’d only jogged a couple of miles, it was more than João’s balls could handle–even encased as they were in Beck’s magic harness. Plus, he was suffering from a massive case of blue balls from being tormented by Beck’s perky bottom. He could barely waddle up out of the elevator and needed Beck to help him through the doorway.

“Here, I’ll join you,” Beck said, leading him into the bathroom. “We can shower together and I’ll hold your nuts up while you wash.”

“NO!” João stared at him aghast at the idea. He’d never let the kid grab his balls! Never!

“C’mon, you big idiot,” Beck cajoled, lifting João’s tank top over his head (while standing on his tiptoes) and yanking down his shorts. He stopped, mesmerized when João’s jockstrapped bulge flopped out. It was the biggest that João had ever seen, truly mind-bendingly huge now that his testicles were so swollen.

He tried to push the boy’s hands away but Beck was persistent and soon João was completely naked, his balls swinging painfully against his knees and his anaconda rapidly stiffening. Beck licked his lips as he stared at it, bending over and slipping out of his shorts and jockstrap and tossing his crop top aside.

They were now completely naked together.

Cradling his balls in his big hands, João’s eyes were reluctantly drawn to Beck’s body. The boy was quite simply stunning and he knew it. His complexion was flawless and his skin was incredibly smooth and milky white, especially below the waist. It was true that he lacked much of an endowment but somehow this only made him seem more attractive to João. 

Beck’s perky, circumcised six-incher was fully erect and pointing jauntily up at the ceiling. It might not be that long but it was pretty thick and seemed like the perfect complement to his perky, round bottom. When you had a butt that bubbly, who cared about the size of your cock?

“That’s not a peanut,” João pointed out, feeling his cock growing longer and stiffer by the second. “From what I know, you’re pretty average…for a white guy. Only by Brazilian standards are you small.”

Beck gave him a hangdog grin. “I wanna be big by Brazilian standards, you dumbass.” He gestured down to his erection, frowning. “And this is small, small, small. Believe me, the black guys on the football team never let me forget that fact. You have no idea how much I’d give to strut around the locker room with your giant cock and humongous balls swinging between my legs!” He closed the distance between them, squeezing João’s balls between his palms, making him moan.

“Ungh!” João gasped. “You’d look like a freak. Like me.”

“So? I’d be a happy freak.”

Before João could react, Beck grabbed his cock and shoved it upward, wrapping his arms around his waist and hugging him tightly. João’s penis was now sandwiched between them, his grapefruit-sized glans sticking up in Beck’s face. The boy laughed and, nibbling his foreskin, somehow managed the impossible and worked it downward with his teeth, revealing João’s moist, fragrant cockhead. He licked. João moaned. He licked again. João moaned even louder.

And then João watched in utter disbelief as Beck stood on his tiptoes and, opening his mouth wider than was humanly possible, swallowed his entire glans. His knees went weak and he almost collapsed. The paroxysm of ecstasy that rocketed through his body at the touch of those lips and soft mouth were enough to make him nearly pass out. It was the most delirious sensation of his life and it left him reeling with euphoria.

After swallowing a foot or so while simultaneously treating João’s shaft to a masterful tonguing, he pulled back and, clicking his jaw back in place, grinned up at him.

“Not bad, huh? I’m a good little cocksucker if I do say so myself.”

“H-H-H-How do you do that?” João stuttered. “That was…that was…that was…Fuck! That was HOT!”

“Ikr?” Beck did smug better than anyone João knew. “I’m the best cocksucker alive. There’s not a cock out there I can’t handle. And I handled a lot of ‘em, lemme tell ya!”

“But how?” João demanded, head still spinning. “No one else has ever been able to blow me before!”

Beck smirked proudly. “I have a trick jaw. It unhinges. And an extra large esophagus. And no gag reflex. Oh, and I practice sword-swallowing on the side.” He waved his hands, laughing, “Ha! My parents think it’s an innocent hobby. If they only knew!”

“Do it again!” João panted while examining Beck closely. (Now that the kid mentioned it, he did have a really wide throat.) “Please, do it again! I haven’t cum yet!”

“Tsk, tsk,” Beck said, wagging a finger in his face. “Not so fast. I’m not an all-you-can-eat buffet, you know. This is a quid pro quo arrangement: I scratch your back and you scratch mine. Wait, make that: I suck your cock and you suck mine. And then we’ll get to the fucking.” He spun around, dropping João’s cock and presenting him with his incredibly ripe peach. “I’ve had a lot of practice with that, too.” He bent over and spread his bubbly cheeks. João’s eyebrows shot upward in revolted disbelief: Beck had the ugliest, sloppiest, widest, floppiest ass lips he’d ever seen. It made Jaime’s over-used man-pussy look virginal. “Not bad, huh?” Beck asked, face appearing between his legs. “They tell me I’m the best piece of ass out there.”

João felt like vomiting.

But he was also intrigued. Beck’s gaping hole was so messed up and so disgusting that João couldn’t take his eyes off it. And his cock apparently liked it because it rocketed to a full-on erection in seconds. He staggered backward as it shot out before him like a rigid boa constrictor.

“Here. Lemme show you what I’m capable of before you sample the goods.”

João watched the boy scurry out of the bathroom, returning a few minutes later with a big, pink softball bat. It was about three feet long and very fat. João had seen Carson use one just like it many times when he played ball with him at Melodie and Jeffrey’s. As he stared, Beck produced a bottle of lube and squirted it down the length of the bat before slicking it up good, covering every inch of the plastic club until it was glistening.

And then he proceeded to insert the entire thing into his gaping anus.

João’s jaw hit the floor.

Impossible!

Radiant with pride, Beck looked over his shoulder at João, only the pink knob of the bat sticking out of his asshole. “See?” he crowed. “It fits. It’s all the way in! If I can get this thing inside my butthole, then I can take your big man any day.”

João stared, uncertain whether to feel appalled or turned on. His cock decided for him, jutting out even harder and fatter and longer than ever. “Jesus,” he breathed. “That thing’s gotta be longer than your torso! Where’d it all go?”

“Inside me,” Beck answered glibly. “Tole ya I’ve been practicing.” He grunted, squeezing his eyes shut as he expelled the bat from his butt. João watched, fascinated, as the fat club exited the boy’s overstretched butthole. “When’s the last time someone took all of you inside ‘em? Never I’ll bet!”

“Only once,” João admitted. “And it wasn’t all the way in.” He winced, adding, “And I’d prefer not to think about it. It wasn’t a good experience.”

Beck straightened and, cleaning the bat off under the spigot of the shower, looked back at him over his shoulder, wiggling his big buttocks enticingly at him. “I’m ready, bro.” He paused to hold up a warning finger. “But you gotta lemme fuck you, too. I might be mostly a bottom but I do like to switch it up sometimes.”

João swallowed. His head felt like it was going to come off his shoulders. He was still hungover from the night before and had a bad headache. Plus, he was sore from running. And, on top of all that, he was completely mind-fucked by Beck surreal transformation. He still couldn’t believe that the icy, hard-jawed, football jock was actually a slutty, gay bottom. And a kinky one at that! 

And then there was the small matter of his own mind-fucking transformation into a horny gay top who was dying to fuck a boy less than half his age. A boy whom his own son had a crush on!

“Ok.”

The word startled even him. He stared at Beck with wide eyes after he uttered it, unable to believe what he’d just consented to.

“Ex-cel-lent.” Beck straightened and approached, gazing up at him with lust-filled eyes. “Follow my lead, big man. I’ll treat ya right.”

He did.

The boy might only be nineteen years old but he was already a gay sex expert. And, even more surprisingly, a romantic at heart. He took João into his arms and, straddling his monster cock, stood on his tiptoes and lifted his mouth to kiss him tenderly. He was an excellent kisser, possessing the softest lips, tongue and mouth that João had ever tasted. He was softer than any woman. He coaxed João’s tongue inside him and lavished it with pleasure. In almost no time, he’d worked João into a frenzy of desire.

João lowered his hands and cupped Beck’s unexpectedly soft buttocks in his hands, marveling at how much they felt like a woman’s. If it weren’t for the dusting of hair, he’d have thought he was touching a lady-ass. A very sexy lady-ass!

Beck sighed happily as João lifted him up and lowered him onto the base of his cock. His cock was so fat and wide and hard that it was like a tree branch and Beck could straddle it with ease. The boy wriggled his soft buttocks, spreading his cheeks. João felt his gaping man-cunt open onto his cock shaft. It was hot. And moist. And eager.

They kissed.

And kissed some more.

Beck’s arms were around his bull neck and his face was plastered against João’s. His blue eyes were open and he was staring at João adoringly. He pulled away long enough to gasp, “Never. Never have I wanted anyone as much as I want you. I think I might even be falling for you, João. It hurts to think how mean I was to you. I’m sorry.”

João’s eyes filled unexpectedly with tears. He choked them back, though, grunting, “S’Ok. I forgive you. And I want you, too. Bad.”

Beck laughed, arching his back and rubbing his fiercely erect cock against João’s tummy. It was short and blunt but pleasantly girthy. Perfect for Beck, he thought. And perfect for my asshole…if I ever let him near it. The thought of taking a cock any bigger than that filled him with gibbering fear. Good thing the boy’s average!

It was time.

João gently lifted Beck off his perch on his cock and placed him in the bathtub. The soft, warm spray of the shower rained down on him, soaking him in moments. The boy instinctively turned and offered his ridiculously plump backside to him, holding his knees and arching his back. João stepped in behind him and let the water wash over his body before turning it off. Then he took the lube and squirted it liberally over the boy’s beautiful globes, aiming for the easy target of that gaping asshole. He reached out with a shaking hand and smeared the lube around Beck’s ass lips, shuddering with both revulsion and lust as the sloppy, floppy lips closed around his hand.

Beck moaned.

Stepping back for room, João slathered up his pole, emptying the entire bottle in the process. When he was done, his enormous, greased-up schlong pointed like a bloodhound’s nose at the boy’s hungry hole. It never ceased to amaze him how his cock defied gravity. It was so big and heavy, it should have slanted down toward the floor, but instead it easily reached horizontal. Even after all these years! He shook his head. It was pretty fuckin’ unbelievable.

“You sure ‘bout this?” he panted, retracting his long, floppy foreskin. “I’ll be gentle.”

“Do it!” Beck pleaded, looking over his shoulder at him with feral eyes. “Please do it! I’m ready!”

João leaned forward, just able to grasp Beck’s hips while keeping his cock aimed at his hole. Beck shivered, whining with happiness when João’s helmet-sized glans first touched his fiery hole. Now it was João’s turn to arch his back and moan as his cockhead pushed inside a man’s asshole for the first time in his life.

Fuck.

FUCK!

It was fuckin’ HEAVEN!

He could never remember a feeling this divine. He’d had dozens–maybe even hundreds–of sex partners over the years but none of them had ever welcomed him into a garden of such forbidden and tempting delights. Beck exhaled, a long, low moan escaping his lips, and worked João’s cock deeper inside him. João cried out, pleasantly surprised when Beck clamped down on him. He had no idea that the kid’s stretched-out sphincter was capable of being so viselike!

