WIP Topping's Blog: Male Transformation stories

Erotic Stories Focusing on Male Body Transformation and Mind Control

Baited (Complete!)

Note: This story starts out very similarly to Zero but then diverges very rapidly. I’ve been wanting to write a story like this for a long time but it took a while for to find the right inspiration. Fans of my darker fiction will appreciate Dawson’s inexorable slide into depravity, even as he remains in steadfast denial.

Themes: Cock growth, tattoos, gooning, huge cock, always horny, weight gain, muscle growth, dumber, clueless, humiliation, nullo, castration, race change, man pussy

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Prologue

“Look at them! They’re disgusting!” North Ingraham spat. 

Dawson Crawford glanced over at the group of seedy-looking men leaning against the brick wall of the nearby alley. They were indeed a rough bunch but the city was filled with such men. Placing a hand on North’s shoulder, he soothed, “Chill, dude. That’s why you’re here on your mission, right? To show them a better path. The path of righteousness.”

North scowled. He was tall like Dawson but, unlike Dawson, was brown-haired and slim. Blond and blue-eyed, Dawson wasn’t beefy or slender, just somewhere in the middle. In fact, pretty much everything about Dawson was somewhere in the middle. His tastes, politics, religion, body…decidedly mainstream. North, however, was more fervent, especially in his religious views. Whereas Dawson maintained a cordial relationship with his church, North was an ardent evangelist. He’d signed up to be a missionary in the city for the next two years, pledging to help rid it of the creeping stain of iniquity.

“How am I going to reach these…these…these dogs?” North hissed, glaring at the men who were now sharing a joint, barking with laughter and slapping each other on the back. “They’re so far gone already!”

Dawson followed his gaze. “Meet them where they are,” he offered simply. “It’s all you can do, bro. Just meet ‘em where they are.”

North’s lip was curled and he looked like he wanted to disagree. But then he set his jaw and squared his narrow shoulders, declaring, “That’s what I’ll do. Mark my words, bro. I’ll save their souls. I’ll show them the way back to the light of Jesus Christ.”

***

Chapter 1

One year later…

“Oh, Dawson!” Mrs. Ingraham exclaimed when she met him at the front door of her house. “I’m so glad you’re here!” She lowered her head, shoulders sagging. “North’s dad and I are at our wit’s end. We’ve done everything but he continues to suffer unbearably. Even the elders of our church are beginning to wonder if he can be saved.” She looked up hopefully at him, revealing, “He keeps asking about you, though. He really wants to see you. Maybe being in your presence will help him? You’ve always been a good influence on him.” 

Dawson nodded solemnly. “I’ll do what I can, ma’am. I’m sorry he’s so bad off.”

“It breaks our hearts, Dawson. He’s in so much agony!” She wiped at her eyes, unable to continue.

Dawson smiled kindly. “Don’t worry, ma’am. We’ll find a way to help him.”

Mrs. Ingraham rubbed tears from her eyes, smiling gratefully up at him. “I knew we could count on you, Dawson! North is so lucky to have a friend like you.”

She turned and led him into the house. It was a standard ranch house in the suburbs, built on one level with a wide lawn and little patio in back. Christian artwork and statuary figured heavily in its decor. Dawson was a Christian, too, of course, but had never seen the need to rub it in people’s faces. The Ingrahams, however, were not known for their religious subtlety.

On the way to North’s bedroom, they passed the living room where North’s younger brother, Noah, was reclining on the couch, playing video games. Unlike the rest of his family, Noah was blond and blue-eyed and, at age sixteen, was already quite a muscular youth. Dawson knew he played defense on the high school football team and had helped lead them to victory in the finals last year. 

Noah gazed back at Dawson with a raised eyebrow as he walked past, rumbling, “S’up, bro?”

Dawon nodded to him. “Noah, how’s it goin’?”

“Fine,” the beefy kid replied, shrugging his big shoulders. “You goin’ to see North?”

“Yeah.”

Noah grinned wickedly. “Good luck in there. He’s changed, bro. A lot. Yer not gonna recognize him.”

“So I’ve heard.” Dawson looked back to Mrs. Ingraham who was waiting politely nearby. She was still wiping tears away from her eyes. He turned from Noah and continued down the hall, waving over his shoulder, “Catch ya later, bro.”

“Sure, bro,” Noah drawled, chuckling to himself. “Sure.”

They paused outside the door to North’s room. “He keeps the curtains drawn because he doesn’t want people to see him like this,” Mrs. Ingraham explained, shuddering. “Whatever you do, don’t react negatively when you go in there. I know it’s hard but try to pretend everything is normal. It helps him feel better.”

Dawson tried to smile reassuringly. “Of course, ma’am. I’ll act like he’s the same old North as always.”

“Thank you, Dawson. We’re so lucky you’re here!”

They stood at the door for a long time as if neither one really wanted to open it and go inside. Finally, Dawson smiled. “I’m ready. It’s fine, I’ll be Ok. I’ll only stay a little while. I don’t want to stress him out.” He reached out and squeezed her arm. “I’ll be sure to visit regularly, though. I’m sure the more he sees his old friends, the better he’ll feel.”

“Yes, let’s hope so,” Mrs. Ingraham said unhappily. “I’ll be praying for you, Dawson. And him.”

***

Just as Mrs. Ingraham had promised, the room was dark when Dawson entered. Blackout curtains were pulled across the windows and he couldn’t see a thing. He could still smell, though, and was immediately overwhelmed by the potent wall of body odor that permeated the room. Eyes watering, he stifled a cough. God, North smelled rank!

The room was silent, save for the sound of North’s breathing and another soft sound that he didn’t recognize. Dawson stood there for a moment, clasping and unclasping his hands as he struggled to acclimate to the stench. Finally, he managed to croak, “North? Hey, North! It’s me. Dawson. How you doing, bro?”

There was a long pause during which Dawson wondered if North was asleep but then he heard the groaning of mattress springs and a deep, guttural voice. “Dawwwww-sunnnnn.” 

The sound of the man’s voice was so alien that Dawson had trouble connecting it with North’s customary tone. North’s voice was light, almost airy. This voice, on the other hand, was so deep that it sounded like it was echoing from the bottom of a very deep cave.

Forgetting Mrs. Ingraham’s admonition to pretend everything was normal, Dawson demanded, “North? What happened to your voice? You sound so different!”

More silence, save for North’s heavy breathing and that strange slurping sound. Fap. Fap. Fap. Fap. It sounded like North was slapping something. Fap. Fap. Fap. Fap.

Finally, North rumbled, “This is how I sound now, bro. He lowered my voice. He made sure it’s permanent.”

The fap fap fap continued unabated in the background as Dawson struggled to comprehend this information. “He who? Who lowered your voice, North? And how?”

There was a guttural chuckle that sounded like rocks grating together. “Pedro Esquivel. Or maybe I should call him ‘Satan’?” Another chuckle. “Yeah, Satan’s a better name for that man. He totally ruined me, bro. I’ll never be normal again.”

Fap fap fap fap fap fap

Dawson really wanted to know what was making that sound. He strained to see North in the dim light but he couldn’t see a thing in that room. All he could do is smell his friend’s body odor and hear his breathing…and that weird fapping sound.

“Who is Pedro?” Dawson demanded. “And how’d he make your voice lower?”

North barked with bitter laughter at this. “Trust me, bro, if it was just my voice that he changed, I’d be grateful.” The mattress springs groaned again as North shifted his weight on the bed. Dawson thought he felt the floorboards shift beneath his feet as he did so. It made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

Fap fap fap fap fap fap

The sound was getting more insistent and louder. It sounded wet. As if North was slapping something heavy and slippery in his hand.

“North, tell me what Pedro did to you,” Dawson pleaded, a note of worry in his tone. “Did he hurt you?”

“Nah,” North replied, shifting on the bed again. This time, Dawson was certain the floorboards creaked as he did so. “He didn’t hurt me. He just…changed…me. Turned me into a huge, fuckin’ freak.”

Dawson had never heard North use profanity before. Ever. His friend was too pure and too religious. This, more than anything else that North had said so far, unnerved him. What had this Pedro done to him?

At that moment, Dawson’s eyes finally adjusted somewhat to the low light. It wasn’t much but it was enough for him to make out the hulking form looming over him. Even seated on the bed, the giant…thing…still towered over him. He could barely make out its shaved head and the widest, thickest set of shoulders he’d ever seen. The beast-thing was so heavy that the mattress bowed downward under its great weight. Whatever the thing was, it weighed a ton. That’s North? he wondered, feeling ill. How can that be North???

Fap fap fap fap fap!

Dawson felt dizzy as he finally managed to pick out the movement producing the fapping sound. It was still too dark for him to see precisely but he knew where it was coming from and the knowledge made him sick to his stomach.

“North, can you stop that?” he asked. “It’s distracting.”

More laughter. “I wish I could, bro! Believe me, I wish I could stop.” Fap fap fap fap! “But I–ungh!” fap fap fap “can’t.” Fap fap fap fap fap. “Pedro made sure of that.”

Dawson’s skin felt clammy and he took a step backward, repulsed. He immediately felt bad and stepped forward again but not before North noticed. “What exactly did Pedro do to you, North?” he asked finally. “Can you show me?”

“You sure you wanna see, bro?” There was harshness as well as pain in North’s gravelly voice. “You won’t be able to unsee it once you do. Pedro made sure of that, too.”

Dawson’s pulse was pounding in his veins. Did he really want to see what North looked like now? Even in the dim light, he felt like he’d seen more than enough. Far more. And yet, he was ashamed to admit, part of him wanted to see his friend. It was like the lurid pull of the freak show tent at a carnival. As much as he knew he would regret it, a dirty part of him wanted to see. See it all.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” he declared. “I wanna see you. Please?”

“Ha. Don’t say I didn’t warn ya, bro.”

With great effort, the hulking beast stood up from the bed. Dawson stared up at the giant, trying desperately to square his memories of the old, slight, skinny North with this massive ape. The thing was nearly eight feet tall and wider than a bus. He could only make out its silhouette but he could see the outlines of its swollen muscles and tree-trunk-sized legs. There’s no way that’s North! a voice screamed inside his head. No way!

The beastman reached over next to the bed and flicked on the light.

Dawson jumped back in alarm.

Nothing could have prepared him for the sight of what had become of North Ingraham.

Nothing.

The…brute…towering over him was completely naked and stacked with so many bloated muscles that it looked painful for him to stand. Shorn of every follicle of hair, his entire body was covered with lurid, satanic tattoos from the top of his melon head to his sausage-like toes. Even his face was tattooed, including his lips and the whites of his eyes. He looked truly demonic. Dawson searched his simian, tattooed visage for any trace of the old North and came up dry. The man–if you could call it that–looming over him looked twenty years older and was at least three hundred pounds heavier.

All of this would have been enough to traumatize even the most hardened person but there was one more thing about North. One very, very, very big thing that caught Dawson’s attention and made his stomach lurch.

North was bare-ass naked. 

Completely bare-ass naked. 

Not a stitch of clothing anywhere on his shaved, tatted body.

This meant that Dawson finally confirmed the source of the constant fapping sound.

While North stood over him, grinning lasciviously and displaying his ridiculously swollen, ruined body, he kept one hand gripped on his cock and jacked himself constantly, producing a steady stream of precum that splattered on the floor between his ginormous feet.

That disgusting cock was just as big and bloated and tattooed as the rest of him.

More than two feet long and thicker than a normal man’s calf, it jutted out hard and glistening before him. North’s wide, calloused hand jacked up and down, up and down, up and down, as he leered down at Dawson. 

Fap fap fap fap fap fap.

Fap fap fap fap fap fap.

Fap fap fap fap fap fap.

Fap fap fap fap fap fap.

Holding out one of his big, steroidal arms to display his monstrous form, North continued jacking as he grinned, displaying a mouth full of blackened teeth. “Tole ya, bro.” He chortled with laughter. “Tole ya I’m a huge freak. But you wanted to see me, didn’t ya? Ha! Yeah, ya juss had to see me.” He paused, pointing his huge, blunt cock at Dawson as a little spurt of precum shot out of the gaping slit on the tip. “Like what ya see, bro? I hope ya do ‘cuz this is the new me, Dawson. This is who I am now. Pedro saw to that. Haha!”

***

“You’re not coming back, are you?”

Dawson glanced over at Noah and scowled. North’s younger brother had been waiting for him outside the bedroom when he exited, a wide grin on his face. “Yes,” Dawson replied stonily. “I’ll be back. You can count it. I’m not going to give up on North. He’s my best friend.”

Noah shook his head. “I’ll believe it when I see it. No one’s ever come back after seeing him like this. You’d be the first.” He paused, still grinning. “He’s a total freak, isn’t he?”

“I-I wouldn’t put it that way,” Dawson stammered. “Just different. Very different.”

“And very gay, too.” For some reason, Noah winked when he said this. “Did he tell ya ‘bout that? The fucker’s gay as fuck now. Gets his hole pounded every night like a good lil’ pussy slut.”

“Noah,” Dawson stated coldly, “that’s enough. I know what you’re trying to do and it’s not working. I don’t care if North is gay. I don’t care if he’s a big freak. All I care about is helping him.”

Noah crossed his big arms. “Oh? And how’re ya gonna do that? Fuck him up the butt? I’ve heard he likes it when guys piss on him, too. Maybe you can give him a golden shower? God knows he needs one.” He smirked. “A shower, that is.”

Dawson was embarrassed to admit he had no idea what a golden shower was, although now he had a pretty good idea. With effort, he resisted the urge to take Noah’s bait and merely continued to gaze coolly back at the big jock. “You done now, Noah? Feel better?” He shook his head. “How did you ever turn out like this when everyone else in your family is so upstanding? I suppose there’s a black sheep in every family and Ingrahams are no exception.”

Dawson was pleased when this verbal punch landed. Indignant, Noah drew himself up to his full height and loomed over him. He wasn’t nearly as hulking as North but he was a tall boy and stood a good three or four inches taller than Dawson. “A black sheep? Me? Ha! We both know that there’s only one black sheep in this family and it’s North! Humpf. That fucker’s always been the golden boy. It’s good to finally see him taken down a peg…and getting his ass pegged.”

“I could quote a passage from the Bible here,” Dawson drawled, savoring Noah’s irritation, “but I’ll refrain. I hope you come around, Noah. North doesn’t need more humiliation right now. He needs his family. Why don’t you start by being a good brother for once.”

He didn’t wait for Noah’s response as he marched out of the house.

Unlike Noah, he knew how best to help North and he was intent on doing so. That very night, in fact. Yeah, he was going to help his friend by tracking down this mysterious Pedro Esquivel and making him change North back into a good, Christian boy.

***

Chapter 2

It didn’t take Dawson long to track down Pedro Esquivel. A quick search on his smartphone turned up the truth: Pedro owned a club in a sketchy part of downtown, a club that doubled as a brothel if the rumors were true. Dawon immediately looked up the place and drove over to investigate.

The evening sun was dipping below the horizon, casting a crimson glow over the buildings and sidewalk. Dawson stood on the street corner opposite the club, watching men enter the club beneath a glowing neon red sign that read, Pedro’s. The clientele was as seedy as one would expect; the guys were overwhelmingly young and built like football linebackers. They might possess the bodies of towering jocks, but they were far from cleancut. No, these guys looked rough. Covered in tattoos and piercings, they swaggered down the street wearing leather harnesses and chains. More than a few were drinking out of beer or wine bottles and a couple had a spliff dangling from the corner of their mouths.

Dawson’s lip wrinkled as he took in the spectacle. He looked down, surprised that he was clenching his fists. His heart pounded against his ribcage and he was simmering with outrage. It was just wrong that a place like this existed in the first place. Worse, that Pedro had taken advantage of North’s innocence and twisted him into a carnal demon, a slave to the sin of lust.

He resolutely took a step off the curb, intent on marching into the profane establishment and confronting Pedro when a hand gripped his shoulder. “Slow down, Bible Boy,” a deep voice drawled behind him. He looked back to see Noah standing there, a sardonic smirk on his face.

“Let me go, Noah,” Dawson huffed. “This isn’t about you. I’m trying to save your brother!”

Noah’s smirk deepened. “Oh, yeah? And you think Pedro is gonna listen to ya just ‘cuz ya tell him it’s the Christian thing to do?” He laughed, a guttural, derisive bark. “I don’t think so. Pedro might be corrupt but he’s not stupid. He knows how you goody-goody Christian snobs operate and he exploits your naivete. You go in there like this and you’ll be his puppet. How do you think North ended up like he did? He did the same thing you’re about to do.” He paused and regarded Dawson with sly amusement. “Although looking at ya, I’m half tempted to let you go in and make an ass out of yerself. It’ll be fun to see what he does to ya.”

Dawson was incensed by Noah’s patronizing tone. How dare a snotty sixteen-year-old talk to his elder like this? Still, Noah’s demeanor tipped him off to something  and rather than reacting defensively, he asked, “Noah, what did Pedro do to you?”

Noah acted as if Dawson had slapped him. His head snapped back and he stared down at him, handsome face going pale. He stood there, mouth hanging open, for a long time before he recovered enough to state, “I’m not gonna talk ‘bout it. Let’s just say Pedro an’ me go way back and I’ve learned my lesson. I know better than to cross him.”

“Fair enough.” Dawson felt shaken by the ghost of something dark lurking behind Noah’s clear gaze. “I believe you.” He sighed, stepping back onto the sidewalk next to Noah. “What do you suggest I do?”

Noah crossed his arms. “Go home and forget about Pedro and about North–and me, too, for that matter. Go home and pretend all of this was just a bad dream, that the world really is a shiny, happy place filled with good people.”

Dawson shook his head. “So cynical! And you’re what? Sixteen years old?”

“I’m old enough to know better than to cross Pedro Esquivel,” Noah muttered. “Which makes me smarter than you.”

Dawson was about to reply to this when Noah’s gaze focused on something across the street. “Well, well,” the boy murmured. “Looks like yer not the only Christian fool out on a mission to convert Pedro tonight.”

Dawson turned and gave a start when he recognized two boys from their church, Aaron and Benjamin, dressed in their neat, white shirts and chinos, backpacks slung over their shoulders. As he stared, they approached the entrance to Pedro’s club, looked up at the glowing, red sign and exchanged nervous glances. They hesitated only a moment before nodding to each other and squaring their shoulders. A second later, they opened the door and strode inside.

“Fuckin’ idiots,” Noah breathed. “Well, there go two more. Wish I coulda stopped ‘em but they wouldn’t’ve listened to me anyway. No one listens to a fallen angel like me.”

“Noah, what do you mean?” Dawson pressed. “You’re not a fallen angel.”