“Ungh! Huh huh huh!” Beck grunted. “Tole ya I’m the best piece of ass you’ve ever had, didn’t I?”

In answer, João slapped him hard on the ass. Beck jumped, crying out. João grinned. It felt so good to do that! He watched as the imprint of his hand resolved in angry red across the Number 1 tattooed on Beck’s cheek.

He fucked him in earnest then, pushing foot after foot of his unnaturally long cock inside. Beck writhed on his pole, teasing João with little clenches, driving him wild and egging him on. He called out for João to stop, though, once he’d worked the entirety of his cock inside him. João stared down, amazed to see his huge member buried to the hilt for the first time he could remember. Beck’s soft, pliable, jiggly ass pillowed against him, the cushion of royalty.

“I can feel you against my heart,” Beck breathed, looking back at João, tears streaming down his dewy cheeks. “I never want you to pull out. Stay like this, João. Please. Just stay like this.”

João obeyed.

He was already learning that he could never say no to the boy. And right then he never wanted to! He was so tender. So sweet. So unbearably hot and sexy! He couldn’t believe he was all the way inside and that Beck felt so good. He didn’t want it to end, either.

Very carefully, he lifted Beck by the shoulders and, tilting his own pelvis, hefted him out of the bathtub and carried him into his bedroom. Once there, he methodically turned the boy around like he was a spit-roast pig. When he was done, Beck was facing him and his legs were straddling João’s hips. He sat down on the bed, lowering Beck’s bottom onto his lap. Beck leaned forward and wrapped his arms around João’s neck and kissed him. João could feel the outline of his giant erection pressing out from within Beck’s belly. It disappeared up behind his sternum where, incredibly, João really could feel the jock’s heart beating against the head of his cock. How was that possible? Beck’s accommodating internal cavity defied all belief. 

It was the first time João orgasmed while kissing. Shit, it was the first he’d orgasmed with his cock fully inside his lover! Beck grabbed the back of João’s head and pulled him close, devouring him with his mouth. They were both sweaty and stinky but neither gave a fuck. The boy undulated his hips, bringing João to orgasm after orgasm. He lost track after a dozen. The sublime spasms seemed to go on forever.

They never wanted it to end but it did eventually. Beck looked down, chagrined, when he saw that João’s belly was slathered with his own cum. And João’s cum was pouring out of his sloppy hole, running down his still-lodged shaft. They were a cummy mess!

“You did well…for an old guy,” Beck joked. “I’ve never had anyone be able to outlast me but you did. I’m all dried up!” He winked slyly, elbowing João. “Guess yer off the hook from your own fucking. For now at least.”

“You came, too?” João gasped, still on fire with desire and unwilling to let Beck off his pole anytime soon. “But you didn’t–”

“I was rubbing my dick against your furry belly,” Beck explained. “Which, it turns out, is the perfect friction to get me off. Plus, well, let’s just say having you all the way inside me is a huge turn on. You’ve ruined me for lesser cocks.” He laughed. “Literally! My hole is now permanently destroyed. Only you will do.” He kissed him again, passionately.

João’s heart was bursting with pride. And his cock was bursting with cum. He orgasmed yet again, emptying his copious seed as the boy shivered with delight.

“I’ll never get used to this,” João confided. “I’ve never been so happy.”

Beck gazed down at him with half-closed eyes. Cocking his head, he wiggled his bottom one last time, saying, “Me, neither. I’ve found my match. Now you’ll never be rid of me.”

***

Chapter 7

Elio had left four voicemail messages when João finally checked his phone later that day. He and Beck had spent an hour washing off in the shower and then fucked a dozen more times before washing off again. João just couldn’t get enough of the boy’s ass! 

It was getting on toward evening and Beck was busy making João dinner. This time, though, he was completely naked, his stellar ass on full display…along with his button dick. Beck, it turned out, was a grower and not a shower. When his uncut dick was soft, it retreated into his well-trimmed pubes, leaving just his tiny nuts showing. It almost looked like he had a pussy.

João wasn’t complaining.

The thought of Beck with a vagina made his cock stand up hard and long for the millionth time that day. (On Beck’s request, João was naked, too, his hulking cock swinging back and forth and giant balls banging against his knees.)

He had to force himself to turn away from Beck’s mesmerizing ass when Elio answered his call.

>>Papa?<< He sounded worried. >>I saw you called a couple of times and you sent a text that made no sense.<< He sighed in the exasperated way that reminded João so much of Melodie. >>Why did you text in English and not Portuguese? I’m just as fluent as you are!<<

João took a deep breath, deciding how to respond. He was annoyed that Elio had taken almost a whole day to get back to him. And the boy’s condescending tone didn’t help much, either. Before he could reply, though, Beck waltzed over to him.

“Is that Elio?” he asked. When João nodded, Beck grabbed the phone out of his hand and started talking. “Hey, Elio! How’s it going?”

Alarmed, João tried to grab the phone back but Beck danced out of reach. Giving João an evil wink, he put the phone on speaker mode.

>>B-B-Beck?<< The confusion in Elio’s voice was eloquent. >>Are you with Papa?<<

“‘Papa’?” Beck repeated. “So cute. I’ll have to start calling him that, too. Although personally I prefer to call him Daddy…”

João tackled Beck and the phone flew out of his hand, clattering across the floor. Shoving the boy aside, João threw himself across the room, managing to snag the phone before Beck could get his hands on it. He smashed his nuts beneath him in the process and had to bite his tongue to keep from screaming out in pain. 

Trying not to cry–his balls felt like they were going to explode!–João explained to Elio (in Portuguese so Beck couldn’t eavesdrop), “Um, yeah, Beck’s here. He stopped by thinking you were staying here for the weekend. I don’t know where he got that idea. Anyway, he was just leaving.”

Beck took advantage of João’s distraction by grabbing his cock and sucking it. This was too much and João moaned loudly as the boy’s soft lips enclosed his delicate cockhead.

>>Papa? Papa! What’s wrong? Are you hurt?<<

João forcibly removed Beck’s mouth from his cock. Beck sat back on his haunches, grinning madly. João gave him the finger. “I’m fine!” he insisted. “Just ran too far this morning.”

>>You ran?<< Elio paused, the silence on the line stretching. Then, >>Papa, what’s going on? There’s something you’re not telling me. Why is Beck really there? You hate each other!<<

João gave the grinning Beck a murderous glare. “Nothing. I mean, I don’t know. I really don’t have a clue why he stopped by. Anyway, like I said, he’s leaving now. Listen, Elio, I’ll talk to you soon, Ok? Thanks for getting back to me so quickly.” He hung up, lip curling at Beck.

He was about to yell when Beck stuffed his cock back in his mouth and commenced titillating him with his tongue. João fell back on his haunches, his massive (aching) balls sagging on the floor beneath him. He threw back his head and bellowed like a rutting bull, unable to believe what a good cocksucker the kid was. It was like Beck knew exactly what to do to make him forgive even his worst transgressions.

They were really getting into it when the door to the apartment opened and Jaime and Rafael walked in.

***

An hour later, Jaime and Rafael were seated across the kitchen table from him. Beck was serving them dinner, clad in his microscopic pair of red, mesh shorts. (Following João’s demand, though, he refrained from wearing his jockstrap underneath.) Rafael’s predatory gaze followed the boy’s big, bubbly butt wherever he went, making João seethe.

“So, you’re bi now,” Jaime declared in Portuguese. The look of betrayal on his face was almost too much for João to bear. His cousin seemed oblivious to Rafael’s roving eye and was instead staring at João with tears in his eyes.

João looked away. “Yeah, I guess so. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m as surprised as you are, Jaime.”

Jaime turned to fix Beck with a murderous glare. Beck met his gaze mildly, a small smile on his lips. “You know I’ve wanted you for years, João.” Jaime’s voice was rough and a tear slid down his bearded cheek. He stared at João, not bothering to conceal his raw emotions. “I love you, dammit!”

Rafael cleared his throat. “Um, why do I feel like an outsider right now?” He put his hand over Jaime’s and squeezed. “Did you forget that I’m your man, Bichinho? João is your first cousin after all.” His eyes never left Beck’s rump as he said this.

Jaime pursed his lips. When he started scowling, Rafael leaned over and covered his mouth with a passionate kiss. He looked over at João, winking, as he did so. João folded his big arms, mindful that, while Beck may not understand their words, the boy wasn’t stupid and could easily interpret their body language. 

As if reading his mind, Beck sauntered over to the table, placing his hand proprietarily on João’s shoulder. “Jaime, it’s my fault. I seduced him.” He wiggled his bouncy butt as he said this, adding, “And it turns out that I am the only lock that fits João’s key, if you get my meaning. I’m the first guy he’s ever met who can take the entire length and breadth of his cock.” He grinned like the Cheshire cat absurdly pleased with himself. “And I can take it from both ends, too!”

Rafael moaned softly at these words and Jaime looked scandalized. João blushed, partly out of embarrassment and partly because he just knew that Rafael was sporting massive wood under the table. The fucker had eyes for his boy! He would have to be extra vigilant to keep him out of Beck’s panties.

“Beck, Jaime,” Rafael said then, startling all of them. “Can you, uh, give João and me a sec…alone?”

Beck opened his mouth to refuse but Jaime forestalled him, standing up and guiding the boy out onto the little balcony off the small living room. When they were gone, Rafael got up and went into the bathroom, looking over shoulder as he did so. The message was clear: Follow me.

João watched him go with narrowed eyes before reluctantly getting up and entering the bathroom. Rafael closed the door behind him and then completely surprised João by covering his mouth with an ardent kiss. João braced at first, trying to push the dude off of him, but Rafael was too insistent…and he was also a really good kisser. His tongue did things to João’s mouth that Beck never would’ve dreamed of.

After João had gone limp in his arms, Rafael pulled back, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth. His almond-colored eyes were blazing with passion. “Don’t fuck this up, bro!” he panted. “Don’t you realize how close you are to getting everything a guy could want?”

João’s chest was heaving and it took him a moment to collect himself. Then he made the mistake of looking down at Rafael’s waist and saw the dude’s massive cock had escaped the confines of his custom-made shorts and was sticking out like a giant log before him. While not quite as long as João’s masterpiece, that magnificent cock was equally as fat and well over fifteen inches long. He goggled at it; it was the first time he’d ever seen a guy with a cock that big…other than on himself, of course.

“I-I-I don’t understand,” he finally managed to gasp, unable to tear his gaze away from Rafael’s massive endowment. He finally understood how other guys felt when they saw his firehose for the first time.

Rafael rolled his eyes. “Jesus, bro! Think! You got the hottest piece of boy ass on the planet waiting on you literally hand and foot. Plus, you got a cousin who’s hot as fuck and drooling over you. And then you got me,” he puffed out his chest proudly, cock wagging like a rigid elephant trunk, “who wants all three of you. At the same time.” He stood up on his tiptoes and planted another kiss on João’s mouth. “Understand?” João nodded vacantly, unable to believe this was really happening. Rafael smirked. “Good. Now, if we play this right, you an’ me’ll have our, um, cake and eat it, too!”