“No?” There was that blue fire in the boy’s eyes again. “You know I’m a big faggot, right? You know I like to take it up the butt juss like my big brother. You know I seduced the wrestling coach when I was just a kid and got herpes and anal warts out of the deal. And that’s not all. I went after my science teacher and social studies teacher and infected them, too. That’s when my parents took me out of private school and sent me away. Well, the first time they sent me away at least.”

“I-I-I,” Dawson stammered, hands clammy. “No, I didn’t know any of that. North never said anything to me about this. I just assumed you’re in public school now because you like football and the private school doesn’t offer it.”

Noah eyed him suspiciously, trying to suss out if he was lying. When he detected the absence of guile in Dawson’s wide, blue eyes, he relaxed. He even smiled. “North didn’t say anything, huh? Fuck, I thought the whole fuckin’ world knew ‘bout me an’ my anal warts…an’ anal habits, too.” He shook his head, adding, “Guess North isn’t as much of a douche as I thought.”

“No, he’s not,” Dawson said. “He’s a good guy. And a good brother. That’s why I have to save him.”

Noah started to dismiss this but then stopped. Putting both of his hands on Dawson’s shoulders, he said, “You wanna help North?” Dawson nodded. “Then let’s do this my way. Go home now and get some rest. Tomorrow, meet me at the coffee shop across from your apartment and I’ll take you to see Aaron and Benjamin. I know where they’re staying and will take you there. I want you to see them, see what they’re like after meeting Pedro tonight. Maybe then you’ll understand what you’re up against.”

***

Noah was seated outside the coffee shop, sipping a latte, when Dawson arrived the next morning. Dawson hesitated; caffeine was forbidden under church doctrine and he was a little scandalized to see the boy drinking it so openly. As he stood there waffling, Noah looked up at him and winked, causing Dawson to flush. The boy raised his cup to him and took a sip, clearly mocking him.

“What can I get ya?” Noah asked. “A double shot of espresso?”

“No, thank you,” Dawson replied coldly. “I’m good. Just take me to Aaron and Benjamin’s.”

Noah shrugged his exceedingly broad and beefy shoulders and swallowed the last of his latte, pushing back his chair and rising. His blond hair was swept back over his ears, making him look older. Dawson was struck again by the boy’s size and height. Noah was a towering brute!

“C’mon, Bible Boy,” the youth said over his shoulder as he motioned for Dawson to follow him down the street.

They walked a few blocks to a shaded neighborhood near downtown. Dawson was familiar with the area; it was where he’d stayed when he’d been on his mission. In fact, Aaron and Benjamin were renting the same house that he’d lived in with his fellow missionaries. It hadn’t changed much, just a bland, white, nondescript house in a bland neighborhood. He’d never cared much for the place.

“I’ll stay out here,” Noah said, taking a seat on a park bench a few doors down from the house. “It’ll be better that way.”

“But I think you should come with me,” Dawson protested, feeling suddenly forlorn. For some reason, he’d grown accustomed to the boy’s stalwart presence and he didn’t want to be left alone.

Noah studied him, an eyebrow cocked. Finally, he pulled out his phone and looked at the time. “Ten o’clock? That means the other missionaries will be gone already but I’ll bet ya anything Aaron and Benji are still in bed.” He shrugged. “You want me to go with you? Sure, I’ll go. I have to admit I’m just as curious as you are. I wanna see what Pedro did to ‘em.”

He got up from the bench and led the way up to the house.

***

After a lot of knocking–well, pounding, actually–Noah succeeded in rousting Aaron from bed. The tall youth staggered to the front door, still wiping sleep from his eyes. Like Dawson and Noah, he was blond-haired and blue-eyed but his hair was somewhat muddier than theirs. When he recognized Noah on the other side of the door, he gave a start, rumbling, “Noah? Fuck, bro! What’re you doin’ here?”

Noah turned to Dawson and gave him a knowing look. He didn’t speak, though; he didn’t need to. Just by uttering this simple sentence, Dawon could already tell something was very wrong with Aaron. The use of the word, ‘fuck,’ confirmed it; no good missionary used profanity.

Noah stared back at Aaron, smirking to himself as he lowered his gaze down the tall guy’s crotch. “Mornin’ wood, bro? Must’ve been a hot dream, huh?”

Aaron’s face broke into a lazy grin as he glanced down at his tented pajamas. The outline of his circumcised cockhead was clearly visible against the flimsy fabric. “Fuck, yeah, bro!” he grunted, reaching down to fondle his erection. Dawson’s cheeks had colored long before this moment but they flamed crimson when Aaron started idly jacking himself. “Sooper hawt.”

Noah licked his lips. “I’m tempted to offer to help ya out there, bro, but me an’ Dawson’re here on business. Mind inviting us in? Oh, and you’ll wanna wake up Benji, too.”

Aaron stood there, obviously struggling to process what Noah had just said. Dawson wondered if he was just tired or if there was something else going on. Was Aaron on drugs? He certainly was acting really, really strange. Finally, the big youth nodded his assent, grinning stupidly and heading back into the house. “Yeah, sure, bro. C’mon in an’ make yourselves at home.”

They followed him inside. Dawson was struck by how big and beefy Aaron was. He could’ve sworn that just last night he’d been a short, pudgy kid. Now, though, he was decidedly tall and broad-shouldered. Not huge like North but definitely bigger. He was almost as tall as Noah…who was a very tall boy in his own right.

Five minutes later, they were seated across the room from Aaron and Benjamin. The two youths sat next to each other on the couch, their hair disheveled and their dull faces slack with dopey grins. Dawson barely noticed their stupid grins, however; he was too busy being scandalized by their twin erections. Both guys’ fat, long dicks were sticking up from their crotches, all but bursting out of their pajamas.

Unlike Dawson, Noah was unphased. If anything, he seemed to relish the pair’s lurid display. He didn’t even react when Benjamin reached over and started slowly jacking Aaron’s hardon with his big hand. Aaron threw back his head and moaned. It wasn’t long before a dark, wet spot appeared over the outline of his fat cockhead.

Dawson squirmed, getting ready to bolt, but Noah stopped him with a firm hand on his knee. Dawson stayed put.

“Is that a tattoo?” Noah asked Aaron innocently. “When’d ya get it, bro?”

Aaron’s dumb grin widened. “Fuck, yeah, bro! Pedro gave it to me last night!” He pulled back the sleeve of his PJs, revealing the long, sinuous body of a serpent. “Ain’t it super cool? Got one on my pecker, too. Didn’t I, Benji?”

Benji nodded eagerly and did the unthinkable: He liberated Aaron’s cock from his pajamas with one, swift motion in order to display his friend’s freshly-inked piece. Dawson jerked in disgust and embarrassment. A bright green dragon tattoo snaked down the length of Aaron’s fat cock.

Still acting as if none of this was out of the ordinary, Noah continued, “Pedro gave it to you, huh? Who’s Pedro?”

Benji’s eyes became even more vacant. “A super cool dude, bro. Fuck, Pedro’s the best! I can’t bah-lieve Aaron an’ me was ever mad at him. He’s the fuckin’ bomb, dude! Da bomb!”

Aaron nodded his agreement, taking Benji’s big cock in his hand as he did so and jerking it happily. The pair sat like that, jacking each other’s big, fat, dripping dicks, completely absorbed in their mutual pleasure. They seemed to have forgotten that Noah and Dawson were still there.

Noah watched them, hand still on Dawson’s knee and a small smile on his face. Finally, he lifted his hand. Turning to Dawson, he said, “Well, I’ve seen enough. How ‘bout you?” Dawson could only nod helplessly. His brain was overwhelmed by the repulsive display and he felt unmoored, weak and helpless in the face of it. He didn’t resist when Noah put his sturdy hand under his arm and lifted him off the chair, guiding out of that newly-annointed den of iniquity.

***

Noah took him to the park bench a few doors down from Aaron and Benji’s house and sat with him for a long time, waiting while he decompressed. When Dawson’s shock finally faded, Noah reached up and took his face between his thumb and forefinger, turning his head so he was forced to look him in the eye.

“That would be you right now, bro, if I’d let you go in Pedro’s club last night.” His blue eyes bored into Dawson’s, drilling inside his soul. “Is that what you want?”

Dawson shook his head, still numb inside. “N-N-No,” he stuttered. “Thank you.”

Noah cocked his head. “I’m sorry, what’d you just say? I don’t think I heard you.”

Dawson cleared his throat. “I said thank you, Noah. And I mean it. I…I…I underestimated you. You clearly are more experienced and worldly than I am. And I’m grateful to you. Very grateful. You’re solid. Really solid.”

It was almost gratifying to watch Noah blink back at him in disbelief. As he did so, he suddenly looked very much like the innocent sixteen-year-old boy that he should have been. Finally, after his big Adam’s apple moved up and down in his throat a few times, he mumbled, “Th-That’s good to hear, bro. I’m glad.”

***

Chapter 3

Dawson was surprised how much he had begun to rely on Noah. He knew it was weird; Noah was seven years younger and more than a bit of a rebel. It was clear that the boy didn’t care for the church or its teachings and was just biding his time at home until he turned eighteen and could strike out on his own. He’d said as much to Dawson when they talked after leaving Benji and Aaron’s.

“Contempt?” Noah repeated thoughtfully after Dawson accused him of having contempt for the church and his parents. The boy shook his head. “Nah, it’s not contempt, bro. It’s hatred. I fuckin’ hate the church and my folks and, well, every other pompous fucker in their circle.” He paused and fixed his startlingly limpid gaze on Dawson. “But I don’t hate you, bro. In fact, I’m kinda beginning to like you.” He grinned impishly. “Better watch out or I might come onto you. My herpes is in remission and my anal warts haven’t come back in a couple years so you don’t gotta worry.”

When Noah batted his long eyelashes, Dawson’s face turned crimson and he had to fight against the urge to cringe away from the boy. Even though he didn’t cringe, his face must have betrayed him because Noah burst out laughing. Dawson let him laugh, waiting patiently until Noah had collected himself again.

“You through?” Dawson asked coolly.

Noah nodded, abashed. “Yeah, bro. I’m done laughing at ya. Sorry. I can’t resist yankin’ yer chain. Yer juss so fuckin’ PURE.”

“I’m less pure than you might imagine,” Dawson muttered before changing the subject. “So, what do we do now, Noah? Aaron and Benjamin are in trouble.”

Noah blinked at him. “Do? Fuck, bro! There ain’t nuthin’ we can do! Aaron and Benji’re lost causes. There ain’t no going back for ‘em. They’re gonna be juss like North in a few months. Nope, once Pedro gets his hands on ya, there’s no hope.”

“But we have to do something!” Dawson exclaimed, clenching his fists. “We can’t just leave them like this! They’re just boys! They don’t deserve this! We need to at least alert the elders of the church. They’ll do something!”

Noah shook his head. “Jesus, bro, you sure are dumb! Don’t ya think the fuckin’ elders already know all about Pedro? Shit, man, he’s been doing this for years now! True, lately he’s been changin’ more dudes but that’s juss ‘cuz more of yer perfect lil’ missionary boys are goin’ to see him, hopin’ to convert him. If everyone juss stayed away from the man, none of this would be an issue. And that’s what I want you to do: Stay the FUCK away from Pedro. Got me?”

“I can’t,” Dawson stated definitively. “I owe it to North…and to Aaron and Benjamin to try. I can’t just leave them like this!”

Noah threw up his hands in exasperation. “You and yer savior complex, bro! Yer only gonna get yerself fucked over.” He lowered his head in his hands and massaged his brow. After a while, he collected himself and looked up at Dawson. “Fine. You do what you want, bro, but promise me one thing first.”

“What is that?”

“Promise me you’ll wait two weeks.”

Dawson blinked. “Two weeks? Why two weeks?”

Noah smiled slyly. “I woulda said three but I didn’t think you’d wait that long. I said two weeks ‘cuz I wanna give you the chance to cool off. Yer feeling all self-righteous now and got yerself all convinced yer gonna go in there like some knight in shining armor and save the day. But I want you to simmer down. Wait two weeks. Come visit North every day–that’ll give me the chance to hang out with you, too, and maybe flirt a little.” He winked and Dawson flushed. “After two weeks if you’re still on yer high horse ‘bout confrontin’ Pedro, I won’t stop you. Deal?” Noah held out his hand expectantly.

Dawson stared at the boy’s outstretched hand and thought for a moment. Noah was right, he realized. He was really worked up right now. Perhaps waiting a while wouldn’t hurt? If what Noah said about Aaron and Benjamin was true, they were already past saving and two weeks wouldn’t make much difference. Plus, two weeks would give him time to do more research on Pedro Esquivel. Maybe he’d turn up some information that would prove useful?

In the end, he reached out and shook Noah’s big, firm hand. Noah surprised him by pulling him in for a tight hug as he did so and Dawson’s nostrils filled with the boy’s pungent (but not unpleasant) musky aroma. Noah’s arms were big and strong and replete with muscles and he possessed such confidence! Dawson sighed, letting the boy hold him for longer than was strictly necessary. 

It felt good.

***

Dawson slowly realized over the course of the next week that Noah had an ulterior motive in asking him to wait to confront Pedro. It wasn’t because he wanted to flirt with him, although he did plenty of that. No, Noah was hoping that Dawson would stop fighting the situation and learn to accept North as he was now. In a way, the boy was using Dawson’s own wisdom against him. Dawson was fond of telling people to meet the sinner where he was and this was what Noah wanted him to do with North. 

It worked.

 As the first week wore on, Dawson grew used to North, slowly but surely forgetting what he’d been like before. He spent several hours every day at the Ingraham household, mostly in the bedroom with North, but occasionally in the living room with both North and Noah. (North would only leave his bedroom when his parents were gone.) The three of them would play video games and chat about nonsense, bragging and being competitive like young men are wont to do.

Dawson grew accustomed to North’s nudity. He even grew used to seeing his friend obsessively stroking his giant male appendage. North was dumber than he used to be, that was for sure. And very crass. He cussed like a sailor and scratched his ass and farted. He refused to wear clothes under any circumstances. He smelled to high heaven. And he was uglier than all get out. But he was still North and Dawson loved him like a brother. He always had.

And then there was Noah.

Noah.

As much as he tried to deny it, Dawson realized he was developing feelings for the boy. At first, he was shocked at himself. Noah was only sixteen! And he was a total gay slut, always going on about his nasty sexual exploits. And he hated the church. And his family. And basically everything that Dawson held dear.

But.

But.

But…

Noah was also kind. And strong. And wise. And worldly. And tall. And good looking. Make that very good looking. He possessed a steadiness that Dawson craved. When he was with Noah, he felt safe and secure. He liked being close to the boy. Liked it when Noah touched him. Smiled at him. Teased him. And kissed him.

Yeah, Noah stole Dawson’s first kiss.

It was over so quickly that Dawson wondered if it had even happened. He was getting ready to leave one evening and the boy saw him to the door like a perfect gentleman. Noah waited patiently while Dawson tied his shoes and then held out his jacket for him, positioning it so Dawson could slide his arms inside. And then he came around in front of him and zipped it up. Dawson was standing there, looking up at the big, strapping lad, and then Noah dipped his head and kissed him on the lips. Before Dawson could push him away, the boy had spun him around and pushed him out the door.

Dawson stood on the front doorstep, heart pounding and mind whirling. Had Noah really just kissed him? He lifted his finger to his lips, lost in wonder. Noah’s lips had been so soft, so full, so tender. And the tip of his tongue had licked Dawson’s upper lip.

It was sweet.

And hot.

Dawson’s penis throbbed in his jeans, achingly erect.

***

One evening about a week after the kiss, Dawson arrived to find Noah locked in his room. He started to knock but North lumbered out of his bedroom at that moment, ducking his head and turning sideways to squeeze through the door. The floorboards shook as he approached. “I wouldn’t do that, bro,” he warned. “Noah’s live show’s goin’ on right now.”

“His live show? What show?”

North gave him a hangdog grin. “Ya really don’t know, do ya?”

Dawson was mystified. “About what?”

His giant friend’s shoulders sagged and he momentarily let go of his huge erection to put his hand on Dawson’s arm and guide him into the living room. Noah and North’s parents were gone which meant that North felt Ok about being in there.

Once they were well away from Noah’s bedroom, North explained, “My parents, uh, ya know, did stuff to my brother.”

Dawson stared back at him blankly. “What sort of stuff?”

North squirmed and nervously jacked his cock. “You know he’s gay, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Then you know ‘bout da wrestlin’ coach and da social studies teacher an’ da science teacher? An’ da herpes an’ anal warts?”

Dawson grimaced in distaste. “Yes, he told me.”

North relaxed a little but was still frantically jacking his cock. “Well, my folks tried everything to turn him straight. Sent him to con-con-con-” He paused, jerking his dick with one hand and scratching his simian brow with the other. “Con-ver-shun ther-a-pee? Yeah, dat’s it! Conversion therapy.”

Dawson nodded. “It doesn’t work. I think that’s why it’s illegal now.”

North nodded, grinning stupidly. “Yeah, yeah! It don’t work!”

“So what does this have to do with Noah’s live show?”

North’s face fell and he took his hulking erection in both hands, jerking it so hard that Dawson worried it would come off. (Dawson was quickly learning that the speed of North’s masturbation was a barometer for his anxiety.) “Well, when the therapy didn’t work, they sent him to a doctor an’ the doctor fixed him.”

Dawson stared up at North, trying to ignore the precum flying in all directions. “‘Fixed him’? I don’t get it. Did the doctor try to turn him straight through medical means or something?”

North shook his great, bald head unhappily. “Nah, he fixed him. Literally. He cut off his cock and balls.”

“WHAT???!!!!” Dawson didn’t care that North’s erection slapped against his belly as he threw himself at his friend. Grabbing North by the humongous shoulders, he used them as leverage to get in his face, screaming, “WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU SAY???!!!” It was a testament to how upset he was that he used the F-word for the first time in his life.

North looked stricken and cast his eyes downward, unable to meet Dawson’s gaze. “He’s neutered, bro. Totally dickless. Dude uses da money from his live strip show to pay for male hormones.”

Dawson fell back from North, somehow landing on his feet without stumbling. He dropped his head in his hands, unable to believe what North had just said. It was too perverse. Too disgusting. Too barbaric. No wonder Noah hated his parents so much!

But North wasn’t finished.

“That ain’t all, bro,” the big, hung brute grunted. 

Dawson looked up at him wearily. “There’s more? What? Did the doctor chop up his penis and make him eat it, too?”

North shuddered, clutching his cock protectively. “Nah! ‘Course not! ‘Cuz that’d be juss gross!” He paused, the dull gears of his mind churning slowly as he debated what he was about to say. Finally, he revealed, “Da doc who neutered him’s name is Pedro Esquivel.”

Dawson’s jaw dropped. “Pedro Esquivel? You mean–?”

North nodded dumbly. “Yup. Da same Pedro Esquivel who done this ta me!” He gestured to his bloated, overgrown, overhung body.

Dawson’s vision swam red. He didn’t think, didn’t say goodbye. He turned, marched out of the Ingraham house, jumped in his car and sped downtown.

He was going to put an end to Pedro Esquivel’s dirty deeds once and for all.

***

Chapter 4

Dawson rampaged through the club, kicking in doors and barging into rooms, in his pursuit of Pedro Esquivel. He was on fire with incandescent rage, self-righteous power coursing through his veins. In the process, he interrupted more than a few illicit gay trysts between overmuscled and overhung goons but he didn’t care. All he cared about was finding Pedro and making him pay.

Finally, he grabbed a cowering employee by the collar and forced him to take him to Pedro. The hapless guy led Dawson to a backroom on the second level of the club. “H-H-He’s in there,” he stammered, pointing toward the door. “B-B-But he hates it when people bother him.”

Dawson tossed the man on the floor and kicked in the door. The room was big, so big that Pedro didn’t hear the door slam open. Dawson marched through and looked around for his quarry. Across the room, a much beefier and more tattooed Missionary Aaron was bent over a pool table, bare-ass naked, with an older man behind him preparing to ram his ridiculously fat cock inside the boy’s open hole. 

The older man had to be Pedro Esquivel.

Seeing red, Dawson prepared to launch himself at the pair but he stopped abruptly when he heard a familiar, tinny voice echoing through the room. Wait, he thought. Is that Noah? At that moment, he realized the older man was holding up smartphone and both he and Aaron were staring at the screen. It was from this smartphone that Noah’s voice emanated.

“Hey, guys! I’m back! Sorry for the wait, had to lube myself up,” Noah’s voice chirped. “It’s yer favorite nullo, Noah. Or should I call myself Null-ah? Haha! But seriously, are y’all enjoyin’ my little show tonight?” Dawson was close enough that he could just see Noah’s naked body displayed on the screen. The boy was lying on his back with his knees pulled up and his broad buttocks spread, getting ready to insert an enormous, black dildo into his oiled-up hole.

“PEDRO!” Dawson bellowed, startling both men. Aaron turned toward him, his mouth forming an ‘O’. He scrambled to sit up on the pool table and self-consciously covered his exposed butthole with his hands. In front of him, the big, tattooed man with the big, tattooed cock, however, merely smirked. 

“Dawson Crawford,” he stated in a distinct Spanish accent. For such a thuggish-looking man, his voice sounded remarkably erudite. (Well, he is a physician after all, Dawson thought.)  “I was wondering when I’d finally have the pleasure of meeting you.”

He set down his phone and turned slowly, holding out his beefy arms as if he expected Dawson to embrace him. Dawson froze, stunned by the man’s use of his name. As his mind struggled to understand how Pedro knew him, he found himself studying his adversary. 

Pedro Esquivel was tall but not as tall as North or even Noah. He was muscular but not steroidal like North. And he was tattooed but not luridly. In fact, his tattoos were distinctly artful, if you considered tattoos art which Dawson didn’t. The right side of his body was covered in black, tribal tattoos and the left was covered in tropical flowers, birds and animals. The midline of his body was left uninked and his dark bronze skin glowed lustrous in the low light. 

His muscular body was devoid of hair except for his thick, brown beard and the dense mop of buzzed hair on his head. His cock, Dawson noticed, was both long and thick but not exceptional when compared to North, Aaron or Benji’s unnatural endowments. He differed from these boys, however, by sporting a very prominent foreskin. His penis was notable for another reason, too: Its skin was darker than the rest of Pedro’s body, so dark it was almost black. Given this, the tattoos inked on it were barely visible.

Pedro’s face would never be considered handsome. He had a heavy jawline and an underbite that made him look like a bulldog. His big pug nose only served to underscore this impression. Rather than handsome, his blunt, heavy features were pugnacious. Indeed, his ears were flattened and tattered, evidence of his past life as a boxer. Pedro Esquivel, Dawson would learn, had a very storied past, one full of contradictions and unexpected twists.

The silence stretched as Dawson realized he’d lost the advantage of surprise because Pedro had clearly been expecting him. (How does he know who I am?!) The shock of it made his burning fury drain quickly away, leaving him confused and aimless. He kicked himself for being so impulsive. Too late, he remembered Noah’s warning that Pedro was a dangerous man and must be treated as such.

“How do you know my name?” Dawson demanded, seeking to regain his footing. “I’ve never met you before.”

Pedro smirked, a rather unlovely expression on his unlovely face. “No, but we share a mutual friend: Noah Ingraham. He said you would seek me out.”

Dawson felt like he’d been socked in the chest. Pedro might no longer wear gloves in the ring but he was still adept at landing punches. “Noah?!” he repeated, disbelieving. “He told you about me?”

Pedro’s smirk widened into a predatory grin. “Of course. He tells me everything. The poor thing! Always in need of a father. It’s almost funny how he comes crawling back to me even after I removed his manhood.” He laughed, an obnoxious, guttural sound. “Guess he just likes to be abused.”

The words rekindled Dawson’s fury. Enraged, he launched himself at Pedro, swinging his fists and yelling at the top of his lungs. Pedro merely sidestepped him and grabbed him by the arms, holding them behind his back. Dawson struggled but it was no use; he was well and truly trapped.

“Easy, lad, easy,” Pedro’s deep voice purred in his ear. “We’re friends, not enemies. I’m on your side, Dawson.”

“I’LL NEVER BE ON YOUR SIDE!” Dawson yelled, still struggling mightily to free himself. Pedro was far too strong, though, and he only succeeded in wearing himself out.

Pedro laughed again. This time the sound was less grating. “We’ve always been on the same side, Dawson. Why don’t you trust me?”

Dawson’s eyes bugged out of his head and he lost it, letting loose with a violent stream of invectives that would have curdled milk. Pedro just let him rant and rave, patiently waiting for him to calm down. Finally, when Dawson’s chest was heaving and tears were running down his cheeks, Pedro surprised him by taking him into his powerful arms. 

His muscular chest pressed against him and his still erect cock thrust into his belly. Dawson stiffened at first but then found himself relaxing into the embrace, breathing in Pedro’s rich, musky scent. Soon, Pedro was massaging his back and shoulders with his strong hands, murmuring soothingly into his ear. Dawson’s tears turned into sobs. He cried and cried, clinging to Pedro and burying his face against the big man’s bristly neck.

After a while, Pedro gently set him down on the edge of the pool table. Dawson sat back, rubbing his eyes and feeling completely befuddled. All of the fight had drained out of him and he felt curiously numb. He tried and failed to muster up the burning hatred that had consumed him. Instead of hating Pedro, though, he felt something else. It took him a while to recognize the emotion and, when he did, he gave a start: It was desire.

But why did he suddenly desire the man? There wasn’t anything remotely appealing about him! It would be a while before Dawson realized that this was Pedro’s secret weapon. He was so strong, self-assured and charismatic that resistance, hatred and anger transmuted into desire in his presence. Yeah, Pedro Esquivel was magnetic. Irresistible. Paternal. Potent. Erotic.

Dawson glanced down and jerked in surprise when he saw the bare feet on either side of him. He looked over his shoulder and realized that Aaron was sitting behind him on the pool table and his legs were straddling Dawson’s waist. Pedro had placed Dawson right between the big dude’s legs! Unnerved, he pushed himself up from the table and moved stiffly off to the side.

Pedro was still naked and still erect…as was Aaron, Dawson saw with rapidly coloring cheeks. What was it about these guys and their erections? Did everyone that Pedro touched suddenly develop priapism?

“Why don’t you come have a drink with us?” Pedro coaxed, placing a heavy arm across Dawson’s shoulders and guiding him over to a barstool. 

Dawson looked around, belatedly realizing he’d stormed into a bar room. It was empty save for Pedro and Aaron and a bartender who was drying pint glasses with a towel. The towel, Dawson noted, was the only cloth on the man’s body. Like Pedro and Aaron, the big, beefy dude was completely naked. And tattooed. And hung. Oh, and erect. Let’s not forget that. His fat, long hose strained upwards. Dawson swallowed uncomfortably, feeling ill.

The bartender slid a frosty mug of beer over to him as Pedro guided him over. Dawson accepted it before he remembered that he didn’t drink. The tender winked at him, calling out, “Hey, bro! Good to see ya again! Me an’ Aaron’re workin’ here now. Gave up on that missionary bullshit.”

Dawson did a double take. “Benji? Is that you?”

The burly, tatted bartender nodded, grinning back at him. “Da same, bro. Glad yer here. ‘Bout time ya learned how to relax and blow off steam.” He laughed stupidly, adding, “Jesus, I don’t know how’s I did it for so long. It totally sucked bein’ an uptight little fucktard!”

Dawson barely heard him. He was too busy studying Benji’s greatly altered appearance. Standing at least six and a half feet tall, the dude was now seriously stacked with muscles to the point of ridiculousness. And his body was more than half covered in tattoos. Like North’s, they were profane and Satanic and poorly rendered. His body was shaved from head to toe and his teeth were chipped when he smiled. His face was round and sallow and his eyes were sunk deep in their sockets. He looked like he’d aged at least fifteen years. Yeah, he was rough. Very rough.

“Drink up!” Pedro urged as he settled onto the stool next to him. Between his thick legs, his big cock pointed up at the ceiling. He slung his arm across Dawson’s shoulders, pulling him in close. Aaron settled in on his other side and also leaned up against him. Dawson’s nostrils filled with their twin aromas, a potent musk that made his head spin. Before he realized what he was doing, he’d reached out and taken a sip from the beer. It was bitter and acrid in his mouth but somehow he choked it down. Now he understood why drinking alcohol was forbidden by his church: It was nasty!

“That’s a good lad,” Pedro praised, smiling proudly at him. “That’s my boy!”

Dawson gave him a watery grin, uncertain how he felt being called Pedro’s boy.

“I have some explaining to do, I see,” Pedro continued. “I can understand how I might appear to be a bad person from the outside but the truth is I’m not. We’re allies, Dawson.”

Dawson just about spit out his beer. “How so? I don’t follow you.”

Pedro spread his hands innocently. “I used to be on the wrong side but it was actually Noah who showed me the way back to the Light.”

Dawson gazed back at him incredulously. “Noah? What are you talking about?” He took another sip of the beer and, grimacing in distaste, added, “You castrated him!”

Pedro nodded sadly. “I did and I was wrong. You see, Dawson, I used to believe that being gay was a sin. Only after I committed the atrocity against Noah did I see the error of my wicked ways.” He extended an arm to encompass the entirety of the bar. “And now I am doing my penance. These boys,” he pointed to Aaron and Benji, “are my way of atoning for my sins.”

Dawson gaped at Pedro, thinking, ‘He’s mad! He’s a mad man!’ Finally, he managed to recover enough to sputter, “So you’re telling me that you’re making up for castrating Noah by turning innocent Christian boys into raging, gay muscle sluts? How exactly is that better than cutting off their nuts?” He shook his head. “I’m sorry, Pedro, but you’re still wrong. This is no better.” He took a swig from the beer mug and finished it off, realizing that it was a lot tastier than he’d first thought. Benji slid another mug in front of him.

Pedro waved his objections off as immaterial. “But they’re so happy now! Happy for the first time in their lives. And free! So free! Aren’t you, Benji and Aaron?” The two musclebound goons nodded their enthusiastic assent, bellowing, “Fuck, yeah! We’re so HAPPEEEEE and FREEEEEE!!! Thank you, Pedro, for savin’ us!”

Dawson shook his head and pushed the beer away. He’d never had alcohol in his life and already felt lightheaded; he didn’t want to risk getting drunk and hungover. He had to work in the morning!

Pedro smiled indulgently. “Even Noah has forgiven me, Dawson. In fact, he’s done more than forgive me.” He reached down and patted his burgeoning, dripping erection fondly, “He loves riding my big stallion like a good, little dickless whore!”

This time Dawson’s punch landed. It happened so quickly that both of them were left stunned. Dawson stared at his reddening fist in surprise and Pedro’s hand flew to his cheek where a bruise was already beginning to form.

“YOU STAY THE FUCK AWAY FROM NOAH!” Dawson yelled, getting up to loom over the seated Pedro. “HE’S TOO GOOD FOR YOU!”

Still rubbing his cheek, Pedro laughed appreciatively. “That was a good one, lad. You’re a chip off the old block, as the white people around here say. No one’s managed to land a punch on me for over a decade. I’m impressed.”

Dawson would have yelled more profanity at Pedro but he was already weaving on his feet. His vision was blurry and he was having trouble thinking. He flung his arm out to steady himself on the bar, turning accusingly to Pedro. “Y-Y-Youth spikthed my beerth, didthn’t youth?”

Pedro grinned, getting up and draping a heavy arm over his shoulders. “Very observant, my boy. Now let’s get started on you. I have, ahem, big plans in store for you!”

His laughter was the last thing that Dawson heard before he slipped into unconsciousness.

***

He awoke the next morning in bed at home, his little four-incher stiff as a board in his pajamas. He reached down and stroked it absently before he remembered the self-pleasure was a sin and stopped himself. The early morning sun was just breaking over the top of the fence outside his bedroom window and he rolled over, moaning. It took him a while to remember the events of the past night but, when they did he sat bolt upright, heart pounding.

Panicked, he looked down at himself, trying to see what Pedro might have done to him. With shaking hands, he patted his body, pressing here and there, making sure everything was as it should be. Remembering that tattoos were a staple of Pedro’s work, he sighed; he’d have to get naked and look at himself to see if he’d been inked.

Delaying as long as possible, he finally got up and staggered into the bathroom. His little erection was still pressing insistently against the smooth, silky fabric of his pajamas but he ignored it, carefully removing his clothing and standing naked before the mirror.

Dawson hated seeing himself naked. He was just so…average…in every way. (Well, apart from his penis which he was pretty sure was below average.) He was of average build, average complexion, average size, and slightly above average height. His blond hair was decidedly average, especially given the prevalence of blond hair among his friends, coworkers and fellow churchgoers. So were his blue eyes.

His little belly pudged out over his little hardon. He was circumcised like every other guy in his church and his dick was decidedly on the thin side. And the short side. And his nuts were pulled up tight in his sac. He shaved himself everywhere, believing that body hair was profane, but it didn’t make his little man look any bigger or more impressive. No, he was unhung and unremarkable. No wonder he was still single at twenty three!

He quickly glanced over his body, making sure there were no illicit tattoos. He even dug out a hand mirror and gave his backside the onceover. His flat, tiny buttocks were uninked as were his legs and back. It was funny; he was almost disappointed when he lowered the mirror and realized that Pedro had done nothing to him.

Maybe I imagined the whole thing? It certainly felt like a nightmare.

His erection was so insistent that he finally gave in and jerked himself off. It was that or walk around with a hardon for the rest of the day. He grimaced as he did the evil deed, feeling sinful for spilling his seed on the floor. As soon as it was over, he stuffed his softening dicklet into his boxers and got dressed. He was running late for work!

The office was abuzz with conversation when he entered. Dawson worked for a Christian advertising company and the word was the top executives were planning to change their nondiscrimination policy to cover LGBTQ+ employees. The company would even take queer clients, something that divided the staff.

Dawson kept his head down and skipped the water cooler, not feeling like getting involved in office gossip. He was fine with the company’s decision. It was a sign that even the conservative hierarchy was beginning to wake up to the fact that excluding people wasn’t a winning long term strategy. Society was changing and the church needed to change with it.

He sat down at his desk and logged into his laptop, feeling his prick tingle in his boxers as he settled into the chair. He shifted, sighing with exasperation when he felt himself get hard again. What the fuck was up with his dick today? In a normal month, he only jerked off a handful of times but he could already tell he was going to have to beat off again if he wanted to concentrate on work. 

Sighing again, he pushed himself up and stole away to the restroom, finding a vacant stall and masturbating guiltily–he never jerked off at work!–to a stunning climax. He stared at the stall door in surprise as his little pecker pumped out load after load of hot, juicy jizz. By the time he was done, the door was dripping with his sperm. Ashamed, he quickly cleaned it up with a wad of toilet paper. When he stuffed his dick back in his boxers, he realized it was swollen from so much masturbation. Even the skin on his shaft felt looser. He really needed to stop sinning!

He was zipping back up when he got a whiff of himself. “Phew! I smell awful!” 

He held up his arm and sniffed, grimacing at the strong odor emanating from his pits. “Did I forget to put on deodorant?” He could’ve sworn he’d done so after showering but maybe he forgot? Self-conscious, he looked around to be sure the restroom was empty before leaving the stall and approaching the sink. Glancing over his shoulder warily, he squirted hand soap into a paper towel and cleaned his underarms. He was quick and managed to button his shirt again before anyone else walked in. 

“I need a haircut!” he murmured as he washed his hands afterwards, studying his reflection in the mirror. His hair was getting pretty shaggy. He made a mental note to go to the barbershop during lunch hour. He wouldn’t have time after work because he had running club.

His dick was hard again in a few minutes but he steadfastly refused to get up and masturbate again. Pulling his chair up to his desk, he gritted his teeth and tried to ignore the insistent throbbing. Doing so, however, proved difficult. 

His penis was still hard when lunchtime rolled around but he realized he could hide it if he positioned it under his belt. It made walking a bit trickier but he could manage. He did his best to ignore the way that it rubbed up and down between his belly and belt with each step. He flushed when he looked down and saw a little wet stain spreading over the lower part of his shirt. Scowling, he sucked in his stomach, hoping this kept his penis from coming in contact with his shirt. 

Part of him wanted to just stay at his desk for lunch but his long, shaggy hair was really bothering him. It was a hot, summer day and he hated running in the heat with long hair. The running club was doing a 10k loop around the park that evening and he wanted to stay cool. Grimly, he staggered out of the building, walking the five blocks to the barbershop. 

He was drenched in sweat by the time he reached the shop and his nose twitched as he registered his body odor. It was back again with a vengeance! Panicked, he debated fleeing back home to take a shower but the barber was already motioning him over. Dawson pursed his lips and complied, hoping desperately that the cape the barber dropped over his shoulders would block the B.O.

“The usual or something different?” the man asked.

Dawson opened his mouth to say the usual but then changed his mind. “Go ahead and surprise me,” he replied, startled at himself. Why did he say that? Still, he didn’t object when the barber pulled out his clippers and got to work.

A half hour later, Dawson blinked at himself in the mirror. It wasn’t just because the haircut was different–the barber had left it long in the back and shaved it tight on the sides, giving him a quasi mullet–it was also his hair. He reached up and ran his hand through it, noticing it felt thicker than usual. That, however, wasn’t the issue.

“Did you, uh, dye it with something?” he asked, still unable to believe he was seeing himself in the mirror.