“Wh-Wh-What should I do?” João’s mind was spinning so fast it was hard to think.

“Just play it cool, bro, and follow my lead.” Rafael folded his tattooed arms as he said this and João realized then how handsome he was. Rafael Salazar was tall and broad and built. He had jet black, wavy hair and a wide, handsome face with a strong jaw. His torso and arms and even his legs were covered in lurid tattoos and his cock was pierced with a hulking ring that matched the big rings hanging off his earlobes. In short, he was a total fucking badass and he knew it. Everything about him spoke to his confidence and easy dominance.

Rafael caught him staring and smiled, eyes raking João’s body up and down. “You an’ me, bro, we’re two fuckin’ gay alphas. You, though, could use some work.” He eyed João critically. “Dontcha got even one fuckin’ tattoo or piercing? C’mon, bro! What kinda Carioca are ya anyway? Stick with me and I’ll have the boys pleading with you to fuck ‘em new holes!”

With that, he stuffed his still-hard cock back in the special compartment sewn into the front of his shorts and sidled gingerly out of the room. A moment later, after his own cock had stopped throbbing, João followed along behind him.

Beck and Jaime exited the balcony together, an uneasy truce between them. João could tell that they would never like each other very much but he hoped maybe someday they would come around and at least be cordial.

“What were you guys doing in there?” Beck asked, gaze dropping to João’s crotch where his tumescence had only partially subsided. “Do I need to put a chastity cage on you?” He laughed, waving his hands. “Not that they make ‘em that big!”

João glared at him. “None of yer business. Now let’s eat.” Behind Beck, Rafael gave him a sly wink and a nod of approval.

***

The next day, Beck appeared at the construction site where João was working. João heard a bunch of the guys wolf-whistling and looked up to see Beck waving. His cheeks flamed hot when he saw what the boy had on. Beck wore an orange safety vest over his bare chest, exposing his hairy pecs and pert nipples. Below, he wore a very tight pair of reddish brown Carhartt’s that rode low, exposing the top of his perky butt. As if this wasn’t enough, the string waistband of an neon orange thong rode up his waist, the unmistakable whaletail emerging from above his belt in back. Completing the lurid ensemble were a pair of workboots and orange, kneehigh socks. And, of course, let’s not forget the orange hardhat that graced his head, his pale brown locks peeking out from under the brim.

He sauntered over, blue eyes sparkling. Before João could react, the boy leaped upon him and, settling his broad bottom on the waiting ‘perch’ of João’s bulge, folded his legs around his waist and hugged him tightly around the neck. Then he lowered his head and kissed him passionately.

The worksite erupted in a chaos of jeers and whistles as João felt his ironclad hetero reputation dissolve into a pink haze around him. Across the way, he could feel Jaime’s icy stare upon them; his cousin normally worked at the company’s headquarters but that day had been assigned to the little on-site trailer that doubled as a portable office. Somehow João suspected that Beck had known this and planned his grand entrance accordingly. The boy was nothing but trouble!

“What’re you doing here?” he demanded after he’d extricated Beck’s tongue from inside his mouth. “This isn’t the place for you. I’m not ready to broadcast our hookup to the whole world!”

He was proud of himself for remembering the term ‘hookup’ but this pride vanished at the cold expression that hardened Beck’s face. “‘Hookup’?” the boy repeated. “Is that what I am to you, João?” He tightened his arms around his neck until João was almost choking. “In case you haven’t noticed I love you! I fuckin’ LOVE you more than anything else. And you’re telling me that I’m just a hookup?”

João’s eyes went round. “You…love…me? Wait! We’ve only had sex a few times. It was fun and everything but that’s all. I wouldn’t mind hooking up with you again from time to time but I’m mostly straight. You’re the first guy I’ve ever fucked!”

For an instant João thought he saw a fleeting glimpse of anguished disbelief pass across Beck’s face but it was gone so quickly that he wasn’t sure. A moment later, Beck clenched his jaw, stating, “We don’t have to be exclusive. You can fuck whoever you want. But,” he stuck his finger in João’s face, “if you ever fuck someone without me there, I can’t be held responsible for my actions.” His blue eyes turned to ice and his face hardened, causing João to pull back in surprise. “I might kill you. Or I might castrate you. Or maybe I’ll do something else?” He shrugged, face brightening into a sunny smile that did not reach his eyes, “but I can guarantee you will never be the same afterwards.”

João swallowed, huge Adam’s apple bobbing up and down on his throat. “O-O-Ok,” he stammered. “I got it.”

“And?” The temperature in Beck’s eyes lowered from icy to Absolute Zero.

João swallowed again, feeling like a small animal trapped by a blood-thirsty predator. “I promise. I won’t fuck anyone without you there.” He exhaled after he said it, pissed at the hold this boy had over his life. He was quickly learning the price Beck was going to exact from him. It wasn’t fair! Was Beck really worth it? Did he have any choice?

As angry as it made him to have his behavior dictated by a mere boy, though, he couldn’t deny that he found Beck insanely desirable. As angry as he was at that moment, his big cock was throbbing in his specially-designed shorts and it was all he could to resist the urge to rip the boy’s clothes off and fuck him senseless in front of everyone.

Beck searched his face, trying to detect any hint that João was lying. After probing him for a long time, he decided that João was being truthful. He grinned, any trace of the former iciness gone. Cocking his head to the side, he lowered his mouth and kissed João again, even more passionately this time. João’s coworkers hooted and cat-called, both disgusted and stunned by their top dawg’s transformation into a gay daddy.

Bouncing up and down on João’s jutting ‘bulge shelf,’ Beck took João’s big hands and moved them onto his tantalizing globes. His ass was all but bursting out of the top (and bottom) of his shorts. The mere touch of those soft, luxurious mounds got João’s monster fully hard. Grinning like a sex-crazed idiot, he toyed with the string of Beck’s orange thong, pulling it up and down, up and down, driving the boy into a rabid lust until he couldn’t stand it any longer. Beck forced him into the office where they fucked for a good hour before Jaime got angry and kicked them out.

Emerging sheepishly from the office with Beck’s teeth marks clearly outlined on his neck and arms, João turned to his boy and gave him a hangdog grin. “You juss totally ruined my reputation,” he said, gesturing to the smirking construction workers surrounding them. “And now I gotta do the walk of shame in front of ‘em.”

Beck straightened the hardhat on his head. He was sweaty and disheveled (like João) but his eyes and skin glowed with vigor. “Better rip off the Band-Aid now, Stud, and get ‘em used to it ‘cuz they’re gonna be seein’ a lot more of me from now on.”

***

He discovered Beck in the office trailer an hour later. Jaime must have left the door unlocked before he left and Beck had sneaked inside. Discovering him standing in front of an open file cabinet, he looked over his shoulder. What was Beck doing in Carlos’ files?

Beck was holding a wrinkled piece of paper with two photos on it, one of a white guy and the other of a young boy, probably the guy’s son. The guy was blond and blue-eyed and cleancut but there was something supercilious about him, like he thought he was God’s gift to the world or something. He stared back at the camera with a smirk on his face. The boy, on the other hand, appeared innocent and was smiling sunnily. Blue-eyed and blond-haired like his father, his face lacked any trace of guile. The names below the photos were ‘James and Elias Jorgenson.’  

João furrowed his heavy brow. “Who are they?”

Beck jumped, startled. He’d been so engrossed in reading the file that he hadn’t realized João was standing behind him. Hurriedly stuffing the paper in his pocket, he turned to João and smiled. “No one special.”

“Then why’re you–?”

Beck stopped him with a kiss. He was an excellent kisser, almost as good as Rafael, and soon João had forgotten anything about the mysterious piece of paper. One thing led to another and João was fucking his boy for the second time while Beck gasped and moaned beneath him. He left him like that, his cum dribbling out of his gaping asshole and his clothing in tatters. Slapping him hard on the corpulent buttocks, he zipped up his pants and adjusted his hardhat on his head. It felt good to have a ready hole to fuck whenever he wanted. How had he survived this long without a partner like Beck?

***

Beck came to his apartment that evening, pushing him against the wall and kissing him violently before looking up through his long eyelashes. “Will you come to my game this weekend? We’re playing against Ohio State.”

João started to nod but then stopped. “Wait, that’s the same day as Elio’s soccer championship. I already told him that I’d be there!”

Beck’s face darkened. “Fuck that! Who’s more important? Him or me?”

“Beck, I–”

He wanted to say no but couldn’t. He was quickly coming to realize that he was helpless when it came to Beck and would do whatever the boy told him without question. He lowered his head, mumbling, “I’ll make up an excuse. I’ll tell him I can’t go.”

Beck’s cold expression melted into a radiant smile. “That’s more like it! Now, where were we?”

He led João into the bedroom where they proceeded to fuck each other’s brains out.

***

The day of the game against Ohio State found João standing on the sidelines, waiting for Beck to make his grand entrance on the field. Elio had been really hurt when he told him that he couldn’t make it to the game but João made up an appropriate excuse, confident that he could get away with the lie. Besides, Melodie and Jeffrey were going to Elio’s championship game. Did he really need three parents there to cheer him on?

“Hey, again!”

João looked over at the sound of the sultry voice and smiled when he recognized Rosario, the smoking hot mother he’d met the last time he’d been at the stadium with Elio. “Hey,” he said, raking her up and down lasciviously with his eyes. She was wearing a skintight, zebra print dress that barely covered her big bottom. Her blouse was exceedingly low-cut, exposing her succulent breasts. His cock started chubbing at the sight of her. “You’re looking good.”

“Thanks.” Rosario’s smile was infectious and he returned it, although his was decidedly more wolfish. She lowered her eyes behind long lashes, asking, “You’ve recovered from your…injury, I take it?” As she said this, she glanced down at João’s very tumescent crotch. Her lips curved coquettishly.

João flushed, both at the woman’s gaze and the memory of being struck in the nuts by the football. He was opening his mouth to reply when the band started playing. The crowd roared, jumping to their feet, as the home team came running out on the field. João clapped politely before turning around to continue flirting with Rosario.

Before he could say a word, though, he happened to catch a glimpse of something rocketing toward him from the field. He barely had time to turn before Beck was on him, running at full speed and decked out in his full football attire. João instinctively crouched down just as Beck launched himself into the air. He parted his legs in mid-air and aimed for João’s waist, straddling his hips and locking João between his muscular thighs. João caught him, hands landing on Beck’s enormous buttocks.

Grinning down at him through the grill of his helmet, Beck reached up and whipped it off, only to plant his lips on João’s and force his tongue down his throat.

They kissed, madly, groping at each other in full view of thousands of the fans. João scarcely registered any of it; he was too stunned by this sudden and unexpected union on the sidelines. Kissing Beck short-circuited his brain and it wasn’t until later that he realized the magnitude of what they’d done.

The game was nationally televised.

And the network had broadcast the whole thing.

Further, the live feed of their kiss was displayed on the giant screens overhead.

Beck’s mouth dominated his for a full minute before he slipped off of João’s lap. Then he turned and gave him a self-satisfied smirk before sauntering off to join his teammates at the scrimmage line. João’s bulge–always on public display at the best of times–was even bigger, harder and more pronounced than ever. 