The barber shrugged. “Nope. The sun must’ve bleached the tips  and your real color came out when I cut ‘em off. I cut it shorter than usual, too. Maybe it’s been a while since you’ve seen your roots?”

“My roots?” Dawson repeated, confused. “I don’t have brown roots!”

Another shrug from the barber. “Well, you do now. That ain’t no dye, bro.” To Dawson’s undying shame, the man’s nose twitched and he sniffed the air delicately before grimacing with distaste.

Dawson opened his mouth to complain but then he, too, caught a potent whiff of himself and he flushed. He needed to wash up before going back to work or he’d be in trouble! He paid the man hurriedly and left, his omnipresent erection making his gait rather stiff. His dick was really throbbing! He sighed as he struggled down the street, wondering what was going on with him today.

“Fuck! It’s 12:45 already?” That meant he only had fifteen minutes before he had to be back at work. That wasn’t nearly long enough to go home, shower and get back. 

He stood on the sidewalk in the hot sun, sweat dripping down his back and soaking his shirt, desperate to figure out what to do. Finally, he remembered there was a utility room with a shower in the basement of his office building. He could go in there, rinse off and still have time to get back to his desk before one o’clock.

He marched doggedly back to the office, clenching his jaw as his cock rubbed itself raw against his belt.

***

He locked the door to the utility room and prayed that the custodian was on lunch break and wouldn’t barge in while he was in the shower. Stripping quickly out of his clothes, he frowned when he smelled them. They reeked! And his sweat had soaked through the fabric, leaving everything wet. Fuck, fuck, fuck! he thought to himself, no longer trying to censor his foul language. What am I gonna do?

He didn’t have the luxury of time to debate what to do. Jumping in the cold spray of this shower, he rubbed himself down with a scratchy bar of soap. Everything was going well until he reached his crotch. 

He nearly dropped the soap when he saw his penis.

He’d masturbated so much it was bruised black and blue!

Well, mostly black. Dark brown, actually.

And really swollen.

And the skin was all droopy. 

Well, drooping over the head of his dick, more precisely.

He reached down and grabbed in his hand, eyes rolling back and a moan of ecstasy escaping his lips as soon as he touched it.

“UNNNNNGH!!!! FUUUUUUUUCK!!!!”

God, that felt amazing! And his cock was so big and heavy in his hand!

He stared down at it in wonder, realizing it was a good three inches longer than usual. And really thick. (Was this a side effect of too much masturbation?) Fuck, even his nuts were bigger and hanging down in his decidedly man-sized sack. He was starting to grin when he realized that, like his dick, the skin of his ballsack was darker than usual, too. It was chocolate brown and looked weird against his otherwise pale skin…that wasn’t quite as pale as he remembered.

He dropped his aching dick and stared down at himself. Was it the dim light in the utility room or was his skin tone a few shades darker than usual. He shook his head, laughing at himself. It had to be the lighting! There was no way he was dark-skinned. He was as white as a guy could be!

His throbbing cock stole back his attention and he quickly whipped out another load, arching his back and moaning as tons of his thick, goopy cum swirled languidly down the drain at his (browner) feet. When it was finally over, he sagged against the shower stall, breathing heavily and grinning to himself. Fuck, that felt good!

His phone’s timer chimed and he jumped to attention, realizing he only had five minutes to get back to his desk. He found a towel to dry off and was hopping into his boxers when he realized there was no way he could wear his dress clothes. They were too sweaty and stinky! Fuck, what could he do?

Casting about wildly, his gaze landed on a pair of blue overalls, the kind he’d seen the janitors wear. He shook his head. No, he couldn’t go to work dressed in a jumpsuit! But the clock was ticking and he had to be punctual; the boss was really strict about the work schedule. He frantically tore through the room, looking for something else he could wear…but he came up dry. It was either the overalls or his wet, stinky clothes. 

In the end, he stepped into the overalls, zipping them and staring down at himself in distaste. He couldn’t believe he was going to wear this back to the office! But what choice did he have? He resolutely squared his shoulders and, stowing his discarded, stinky clothing in a little locker, strode out of the room.

He’d only made it a few steps before he heard a man call out behind him, “Hey, Amigo! Can you empty the trash can in my office? It’s overflowing.”

Dawson kept on going, not thinking anything of it. 

A moment later, the man cleared his throat and, speaking in badly accented Spanish, asked, “No hablas ingles, Amigo? Necesito ayuda.”

Is he talking to me? Dawson looked back over his shoulder. It was Mr. Klingenberger, the head of the marketing department. As soon as they made eye contact, Mr. Klingenberger exclaimed, “Oh, Dawson! It’s you. I thought you were the janitor.” His brow furrowed as he studied him. “Why are you wearing overalls?” He paused and added, “And why do you look so different?”

Dawson smiled, improvising, “Sorry, Mr. Klingenberger! I spilled something on myself and this was all I could find. And I just got a haircut, too. That’s probably why I look different.”

Mr. Klingenberger frowned. “Yeah, you’re probably right. That must be it.” He made a dismissive gesture, saying, “Well, carry on. I don’t want to keep you.”

Dawson thanked him and waved goodbye, walking back to the elevator. Only after he’d gotten inside and the door had whooshed shut beside him did he breathe a sigh of relief, slumping against the wall. This day was certainly weird!

***

The afternoon went a bit better for Dawson. The powerful soap he’d used in the utility room shower kept his body odor in check and his coworkers only razzed him a little for wearing the blue overalls. Even better, his dick stayed quiet in his boxers, something for which he was very grateful.

Unfortunately, his penis wasn’t done messing with him. 

As the afternoon wore on, his boxers began to pinch. He shifted, repositioning his dick and balls, but that didn’t help much. Finally, he widened his legs, giving his junk more room to breathe. This helped for a while but soon the pinching was back, worse than before. He squirmed in his chair and thrust his legs out even wider. Relief was short-lived. Within a half hour, he had to bite the inside of his cheeks to keep from moaning aloud. The pain was unbearable!

Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore and stood up from his desk. He regretted doing so as soon as he did so, though, a little wail of disbelief escaping his lips.

His package was huge!

He stared down at himself, mind blanking, as he struggled to understand what he was seeing. Even in the baggy overalls, it was obvious that his crotch was very swollen.

He sat back down, panicking.

What the fuck was going on?

Fortunately, no one seemed to have noticed his display. He sat there, heart pounding, trying to figure out what to do. Finally, he couldn’t stand the pinching any longer and had to do something. His boxers were way too tight and the pain was agonizing! Gathering up a stack of papers and a notebook, he got up and, placing the objects strategically over his crotch, stumbled to the restroom.

Once securely locked inside a stall, he surveyed his crotch, eyes bulging at the size of the mound down there. He forced himself to close his eyes and take a few deep breaths. When he looked down at himself again, he realized he was overdoing it. His bulge really wasn’t that big. In fact, if he slouched a little, it basically disappeared. The problem had more to do with his underwear. He’d put on a few pounds recently and his boxers were too small. Add in the strange swelling going on down there and it was obvious that he needed to buy new undies.

He sighed with relief, unzipping the overalls to extract his cock so he could take a leak. When his hands touched his penis, though, he jerked in surprise. Was it even bigger? He examined it, amazed at the size and heft of the organ. It had to be at least eight inches long and thicker than a water pipe. And his balls were verging on bull-sized!

He stared down at crotch, eyebrows going up when he saw the skin around his package was undeniably darker. His cock was really dark brown now and his balls were even darker, almost black. And the rest of him–well, as much as he could see anyway–was browner, too. Chestnut brown.

With shaking hands, he held his enlarged pecker over the toilet bowl and watched in surprise as a torrent of urine gushed out. He pissed and pissed, filling the stall with the pungent aroma. At last, the stream trickled off and he could stuff it back inside the overalls. He left it outside of his boxers, though, sighing with relief at the extra space. When he zipped up, he was glad to see that his dick slid discreetly down the leg of the overalls.

Thank God!

His phone buzzed when he got back to his desk. He looked down, seeing it was text from the running club’s coach, Mr. Gallagher. >>You coming tonight?<< he wanted to know. >>We got a couple new members and I need your help.<<

Dawson stared at the phone, wondering what to do. With everything going on, he’d completely forgotten about the club. He was the vice president, though, which made it hard to back out. (He’d taken on the role because he wanted an incentive to run more and being in a leadership position made it harder to skip practice.) He looked down at his crotch, gently squeezing his legs together and wincing when he felt the new, larger size of everything down there. How the hell would he fit into a pair of running shorts like this?

The phone dinged again. Coach Gallagher really needed to know if he was coming. Dawson exhaled, debating what to do. Finally, he remembered there was a running store not far from the park where the club met. He could stop in there and buy a larger pair of running shorts and what they offered in terms of, er, ‘male support options.’ It felt weird to admit this; he’d always been so small down there that he didn’t need to worry about support. But now just sitting was uncomfortable. What would it be like to run six miles with a package as big and heavy as his?

He texted back that he would meet Mr. Gallagher at the park at six.

***

Chapter 5

Dawson got to practice a little early, wearing a completely new outfit from the running store nearby. He’d managed to find a pair of nylon shorts that fit him and, even better, the sales clerk had shown him their collection of special jockstraps for well-endowed men. 

It had taken him a long time to work up the nerve to ask. His cheeks had flamed crimson as he lingered near the cash register, trying to come up with the words to delicately describe his new problem. 

At first, the young guy behind the counter merely stared back at him blankly and Dawson began to sweat. Finally, though, Dawson asked, “Do you have, you know, gear for, uh, big guys?” 

“Big?” the clerk repeated, looking Dawson’s modest frame up and down. “What do you mean?” 

Embarrassed, Dawson removed his hands from in front of his crotch. He blushed when the clerk’s eyebrows went up. The dude cleared his throat, unable to stop gawking. After a while, he grunted, “Follow me,” and led Dawson behind a curtain. Once they were inside, he gestured to a display of jockstraps, all of which had super-sized pouches. 

Dawson immediately bought three and disappeared into a changing room to try them on. He felt like he was going to faint with happiness the moment he stuffed his swollen equipment into the blessedly voluminous pouch. He pulled up his new shorts and smiled when he looked down at himself. His bulge was mostly concealed!

He was so giddy with relief that he bought a new tank top and a fancy pair of running shoes to round out his ensemble. He paid for everything and was on his way out when the clerk called out behind him. 

“Hey, Amigo,” he said slyly. “That’s one big, juicy burrito ya got there. I wouldn’t mind stuffin’ it in my mouth and swallowin’ a few loads of yer hot sauce sometime.” When Dawson gave him a confused look, he winked and added, “You know where to find me. Adios, Big Guy.”

Dawson let the door swing closed behind him, uncertain what the dude meant. Was he hitting on me? he wondered, flushing. No one besides Noah had ever done so before. The experience kind of gave him a little spring in his step and he was positively strutting by the time he got to the park. Grinning, he waved to Coach Gallagher.

Gallagher gave him a puzzled look. “Hey, Amigo,” he said, “I think you’re in the wrong place.”

Dawson stared back at him. “Huh?” Why did everyone keep calling him ‘amigo’?

The coach did a double take, exclaiming, “Dawson? Is that you?”

Dawson crossed his arms. “Of course, it’s me! Who else would it be?”

Gallagher looked chagrined. “I’m sorry! I guess I didn’t realize how tan you get in the summer. I’ve never seen you this dark before!”

“Tan?” Dawson looked down at his arms, realizing that they did look more bronzed than usual. He shrugged. “Huh? I guess I’ve been out in the sun more than I thought.”

The coach was studying him, eyebrows drawn together. He acted like he wanted to say more but then shrugged and asked, “Here, help me get the timing mats out. Some of the members wanna try for a personal record tonight and I wanna give them their official times.”

They worked together to get the course set up, growing sweaty in the process. Dawson’s body odor emanated from his armpits but he didn’t worry as much being outdoors. At least he hoped the breeze did an adequate job of dispersing his man-stink.

As they worked, Coach Gallagher’s demeanor became increasingly strange. An elder in the church and young father with a couple kids, he was a tall man with thick, curly, brown hair and a well-trimmed beard. Despite having kids, he managed to maintain his running regimen and had barely missed any of the practices. Usually, he was polite but standoffish but tonight he was unusually attentive. He stood closer than usual and seemed to always be looking at Dawson out of the corner of his eye.

“Hey, Dawson,” he said finally, placing a big hand on his shoulder and squeezing. “Thanks a lot for everything! I couldn’t do this without you!”

As he spoke, his hand slid down Dawson’s back, coming to land on the rise of his buttocks. At the same time, Gallagher’s eyes traveled to his crotch. Dawson’s cheeks colored when he realized that his bulge was jutting out noticeably, despite the best efforts of his new jockstrap to contain it.

“Uh, you’re welcome,” he murmured, moving away and turning his hip to block Gallagher’s view of his bulge. “It’s kinda my job. I am the VP, after all.”

Coach Gallagher smiled and Dawson realized then that he was quite handsome. Muscular, lean and tan, the coach radiated a kind of sensuality that revved Dawson’s nascent gay engine. He’d only recently figured out–thanks to Noah!–that he liked men who were confident, mature and assertive and Gallagher was certainly all three. On top of everything, the man had golden brown eyes, soft lips and tiny ears that barely poked out from the tight, chestnut curls on his head. Dawson felt his pulse begin to pound as Gallagher’s eyes once again traveled the length of his body.

He shook himself, remembering the coach was married with kids. What was he thinking?! More importantly, what was Gallagher thinking? Or maybe Dawson was just misinterpreting his attention? Yeah, that was probably it. The coach was just being friendly. Why did Dawson have to turn it into a gay thing?

The tension between them broke a moment later when a familiar voice called out, “Hey, Dawson!”

His heart jumped into his mouth when he spotted Noah jogging up the path. The boy was wearing a pair of blue sweatpants, a baggy sweatshirt and a baseball cap turned backwards on his head. His blond curls tumbled out from under the cap, framing his handsome, smiling face. Dawson realized again how beefy the kid was. Yeah, Noah was definitely built like a football linebacker and had the muscles and gut to match.

The coach stiffened as Noah approached, clearly aware of the boy’s unsavory reputation. Noah smiled innocently at Gallagher and extended his hand but the man merely looked back at him blankly before turning and stalking off. Dawson watched him go, unconsciously taking note of the man’s pert buttocks outlined perfectly in his stretchy orange shorts. Although he wasn’t surprised by Gallagher’s reaction to Noah, he was a little disappointed. Why did everyone treat the boy like a pariah?

Noah didn’t comment on the coach’s attitude and instead turned his attention to Dawson, surveying him appreciatively. “Way to rock those shorts, bro!” he praised. “Jesus, dude! They really hug yer butt…and sumthin’ else, too.” He winked slyly as his gaze lingered on Dawson’s bulge.

“Er, thanks, man,” Dawson replied, feeling his cock tingle in his jockstrap. “I just got ‘em.”

“I can tell! Wow, dude, you look so different! I barely recognized ya when I was walkin’ up!”

Dawson stood up straighter and thrust his shoulders back. It felt good being the object of Noah’s affection!

Reaching up to run his hand through Dawson’s hair, Noah continued, “What is this? A tan and a new do, too? And is that a new color?” He leaned back on his heel, assessing. “It looks good, bro. I like you with brown hair.” Before Dawson could argue that he was blond, Noah gushed, “Whoa, bro! I can’t get over you! Talk ‘bout a ladykiller!” He smiled devilishly. “Or maybe that’s a mankiller? Ha! Yer certainly makin’ me feel faint.”

By this point, Dawson’s cock was chubbing up to a full-on erection and he began to panic, grabbing the box of t-shirts they gave out to newbies and holding it strategically in front of himself. “Noah,” he hissed, “knock it off! We’re in public!”

Noah smirked. “Yeah? And your point is? Oh, wait, never mind,” he said, staring pointedly at Dawson’s mostly hidden erection, “I can see your point and it’s quite, um, large.”

Coach Gallagher had returned by then and it was curious watching his reaction to their repartee. Out of the corner of his eye, Dawson saw him puff out his chest. A moment later, he’d inserted himself between them, saying coolly, “Dawson, I hate to interrupt but we’re not finished.” He turned dismissively toward Noah, eyes landing on the boy’s big stomach. “Why are you here anyway? You’re obviously not going to run with us.”

Noah arched a blond eyebrow. “Turns out, I just joined the club today. I’m your newest member!”

Was that a sneer on the coach’s lip? “You should go home. You won’t be able to handle the workout tonight,” Gallagher asserted. “We’re running a 10K. There’s no way you could do that in your condition.”

Noah’s eyes narrowed. “Oh? Looks can be deceiving,” he replied. “For instance, right now you look like you’re more interested in checking out Dawson’s bulge than anything else.”

It was amusing to see the effect this had on Coach Gallagher. His entire face turned red under his beard and he froze, clenching and unclenching his hands. Finally, he made an inarticulate noise in the back of his throat and stalked away.

They watched him go, both struggling to stifle laughter. Finally, Noah couldn’t stand it any longer and burst out laughing. Dawson wasn’t far behind him, although he did wait until Gallagher was out of earshot.

“Not bad, Bible Boy,” Noah choked out after he regained his composure. “You even got the daddies drooling over you now.” He shook his head. “I never woulda pegged Gallagher as bi.”

Dawson didn’t know what to say to this and instead asked, “So, you’re really planning to run with us tonight? I didn’t know you run.”

“I don’t,” Noah replied matter of factly. “But it seems like the only way to flirt with you. What happened to you last night? North said you left without saying goodbye.”

Dawson blinked, mind working furiously to come up with a plausible excuse. He certainly wasn’t going to tell Noah about his confrontation with Pedro. “I went to Thursday night church service,” he lied. “My parents asked me to go and it’d been a while. I didn’t feel like I could get out of it.”

“Huh,” Noah mused. “My folks didn’t say anything about seeing you there. You musta been in back.”

“Yeah, in back,” Dawson agreed, hoping he didn’t sound too evasive.

Noah grew quiet. When Dawson looked up, he was surprised to see the boy studying the ground at his feet. The tips of his ears were pink. Finally, he looked up and hesitantly met Dawson’s eyes. He was opening his mouth to speak when he looked puzzled. “That’s funny,” he said, “I always thought yer eyes were blue like mine.”

Dawson blinked. “They are.”

Noah shook his head. “Either you’re wearing brown contacts or your eyes mysteriously changed color overnight. They’re brown, bro. Cinnamon brown…like yer new hair color.” Dawson opened his mouth to object, feeling weirded out, but Noah waved his hand. “It doesn’t matter. What I wanna know is if you’ll hang out with me tonight. After we run.” He dropped his gaze, his ears growing even redder. “I’m askin’ ya out on a date, Bible Boy. Will you go?”