He swallowed, looking around.

He was alone in the middle of a wide circle of empty that remained for the entire game.

Rosario had disappeared; he never saw her again.

***

João stood there, stunned, for much of the game. He was barely aware of the game, barely registered Beck’s all-star performance or his team’s historic victory over Ohio State. Only when the players hoisted the boy on their shoulders and paraded him around like a prize bull did he wake from his stupor. He couldn’t believe that he’d just been recorded kissing a boy in public in front of thousands of fans and perhaps millions of viewers. What the fuck had Beck done to him? What had possessed him? He staggered, numb with disbelief. Beck had just fucking ruined his reputation!

It got worse.

He somehow made it home, getting both cheered and heckled on his walk of shame out of the stadium. His phone buzzed in his pocket and he took it out, discovering it had blown up with messages during the game. There were missed calls and voicemails from basically everyone. Melodie. Carlos. Rafael. Jaime. Elio.

Fuck.

Elio.

He swallowed, heart twisting when he saw that his son had called a dozen times and left a bunch of messages. There were texts, too. Lots of them. He didn’t have the stomach to read or listen to any of them. He wanted to die. What the fuck had he done?

Arriving home, he sat in the darkened apartment, knowing that Jaime would not be home. He knew that his cousin would punish him by refusing to see or talk to him for a very long time. He hung his head, holding it in his hands and feeling like a total loser.

This was actually familiar territory for him, the feeling like a loser part, that is. He’d felt like a total loser for most of his life. He’d failed at everything. School. Marriage. Parenting. Work. Life. He was a fuckup. A douche. A big, dumb asshole. 

Only recently had he allowed himself to feel like maybe he could redeem himself. He’d been promoted and had patched up his relationship with Melodie and Elio. He’d moved into a better apartment and managed to save a little bit of money. He’d stopped worrying so much about his giant package and the attention it received, realizing it didn’t define him. He’d started to feel like maybe he could stay on track and actually make a decent living and be a decent father.

Then he’d met Beck and everything had gone to shit.

Beck.

What the fuck was it about the boy that made him lose his head?

His cock throbbed, reminding him this wasn’t a difficult question to answer: Beck’s ass and mouth. He’d never met anyone like him before, a partner who could fully satisfy him at all times and in all ways. There was no one else like the boy and he didn’t ever want to give him up.

Knowing this didn’t make him feel any better. In fact, he felt worse. What kind of a man was he if he let his cock control his life?

***

He awoke to a loud pounding on the door of his apartment. He’d fallen asleep on the couch, dispirited, demoralized and exhausted. He tried to ignore it but Elio’s voice called out from the other side of the door, “Papa! I know you’re in there! Let me in!”

João sighed and pushed himself heavily off the couch, staggering over to open the door. As soon as he unlocked it, it flew open and then Elio was on top of him, punching him hard in the stomach. João cried out, trying to grab his son’s fists but Elio was too quick for him and just kept punching. Fortunately for João, his son wasn’t very strong and the punches didn’t really hurt much. After a while, he gave up trying to stop him and just let the boy pound on him. Eventually, Elio’s breathing grew labored and his punches faded to mere slaps. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he cried, “Why, Papa? Why? Why’d you do it? You know I’m in love with Beck! I’ve wanted him from the first day I met him. AND YOU FUCKIN’ TOOK HIM FROM ME! I HATE YOU!”

João was opening his mouth to reply when a cold voice called out from behind then.

“Oh, would you just shut the fuck up for one goddamned minute? You’re such a baby.”

It was Beck.

João and Elio turned to find the jock standing behind them, his muscular arms crossed and a disgusted look on his face. While they stared at him, he gave them a sardonic sneer and waltzed inside the apartment.

“You,” he said, pointing to Elio. “C’mere. Now.” Not waiting for Elio to reply, he grabbed him by the arm and hauled him into João’s bedroom, saying over his shoulder, “You might wanna go out on the balcony and shut the door. We’ll be a while.”

João stared at them in confusion. Were they going in there to–? Before he could complete the thought, Beck had slammed the door behind them. A moment later, loud moans and guttural grunts could be heard emanating from behind the closed door. João’s mouth went dry and he clenched his hands. Blood rushed to his head and he felt like he was going to explode. Rather than marching in the bedroom and tearing Beck away from Elio, though, he found himself wobbling out on the balcony. Closing the door, he sat hunched over on a folding chair, shivering and trying to ignore Elio’s wails of ecstasy that somehow even penetrated the plate glass of the sliding door.

An hour later, Beck and Elio exited the bedroom. Elio’s demeanor had completely changed and he stood with his shoulders held back and his jaw squared. He had an unfamiliar cocky strut in his step as he kissed Beck deeply and then swaggered out of the apartment without a backward glance. João watched him go, roiling with anger, confusion and jealousy. He couldn’t believe Beck had just fucked his son in his own bedroom!

Beck cocked an eyebrow at him, reading his expression. “What?” he demanded. “I fixed it. He’s not mad anymore. Even better, I boosted his confidence. I’d say this is a win-win.” He reached back and rubbed his bottom, commenting, “I’m glad I found a place that would do an emergency Botox injection in my sphincter on a Saturday. It tightened me up like a Catholic schoolboy!” He paused, adding wryly, “Wanna have your own go now? I’m still really tight. It’ll be like fucking a virgin again, apart from Elio’s cum trickling out of my hole.”

João’s mouth fell open. Beck somehow still had the capacity to shock him even after fucking his son.

Beck continued as if oblivious to João’s reaction, “I can say one thing, though. Elio did not inherit your endowment. I could barely feel his little prick even when he was buried to the hilt inside me.”

João slapped him.

He stared at his hand in surprise after he did it, unable to believe what he’d done. His surprise, however, was nothing compared to Beck’s. The boy gaped up at him, holding his hand over his reddening cheek. It was clear that no one had ever dared to do such a thing to him before and he didn’t know how to take it.

João’s surprise quickly burned off, becoming incandescent rage. All his pent up feelings of hurt, betrayal and disgust came roaring to the surface and he lost all self-control. Rounding on the boy, he roared, “I’m fucking over this! I’m fucking done with you! ALL YOU’VE DONE IS RUIN MY LIFE SINCE I FIRST MET YOU! I FUCKING WANT MY OLD LIFE BACK! I WANT YOU GONE!”

He stood there, chest heaving, glaring down at the boy. Beck’s face was pale and he looked shaken. As João watched, though, he recovered and, clenching his jaw, said, “You say you want your old life back? Well, Ok. You got it. I’m outta here. Have fun, bro.”

With that, he turned and stalked out of the apartment, slamming the door behind him.

***

Chapter 8

His phone woke him up in the morning. Groaning, he rubbed the sleep from his eyes and picked it up; it was Melodie.

“Get over here now!” she ordered, not bothering to say hello first. He rolled his eyes, she was still the ‘prison warden’ even after they’d been divorced for nearly ten years. 

Taking a deep breath, he asked, “Why? What’s wrong?”

“It’s Elias,” she said. “He says he’s getting married. To an immigrant! An immigrant man, no less.”

“Elias?”

There was a pause and then, “Our son, James. Did you forget his name?”

James? Elias? he wondered. Why did those names seem both familiar and alien? He massaged his forehead, feeling creeped out. His son’s name was…Elias? Wasn’t it Elio? He sighed, brain aching with the effort to remember. And his name wasn’t James…or was it? Fuck, why was his head so foggy?

“Are you coming or not?” Melodie sounded positively icy. “Jeffrey and I have had it with him. We blame you, James, for this crazy behavior.”

“Hey!” he protested, snapping out of his weird malaise. “Are you saying that I’ve somehow ‘infected’ Elias because I’m bisexual? It doesn’t work that way and you know it, Melodie.” He was angry now. Why was Melodie always so biphobic?

“That’s not what I meant,” she said in a tone that implied the opposite. “It’s your…your misguided altruism.” She said the words as if they were somehow dirty. “You know, the work you do. You had a perfectly good job, James, and you blew it. You know that’s why I divorced you, don’t you? You went down the wrong path.”

James had had it with this conversation; it had been his idea to divorce Melodie, not the other way around. And his career was sacrosanct. How dare she impugn it! He matched her icy tone, growling, “Immigration law is not misguided altruism. I happen to love my work, Melodie. And I’m happy. Can you say the same thing?”

He hung up before she could reply.

***

When he got up, his new roommate, Jaime, was still asleep in the guest bedroom with his boyfriend, Rafael. James could see Rafael’s arm draped over Jaime’s chest through the partially opened door. Jaime had recently found a construction job with James’ help and said he planned to move out soon. James wasn’t in any hurry to make him go, though. He liked Jaime, always had. And he was happy that Jaime and Rafael were together; they were good guys.

James took a shower and got dressed, smiling at his reflection in the bathroom mirror as he fixed his unruly blond hair. For a guy in his early forties, he looked damned good. He ran every day and lifted weights. Oh, he wasn’t a stud by anyone’s definition but he had a certain boyishness about him that women…and men…found attractive. Squirting some gel into his hands, he pushed his hair back over the top of his head and winked slyly. Yeah, he looked good for a middle-aged guy!

The barrio was quiet when he exited his apartment building and found his Honda Civic in the lot across the street. It was fifteen years old but still ran just fine. He hoped it would last another few years because he’d never been good about saving his money; there were too many people out there who needed it more than he did. According to Melodie, this was another one of his many flaws: Always thinking of others before himself. It’s why he lived in a modest apartment in a poor neighborhood and had a car that was nearly as old as his son.

The drive across town to the rich neighborhood where Melodie and Jeffrey lived took only a half hour because it was a Sunday morning and the roads were empty. He parked under the old catalpa and strode up the long walkway to the mansion, shaking his head at the opulence of the place. He never felt comfortable here.

He could hear angry voices before he reached the front steps and had to ring the doorbell several times before anyone heard it. The household was in quite the uproar!

Elias answered and James stared up at his son, barely recognizing him. The ‘boy’ took after his mother and was built like a brick shithouse. With blond hair, blue eyes and a lower jaw that thrust out like a pitbull’s, he looked and acted like an uber jock. There was a cocky swagger to his step and a glint in his eyes. His beard was thick and unkempt and dirty blond chest hair poured out of the top of his tank top. He wore a baseball cap backwards on his head and a pair of ratty old shorts. His massive chest stretched the nylon material of his shirt and his arms were bigger around than James’ thighs. It was easy to see why Elias was the star linebacker on the university football team.

“Yo, Dad,” he rumbled in a deep voice that sounded decidedly dull. Another way he takes after his mother, James thought wryly. “Ya come to yell at me, too?”

James smiled. “No. Why would I do that? If you want to get married, I won’t stop you.” When Elias blinked at this, he added, “I came to meet the lucky man. Is he here?”

Elias’ mouth was hanging open. Clearly, this wasn’t the response he expected. After a moment, he recovered enough to say, “Uh, yeah. Bieito’s inside.” He turned and motioned for James to follow him. “Come say hi.”

His son led him into the kitchen where Jeffrey and Melodie were standing with crossed arms, glowering. Bieito was seated behind the counter and got up as Elias and James entered. James did a double take when he saw him. Bieito was one smoking hot guy!

“Took you long enough,” Melodie grumbled, glowering even more at James than she had at Bieito.

James feigned a smile that never reached his eyes. His ex-wife had really aged into her ‘prison warden’ persona. Tall, broad, heavy and dowdy, she wore a gray dress that did nothing to dispel her penitential appearance. Jeffrey was no better. He was equally as heavy and dour as his wife. As he did every time he was forced to visit their household, James thanked God that he had divorced Melodie and escaped the prison of their marriage.

Elias moved over to stand beside Bieito, placing his beefy arm over the beautiful man’s shoulders. Strangely, Bieito paid no attention; instead, he was staring at James in the most disconcerting manner. His stunning blue eyes held a note of amusement as well as something else, something that sent a shiver down James’ spine. He had only to look at Bieito once to know the guy was trouble. Did Elias realize what he was getting himself into?

“Dad,” Elias rumbled. “This is Bieito, my fiance.”

James reached out to clasp Bieito’s big hand, saying, “Prazer em conhecê lo.”

“Você fala português?” Bieito asked, clearly startled. He spoke with an interesting accent, James noticed.

James nodded and then switched to Spanish. “Sí, pero hablo mejor en español. Como tú, ¿no? Tu familia es de Brasil pero eres de Venezuela. Reconozco el acento.”

Everyone was staring at them. As an immigration attorney, James was pretty much fluent in Spanish and spoke passable Portuguese. Unfortunately, Elias, Melodie and Jeffrey didn’t know more than a couple words of Spanish and couldn’t tell Portuguese from Russian.

James took the opportunity to study Bieito closely. Tall and broad-shouldered, he had an exceedingly slim waist and muscular legs that were clearly visible beneath the black athletic tights he was wearing. Something else–something far bigger than should have been humanly possible–was also outlined in those tights. It snaked down Bieito’s leg like…well, like a snake. A very big, very thick, very long snake. James’ cheeks colored and he forced his gaze back up to the guy’s face.

Bieito was graced with a stunning combination of indigenous, African and European features. His brown hair was curly and thick and his skin was a deep chestnut brown that really drew attention to his startlingly clear, blue eyes. His facial features were pleasantly full and rounded and angular at the same time. His skin was smooth and soft and his black beard was trimmed very short, almost down to stubble. This, James couldn’t help but notice, accentuated his full, pouty lips.

Yeah, Bieito was a beautiful man. So beautiful that he almost seemed angelic. The carnality that hung off of him like a musky scent, though, made it clear that the man was no angel.

“I am impressed,” Bieito was saying in Spanish, “you could tell that I was born in Brazil but moved to Venezuela. How?”

“Your name,” James said, dropping his gaze. Something about the way Bieito was eying him got him flustered. “Your name is Brazilian but you speak Portuguese with a strong Venezuelan accent.”

“Such an intelligent…and handsome man,” Bieito observed and James cleared his throat. “You fascinate me.”

“Careful,” James warned. “They might understand more Spanish than you think. Plus, aren’t you supposed to be my son’s fiance?”

Bieito shrugged. “I’m Brazilian. And Venezuelan. We fuck who we want.” He reached down and cupped his prominent balls as he said this, smirking.

“How charming.” As beguiling as Bieito was, James was rapidly beginning to share Melodie’s apprehension. Elias might be dumb as a post but he was a good kid and James didn’t want to see his son heartbroken.

“The marriage,” Bieito continued as if reading James’ thoughts, “is for one reason only: To get a Green Card. I fuck Elias but I don’t love him.”

“I see.”

“Can you guys please speak English?” Elias demanded. Behind him, Melodie and Jeffrey nodded. “We can’t understand nuthin’ yer sayin’.”

James looked over at them apologetically. “Sorry. Bieito and I were just discussing the, um, intricacies of the U.S. immigration system. I don’t think he realizes just how difficult it is to get citizenship here, even if he marries an American.”

This seemed to relieve Melodie and Jeffrey and alarm Elias. He stared at James, a stricken look on his thick face. “But I thought if we got married–?” 

“Elias,” James interrupted, “what do I do for a living?”

The boy had to furrow his heavy brow for a moment before he remembered. “Yer an im-gration lawyer, right?”

James nodded. “That’s right. Now don’t you think that I might know something about how this works?” Elias’ face turned red from embarrassment. He might be dumb but he was smart enough to know when he was being stupid. He nodded, unable to look James in the eyes. Softening his tone, James put his hand on Elias’ shoulder. “Now why don’t you tell me what’s really going on here?”

***

The truth was out a half hour later. 

Elias had met Bieito on Grindr and had been smitten with the guy for obvious reasons. Sensing an easy mark when he saw one, Bieito convinced him to help him get a Green Card by staging a marriage. What Bieito hadn’t told Elias was that he owed the gang that had smuggled him into the United States a lot of money. After some tactful but persistent grilling by James (he was a lawyer, after all), Bieito had admitted that he needed Elias not just for the Green Card but for the money as well. He knew Elias came from a wealthy family; all he had to do was marry the guy and the money was all but his.

James conducted his interview with Bieito in Spanish and was selective about revealing the part about the gang to Melodie and Jeffrey. He did this partly because he didn’t want to alarm them and partly because he didn’t want to bias them further against the guy. It was clear that, while Elias might not be in love with Bieito, he was getting something–a very big something!–out of the deal. Plus, he had so much money that he wouldn’t even notice if ten thousand dollars went missing from one of his accounts. Why not let the boys have their fun?

“It’s not a bad plan,” James told Bieito in Spanish. “I doubt, though, that the Green Card part will work. And, even if the government goes for it, they’ll probably make you move back to Venezuela until it’s approved.” When Bieito looked stricken at this prospect, he spread his hands apologetically. “Hey, I don’t make the laws! I know it’s fucked up but it’s how the United States immigration system works.”

***

A few days passed and James had nearly forgotten about the incident with Elias and Bieito. When he’d left Melodie and Jeffrey’s, the boys had gotten their reluctant approval to marry and promised to stop by James’ office downtown for an official consultation. He doubted he’d be able to help them much but he said he’d do what he could.

He was a little surprised, therefore, when Bieito was waiting for him outside his office one night as he locked up. The tall, handsome, young man stepped out from beside the row of trash cans lining the street and lifted his hand in salutation. James had to squint before he recognized him.

“Bieito?” he asked in Spanish. “Where’s Elias?”

The young stud shrugged. “Does it matter? I’m here for you.”

James frowned. “You never stop, do you? Do you think I’ll be more helpful if you seduce me?”

“Maybe.” Bieito was grinning and his blue eyes were fixed on James like lasers.

“Stop. Just stop,” James ordered. “Just because I’m bi doesn’t mean I’m a slut. Plus, you’re fucking my son!”

Bieito took a confident step forward, thrusting his crotch forward so that the obscene outline of his giant package was clearly visible. He placed his hand on it and rubbed suggestively, purring, “Elias doesn’t care. Maybe he’d like to watch? I’m really good in bed. That’s what everyone tells me.”

“Oh, really?” James waved him off. “I don’t care. You know I’m a top, right? Even if I were interested, there’s no way I’d let that thing anywhere near me or my hole.”

He started to walk away but Bieito grabbed his arm. “Hey!” the kid cried. “You really don’t recognize me, do you?”

James stared at him. “I called you by your name just now, didn’t I? Of course, I recognize you!”

Bieito shook his shaggy head. “No, that’s not what I meant.” He got really close to James, so close his potent man-scent filled his nostrils; Bieito smelled good, he’d give him that. “I mean, don’t you remember me from before?”

“Before?” James repeated. “Before what?” He laughed, adding, “Not to inflate your already tumescent ego but you’re not someone I could easily forget, Bieito. You’re a very handsome young man.” He shook his head. “No, I would remember you if I’d met you before and I don’t.”

Bieito started to smile at the compliment but the smile faded when James admitted he didn’t recognize him. He took James by the arms and shook him, “I mean, before. When you were Brazilian. Like I am now, João.” He paused significantly after saying the name as if James should know who he meant.

“I’m sorry,” James said, removing Bieito’s hands. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’ve never been Brazilian and I don’t know anyone named João.”

“But–”

“Take care of yourself, Bieito,” James said over his shoulder as he walked away. “It’s a tough world out there. Life isn’t easy for an immigrant in the United States, even if he is a big stud like you.”

***

Jaime and Rafael were in the bathroom when he got back to his apartment. The shower was running and he could hear their soft moans, indicating that they were in the midst of an amorous escapade. He sighed to himself, feeling his underused cock twitch in his pants. It’s been so long since he’d had sex that he’d almost forgotten what it was like. He envied Jaime and Rafael; the pair had sex quite a lot from what he could tell. Scarcely an hour went by when they weren’t closed in the bedroom or bathroom fucking each other.

The truth was it had taken a lot of self-control to turn down Bieito’s advances. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t find the kid attractive. Who wouldn’t? Someone like Bieito could make even the most hetero man question his sexuality. But there was also something prurient about the guy that turned James off. Bieito was too vain, too self-assured, too full of himself. And his cock was way too big. James shook his head. Where did these Brazilian guys get their humongous cocks? He’d never been with one whose dick was shorter than a twelve inches. It was ridiculous!

As if on cue, Rafael strode out of the bathroom with a flimsy towel wrapped around his taut waist. The dude wasn’t as hung as Bieito but he was close. The outline of his massive, uncircumcised schlong was clearly visible beneath the thin fabric of the towel…and he was still half hard. He scratched his belly thoughtfully, causing his nipple rings to sway. His body was tanned, hairy, ripped, and covered in tattoos…just the way that James liked his men.

James felt his cheeks flush as Rafael’s stare persisted and the man showed no sign of turning away. When Jaime exited the bathroom behind his lover in much the same state of arousal, James was thoroughly flummoxed. 

He cleared his throat, trying to sound light. “Um, hey!” he chirped, averting his gaze from the two nearly naked men, “I’ll make dinner tonight if you like. How does Feijoada sound?”

Neither Rafael nor Jaime answered right away. Finally, Rafael smiled and turned to him, saying, “We were thinking of something else. Some white meat and cake, maybe?”

As he said this, he let the towel slide down his waist. His giant, fifteen-inch cock sprang free, lifting up to point at the ceiling. His black foreskin retracted to reveal the huge piercing through the moist glans. James’ mouth fell open. Maybe Rafael was hung like Bieito after all?

One minute, he was standing there frozen in shock and the next he was completely naked and being assailed by two of the hottest men ever. Rafael ripped off his clothes and Jaime pulled down his boxers. His eyes lit up when he saw James’ ten-incher standing at attention. (James might not be Brazilian but he was no slouch in the cock department.) Jaime launched himself at that cock while Rafael got busy behind him, kneeling down and burying his face in the cleft of James’ ass. Soon, he was getting the best blowjob of his life while getting his salad tossed by the longest tongue in the world. Rafael and Jaime were formidable lovers!