Dawson’s mouth fell open. No one had ever asked him on a date before! And now here was a sixteen-year-old boy doing just that. Was it even legal for a twenty-three-year old to be with a sixteen-year-old? He didn’t know but that was beside the point: Noah was asking him on a date!

“Yes,” he said when he realized his hesitation was making Noah squirm. “I’d like that. A lot.”

Noah’s whoop of delight echoed across the park, startling a flock of nearby starlings and earning an angry glower from Coach Gallagher.

***

Dawson was full of energy that night, probably because he was thrilled to be going out on an official date with Noah. His legs felt had unlimited energy, though that didn’t mean that he was fast. In fact, he was slower than usual. His body felt heavy for some reason, weighed down.

“Jesus, bro,” Noah commented when they were warming up together. “You been workin’ out or sumthin’? Yer a beast!”

Dawson looked down at himself, surprised to see muscles everywhere where before there had only been pudge or saggy skin. He’d been so preoccupied with his swollen package that he hadn’t noticed the rest of his body. It wasn’t just his dick; everything was bigger! His arms, legs, chest and shoulders were bulging with new muscles. In fact, he looked almost stocky. Not stocky-fat, though: Stocky-ripped. He stopped jogging and flexed his biceps, amazed at the size of his guns.

“So hawt!” Noah praised, reaching up and pinching his arm appreciatively. “I guess I’ve never seen you in such revealing clothing before. I was under the impression you were on the softer side. Not that there’s anything wrong with that! You’re sexy no matter what!”

Dawson smiled, still admiring his muscles. They really popped beneath his chestnut-brown skin. His cock plumped up a bit in his shorts, filling the pouch of his new jockstrap to overflowing. He’d never been a stud before!

“Whoa, Bible Boy! Whoa!” Noah chided, quickly dodging in front of him before the other runners saw his erection. “Calm down! There’ll be plenty of time later to brick up but let’s wait until we’re alone, Ok?”

Cheeks flaming, Dawson grabbed Noah’s shoulders and hid behind him, waiting for his ‘big man’ to deflate again. Noah laughed, playfully wiggling his big butt against Dawson’s erection and making him moan. 

While he was huddled there, a few other members of the club jogged past and he heard a woman ask, “Who’s that Mexican guy? Is he running with us? I’ve never seen him before.” As she went past, he looked at her and realized she was looking in his direction. He glanced around, trying to see who she meant but didn’t see anyone. That’s odd, he thought. It was almost like she was looking at me!

Finally, his erection subsided and he and Dawson jogged up to join the rest of the group gathered in front of the starting line that Coach Gallagher had set up. Gallagher, he noticed, kept staring in his direction and getting distracted as he fumbled through his welcome speech and went over the evening’s workout.

“Dude totally wants in yer panties,” Noah whispered, nudging him. “Wait. Make that he wants you in his panties. Look at that tiny nub of his! Pfffft, how’d he ever conceive children with a dick that small?”

Dawson elbowed him but, now that he looked, Gallagher did seem to have a very small penis. The dude was wearing a tiny pair of tight shorts. Everything was visible. Everything. The sight of the older man’s little pecker gave Dawson pause. I used to have a dick like that, he thought. This morning. 

He looked down at his own shorts, eyes widening when he saw the massive bulge straining against his shorts. It looked even bigger than ever! He wiped his sweaty brow, feeling faint. What the hell was going on today? The only thing he’d done was masturbate more than usual. Was this why the church warned young guys about beating off? The elders were afraid that their dicks would get too big to handle? He shook his head. Nah, that couldn’t be it. He couldn’t say he was unhappy with the change, though. After all, what guy didn’t want a big dick?

***

He jogged with Noah for a mile or so before the boy lost steam and pulled off the trail, gasping for breath. “Sorry, bro! I guess I am a little outta shape.” He took off his ball cap and wiped his sweaty brow. “And it is really hot tonight.”

“Well, you are wearing heavy clothes,” Dawson pointed out. “You should take off your sweatpants and hoodie. You’ll be cooler.”

“I’ll also be bare-ass naked,” Noah said, laughing at Dawson’s reaction. “I’m not wearin’ nuthin’ under these.”

“Oh.” Dawson’s ears were hot and his cock was already starting to throb. The thought of Noah naked in public… “Uh, yeah, I guess you’d better keep ‘em on.” He looked around. “We’re not that far from the parking lot. Do you want me to go back with you?”

Noah waved this off. “Nah, dude! You go for it. I’d hate to ruin your workout. Keep on goin’! I’ll see you back there.” He didn’t wait for Dawson to reply before turning and trudging back toward the parking area.

Dawson watched him go for a moment before resuming his run. It felt really good to stretch his legs and give it his all, even if he was slower than usual. He loved the way his new clothes fit his muscular body and especially the way the jockstrap cupped his balls and big hose.

Someone else appreciated this as well. “Hey, Dawson,” Coach Gallagher called out as he ran up beside him. “What happened to Noah?”

Dawson smiled at the tall, sexy man. “He turned back. It’s too hot out for him.”

“Too bad,” Gallagher replied, pulling slightly ahead so he was just in front of Dawson. “He should’ve joined us for one of the easier workouts.”

“Yeah.” Dawson’s eyes were drawn to Gallagher’s generous backside. The man was lean but possessed a very full pair of buttocks. His tiny pair of orange shorts barely contained them. Gallagher had removed his tank top and was running shirtless, giving Dawson the full view of his tan, sinewy back. The rounded tops of his buttocks spilled out of the waistband of his shorts with each step, jiggling. He had a cushion of soft, moist, black hair perched right over the cleft of those big globes. As Dawson stared, a trickle of sweat ran down the coach’s hairy pillow and disappeared into his damp, furry cleft.

Dawson was hard in no time.

“What’s wrong?” Gallagher asked over his shoulder when Dawson fell behind. 

Dawson was bent over, hands on his knees, as he struggled to hide his growing erection. It was plumping up so fast it was going to explode out of the pouch of his jock. Sweat running down his face, he looked up at Gallagher, panting, “Nothing! I’m fine! Just got a charlie horse is all. I’m gonna walk it off.”

“Here, I’ll help you,” Gallagher offered, pacing over to stand directly in front of him. His shorts were soaked with sweat, rendering them nearly transparent. Bent over as he was, Dawson had a perfect view of the older man’s tiny, shaved nub. It was circumcised. Bite-sized.

When Gallagher placed his hand on Dawson’s shoulder, Dawson cock rocketed to attention. His worst fears came true as it thrust upward, shooting out from between the heavy elastic waistband of his jockstrap and his firm belly. He yelped, pulling his tank top over it.

He couldn’t stay there. He had to do something!

Hobbling over into the nearby shrubbery, he called over his shoulder. “Go on, Coach! Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.”

Gallagher followed him.

Panicked, Dawson pleaded, “Just go. Please! I’m fine.”

Gallagher smiled and approached. Bent over, cock ready to explode, Dawson watched as the man knelt down and then gently lifted Dawson by the shoulders until he was standing. Dawson’s giant erection pushed outward against the tight fabric of his tank top, obscenely fat and long.

Gallagher looked around to be sure they were alone, got down on his knees and lifted Dawson’s shirt up. Dawson’s eyes goggled when the immensely long, thick, black thing between his legs sprang forth. It didn’t even look like a penis! It was more like a warthog’s snout!

Gallagher didn’t hesitate. Licking his lips, he dove for that giant pole, opening wide and swallowing it down. Dawson threw his head back and moaned, beside himself with embarrassment, confusion and elation. He was getting his cock sucked! By Coach Gallagher! In public!

Coach was skilled. Very skilled. Which meant this wasn’t his first time blowing another guy. He expertly worked Dawson to the verge of an incandescent climax and then backed off, pulling Dawson’s club out of his mouth with a loud pop and rising from his knees. While Dawson tried to catch his breath, Gallagher put his hands on his shoulders and pushed down. Dawson sank to his knees.

Without hurry or apparent concern, Gallagher shimmied his little pair of running shorts down and thrust his tiny nub in Dawson’s face. The instruction was clear: Suck me off.

Dawson did.

He took that tender, bite-sized morsel in his mouth and titillated Coach Gallagher with his tongue, teasing and tormenting the man to the verge of orgasm. He had never had another man’s dick in his mouth before but he was a quick study; Gallagher had taught him well by example. Plus, Dawson learned, it was easier to handle a small dick than a big one.

“Stop!” Gallagher hissed right before he was going to shoot. He urged Dawson to stand. Dawson was disappointed. He wanted to taste Gallagher. Taste all of Gallagher.

But the coach had other ideas. He held up a condom, smirking at Dawon’s startled reaction. With a grin, he ripped open the package in his teeth and slipped it over Dawson’s leaking monster with practiced ease. “Don’t worry,” he murmured. “It won’t break. It’s super-sized.”

Before Dawson could react, Gallagher turned around and bent over before him, yanking his shorts down to his ankles. Looking back at Dawson through his outspread thighs, he reached up and pulled back his hairy ass cheeks, exposing his rather worn-out hole. From the size and looseness of the thing, Gallagher had taken a lot of cocks in his time.

Dawson stared at the man’s open hole, mesmerized. He’d never seen another guy’s butthole before. Well, other than the brief flash of Noah’s he’d spotted the night before on Pedro’s smartphone, but that had been from far away and Dawson had barely registered it. 

Gallagher’s used hole was not pretty. Actually, it was kind of disgusting. But somehow its very ugliness was what turned him on. He loved seeing those droopy, loose ass lips, covered by knots of wiry hair, quivering with expectation.

“Go on, stud,” Gallagher prompted. “Fuck my hole!” As an incentive, he (tried to) clench and unclench his sloppy ass lips.

Bracing, Dawson spit into his hand a few times and slathered up his cock. He jumped in surprise when he felt the alien heft and mass of his newly enlarged pole. It was so fat and so big! But another grunt from Gallagher got him moving and he grasped the man’s narrow hips and leaned forward, thrusting his pecker forward.

Gallagher had to worm around a bit before Dawson managed to score his hole. When his fat cockhead hit those eager lips, though, he thrust inside. Gallagher cried out in pain, causing Dawson to halt. “Don’t fucking stop!” the coach cried out. “Fuck me! FUCK ME!”

Dawson shrugged and shoved his mammoth snout in. Gallagher screamed, the sound echoing through the park, but both guys were so lost in their carnal union that they didn’t care if anyone overheard. Dawson rutted like a horny bull, tearing into the coach’s ass and leaving him permanently gaping. Well, even more gaping. Coach whimpered, tears rolling down his bearded cheeks, but he told Dawson later it was from humiliation, not pain. “I am a sinner,” he declared. “I both hate it and love it.”

In a few minutes, Dawson’s cock spasmed, emptying so much hot cum into the condom that it overflowed and dribbled out of Gallagher’s hairy hole and trickled down his thighs. The coach was crying like a baby by this point and Dawson felt kind of bad.

“Tell me I’m a slut,” Gallagher begged. “Tell me I’m a worthless faggot slut!”

“YOU FUCKIN’ FAGGOT!” Dawson roared, surprised by how much the coach’s pleading turned him on. “YER NUTHIN’ BUT A STUPID FUCKIN’ FAGGOT COCKSLUT!”

“Again!” Coach panted. “AGAIN!”

Dawson obliged, humiliating and ridiculing the hapless coach as Gallagher worked his tiny nub between his thumb and forefinger, eventually jerking and twitching to orgasm with Dawson’s ugly cock-snout still lodged deep in his ruined hole.

***

Chapter 6

Dawson felt weirdly elated after pulling his unnaturally long cock out of Gallagher’s hole.  He’d lost his virginity at last! And to Coach Gallagher no less! He’d just fucked a church elder up the ass! It was so subversive and yet so much fun that it left him grinning. He puffed out his chest with pride. He’d even enjoyed humiliating the coach at the end, feeling somehow liberated by shouting homophobic slurs while Gallagher yanked on his baby-sized nub. He smirked to himself. Yeah, it felt good.

For his part, Gallagher was abashed. He kept his eyes averted, wincing in pain as he gingerly pulled up the tiny pair of shorts over his big, cum-slathered butt. His bearded cheeks were rosy and he was breathing hard. His own cum–and some of Dawson’s–had splattered all over his shorts and he hurriedly brushed it away.

While the silence stretched between them, Dawson pulled off the leaky condom and did his best to stuff his dick back into his jock. It didn’t fit very well, though. It seemed to have grown even bigger and now measured nearly as long–and as thick!–as his forearm.

He studied it, shivering in both pride and disgust. Thick, dark skin had continued to grow around the glans, enveloping it and hanging limply off the blunt tip. He wrinkled his nose, realizing there was a certain fragrance associated with his cock now. It smelled kind of like mushrooms.

It didn’t look like any cock he’d ever seen before and certainly bore no resemblance to his former circumcised four-incher. It really looked more like a black, floppy snout than anything else. A heavy one, too. He sighed, redoubling his efforts to cram it into the pouch.

When he was done, his bulge still thrust out before him like a tumor. Gallagher stared at it, at war with himself. He was clearly ashamed for debasing himself before Dawson but also wanted that big cock in his hole again. Finally, though, his better angel won out (for the moment) and he shakily squared his shoulders, saying, “Let’s go. It’s getting late.”

***

“Where were you two?” Noah accused when Dawson and Gallagher jogged up to the group of runners waiting impatiently in the parking lot.

Due to their tardiness, no one had been at the finish line to record their times. More than a few of the club members were pissed and grumbled openly as Gallagher slunk into their midst, still sweaty and covered with cum. The coach’s entire face, neck and back was red.

Dawson, on the other hand, was glowing. He shrugged his big shoulders at Noah. “We got lost. I had to show Coach the way back.”

“I’ll bet.” Noah eyed him suspiciously but then his face broke into a grin. “You look like you got lucky, bro. Was it fun?”

Dawson dipped his head, cheeks going rosy. He couldn’t help grinning as he met Noah’s eyes. “Yeah,” he admitted. “It was fun. Real fun.”

“Wowee, Bible Boy!” Noah whistled. “You dawg! I’m gettin’ jealous over here in case you can’t tell.” He reached down and batted at Dawson’s monster cock, teasing, “You better save some of dat special sauce for me!”

Dawson elbowed him in the ribs, worried they might be overhead, but everyone seemed to be focused on Gallagher instead. The poor man looked particularly forlorn in front of the agitated crowd. Nothing he said seemed to placate them and the group broke up a few minutes later with people shaking their heads and grumbling. Gallagher shot Dawson a helpless look but Dawson merely curled his upper lip at him. The coach lowered his head meekly, his little nub pressing insistently against the see-through fabric of his shorts.

“That little slut!” Noah whispered, shaking his head at Gallagher. “Man, the hypocrisy of the church! He’s one of the elders who counseled my parents to send me to conversion therapy. Can you believe it?” He snorted. “And to think all along he’s been nuthin’ but a short-dicked, big-bottomed whore. Fuck.”

Dawson wisely chose to remain silent. He felt kind of bad for Gallagher but also enjoyed seeing him squirm. If he didn’t know that the coach also got off on the humiliation, he might have felt worse.

“C’mon,” he said, taking Noah by the arm. “Let’s go. Where am I taking you tonight anyway?”

The boy looked at him askance. “Oh, ho! So, now you’re taking me out? The guy fucks a hole for the first time and suddenly he’s a big man.” He laughed when Dawson pulled down the bill of his cap. Noah shoved him back playfully, saying, “How ‘bout we go to that new BBQ joint? I’ve heard their food’s amazing.”

“Sounds good, bro. Let’s do it.”

Noah chuckled. “Listen to you! God, you’ve changed. It’s hard to believe you’re still the same meek, little do-gooder. All it took was getting laid and a whole new you comes out on top!”

“Shut up!” Dawson rumbled, realizing his voice sounded deeper now. Was that another side effect of losing his virginity? “I’m the same as always.”

“Uh huh. Yeah, the same,” Noah replied skeptically. “Nuthin’s changed ‘bout ya at all.” He laughed and took Dawson’s hand and, folding it firmly in his own, tugged him off down the sidewalk.

***

The BBQ joint was an outdoor affair with picnic tables set up under strings of glowing lights. The sun was setting and a few stars sparkled overhead as they took their seats across a table from each other. Dawson couldn’t stop staring at Noah, wanting to leap across the table and eat him up. And Noah appeared to be more than willing to be eaten, grinning back at Dawson, his round cheeks flushed with pride and happiness.

A huge dude ambled over to take their order. Wearing a stained apron and a pen behind his ear, his big arms were heavily tattooed and his face was like a bulldog’s. Turning to Noah, he grunted, “What’ll it be?”

“I’ll have the pork sliders,” Noah said. “And a side of buffalo fries. Extra spicy. Oh, and a Coke.”

The big man nodded, scratching on his pad, and Dawson began, “And I’ll have the beef brisket and–”

“Whoa, Speedy Gonzales!” the man chastised. “Hold on! I ain’t ready yet.”

 Dawson blinked, thinking, Speedy Gonzales? What’s that supposed to mean? “Rather than acting offended, though, he nodded patiently. “Ok, let me know when you’re ready and–”

“Don’t ya fuckin’ understand English, Amigo?” the man yelled, startling both Dawson and Noah. “I said I ain’t ready yet! Jesus, these stupid, fuckin’ migrantes! Shoulda built that fuckin’ wall!”

Noah was ready to get up and beat the dude’s face in but Dawson stopped him, shaking his head. Noah thrust out his lower jaw and looked like he would protest but then sighed and sat back down.  

“I’m not an immigrant,” Dawson stated. “And, even if I were, that’s no way to speak to me.”

The man’s jowls puffed out, making him look even uglier. He clenched the pen in his massive hand, clearly wanting to get into it with Dawson. At the last moment, though, he glanced off to the side. Dawson followed his gaze and saw an older man standing in front of an outdoor grill. He gave the waiter a slight frown and shook his head. Taking the cue, the big brute exhaled unhappily. Working his clenched jaw, he croaked, “Alright, gimme yer order.”

After he’d left, Noah let loose the breath he’d been holding. “Well, that was fuckin’ weird!” He reached across the table and squeezed Dawson’s hand. “Are you sure you wanna stay here, bro? I mean, I didn’t realize it was owned by a bunch of fuckin’ racists.”

“No, it’s fine,” Dawson murmured, still wondering about the interaction. “I think it’s just the waiter.” He jerked his chin over to the man behind the grill. “I think that’s the owner over there and he doesn’t seem to share the big dude’s attitudes.”

“Let’s hope so, bro. I’d hate to think that they’re spitting on our food right now.”

They soon forgot about the waiter and lost themselves in conversation. Noah was especially flirtatious that evening and kept smiling and batting his long, golden eyelashes at Dawson. At one point, he extended his foot under the table and started rubbing it against his calf. Then he raised it and pressed it into his crotch. Dawson shifted, feeling his cock getting fatter in his shorts and worrying that it would rear its ugly head if he got too turned on. 