Knowing that James wasn’t fond of getting fucked, Rafael contented himself with working just a few inches of his giant cock into his hole. James moaned, feeling his poor pucker stretch. It hurt a lot but the sensation wasn’t completely unappealing. Maybe with some practice he’d come to enjoy it? The question was could his poor sphincter take a cock that huge and survive?

Rafael fell back onto his haunches and drew James with him, settling him onto his cock and teasing him with micro thrusts. Jaime turned around and presented James with his incredibly plump, furry ass cheeks, pulling them apart to reveal his gaping hole. Given how loose he was, it was easy for him to slip onto James’ cock and ride him like a seasoned mare.

They wore themselves out, fucking on James’ living room floor until the wee hours of the night. Finally, they were too tired and too drained of cum to continue and James ordered pizza. They sat around the table, still naked, eating slices and grinning stupidly at each other.

“We make a good thruple,” Rafael was saying in Portuguese. “We’ve had our eyes on you for a long time, bro. Ever since you helped us get our residency.”

Jaime nodded. “Yeah, we wanted to pay you back. But we also kind of started to like you. I think we’re compatible, don’t you?”

James smiled, feeling his beleaguered asshole throb and leak Rafael’s cum. “You definitely got my attention! I’m game to try it out if you are. It’s fine, though, if you guys wanna be exclusive. I don’t wanna get in the way.”

In reply to this, both Rafael and Jaime leaned over and planted their lips on his mouth, forcing their tongues inside. They smelled–and tasted–like tomato sauce, pepperoni and cum. Three of James’ favorite flavors!

***

Chapter 9

Rafael had made him shave his body before they went to bed the night before. “I want your hair gone,” he said, holding the razor over James’ bushy, blond pubes. “You will be smooth all over from now on.” It was an order. Rafael jerked his chin over at Jaime and James noticed for the first time that Jaime was completely hair-free from the neck down.

In the razor’s aftermath, he looked down at his nude body in surprise. The last time he’d been this smooth had been before puberty. It made his pale skin look like pink porcelain. It wasn’t entirely objectionable, he decided, and made his circumcised dick look even bigger.

Running his calloused hand over James’ shaved butt, Rafael purred, “Your ass is so fine, James. I wanna fuck it again.”

James let him. Again and again. Each time, Rafael was able to force more of his ridiculously swollen cock inside him. It hurt like hell but Rafael was insistent. He wanted James stretched out to accommodate him. All of him.

It was well after midnight by the time they fell into bed together. As would become their habit, Rafael was the big spoon and James was in the middle. Jaime–with his giant, soft bottom–was the little spoon. They cuddled together, Rafael’s cock lodged inside James’s aching butt and James’ cock inside Jaime’s vacuous hole. He’d never had a better night’s sleep!

When his alarm went off the next morning, Rafael pushed his big cock between his buttocks, pulling him closer. Next to him, Jaime wiggled his huge butt into James’ erection. Even sleeping, he could open his hole and accept James inside. It was quite a trick!

James smiled sleepily. He had to get up and go to work soon but he didn’t want to move. It felt so good to be sandwiched between these two, hot guys. Inhaling deeply, he smelled Jaime’s thick, black hair. He smelled so good! A tear came to his eye then, surprising him. He hadn’t realized how much he longed to be in a relationship again. How many years had it been?

He kissed Jaime’s neck and then turned to plant a kiss on Rafael’s lips. Rafael cracked an eyelid and smiled. It was the smile of a lion surveying his pride. Yeah, Rafael was definitely the dominant one here and James was fine with that. He’d let the man do whatever he wanted to him without question.

“I gotta get up,” he whispered, not wanting to wake Jaime. They were in his bed because Jaime’s wasn’t big enough to hold all three of them. James was glad he’d invested in a king-sized mattress even though it was too big for the small room. It meant that they would spend a lot more nights together like this. The thought got his cock throbbing.

Rafael got up with him and followed him out into the kitchen. He paced around James like a hungry wolf, staring at his naked body critically. Finally, he said, “You’re hot but you need some work if you’re gonna be mine.” He grabbed Jame’s bicep and pinched, frowning. “You need more muscles. Lots and lots of muscles. My buddy’ll hook ya up with super-concentrated ‘roids. I want you to start taking ‘em today. They’ll make you big and dumb.” James moaned at the thought of stumbling around in a big, bloated body, loaded down with pounds and pounds of muscles.

But Rafael wasn’t finished. “I will remove all of your hair permanently so you’re smooth everywhere. And you need tattoos and piercings. Plus, silicone. Plenty of silicone.” He grinned lasciviously. “When I’m done with you, you won’t recognize yourself.”

James’ cock was pointing up at the ceiling by this point. He moaned as a little spurt of precum shot out of the tip of his circumcised glans. “I-I-I want you to change me,” he pleaded, shivering. “I want you to do whatever you like.”

“Good man,” Rafael said, slapping him hard on the bare buttocks. “We’ll get started today after you’re done with work.”

***

Eight months later, James was lifting weights with his son, Elias, at a seedy gym in the barrio. With the massive doses of ‘roids, he’d bulked up considerably and now sported arms as big as his son’s. And let’s not forget about his new, Brazilian-sized ass, augmented with silicone to make it extra fat and jiggly. 

Rafael’s plan hadn’t stopped there, of course. He’d also sent James to an illicit clinic for some work on his cock. After being led into a dirty room, James stood there with his pants around his ankles as a doctor emptied a syringe into his flaccid dick. He cried out in pain as the liquid burned through his erectile tissue, dissolving it forever. Panting, James had watched in shocked surprise as his cock deflated like a limp balloon, hanging listlessly over his smooth nuts. Then the doc had inflated it with weird stuff that hardened rapidly, leaving him with a giant, permanent erection. After his balls were thoroughly siliconed, he had a truly massive package with a nutsac the size of a melon and a cock that was just as fat as Rafael’s and nearly as long.

He didn’t mind being erect all the time. Well, not too much anyway. He invested in a pair of baggy pants to wear at work that mostly concealed his giant package or at least made it less conspicuous. At home and the gym, though, he wore tight sweatpants that left nothing to the imagination. Between his big, swollen peach in back and big, swollen bulge in front, there was something for everyone. He enjoyed the envious stares he received from the other weightlifters. Even better, his sex life had really blossomed and he both fucked and got fucked more than ever.

Rafael had invested in some nice, badass tattoos over his shaved crotch and across his shaved chest. In back, he sported a pair of angel wings on his traps and a huge tramp stamp across his generous buttocks. The ass tat was a bouquet of pink calla lilies, the stems trailing down into his deep cleft and the flowers spreading out over his massive buttocks. The long, thick stamens dripped with dew like honey. His flower, the message was clear, was ready to be plucked.

Rafael had made him get a pair of Brazilian flags tattooed on either side of his bull neck to signify his subservience. Unfortunately, these were visible above the neckline of his dress shirt and suit which meant he had to apply concealer before going to court. Likewise, he had to remove the big earrings stretching out his lobes and the ring over his left eye. Growing into a massive ‘roided brute already made people question his intelligence and reputation; if he didn’t adopt a semblance of respectability, he’d never win any of his cases. So far, at least, he was able to get by without being too obviously freaky but he had no idea how long that would continue; Rafael showed no signs of stopping his forced transformation. He was intent on making James into a total ‘roid monster.

“Jesus, bro,” Elias rumbled as James hefted nearly four hundred pounds off the bench press and proceeded to whip out twelve reps before calling out for more weight. “Yer a beast!”

“Thanks, dude,” James said, panting. He toyed with one of his big nipple rings, still getting used to them. His heavy pecs hung down like a distended shelf and the rings were obvious beneath the stretched fabric of his string tank. “Fuck, bro, I owe it all to Rafael.”

“Him an’ the ‘roids,” Elias observed slyly. “Never thought my ol’ man would use drugs!”

James barked with laughter, enjoying the sound of his deeper voice. “I juss had to meet the right man, I guess.” Elias guffawed as if this was the funniest thing in the world. Soon they were braying like a couple of jackasses. James had no idea why it was funny but it felt good to just be dumb. Yeah, why had he always cared so much about being smart? Being big and stupid was clearly superior. Grinning vacantly, he patted his ‘roid gut absently with one hand while scratching at some stubborn acne on his back with the other. After a while, he looked up at Elias and asked, “Hey, bro, speakin’ ‘bout the right man, whatever happened with you an’ that guy. Wuzn’t his name Bieito er sumthin’?”

Elias was scratching his little nub through his Lycra tights. The tights were so sheer that anyone could see the outline of his miniscule pee-pee and baby-sized nuts. Unlike his father who was versatile, Elias was a bottom through and through. With a tiny prick like his, he had to be! He spent most of his time doing squats and lunges in the effort to build up his glutes. He’d recently asked for the name of the clinic where James got his butt implants. James’ heart swelled with pride to think his son would soon be getting an even bigger booty. It was so cool!

Still pondering the answer to James’ question, Elias’ big maw hung open as the wheels slowly turned in his thick skull. Finally, he grunted, “Like, uh, y’know, it juss didn’t werk out. Dunno wha da fuck happened to him. Ain’t seen him in a long time.”

“Huh,” James rumbled, shrugging his mountainous shoulders. “Hope he’s Ok.”

Elias grinned like an oaf. “I’m sure he’s fine. Prolly still hustlin’ for cash.”

James grasped his giant, siliconed cock through his sweats, jacking himself absently. “Prolly right. He was fuckin’ hotter than shit, though, I give him that. Must’ve been a lotta fun in the sack!”

“Left me gapin, alright!” Elias admitted, cupping his mountainous ass cheeks and wincing. “Don’t think I’ll ever be the same again.”

They both brayed with laughter again, slapping each other and clutching their swollen guts.

***

He lumbered out of the gym later after getting fucked a few times in the showers. Elias had been in the stall next to him, grunting like a stuck pig. God, it was great bonding with his gay son! He shivered, wondering why he and Elias didn’t go cruising for sex more often. It had certainly opened up a whole new range of experiences. He chuckled to himself, shaking his head at how prudish he’d been before meeting Rafael and Jaime.

A faint whimper caught his attention and he glanced down a darkened alleyway. The gym was in a bad neighborhood and James routinely saw drug deals and gang activity. He was glad that he was such a beefy brute now or he might have felt more cautious. As it was, people took one look at his hulking shoulders and jutting jaw and ran the other direction.

The alley was empty but he spotted a hunched form leaning against a dumpster. Curious, he lumbered over to investigate, discovering it was a young guy incongruously dressed in a pink negligee and nothing else. The guy’s head flopped over to the side as James approached, revealing a face covered in blood. His eyes were swollen shut.

James didn’t hesitate; he scooped the guy up into his big arms and carried him back to his car. There was an emergency clinic nearby that he knew well from working with immigrants. The doctors there liked him and would see the young guy right away. He was nearly there when the kid snapped out of his stupor and began pleading with him in Spanish. “No! No! No clinic, please! I’m Ok. Just leave me off here.”

James frowned. “Yer hurt. Ya need help. I’m taking ya in whether you wanna or not.” When this made the guy fly into a hysterics, he was forced to relent. “Fine,” he growled. “But at least lemme take ya back to my place. I got bandages and medicine. I can’t let ya go like this.”

The young dude didn’t like this idea much more but at least he stopped screaming at the top of his lungs. “Please don’t hurt me!” he begged, rubbing the blood out of his eyes and trying to get a good look at James. What he saw apparently didn’t reassure him because he pulled away in alarm, wailing in fear. He tried to open the door to jump out but James managed to lock it again at the last instant.

“Relax, bro,” James soothed, trying to make his thuggish face look somewhat friendly. This was hard when you looked like a bloated gorilla even on your best days. “I ain’t gonna hurt ya. Ya can trust me.”

“Th-Th-That’s what the last guy said before he tried to rape me!” The poor kid was pressed against the door, trying to get as far away from James as possible. “Just let me go!”

James smiled reassuringly, realizing as he did so that this probably made him look like a grinning goon. “I know I don’t look like it but I’m a lawyer. I work with people like you all the time. I ain’t gonna rape you. I wanna help.”

Upon hearing this, the young guy rubbed the blood out of his eyes again and probed James’ face. “Señor Jorgenson?” he asked in a quavering voice. In Spanish, his last name sounded like ‘Whore-Hain-Soan’.

James blinked, wondering how the kid knew his name. Had he represented him in court? He searched the guy’s face, trying to recognize him, but his face was too battered and bruised. “Yeah, I’m James Jorgenson,” he said. “If ya know me, ya know I won’t hurt you.”

This seemed to do the trick. The kid sighed and slumped against the passenger door, closing his eyes and moaning softly in pain.

***

He carried him into his apartment. The kid was pretty beefy but he felt light as a feather given James’ steroidal muscles. He pushed through the doorway and carried him into the bathroom where he asked, “Can ya sit or do ya wanna lie down?”

The guy grimaced. He looked even worse in full light, James realized. His face was puffy and scraped up. His hair was so bloody it was impossible to tell what color it was. His swollen eyes and broken lips gave him a ghoulish appearance but James reckoned he was probably quite handsome underneath it all.

“Go out,” the kid croaked, pointing to the door. “I’ll tell you when you can come back in.”

James placed him gently down on the toilet seat and left, taking up position outside the door. After a while, he heard the sounds of movement from within and, a minute or two later, the kid called out weakly, “It’s Ok now. You can come in.”

James entered to find the boy wrapped in his bathrobe. The negligee was discarded on the floor nearby. He bent over and threw it in the trash; tattered and stained with blood, it was beyond repair. The kid made a disdainful face as he watched James discard the garment. Clearly, he wasn’t attached to it.

“Here, now lemme see yer face,” James said, patting the toilet seat. The kid hesitated for only a moment and then sat down. James rummaged through the cabinets for bandages and antiseptic cream before sitting down opposite him on the edge of the bathtub. He dabbed carefully at the boy’s face with a washcloth, rinsing it out in the sink. 

Strangely, he discovered makeup on the kid’s face beneath the blood. Additionally, he wore delicate rings on his earlobes and a thin gold necklace. When he turned his attention to the guy’s head, he realized his hair was quite long and had been tied back with a pink bow. He carefully removed the jewelry, setting it aside on the sink, but no sooner had he done so then the kid had knocked it all into the trash.

It took some time but he managed to clean the worst of the blood out of his hair and off his face. Examining him, he realized the damage was superficial. He fastened a bandage over the boy’s eyebrow and another over his left cheek, leaning back to survey his handiwork. Only then did he recognize the boy.

“Bieito?” he asked, stunned.

Bieito nodded. “Yeah, it’s me alright.”

“What happened? Who did this to you?”

The boy sighed heavily, lowering his blue eyes. His entire demeanor had changed since the last time James had seen him. The cocky jock had disappeared and in his place was a timid and uncertain young boy. Bieito’s lack of facial hair only heightened this impression. With those smooth cheeks and wide, innocent eyes, he could now easily pass for a sixteen year old.

“The gang did this to me,” he admitted, unable to meet James’ gaze. “They caught me and did…stuff to me. Then they sold me as a prostitute to pay off my debts.” He winced, grabbing his side and trying to stand. “I-I-I have to get back soon or they’re going to hurt me again. I’ve got to go now.”

James put his hand on Bieito’s shoulder, forcing him to sit again. “Yer in no shape to leave. Lemme look at ya to be sure ya don’t need to see a doctor. Then ya can use the shower. I’ll make us some dinner.”

Bieito looked like he wanted to protest but he folded his hands meekly in his lap at a stern look from James. Shrugging, he said, “Ok, but I’m not taking this off.” He indicated the bathrobe. “You’ll have to examine me like this.”

James wondered why the boy was so sensitive about revealing his body now when he’d been anything but shy the last time he’d seen him. He didn’t press the matter, though, and did his best to feel for the telltale signs of fractures and broken ribs through the thick fabric of the bathrobe. Bieito submitted to his examination stoically, only wincing a few times when James touched a sensitive spot.

When it was over, James was satisfied that Bieito wasn’t seriously injured. There was, however, one thing he had to know before he was done. Sitting down in front of the boy, he asked, “Have ya been, uh, now whut’s da phrase?” He thought for a moment, alarmed by how slow his mind was. Those ‘roids really were making him stupid! Finally, his dull eyes brightened slightly. “Oh, yah! I got it now! Have ya been sex-u-al-ly as-saul-ted?”

Bieito’s mouth quirked, the ghost of his old cockiness reemerging. “I’m a whore. Tell me how you define sexual assault?”

James sighed. “Has a dude forced ya to have sex? Aside from bein’ forced to become a whore, that is.”

Bieito shook his head. “No, the guy who did this to me wanted to rape me but I fought him off. He never fucked me.”

“Dat’s good, I guess.” James placed his big hand on Bieito’s leg and was glad when the boy didn’t jerk away. “Go ahead an’ shower. I’ll make us sumthin’ to eat. Ya like Sopa de Fubà?’

***

An hour later, Bieito was showered and dressed in a pair of James’ sweatpants and a hoodie. The swelling on his face had gone down and he looked more like his old self. His confidence, however, had not returned; if anything, he seemed more timid than ever. He would barely look at James the whole time he was eating.

“Sorry.”

Bieito looked up at him questioningly, beautiful eyes wide in his face. “Why?”

James smiled sadly. “I didn’t help ya when ya asked. I could’ve done sumthin’. Kept ya safe, maybe.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Bieito replied, waving this off. “Nothing matters anymore. My life is over.”

“Don’t say dat.” James didn’t know why he did so but he reached across the table and moved a lock of the boy’s long hair out of his eyes. Bieito glanced up at him shyly before lowering his gaze again. “Yer still young. And I know how to deal with gangs. I can protect you.” Before he could stop himself, he added, “Ya can stay with me. Ya can stay here.”

Bieito grimaced. “You don’t want me. You said so the last time.” He took a shuddering breath, seeming to war with himself. When he spoke again, he changed the subject. “This is good, by the way.” He nodded down at the soup. “You cook like a Brazilian.” He lifted his gaze and examined James closely for the first time, observing, “And you look like one, too. The muscles, the tattoos, the piercings…they look good on you.”

James felt his perpetually hard cock throb at this. He reached down to adjust himself, realizing it was in danger of thrusting out the leg of his shorts. “Thanks,” he said, smiling. “Appreciate dat.”

***

Bieito slept in Jaime’s old room. James changed the sheets and opened the window, letting in a fresh breeze. “Ain’t nobody slept in here in a long time,” he explained, scratching an armpit. “Ya can stay as long as ya want. Both of my, um…roommates…is in Brazil right now. Dey won’t be back for a couple weeks.”

Bieito lifted an eyebrow at this but didn’t say anything. Instead, he padded over and gave him a little hug, resting his chin in the crook of his neck. Then he turned and closed the door behind him.

***

James barely saw Bieito over the next couple of days. He slept late, rising after James went to work, and didn’t come back to the apartment until late. James guessed that he must have gone back to retrieve his things because there was a backpack on the floor of the bedroom one night when he got home. 

In the meantime, he got busy hunting down the gang that had forced Bieito into prostitution. It took some convincing but Bieito finally provided the location of their headquarters; it turned out to be just a few blocks away from James’ apartment. Calling in a favor from one of his contacts in the FBI, he got a squad to go down and bust in. It turned out that Bieito’s information was golden and they made a bunch of arrests, collecting a lot of incriminating evidence in the process. The cops told James it would be several years before any of them got out of prison.

James would have thought that this would make Bieito happy but the boy seemed to barely register the good news. He merely gave James a weary smile and then locked himself in his room.

On the third night, things changed. James smelled food in the stairwell of the apartment and was surprised to see Bieito standing in front of the stove when he opened the door. The boy turned and smiled in his now customary shy manner, saying, “I made you dinner, Big Guy.”

“Thanks,” James grunted, lifting his nose and inhaling. “Feijoada? Dat’s my favorite!”

“Yeah. I figured you’d like it.” Bieito lifted his blue eyes before glancing down again. “I-I-I used your credit card to buy the ingredients because I don’t have any money. I hope that’s Ok.”

James smiled. “Dat’s fine with me.” He opened his arms to encompass the apartment. “All I got is yers, Bieito.”

This brought a smile to the boy’s face and something else as well. In an instant, the atmosphere between them became sexually charged and James felt a thrill of excitement shoot down his body and awaken his groin. His perennially hard cock stirred.

Was it his imagination or was Bieito staring down at his crotch? He shifted, realizing he was still clad in the tight sweatpants he wore to the gym and the outline of his massive cock and hulking testicles was clearly visible. He cleared his throat, taking in Bieito’s appearance as he did so. 

Now that the boy had recovered from his injuries, he looked very different from before. Eight months ago, he’d been a total jock with broad shoulders, well-defined muscles and a narrow waist. That body was completely gone now and Bieito had softened up. A lot. 

The boy was wearing an old pair of James’ shorts that should have been baggy but instead hugged his generous buttocks, making their oversized heft and roundness very apparent. That ass jiggled noticeably with every movement, driving James to distraction.

When Bieito turned to look at him, James realized his face was rounder, fuller and smoother than before. His shoulders didn’t seem nearly as wide and his arms were distinctly thinner, having lost much of their previous muscle. Yeah, he’d gone soft. Everywhere. It was weird but he wasn’t complaining. He kind of preferred Bieito like this.

It helped that Bieito had gotten a haircut (no doubt paid for with James’ credit card, too) and his long locks were gone. Now his hair was buzzed on the sides and greased back on top. His curly, brown hair was really luxurious and full. Between this and his softer, smoother face, he looked really boyish.

Catching him staring, Bieito lowered his eyes behind very long lashes. He smiled shyly and a lock of his hair fell down over his eyes.

He didn’t remember doing it. One second, he was admiring the beautiful boy and then Bieito was in his big arms and he was hugging him against his muscly chest. He lowered his lips seductively; Bieito hesitated only a moment before lifting his head and kissing him. James growled deep in the back of his throat. Bieito’s lips were so soft!