“God,” he whispered, leaning across the table until his face was only inches away from Noah’s. “You’re one fuckin’ sexy stud! It feels awful to say but I’m kinda glad of what happened to North ‘cuz it meant he, ya know, sorta brought us together.”

Noah blinked, his cheeks turning rosy. “I love how dirty you talk now, Bible Boy. Fuck, I love everything about you now! And I can’t wait to take this to the next level. How ‘bout you? Ready to ‘level up’ with me?”

Their food arrived at that moment and the waiter surprised them by slamming the plates down on the table between them. He stared at them with open derision, lip curling at their entwined fingers. He was opening his big maw to talk when the owner yelled, “Hey, Beau! I need yer help. C’mere!”

Beau looked over at the man, obviously fighting the urge to roll his eyes, but he nonetheless capitulated. Giving Dawson and Noah one last sneer, he stalked off.

“What an asshole!” Noah spat before Beau was out of earshot. “If you weren’t here, I’d fuckin’ kick his redneck ass!”

“Just forget him,” Dawson soothed, taking the boy’s hand again. “Now where were we? Oh, yeah. You were asking if I’d pop yer cherry?”

Noah flushed, shaking his head and muttering, “My cherry’s already been popped more times than I can count, dude. I mean, I tole’ ya about the anal warts and herpes. All that happened before I turned thirteen! At this point, you could drive a bus through my bussy and still have room. Although maybe not,” he added slyly, “judging from the size of that fuckin’ monster lurkin’ in yer shorts. I gotta admit I’m happy to see yer so hung, bro. I was a little worried you had a tiny pecker like Gallagher.”

Dawson rubbed the back of his neck. “Uh, yeah. Haha! Me? A little pee-pee? Never!” He closed his eyes, remembering clearly the feeling of his tiny four-incher in his hand. “I’m hung like a fuckin’ elephant!”

“And that makes me happy, bro. Really happy.” Noah, however, didn’t sound happy as he said this.

“What’s wrong?” Dawson asked, leaning closer.

Noah waved off his concern. “Nuthin’.” He laughed. “Yeah, it’s nuthin’. Literally. Nothing. Listen, Bible Boy, what if I tole ya there’s sumthin’ ‘bout me you gotta know before we take this any further?”

Dawson sat back. “What? That you’re wise?”

Noah flushed. “Nah, that’s not it.”

“That you’re intelligent and compassionate and insightful?”

More blushing. “Nah, that’s not it, either.”

“Hmmm. Then, is it that yer handsome? And muscular? And have an amazingly plump and perky rear end?”

“God, Bible Boy! Listen to ya!” Noah’s entire face was red by this point. “Nah, it’s none of those things, neither, though you don’t got no idea how happy it makes me to hear you say that stuff.”

Dawson was about to say even more when something hard smashed into the side of his head. Caught by surprise, he went flying. Chaos broke out around him as people screamed and Noah yelled something inarticulate. He barely had enough time to prop himself up on his elbows before the waiter, Beau, was on top of him, swinging his fists and bashing his face in. White hot agony shot through him as he felt his nose crack, followed soon after by his jaw. And then he saw stars as the man boxed his ears bloody. He lost consciousness just as Beau was starting to shake his head up and down, battering it against the ground.

****

Everything was pitch black when he regained consciousness. Groaning, he opened his eyes and saw nothing except for a dim, gauzy light. His whole body hurt, especially his head, and he couldn’t move his jaw. As if from far away, he could hear a beeping sound and the soft whirring of a machine. A strong antiseptic smell permeated the air. Someone was holding his hand. Their grip tightened as he moved and cried out, or tried to. His mouth, he soon discovered, had been wired shut.

“Dawson? Buddy?”

It was Noah’s voice. He started crying as soon as he heard it and tried to open his eyes again. It took him a while to realize they were already open. It didn’t make any difference, though; his face was covered in bandages.

“Easy, bro, easy,” Noah soothed, stifling a yawn. “I’m here for ya. I’ve never left yer side ‘cept when ya were in surgery. Been here all night.”

Dawson tried to speak again but failed. All he could do was make a pitiful whining noise in the back of his throat.

Noah squeezed his hand tighter. “I know it sucks, bro. That asshole smashed ya up real bad! They had to call in a special reconstructive surgeon, yer face was so damaged. But the nurse tole me it went well, that they got the best doc in the business. Even better, ya only got a minor concussion so ya don’t gotta worry ‘bout no TBI er anythin’.” He paused before adding, “Ya can thank me for that last part. Savin’ yer brain, that is. I fuckin’ kicked the shit out of the asshole before he could do more damage. He’s in fucking intensive care right now, dude. Doubt he’ll get out anytime soon.” There was a distinct note of pride in his voice as he concluded, “He’s a lot worse off than you, bro. I made sure of that.”

At that moment, there was a knock on the door and a nurse entered. “Oh, good!” the man said as he approached the bed. “You’re awake.” Dawson stirred as he approached, trying to get up. “No, no, Diego!” the nurse corrected. “Don’t get up. Por favor. Siéntese y descanse.”

“Uh, bro, why’re ya speakin’ Spanish?” Noah asked. “And his name ain’t Diego; it’s Dawson!”

There was a confused silence. Then, “Oh, really? But it says here on his chart that–”

“The fuckin’ chart’s wrong then,” Noah exclaimed, sounding exasperated. “I’m tellin’ ya his name’s Dawson and he speaks English!”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” the nurse started to say but at that moment there was another knock on the door and Dawson could hear the sound of footsteps belonging to several people. A moment passed and then he heard his mother’s voice cry out, “Oh, Dawson! Oh, my baby! What’s happened to you?” Then there was a pause and she asked, “Who are you? And why’re you here?”

Noah cleared his throat. “Uh, it’s nice to meet you, ma’am. And sir. And sir. And sir. And sir. You guys must be ol’ Dawson’s parents and, um, his really, really big older brothers.” He stood up from the bed and there was the muffled sound of handshakes. “My name’s Noah Ingraham and I’m Dawson’s man.” When this didn’t register, he clarified, “His boyfriend. You see, him an’ me’re together.”

***

Chapter 7

Dawson’s parents stormed out of the hospital room after Noah’s announcement. In a way, Dawson was kind of glad. He hated being the center of attention, even when he was injured in the hospital. All he wanted was to rest and heal with Noah by his side.

In the aftermath of his parents’ departure, his older brothers tried to reassure Noah that they would come around. Dawson wished fervently that he could speak but could only lie there and moan. He was still pretty out of it from the surgery and his brain hurt, both literally and figuratively, as he tried to wrap his mind around what had happened. One thing, however, was clear: He was both touched and proud of Noah for coming out to his parents as his boyfriend. Sure, it wasn’t necessarily the time or place he would’ve chosen but he was glad nonetheless. He reached for and found his new boyfriend’s (!) hand, squeezing it and drawing Noah close.

“Don’t worry, bro,” his oldest brother, Jared, was saying to Noah. “They’re just in shock. I mean, think of it from their perspective, they find out their youngest son was bashed and then they get here and discover he’s in a gay relationship. It’s a lot for anyone to process and they’re conservative Christians. You gotta give ‘em some time!” He paused for a moment and Dawson heard him move closer to Noah. “For my part, I am really happy for you and Dawson. Welcome to the family, bro!” This sentiment was echoed by Dawson’s other brothers, Brooks and Matthew. The sounds of backslapping filled the room as his brothers gave Noah their personal approval.

Dawson had to fight back tears. He never expected his older brothers would be this open minded! Like his parents, his brothers were quite religious and took their positions as elders in the church very seriously. The fact that they were so supportive meant even more to him because of this.

Noah sniffled, obviously touched as well. “Thanks, man. Men, I mean. I really appreciate it.” Dawson squeezed his hand and moaned, trying to add his voice to the conversation. Noah laughed, adding, “And Dawson here appreciates it as well. Don’t forget that he can’t see or talk right now.”

Jared settled on the bed beside Noah, reaching out to touch Dawson gently on the forehead. “How’re ya doing, bro? Feeling Ok? I still can’t believe that dude went off on you like that. It must’ve been horrible! What is wrong with people these days?!”

Dawson grasped Jared’s hand and squeezed. It was all he could do and he hoped the touch communicated his love for his big brother. Jared was seven years older and married with three kids but he nevertheless found time to stay in touch. He was always curious and open to whatever Dawson had to say; he was a good guy.

Actually, all three of his brothers were good guys. Like Jared, Brooks and Matthew were married. Brooks had two kids and Matthew had one. Dawson, the baby of the family, had yet to reproduce or even be in a relationship for that matter. It was for this reason that Noah’s announcement hadn’t surprised his brothers; they’d already suspected their little brother was a homo.

“Yeah, we knew,” Brooks revealed to Noah. “Dawson’s always been into guys. His first crush in elementary school was a boy and there were more after that one. He never told us and we never asked but we knew.” He paused and Dawson heard him move, guessing that he was putting his hand on Noah’s back. “You look like you’re really young but I can already tell he chose well. How old are you, by the way?”

Noah cleared his throat, lowering his voice. “Uh, twenty-one. At least that’s what my ID says.” When this was met with incredulous silence from Dawson’s brothers, he amended, “I’m really just a couple months shy of my seventeenth birthday but I have a fake ID. I used it last night so they wouldn’t toss me out of the ambulance when I accompanied Dawson to the hospital. I signed a form attesting to being his domestic partner and showed ‘em my fake ID to get ‘em off my case.”

Brooks whistled. “You got balls, dude! Seriously balls.”

Noah laughed. “Actually, I don’t.”

“Yeah, you do!” Brooks persisted. “And I’m sure it helps that the hospital recently updated their visitation policies. My wife, Shelly, works in HR here and she said that they now give domestic and same-sex partners the same rights as married couples.”

“Hard to believe,” Matthew chimed in, “that a hospital named after a founding member of the church would be that progressive.”

“It’s the way things are now, bro,” Jared stated. “Even the church realizes they can’t fight it anymore.”

Noah exhaled. “Uh huh. Though, for selfish reasons, I wish they’d ‘updated their policies’ a few years ago. I ended up payin’ a really nasty price for bein’ a fag. And you can thank my parents and the church for that.” He changed the topic before Dawson’s brothers had a chance to respond, saying, “But all that’s in the past now. Now I’m just glad I met Dawson. And that I got yer approval, too. It means a lot, guys. Really.”

In the silence that followed, Jared cleared his throat. “Well, Dawson here isn’t the only queer in the family.”

Dawson stirred at this, as did Matthew and Brooks. “Whaddaya mean, bro?” Noah asked.

There was a long silence and then Jared muttered, “As long as we’re on the topic, I should come clean, too.” He hesitated before stammering, “I-I-I, I mean, I’ve been meaning to tell my brothers–and parents–that I’m bi for a while. Sure, I’m married to Sarah but I’m also in a relationship with Chad Conyers, my best friend from high school. Chad and I have been…together…for years.” When this was met with a bark of surprise from Matthew and Brooks, he added hurriedly, “Sarah knows and she’s cool with it. I told her about Chad on our first date. I totally thought I’d never see her again but she didn’t mind. Really. She actually likes Chad a lot and is good friends with his wife, Rachel.”

Dawson was utterly stunned by this news and apparently everyone else was, too, because the room fell completely silent. It was Noah who was the first to speak and, in typical Noah fashion, he was unphased. “Awww-sum,” he drawled. “Polyamory’s awesome, bro. And fuckin’ yer highschool buddy, too? Not just awesome but hot as well. Lucky Chad! Yer one hot motherfucker, Jared. Not as hot as Dawson but still hot enough.”

“Er, thanks. And, uh, Chad’s the active one, if you know what I mean.”

“Oh, so yer a bottom?” Noah asked, making Dawson squirm. He couldn’t believe this conversation was happening. There was a slapping sound and Dawson deduced that Noah and Jared had just high-fived. “Bottoms rock! I’m a bottom, too! I mean, look at the size of my ass. What else would I be? Hmmm, I guess yers is pretty big, too, now that I get a better look at ya. I bet Chad likes tappin’ dat! Haha!”

“He does,” Jared agreed in a low voice. “He, um, likes it a lot.”

“Wow, so he’s hung, too?” Noah deduced and then added proudly, “So’s Dawson here. Hung like a fuckin’ stallion. See?” Before Dawson could stop him, Noah whipped the sheet off of him and pulled up his hospital gown, revealing his enormously long, fat cock and giant bull balls. He scrambled to cover himself again but he was too late; his brothers had all seen. He clenched Noah’s hand in his fist, squeezing until the boy yelped in pain.

“Easy, Dawson! Easy!” he cried, twisting his arm out of his grip. “You got nuthin’ to be ashamed of! It’s juss me an’ yer bros! I’m sure they’ve seen ya nekkid a thousand times!”

“This is too surreal,” Matthew commented faintly, probably holding his head in his hands. “This whole situation right now is just too surreal.”

There was a pause. When Jared spoke, he sounded shaken. “H-H-How is that possible?”

“How’s what possible?” Noah sounded just as glib and chipper as ever. Dawson realized his boyfriend actually thrived on tension, something that probably had helped him survive the truly barbaric things that had been done to him. “That Dawson’s hung or that he’s a top?”

“Th-Th-The hung part.”

“Why?” Noah sounded perplexed. “It’s gotta run in the family, right?”

A long, uncomfortable silence. Finally, Brooks mumbled unhappily, “No, none of us Crawford men are hung. We, uh, all drew the short straw in the ‘penis-size lottery’. That includes Dawson. At least it used to.”

Dawson was withering with humiliation by this point. He actually wished that Beau had succeeded in killing him because death was preferable to this torture. When he got better, he was going to fucking strangle Noah! How dare he do this to him when he was mute and captive in a hospital bed?!

Oblivious to Dawson’s private anguish, Matthew and Jared grunted their agreement with Brooks. Noah settled down on the bed again and grabbed Dawson’s hand, holding it tight when Dawson tried to shake him off. “Huh,” the boy said finally. “That’s weird. I wonder how Dawson grew such a big dick?”

“And such a black one, too.” Jared moved closer to the bed as he spoke and Dawson clutched his hands over his crotch, worried his older brother would look under his gown again “Guys,” Jared said, turning to Matthew and Brooks, “don’t you think Dawson’s skin looks awfully dark? I mean, he should be just as pale as we are. None of us tan even if we lie out in the sun. We’re really fair-skinned.” He looked over to Noah, querying, “You’re, uh, sure this is Dawson, right?”

“‘Course it’s Dawson!” Noah insisted. “I know my own boyfriend…” His voice trailed off and he was quiet for a while. Finally, he said, “Now that you mention it, though, he does look really different compared to a couple days ago. I mean, last night I was, um, focused on other things and didn’t really pay much attention, but now…” He inhaled sharply then and seemed about to say something more but waved it off. “Nah, I’m sure that’s not it.”

“What’s not it?” Jared pressed. “If you know something, tell us!”

Noah opened his mouth to talk but was interrupted by a knock on the door. A moment later, Dawson heard the sound of Jared’s wife, Sarah, calling out. “Honey? Is it Ok if the kids and I come in? They’ve been asking to see Uncle Dawson.”

As if on cue, Dawson could hear the cries from Julia, his young niece, echoing down the hall. “Daw-Daw! Where are you? Uncle Daw-Daw!”

Jared chuckled, saying, “Yeah, sure. Bring ‘em in. Sorry about that! We got lost in, um, conversation.”

The door shut again as Sarah went to retrieve their children. In the silence that followed, Dawson heard Jared ask, “What? Why’re you guys looking at me like that?”

There was a pause and then Matthew muttered in a low voice, “Uh, bro, you oughta know that I’m bi, too.”

Noah gasped and Jared, sounding shocked, sputtered, “What? Really?”

“And so am I,” Brooks admitted.

“Wow!” Noah exclaimed. “This is amazing! Dawson, can you believe this? Yer family’s chock full o’ queers!”

“Yeah,” Brooks agreed, “and that’s not all. Me and Chad Conyers are…um, together as well.”

Jared let out a startled bark but, before he could say anything, Matthew added, “Me, too. Chad and I, uh, also get together at least once a week.”

In the pandemonium that ensued, Dawson heard Noah let out a low whistle. “Jesus,” the boy sighed. “That Chad’s one lucky dawg, stickin’ his snout in the panties of the Crawford boys!” He turned to Dawson and took his hand, adding, “But when yer jaw is finally unwired, I better not find out that Chad’s been in yer panties, too, bro, or there’ll be hell to pay!”

***

Dawson was released from the hospital later that day and Noah took him back to his apartment. His brothers had disappeared, probably to fight in private over Chad, and his parents were nowhere to be seen. He wasn’t complaining, though; he needed time to heal and absorb his brothers’ crazy revelations. His head hurt both from being battered and from imagining his big brothers–the guys who had always seemed so uptight and straight–bottoming for Chad Conyers. 

He knew Chad, of course; everyone in the family did. And, yeah, he’d had a simmering crush on the dude from the day years ago when Jared first invited him over for dinner after school. Dawson had only been ten years old at the time but the experience of being in the sultry jock’s presence was potent. It had propelled him toward admitting to himself that he was gay. Who knew that his brothers had crushes on the former jock, too? 

It was easy to understand why. 

Chad Conyers was a god. Tall and beefy with unusually dark, thick, curly hair, he even towered over Jared, the tallest of the Crawford boys. A former football quarterback, he’d gone on to play in college and had led his team to an unprecedented three championships. Jared had been his roommate at university and the pair were inseparable. 

Little did anyone know, though, that they were more than just inseparable; they were fucking each other’s brains out the whole time. In the years since graduating, Chad had grown even sexier, if that was possible. At age thirty, he was now a youth pastor in Dawson’s church and he’d really matured into his body and his looks. Dawson got sweaty merely being near him and generally shied away from the big man because he was worried he would lose all self control.

Thinking about Chad and his brothers helped distract him from the pain, humiliation and trauma of being injured and hospitalized. He was really glad to be home, away from nurses and doctors…and his family. All he wanted was to be alone with Noah. He hated hospitals, found them intrusive and exhausting. It was therefore an easy decision when they offered to send him home with a few days’ supply of pain meds and the promise to send a visiting nurse to check up on him every day.

“Whoa, nice crib, bro!” Noah praised as he guided Dawson through the door of his apartment. He led him over to the sofa where he helped him to sit down and then got busy preparing dinner. Dawson was starving after sipping only liquid protein in the hospital and Noah promised to make him something special.

It turned out that his boyfriend knew his way around the kitchen and put together a tasty meal of lemon chicken pasta that he blended into a surprisingly palatable smoothie. Dawson sipped on it gratefully with Noah lying against him, holding his hand.