He worked his hands down to Bieito’s butt, easing his hands beneath his shorts. With practiced ease, he slipped them off, leaving the boy clad only in a pair of women’s panties. He gave a start when his fingers touched the lacey fabric and his cock stirred even more. The combination of those enormous, soft, smooth ass cheeks and the sheer satin drove him wild. It was like touching a woman’s butt.

He squatted down and hefted Bieito onto his hips. Bieito went stiff at first but soon folded his legs around James’ midsection. James pulled off his shirt, leaving the boy clad in only those sheer panties. Bieito tried to cover his chest as the shirt came off but he wasn’t fast enough. James caught his hands and moved them aside as the boy lowered his head in shame.

“Tits!” James pronounced. “You got tits!”

Bieito made an inarticulate sound in the back of his throat and looked away. “I HATE them!”

James was too overwhelmed to do anything besides reach up and fondle those soft, full, pendulous beauties. It felt like his brain was short circuiting. Breasts? On a guy? He’d never thought it was possible! As if trying to convince himself they were real, he squeezed them. Bieito moaned despite himself. James grinned lustily. “I LOVE ‘em! God, I fuckin’ love ‘em!” he breathed. “But…how?”

Bieto gritted his teeth. “I told you the gang did stuff to me. This is one of the things they did. They…made me into a girl. Said it was the only way I’d earn back the money I owed them.”

“They…made you into a girl?” James repeated, mind spinning. He’d never even considered that such a thing was possible. Suddenly, he understood why Bieito looked so soft and round compared to the last time he’d seen him. He swallowed, feeling his cock tingle and throb as a thought came to him. “Does that mean–?”

Bieito nodded, squeezing tears out of his eyes. “Yes, I’m a girl now. One hundred percent. Everywh–”

He never finished. James threw him down on the kitchen table and tore off his ridiculous panties before Bieito could stop him. Plates and silverware went flying, clattering to the floor at his feet. Then he stood there, hulking over Bieito’s naked, splayed body, his eyes riveted on the boy’s crotch as he struggled to comprehend the miracle of what he was seeing.

Bieito’s cock and balls were gone. 

Completely gone. 

In their place were a pair of moist, delicate, fleshy cunt lips. The boy even had a tiny, pink, perfect clitoris. If he didn’t know better, he wouldn’t have sworn Bieito had been born like that. He shook himself in disbelief. When he closed his eyes and reopened them, though; it was still there. He was looking at a real woman’s pussy. A woman’s pussy on Bieito.

He pulled off his sweatpants and his giant erection flopped free. It bobbed there between his thighs, hulking and heavy and huge…just like him. Bieito stared at it, his mouth falling open as he leaned back on his elbows. A steady trickle of precum dribbled out of James’ piss slit, pooling on the floor at his feet. His breathing was labored. His chest and face were hot. His cock was on fire.

He wanted pussy.

He yanked Bieito by the knees, pulling him close and opening up his crotch. His pussy lips spread apart, wet and glistening and ready. James aimed his giant cockhead downward and thrust inside, bellowing at the top of his lungs as his cock was buried deeply in the hottest, tightest pussy he’d ever fucked. Bieito threw back his head and hollered, whether from pain or pleasure or despair, it wasn’t clear. Maybe all three?

James thrust and thrust, pumping his way deeper and deeper into heaven. After a while, Bieito gave in, wrapping his legs around James’ thick waist and grabbing him by the shoulders. He clung to him like a mewling kitten. Slowly, the battletide receded and James softened his approach, arching his back and teasing his fat cock into Bieito with little, sharp bucks. Bieito’s eyes rolled back in his head and he smiled, mouth falling open. He began moving in time with James, opening his pussy and inviting him in deeper, deeper, deeper. 

Finally, James felt his blunt cockhead pushing against a tender, hard knob. As soon as he touched it, Bieito sighed in ecstasy, wriggling in closer. James teased that buried knob with his huge cock, laughing as he worked the boy into a frenzy. Bieito clawed his back, scoring his pimply skin with his nails. They both cried out, reaching a thunderous orgasm in tandem. James felt Bieito’s pussy quiver and contract around him. It was so hot. So wet. So tight.

He didn’t let Bieito recover after he pulled out and immediately went down on him, licking that pussy with his long tongue and driving the boy to another wild orgasm. James lapped up the dewdrops of honey that dripped out of the dude’s clit, purring with delight. And then he fucked him again, this time in the pussy and the asshole, not stopping until both orifices were thoroughly christened with his semen.

When they were finally spent, he collapsed down on top of Bieito, breathing heavily and pouring sweat. They kissed, more tenderly than before, and he laughed when Bieito nibbled his lip.

“Th-th-thanks,” Bieito sighed. “That’s the first time…” His voice broke off and he clenched his jaw. Finally, he managed to croak, “The first time I’ve cum since the surgery. I didn’t…I mean, I thought I couldn’t.” Tears were streaming down his cheeks. “I thought I was, you know, forever.”

James reached up and tenderly brushed the tears off those soft, round cheeks. He kissed Bieito’s eyelids. He didn’t say anything. What could he say anyway? He couldn’t make it better with words.

They ate dinner in silence with Bieito feeding James from his plate, sitting on his lap. When they were done, James carried him into his bedroom and lay him lovingly down on the bed. Bieito stared up at him, lower lip quivering. He covered his big breasts with one hand and his pussy with the other, asking James to look away.

“Why?” James demanded. “Yer fuckin’ hot.”

“Because I don’t want you to remember me like this!” the boy spat. “There’s no way I’m going to stay a woman! I’m a man! A fucking man!” Tears trickled down his soft cheeks and he wiped them away angrily.

James wasn’t too smart but it was obvious even to him that Bieito’s changes were permanent. A surgeon might be able to remove the breast and butt implants but there was no way to turn the dude’s tiny clit back into a cock. No, Bieito was going to be like this forever.

Rather than argue, though, he climbed into bed and lay down next to him. They lay facing each other and then he kissed him gently. Bieito sniffled and acted like he wanted to pull away but James’ lips were compelling and his big, calloused hands were roving over Bieito’s soft, fleshy curves. Finally, the boy gave in and kissed him back. He didn’t even resist when James pushed his cockhead against his pussy, working his way back inside.

“I love ya like this, Bieito,” he murmured in between kisses and thrusts. “I want ya to stay like this forever.”

***

The next morning, Bieito handed him a piece of paper. James stared down at it, his heavy brow furrowed. “Whut’s dis?” he asked. “An address?”

Bieito folded his thin arms. “Take me there. Now.” When James acted like he would object, he put his hands on his wide hips. “Just do it.”

James did.

The address turned out to be a house that was under construction. When they pulled up in front of it, James recognized it as Rafael and Jaime’s worksite. The company belonged to their friend, Carlos. He turned to Bieito questioningly but the boy wasn’t looking at him; he was already getting out of the car.

James waddled heavily behind the boy as he made a beeline for the little trailer on the edge of the construction site. Not bothering to knock, he barged in and started shouting. Confused, James pushed through the doorway, finding Bieito clutching a big man by the collar and screaming in Spanish. James recognized the guy as the boss, Carlos. Carlos was looking down at Bieito with barely concealed amusement.

“Turn me back!” Bieito hissed. “And turn him back, too!” He motioned behind him to James.

Carlos looked over at James and burst out laughing. This only got Bieito angrier, though, and he started pounding on the big man’s chest with his fists. He was very weak, though, and the blows clearly didn’t hurt. Finally, Carlos took Bieito’s hands and pushed them away from him.

“You know I can’t do that, Princess,” he said, patting the boy patronizingly on the head. “I gave you a chance and you wasted it.”

Bieito’s round face went red. “But you lied! You lied to me!” He motioned down at himself, adding, “This wasn’t what I wanted! I don’t want to be like this!”

Carlos started to reply but James interrupted him. “Uh, would somebody tell me whut’s goin’ on here?” He turned to the big man. “Whut’re ya talkin’ ‘bout?”

Carlos’ lip curled. “Ah, James, I see you’re well on your way to becoming the man you were always meant to be. Soon, you’ll be working here for me along with Rafael and Jaime because you’ll be too dumb and bloated with muscle to do anything else.”

“I ain’t dumb,” James protested, although even he had to admit he sounded like it.

Carlos grinned. “Sure, whatever you say.” Turning back to Bieito, he said, “I’m not going to turn you back so you’d better get used to life like this.” He gestured over to James, “Looks like you found a daddy who’ll take care of you. Things could be worse.” He laughed to himself adding, “Although unfortunately for you, you’ll never learn English and you’ll never get a real job. Unless you find your calling as a prostitute.”

Bieito took a deep breath to yell back at him but Carlos stopped him. “Don’t believe me? Try to say something in English.”

Bieito glared defiantly and opened his mouth. He froze, though, seeming to struggle to find the words. After a long time and a lot of effort he managed to stammer the first English words that James could remember him speaking: “Me…suck…yer…cock. Me…cock…whore. Fuck…my…pussy!”

Carlos burst out laughing as Bieito clapped his hands over his mouth in horror. “See?” Carlos taunted. “Those are the only words you’ll ever speak. Guess you’re good for only one thing now.”

Bieito’s face drained of color and he gaped up at Carlos. Finally, he recovered enough to yell, “I HATE you! I FUCKING HATE YOU!”

Carlos smirked. “And it hurts me so much to hear you say that, Princess. Just admit it, Beck. Admit you got what you deserved.”

***

“Uh, I don’t get it,” James said later as they were driving away. “Whut did he mean?”

“Just forget about it,” Bieito grumbled. He was sitting in the passenger seat with his arms crossed, pendulous breasts swaying with the motion of the car. “I don’t feel like talking right now.”

James shrugged his mountainous shoulders. “Ok. But can I fuck yer pussy when we get home?”

Bieito turned and looked over at him, blue eyes smoldering. After a few seconds, though, all of the anger and defiance seemed to drain out of him and he smiled impishly. “Sure,” he said, lifting his shirt and letting his breasts tumble out, “whatever you want, Big Guy.”

***

Epilogue

One year later, James was working in construction for Carlos, having grown too big and dumb to handle lawyering anymore. He didn’t mind, though. Carlos paid him pretty well and he enjoyed working with Rafael and Jaime.

Against James’ wishes, Bieito had gone back to prostitution. He’d found a pimp who treated him pretty well and had earned a good reputation among his clients. He earned enough to cover his portion of rent and eventually saved money to have his breast and butt implants removed. Further, he insisted on taking James’ steroids and had bulked up quite a bit. Even though James missed his breasts and big, soft bottom, he loved how muscular and handsome Bieito had become. Plus, fucking a dude with a pussy was a dream come true. He couldn’t remember ever being happier.

One night, he caught Bieito staring at a tattered and torn photograph. Taking it from him, he studied it. It was of a very handsome boy who looked strangely familiar. The kid was decked out in an American football jersey, tights and cleats, and the caption at the bottom read, “Beck Hamilton, Quarterback.”

“Who dis?” he rumbled, scrunching his thick brow. “One of yer, uh, clients?”

Bieito laughed ruefully, shaking his head. “No. Definitely not. He’s just a loser I used to know.” He paused for a moment, looking up at James with a haunted expression in his wide, blue eyes. “The asshole got what he deserved.”

***