“I know this is really sudden, bro, but I love you.”

Dawson gave a little start of surprise. Noah clutched his hand, adding hurriedly, “I mean, don’t freak out ‘bout it! You don’t gotta say it back to me.” He laughed after he said this. “Not like you can anyway! Guess yer my captive audience. I can tell ya whatever ya like and ya juss gotta sit there and take it.”

There was silence during which Dawson stroked Noah’s hand. And then he sniffled, choking back tears. Soon, he was bawling like a little baby as Noah cradled him in his big, strong arms. He was just so overwhelmed by everything! The past twenty-four hours had been truly life changing. Noah declaring his love for him was the capstone, the last straw that broke him. He felt his heart expand in his chest as Noah gingerly held him, trying his best not to reinjure him or break any of the many stitches on his face and head.

They slept together that night in Dawson’s bed. “Queen-sized,” Noah observed as he looked it over approvingly. “Makes sense.” Dawson grunted with laughter as his boyfriend helped him out of his clothes and settled him under the covers, preparing a special mound of pillows to support his head and neck. A moment later, Noah joined him, snuggling up against him and kissing his neck. “We’ll juss let ya heal a bit before we do the big nasty, Ok?” he whispered in his ear, wrapping his arms around him. Dawson barely heard him; he was already falling asleep. He slept surprisingly well considering how immobile he was due to his injuries.

***

The nurse removed the bandages from around his eyes the next day and Dawson could finally see. His vision was a little wonky from the concussion and he had to keep the blinds drawn in the apartment to block the bright light but at least he could see! He blinked back at Noah, tears once again filling his eyes.

“Aw, Bible Boy!” Noah said, “Look at you! Such pretty eyes.”

Dawson tried to smile but his mouth was frozen in place and he could only stare back at the handsome boy. Noah looked tired but he radiated a gentle contentment that Dawson found incredibly sexy. In spite of everything, he felt his big club harden and he quickly reached over and covered his crotch with a pillow from the sofa. Noah’s sly expression told him that he registered the reason for this but the nurse appeared unaware of the sexual tension between the two.

“We can remove the sutures on your face and neck in a week, Diego,” he was saying. “But it will be–”

“Hold on,” Noah interrupted. “Why are you calling him Diego? His name’s Dawson!”

Flustered, the nurse looked down at his iPad. “But it says here that–”

“No!” Noah insisted, holding up his hand. “It’s wrong. His name ain’t Diego! He’s Dawson Crawford.”

The nurse looked like he wanted to object but instead ended up saying, “Alright, I’ll get this straightened out when I get back to the hospital.” He took a deep breath, continuing, “As I was saying, Di–I mean, Dawson, it will be six weeks before we remove the wire from your jaw.” He lifted his hands at Dawson’s anguished reaction. “I’m sorry! That’s how long it will take your jaw to heal!”

While Noah frowned and Dawson pouted, the nurse shone a penlight in Dawson’s eyes, checking to be sure his pupils dilated. “You’re a lucky man! The reconstructive surgeon says that he was able to repair nearly all of the damage to your facial features.” He removed the light, nodding with approval. “Yes, everything looks good! You’re lucky that your concussion is mild. Have you been nauseous? Any headaches?”

Dawson shook his head. He was actually feeling pretty good. The biggest drag was not being able to eat solid food. Or kiss Noah. Other than the quick peck on the lips Noah had given him a week ago, Dawson had never kissed anyone. He was aching to make love to Noah’s full, luscious lips!

Thinking about this got his boner swelling even bigger and he squirmed on the sofa, hoping desperately that the nurse would leave soon. Fortunately, the visit was a quick one and Noah saw the man to the door after he’d taken Dawson’s vitals and confirmed that he was recovering nicely.

“Alright, bro,” Noah announced after closing and locking the door behind him. “You can let the, uh, horse outta da barn now. I have to admit, though, I’m surprised yer horny right now after all that.”

Dawson kept the pillow over his lap, waiting for his erection to subside. It seemed to take forever. While he waited, Noah settled down on the sofa again, gazing back at him thoughtfully. “Uh, Bible Boy,” he said finally, clearing his throat. “There’s sumthin’ I need to tell ya ‘bout me. Though now that we’re in private, I think it’s prolly better if I juss show ya.” He got up and unbuttoned his shorts, adding, “I feel like ya gotta know this ‘bout me ‘cuz it’s gonna affect our relationship. A lot.”

Dawson swallowed, looking up at him. He already knew, of course, what Noah was going to show him. In a way, he was glad that couldn’t speak; it made it easier somehow.

Noah grew solemn, all traces of the usual smartass disappearing. With his hands poised on the zipper of his shorts, he said, “You already know all ‘bout my, um, sex-capades when I was a twelve-year-old so I won’t bore ya again. Let’s just say that my parents didn’t react well to the knowledge that their youngest son was a budding homo and tried everything in their power to change me.” His jaw clenched and it took him a while to relax again. When he continued, his voice was thick with emotion. “They sent me to conversion therapy first but that didn’t work. I only ended up fucking the therapist. Then they sent me to one of those stupid wilderness boot camps but the same thing happened there, only that time I fucked three of my instructors and a few of my fellow campers.” He smiled devilishly at the memory before sobering again. “Finally, as a last resort, they sent me a medical doctor and he did this to me.”

He yanked down his shorts, exposing a tiny pair of pink briefs. They were incredibly sheer and hugged his crotch like a pair of panties. It took Dawson a moment to realize that they weren’t just like panties, they really were a pair of panties. Even before Noah pulled down the delicate, silken undergarment, it was clear what he was hiding in there. Or, more precisely, what he wasn’t hiding.

“I wear these,” Noah explained, gesturing to the panties, “to remind me of my place in the world now. The place my parents and that fuckin’ doctor put me forever without my permission.”

With that, he yanked the underwear down and revealed his destroyed crotch.

He laughed bitterly as he stared down at himself. “Turns out, Evangelicals only care ‘bout gender reassignment when it’s not their idea. When they wanna punish their queer son, well, fuck it! They don’t give shit. They just cut his balls off and turn him into a girl. Haha!”

Dawson goggled; nothing could have prepared him for the sight. Only an angry, white scar remained where Noah’s cock and balls used to be. There wasn’t even any hair to obscure the scarring. Indeed, the boy’s entire body was devoid of hair, save for the mop of blond curls on his head. His body was soft and pink and smooth, almost like a woman’s. Beneath his fleshy padding and protruding belly, however, there were muscles. They were barely visible but they were muscles nonetheless. 

In fact, contrary to his doughy appearance, Noah was quite a strong kid. His status as a bruiser linebacker and the massive damage he’d done to the man who attacked Dawson were testament to this. Naked and exposed like this, though, he didn’t present as a badass at all and seemed instead vulnerable and submissive. And somehow his soft pinkness only served to underscore his total lack of maleness. Yeah, with his angelic face, chubby cheeks and plump, rounded body, he looked more feminine than masculine. Or maybe he wasn’t either? Neutered, maybe, neither male nor female but somewhere in between? It was jarring, to say the least. 

Dawson tried to make himself look away but he couldn’t stop staring, taking in every ignominious detail. For instance, if he squinted, he could barely make out Noah’s little pee hole. There was a tattoo, too, running downward from his outie belly button; it was a jagged lightning bolt in the rough shape of his scar.

“This is what they did to me,” Noah said, voice hollow. “And that’s not all. They had the doctor remove my prostate and cauterize my nipples. They did everything they could to fucking destroy any source of pleasure I might get from my body.”

He paused, chest heaving, before dropping yet another bombshell. Fixing Dawson with his red-rimmed eyes, he stated, “I haven’t cum in more than two years. I can’t even fuckin’ cum anymore, Dawson!”

***

Chapter 8

Dawson held Noah in his arms, letting the boy sob. The truth was that he cried, too, but not for himself. He’d long since made up his mind that Noah was the one for him and didn’t care if the boy had been neutered. No, he cried for Noah, for the cruelty inflicted upon him and for the boy’s loss of pleasure and of his manhood. He wasn’t sure but suspected that what Noah’s parents had done was against the law. At least it didn’t seem like it should be legal to preemptively castrate your son, even if he was a minor. 

Seeing Noah like this also made him hate Pedro Esquivel even more. Noah hadn’t uttered his name but he knew Pedro was the doctor who had irrevocably maimed Noah. Pedro had admitted it to Dawson himself! He scowled, clenching his fists. Pedro should have his medical license revoked and be thrown in prison! There’s no way someone like that should still be free, much less free to perpetrate such heinous and barbaric crimes against innocent young men!

More than ever, Dawson wanted to put an end to Pedro’s misdeeds and he vowed to do just that. The problem was that right now he couldn’t. No, not in his current state. He couldn’t do anything in a neck brace with his jaw wired shut. Fuck, he couldn’t even kiss Noah or tell him how much he loved him.

He would have to wait.

***

After the drama of Noah’s big reveal, the next six weeks passed like a dream for the two. Noah basically moved in with Dawson and took charge of his care. The boy was on summer break and had plenty of time to show how much he loved Dawson. Their lives settled into a pleasant, if platonic, routine. They didn’t speak about it but they refrained from sexual activity until Dawson’s jaw was healed and his bandages were removed. This tacit decision was the right one because it allowed them to discover how compatible they were together even before they had sex. However, it was also difficult for Dawson because he grew hornier each day as his wounds healed. His arousal was at a fever pitch by the time the day arrived to remove the last of his bandages and jaw wire.

Noah drove him to the hospital, his hand on Dawson’s thigh. Dawson’s monster cock throbbed in his sweatpants, sliding nearly down to his knee as it grew and thickened. Noah squeezed it playfully, looking over to give him a sly wink. “Later today, Bible Boy!” he promised. “We’re finally gonna do it. I can’t wait!” Dawson moaned plaintively in response, a little spurt of precum soaking through the fabric of his sweats.

At the hospital, Noah sat patiently beside Dawson while the physician’s assistant gently unraveled the bandages. The boy was quiet and restrained as the woman peeled off the first of the strips. He was so quiet and restrained that it took Dawson a while to realize that something was wrong. He turned to look at his boyfriend, seeing that Noah was gone pale and his eyes were round. Why did Noah look so afraid?

“Please, Mr. Esquivel,” the PA pleaded. “Keep still and face me. I’ll have the wire removed shortly.”

This was another clue that something was terribly wrong.

Beside him, Noah stirred from his stunned torpor, demanding, “What did you just call him?”

“Mr. Esquivel,” the woman repeated confidently. “His name is Diego Esquivel.”

Both Dawson and Noah froze. Noah was the first to recover, rounding on the poor woman. “NO!” he shouted. “His name is not Diego and his last name certainly isn’t fucking Esquivel! His name is Dawson Crawford!”

The PA pursed her lips, stating firmly, “I was there when Dr. Esquivel performed the reconstructive surgery on his son. It was nothing short of inspiring to see a man operate on his own child.” She took a deep breath and exhaled, her voice and demeanor growing more fervent. “It was God’s own work. I thank Jesus that Dr. Esquivel was there for Diego. He knows Diego so well, he could ensure that his face was put back exactly as it had been before the attack.”

Dawson was in shock. His mind stopped working after the physician assistant’s first sentence. All he could do is sit there and stare glassy-eyed as the woman spouted utter nonsense.

Noah slammed his fist down on the counter, swearing, “Fuck! FUCK! I shoulda fuckin’ known that fuckin’ monster was behind this!” He kicked the wall, nearly putting a hole in it. He would have done more if the PA hadn’t stopped him.

“I will call security if you can’t control yourself,” she stated icily. “Please sit down and let me finish.”

For one perilous moment, Noah looked like he was going to go on a rampage but somehow he managed to restrain himself. Gulping air, he clenched and unclenched his fists, finally taking his seat next to Dawson and placing a hand woodenly on his knee.

The PA nodded, turning back to Dawson. “Now, just wait a moment while I…” 

There was a little click and then Dawson felt the tension release in the wires holding his jaw in place. He breathed a sigh of relief as the PA extracted the contraption from his mouth, reaching up to massage his jaw. He was so happy to be free of the cage that he momentarily forgot his shock. This reprieve did not last, though. As soon as his fingers touched his head, he knew something was wrong.

His wide chin thrust forward from under his upper jaw in a distinct underbite. He didn’t need to look in the mirror to know what this did to his appearance: It made him look like a bulldog.

The PA was already holding a mirror out to him. Dawson closed his eyes, a sick feeling deep in the pit of his stomach. Before he even looked at himself, he knew what he would see. Fingers shaking so badly he nearly dropped the mirror, he forced himself to open his eyes.

Pedro Esquivel stared back at him.

The smashed-up pug nose, battered ears, heavy jowls, bulldog underbite, sneering lips, dark cinnamon skin, black eyebrows, brownish-black hair and stubble and yellow-flecked brown eyes.

It was all Pedro.

He gaped at himself, Pedro’s thick, ugly jaw hanging open. Pedro’s dull eyes squinting back at him. Pedro’s heavy brow. Pedro’s scrunched up features. Pedro’s slack maw. Pedro’s ruined teeth. Pedro’s maimed ears. Pedro’s bull neck.

He was Pedro Esquivel now.

***

They didn’t speak the whole way back to Dawson’s apartment. Both he and Noah were in shock. None of this seemed real except when Dawson reached up to touch his ruined face. Then he knew it was real.

Noah couldn’t look at him for a long time and, when he finally did, his blue eyes were wide and filled with fear. Seeing his boyfriend like that was hard enough but it was even worse knowing that he was the reason for it. Never again would Noah be able to look at him without seeing Pedro first.

“You went to see him, didn’t you?” Noah’s tone was accusing. He didn’t wait for Dawson to reply before shouting, “Fuck! I can’t believe I’m so fuckin’ stupid! I didn’t figure it out until back there at the hospital. God, why didn’t I realize it when yer skin started turnin’ darker and yer hair color changed? Not to mention when yer cock started bloatin’ up! You saw Pedro. Didn’t you? I fuckin’ tole ya to stay the fuck away from him! But you fuckin’ went there anyways, didn’t ya? You juss couldn’t fuckin’ help yerself! What a fuckin’ idiot! I tole ya Pedro was bad news! I tole ya no one ever beats him at anything. I tole ya! I fuckin’ tole ya! BUT YOU DIDN’T FUCKIN’ LISTEN!”

It was interesting. 

Interesting, that is, how Dawson responded to him. A few weeks prior or maybe even an hour ago, he would have been crushed, would have done and said anything to appease Noah, to get back into his good graces. It would have killed him to see Noah so hurt and angry with him. And he would have capitulated. Begged. Cried. Pleaded.

Now, though, things were different.

He stood up and marched over to Noah and, taking him in his big, strong arms, hugged him against his big, strong chest. Noah braced and tried to resist but found he couldn’t. Instead, he melted into Dawson, soft body pressing against his rock-hard pecs and his soft lips pressing against his stubbly cheek. Dawson turned his ugly, puffy lips and opened his ugly, sneering maw to kiss him.

He kissed him tenderly yet passionately.

He kissed him like Dawson. And like Pedro.

But he wasn’t Dawson and he wasn’t Pedro.

He was someone new.

And it was this forceful, yet tender, kiss that communicated his change to Noah. More than any words, the touch of his marred, fat lips and blunt, thick tongue told Noah who he was now.

He wasn’t Dawson or Pedro.

He was Diego.

***

Noah’s clothes were in a pile at their feet. The boy was completely naked in front of Diego and Diego’s cock was throbbingly erect, thrusting more than a foot and half out in front of him. It was thicker than his forearm. Almost as thick as his upper arm. And ebony black. Even his swollen glans was black. Precum dripped out of his gaping piss slit, his heavy foreskin bunched up like a leathery turtleneck sweater.

“I’m gonna fuck ya,” Diego grunted. “Are ya ready?”

Noah blinked, looking both terrified and hungry. Even though he was still taller than Diego, he seemed smaller. Much smaller. And submissive. Very submissive.

Diego spat in the palm of his hand and slathered the glob of saliva over the head of his cock. He spat again and again, working the spit over his shaft until it was glistening. And then he spun Noah around and slammed his big man-cock inside his hole. It went in almost effortlessly; Noah hadn’t lied when he said his pussy was stretched out. But, once inside, Noah surprised him by clamping down with gusto on his cock. The boy howled, a sound of pure pleasure, as Diego thrust deeper and deeper inside him. He shoved Noah down onto his knees and pounded away behind him. Smashing against the boy’s mounded buttocks like a thunder clap, Noah’s entire body shook with the force of his entry. Noah’s ass was huge. And soft. And so pink. It turned Diego on. He fucked and fucked and fucked and fucked.

He was surprised by his self-control.

He could work himself to the brink of orgasm and then dial it back, prolonging Noah’s ecstasy. Diego might be fucking the boy senseless but that didn’t mean he was unattuned to Noah’s pleasure. In fact, he was highly attuned to Noah’s every mewl and whimper and gasp and moan. He loved the way the flesh of the boy’s thick body jiggled with even the slightest touch. It was like Noah was made of Jello, Jello that wobbled and thrummed and wiggled in response to Diego. Diego alone controlled him, edged him, worked him closer and closer, higher and higher until…

A wild roar echoed throughout the apartment. Startled, Diego looked down to see the sound was coming from Noah’s mouth. The boy was looking over his shoulder at him, tears were running down his cheeks and his mouth was wide open. His howl was surprisingly deep and reverberated through Diego’s ribcage like a punch to the gut.

He started to slow down but Noah barked, “DON’T STOP! DON’T FUCKIN’ STOP! I’M CUMMING! I’M FUCKING CUMMING!!!”

Diego kept fucking. Biting down on his tongue, he battered Noah’s hole. Noah collapsed, burning his chin on the rug as he lay splayed out before Diego. Diego kept on fucking and fucking, pounding the boy’s pussy until Noah was sobbing with relief and happiness.

Only then did he allow himself to explode inside Noah, inside his boy.

Inside his beautiful, ruined boy.

***

It took Noah a long time to recover. Because of this, he treated Diego to a side of himself that he’d never witnessed before. Noah, the perpetual smartass, was actually sweet and sensitive and demure. He cuddled in Diego’s lap, wiggling his big, soft bottom over his sleeping club, and giggled like a girl.

“I can’t bah-lieve it,” he kept saying. “The first time in more than two years!” He kissed Diego on the pug nose. “You actually made me cum! Yer my big, ugly daddy! I finally found my big, ugly daddy!”

“Shut the fuck up,” Diego rumbled, pleased by the authoritative timbre of his voice; he even sounded like Pedro now. Without the Spanish accent, of course. “I’m not yer daddy. I’m yer Diego.”

Noah blinked. “Diego?” He giggled after he said it and then said it again. “Diego. Yeah, you are Diego now, aren’t you?”

Diego moved his hand down and caressed the scar between Noah’s legs, causing the boy to shiver. “Yer my boy. My cute, little neutered boy.”

“Alright,” Noah muttered, “if I can’t call you my ugly daddy then you can’t call me your boy. And you especially can’t call me yer neutered boy.” He shuddered in disgust. “Not looking like you do now. It hurts too much. Sorry.”

Diego was chagrined. “Ok, I got it. From now on, the words ‘daddy’ and ‘neutered’ and ‘boy’ are off limits.”

“Agreed,” Noah said, brightening. “Now, let’s get back at it, Ok?” He wriggled and wriggled, waking Diego’s sleeping giant until it was firm and dripping and working its way inexorably towards his open, sloppy hole. “I wanna cum again!”

***

Noah woke him the next morning, excited. “Look! Look, Daw–I mean, Diego! My dick! It’s growing back!”

Sleepy, Diego stirred in the bed next to his boyfriend. He looked over to find Noah rubbing his empty crotch. His face was suffused with a mixture of joy and disbelief. Diego propped himself up on his elbows and squinted. The object of Noah’s delight appeared to be a slightly raised bump in the middle of his crotch.

“See? It’s a cockhead!” Noah crowed. “Can’t you tell?”

Diego blinked, still waking up. “Uh, yeah, I see it. That’s cool.”

“Cool? Cool!” Noah repeated, astounded. “It’s not juss cool; it’s fuckin’ INCREDIBLE! I mean, look at it!” He got up on his knees and thrust his crotch in Diego’s face until the little bump was only inches away. Diego stared at it, trying to make himself see what Noah was seeing. He couldn’t, though. It just looked like a little bump over the boy’s pee hole.

Taking a deep breath and taking a crash course in acting, he exclaimed in what he hoped was an appropriately incredulous tone, “WOW!!! THAT’S AMAZING!!! And really fuckin’ hot, too!”

“Ikr?” Noah sat back and ran a finger of the little bump, shivering. “And it’s so sensitive, too.” He shivered again, laughing when a little droplet of clear liquid squeezed out of his pee hole. Then he reached up and tweaked his nipples, giggling. Diego blinked when he realized the boy’s formerly tough, leathery nips were now soft and pointy and pink. How was that possible? 

Noah was rubbing his bump and pulling on his left nipple, moaning with happiness. Looking at Diego with fire in his blue eyes, he declared, “I’m turned on, Bible Boy. Real turned on.” His eyebrows lifted and he, entreated, “Wanna fuck me again?” Even before Diego could respond, Noah flipped around and presented him with his backside, spreading his generous butt cheeks and puckering and unpuckering his gaping bussy at him.

Diego fucked him raw. And then did it again. Afterwards, Noah was convinced the bump on his crotch had grown even bigger. “And my piss slit is bigger, too!” he cooed, unable to stop fingering himself.

Diego played along. What choice did he have? He knew it was impossible for Noah to regrow his dick but he didn’t want to piss all over the boy’s happiness. Why not let the kid dream?

It turned out that Noah wasn’t imagining things, though. Over the next few weeks, the little bump between his legs grew into a nub and his pee hole expanded, becoming a slit. Every morning, Diego found Noah bent over, staring at himself. “It’s even bigger today!” he’d exclaim. “It’s starting to look like a real penis now! I can’t believe it!” Smiling radiantly, he’d invariably end with, “And it’s all because of you, Diego! I don’t know how yer doing it but yer making a man out of me again!”

Ever the supportive partner, Diego would nod and clap Noah on the back, cheering him on. Privately, though, he had his doubts. He’d catch himself thinking, ‘It looks more like a–’ but then banish thought before he completed it. No, he must be wrong and Noah must be right. Given more time, it would probably grow to look more like a penis. And maybe someday soon he’d grow a pair of balls to go along with it?

***

When he finally returned to work, he was stopped by security. He had a hard time convincing HR that he was actually Dawson. In the end, they made him take a DNA test to prove it. When it came back positive; they had no choice but to accept him back into his position. “Look at this way,” the HR manager told him, “it’s a win-win. You keep your job and we get a diversity hire. Please don’t tell your coworkers anything, though. From now on, you’re Diego Esquivel. Dawson Crawford is dead.” Diego shrugged his massive shoulders; that worked for him.

Convincing his family took more work. His parents refused to believe the ugly bulldog of a man was their beloved son and would not talk to him. They even hired a private detective to try to find out what had happened to Dawson. Even his brothers were skeptical. They came around, though, after he dropped his drawers and let them see the birthmark under his saggy, black scrotum. 

“Yeah, you’re Dawson,” Jared said, straightening. 

Diego held his big nuts up so that Matthew and Brooks could see, too. Kneeling and staring at his fragrant taint, they agreed and accepted him as their brother. “I have no idea what we’re going to tell everyone,” Brooks said, holding his nose. “But I believe you…Diego.” He massaged his forehead in bewilderment after he said this. “I still can’t believe this is happening.”

“You’ll get used to it,” Noah said, hugging Diego. “If I can, you can.”

He was right. After a few weeks, everything was basically back to normal. Well, as normal as it ever would be for Diego. He was accepted by his coworkers, accepted by his brothers and accepted by Noah. Only his parents remained as holdouts.

After some skillful negotiation, Jared engineered a reunion between him and his parents. The meeting took place on a Sunday afternoon at a barbecue that Jared and his wife, Sarah, hosted at their house in the suburbs. Everyone was invited and Diego and Noah arrived to find the place a hive of activity with children running around everywhere. All six of Diego’s nieces and nephews were there, as were a host of other children. 

It turned out that Jared had invited a bunch of people from their church as well. Diego soon learned why: His oldest brother had specifically selected the most progressive members of the congregation so that their parents would be outnumbered. Jared reasoned it would be tougher for his parents to reject Diego when they were surrounded by liberal-minded people.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, Chad Conyers–the recently exposed lover of all three of Diego’s older brothers–was also there with his wife, Rachel. The two of them waltzed through the crowd like royalty, draped in the mantle of their desirability. Diego had to admit that they did make a pretty couple. He’d long had a thing for Chad but, for the first time that day, he saw how Rachel was equally as magnetic…if you went for women, that is.

“You can do this, bro,” Noah reassured him as they got out of the car. “They juss need to spend some time with you to realize yer still their son.” He paused before adding slyly, “And with me to realize I’m yer man.” Taking Diego by the hand, he led him confidently up the walkway to the front door of the house.

The reunion was predictably strained. And weird. But Noah was right; Diego’s parents did finally come around. After a long, tense silence, his father gave him a hug. Wiping tears from her eyes, his mother joined them. And, to their credit, they didn’t pull away when Noah called out, “Group hug!” and flung his arms around them. Soon, the entire Crawford clan was hugging each other. Even the kids joined in and the room dissolved into laughter and tears of joy. 

Their son was back! The prodigal son had finally returned!

They held a prayer circle with Diego and Noah in the center, coming together with triumphant jubilation. It was a miracle, Diego’s mother declared. “A miracle has brought you both into our family!”

***

Chapter 9

Diego had to piss like a fucking racehorse by the time the prayer circle was over and escaped into the bathroom as soon as he could get away. He’d just closed the door behind him and was in the process of spraying his potent, yellow urine into the toilet bowl when he heard someone move behind him. 

He smiled, thinking it was Noah. When the person wrapped his hands around Diego’s midsection, though, he knew something was wrong. The man behind him was far too big and firm to be Noah.

“What–! Who–?” he exclaimed, stiffening. 

“Shut up,” a deep voice rumbled in his ear. “And let me fuck you. You’re the only one of the Crawford boys I haven’t fucked yet.”

“Chad,” Diego stated, relaxing for some odd reason. “What the fuck do ya think yer doin’?”

A chuckle. “I already told you: I’m gonna fuck you.”

Diego turned around and found himself staring up at the big, studly man. Chad Conyers was even more handsome than ever. His rugged jaw was dusted with dark brown stubble and his golden amber eyes twinkled with delight. He was at least four inches taller than Diego and just as broad and beefy. His shoulders were impossibly wide and his hips were impossibly narrow. His tumescent crotch was pressed against Diego’s equally tumescent crotch. Diego got chills just looking at him. No wonder his brothers all bent over and let the man fuck them! He was a fucking god!

Chad, however, had the precisely opposite reaction upon looking down at Diego. “Christ, yer one ugly son of a bitch!” he spat, wrinkling his lip. “What the fuck happened to you anyway? You don’t lookin nuthin’ like you used to! Before you were sorta cute. Now, though…” he shuddered theatrically before recovering enough to sneer down at him. “But it don’t matter. After all, I don’t gotta look at yer ugly mug when I’m fuckin’ yer ugly hole!”

Diego clenched his jaw. It was amazing how quickly Chad went from being highly desirable to highly execrable. He didn’t hesitate; he bashed the smug fucker in the side of the head. Chad staggered backward and lost his balance, a stunned look on his handsome face. Before he could recover, Diego grabbed him and wrestled his jeans and boxers down around his ankles. He shoved him against the bathtub. Chad fell forward, catching himself on the rim of the tub, letting out a bark of outrage.

Diego was confronted by a completely unexpected sight: Chad Conyer’s muscular, furry ass spread invitingly before him. The bullseye was his bullhole, the tight, brown, virginal pucker surrounded from a fragrant forest of kinky brown hairs. Diego took the bull by the horns–or, rather, the bull by the hips–and pulled down his already unzipped shorts before squirting a handful of liquid soap into his hand. His monster club was already rearing upward and he’d slicked it wet and soapy in no time. Before Chad had a chance to realize what was coming for him, Diego aimed his club at that unfucked, straight-boy pucker and promptly left it gaping.

Chad howled, arching his muscular back and gripping the side of the bathtub. Diego didn’t even worry that someone would hear them. He’d long since forgotten where or even who he was. The only thing he saw was Chad’s big, blocky buttocks and that achingly tight, straining hole. He grunted in victory, feeling Chad’s sphincter stretch. Chad cried out as the muscles down there snapped and his chute expanded, leaving him perpetually wide and sloppy. He’d never be the same. Diego ensured that.

Chad was crying, a pitiful whimper of both pain and delight, by the time Diego’s firehose gushed forth with a potent brew of spunk inside him. Not entirely heartless, Diego reached down and, gripping the man’s fat, thick erection, jacked Chad to a climax. Chad froze for a moment before giving into Diego’s ministrations. Who was he to resist the man who had just put him permanently in his place? Tears streamed down his bearded cheeks as his vaunted ‘love cannon’ exploded in what–they would soon find out–would be for the very last time.

***

They leaned against the sink when it was over. Diego held Chad protectively in his arms. Diego’s club was still inside him, throbbing in the aftermath of orgasm. Chad’s hard body felt both good and somewhat alien against his; Diego was used to Noah’s softness.

“Wh-Wh-What did you do to me?” Chad panted, unable to stop writhing against Diego. He was still trying to force Diego’s giant cock as deep inside him as possible.

Diego laughed. “I fucked ya. That’s what.”

“N-N-No,” Chad protested. “That’s not it. You did sumthin’ to me. I feel…weird. Real weird. Inside.” He looked down at himself, suddenly quailing. “And outside, too! Look at me! What’s happening?!”

Curious, Diego lifted his head and looked down over Chad’s big shoulder. His eyebrows went up when he saw what had happened to the man’s formerly huge member. Chad began to bawl, reaching down to feel himself and then bawling louder when his fingers confirmed what his eyes had already seen.

“Y-Y-Y-You changed me!” he wailed. “Change me back!” His voice broke off and he sobbed pathetically. 

Diego continued to hold him while he struggled to get free. Even though he was just as shocked as Chad by what he’d just seen between the big man’s legs, he couldn’t help feeling that the fucker had gotten exactly what he deserved. Yeah, Chad was better off this way, although he doubted his brothers and Chad’s wife would see it that way.

Chad was panicking, thrashing about and crying like a little baby. Diego let him whine for a bit before finally growing tired of the melodrama. Sighing in exasperation, he turned him around so they were face to face. Then, lifting his ugly, thick lips, he kissed Chad before ordering, “Stop strugglin’ for a sec and listen to me. You an’ Rachel don’t got no kids, right?”

Chad’s eyes were dilated and he seemed to be on the verge of hyperventilating. The commanding tone of Diego’s voice had a visible effect on him, though. At the sound of it, his gaze sharpened and he focused on Diego’s jowly sneer. He shook his head. “No, Rachel…can’t conceive. We’ve tried everything.”

Diego was pleased to see how submissive the big man had become. In fact, he realized then that Chad Conyers had just taught him a very valuable lesson: He could use his natural dominance to get people to do what he wanted…

…much like Pedro Esquivel did. 

He grimaced in distaste at the realization.

Yes, Pedro possessed this power, too. And exploited it without hesitation. Countless young men had been snared by this unholy compulsion.

Diego clenched his thick jaw, hating to admit that he could thank Pedro for this new power. He hated Pedro! Hated him with an undying passion! But the truth was the man had given Diego something valuable in return for destroying his life. It was a potent power, one that he chose not to use very often. Still, it was useful at times.

For instance, it was useful when he wanted revenge.

He pushed that thought away for the moment; he had something to do before he confronted Pedro again.

Holding Chad captive by the aura of his authority alone, he stared into those gold-flecked eyes and said, “I’m gonna do you an’ Rachel a favor. You can thank me later but right now I’m gonna make some babies.”

And then he did just that.

***

Noah was waiting impatiently for him back at his apartment when Diego got back from Pedro’s.

“Where the fuck did you go, Bible Boy?!” he demanded, hands on his wide hips. “Ya left me alone with yer parents and the rest of yer family! I had to ask Jared for a ride back here.”

Diego smiled indulgently, taking the boy into his arms. Noah’s soft body was much more to his liking than Chad or Pedro’s. He shuddered inwardly at the memory of what he’d just done. Fucking Pedro Esquivel had been the most loathsome act of his life so far…but it had also been strangely satisfying. Well, what had happened afterwards had been satisfying at least.

“Well?” Noah demanded, reluctant to let go of his anger even as his body was melting against Diego’s. “Where’d ya go? And what’d ya do to Chad? He stormed out of there as soon as you left.”

Diego nibbled Noah’s ear, making the boy shiver with delight. “I’m sorry I left ya stranded,” he murmured, licking the nape of the boy’s neck. “I had to go take care of sumthin’. Sumthin’ important. Sumthin’ that Chad helped me with.”

Noah was having trouble breathing. “Wh-Wh-What was that? You didn’t…fuck…him, did ya?”

Diego chuckled. “I did but it wasn’t my choice. He cornered me in the bathroom. I had to fight him off me.” He paused, smiling wolfishly at Noah’s squawk of outrage. “Hush now. It’s all right. Chad’s never gonna try that again. I made sure of that. And, what’s even better is that Pedro won’t, either. I fixed Pedro. I fixed him good.”

Noah went slack in his arms at the mention of Pedro’s name. “Diego,” he pleaded, “I tole ya to stay away from him! Why’d ya have to go back there? Pedro’s an asshole but he’s also fuckin’ devious!” He turned to look down at Diego, blue eyes filled with trepidation. “Please tell me he didn’t do anything to ya! Please!”

Diego snorted. “Do to me? Ha! It’s what I did to him that matters. I got back at him, Noah. And I made sure he’ll never hurt nobody again.”

“How?” Noah’s narrowed eyes were full of skepticism. “Pedro always ends up on top. Always.”

“‘Cept when he’s on the bottom,” Diego said, laughing. “Like he’ll be from now on.”

“But–”

Noah never completed the sentence. He couldn’t! Diego was too busy stripping him naked. In a moment, he was completely bare, standing before Diego with a trembling lower lip, his pink, nubile body throbbing with both fear and desire. His perky nipples thrust upward from his corpulent chest. The soft rolls of fat around his hips jiggled alluringly. As the pregnant silence stretched, the little nub between his fleshy thighs emerged from between the moist folds of skin surrounding it. It was pink and dripping.

Noah and Diego looked down at it, both understanding for the first time that it wasn’t a penis after all. No, Noah had definitely not regrown a penis! Noah let out a little yelp and tried to cover himself but Diego stopped him. He moved his hands away, lifting the boy’s fingers to his lips and kissing them.

“Don’t,” he instructed. “Don’t ever hide it from me.”

Noah swallowed and seemed like he would protest but then he capitulated. Lowering his head demurely, he didn’t resist when Diego gently, teasingly inserted his forefinger into the vertical slit beneath his little nub. He wiggled the finger, causing Noah to flush and gasp.

“This,” he murmured as he leaned forward, kissing Noah on the shoulder. “This is what I gave Chad and Pedro. This,” he wiggled his blunt, thick finger in deeper, smiling with pride when he felt Noah’s eager cunt lips part and invite him in, “was my ‘gift’ to them.” He chuckled, adding, “I used it against Pedro. Ha! I used his own ‘gift’ against him. Turns out, he was powerless against his own creation. His own ‘son’ topped him!”

***

He pushed Noah into the bedroom and tossed him down on the bed. He’d fucked more pussy than he’d ever imagined that day but he was ready and raring to have a go at Noah’s. Noah lay sprawled across the bed before him, his thick, hairless thighs spread wide and his virginal pussy moist and dripping. He gazed up at Diego with wide eyes, his cheeks red and his body pink from head to toe. He really was adorably cute, Diego realized again as he devoured the boy with his eyes.

He soon was devouring him with more than his eyes!

Noah threw his head back and moaned with delight as Diego showed him just how much he’d learned that day. Between Chad and Pedro, he was now a pro at cunnilingus and slurped and lapped with wild abandon, driving the boy to the heights of erotic bliss. He waited until Noah’s sweet nectar was flowing freely before shrugging out of his own clothes and pulling an extra large, extra long condom out of his pocket. He slipped it carefully over his monstrous bulb of a cockhead and grabbed a bottle of lube from beside the bed, drenching himself until the gel streamed down his rubbered shaft.

“I’m gonna take this slow,” he grunted, positioning the blunt head of his cock over Noah’s quivering pussy lips. “I ain’t gonna hurt ya.”

Noah nodded, his expression a war between arousal and revulsion as he stared down at himself. In the end, though, Diego taught him to love his new cunt. He doggedly and deliberately drove his boy closer and closer to the precipice of ecstasy, only tossing him over when Noah begged him. Then, with a bellow of victory, he thrust his club deep inside, nearly splitting the boy wide open. Noah dissolved into a frenzy of wails, moans and whimpers, clawing Diego’s broad back with his nails until he drew blood.

And then they did it again.

And again.

And again.

Only after midnight did they stop, lying face to face on the bed for the first time with Diego’s cock still lodged inside Noah. There were, it turned out, benefits to being pussified after all.

***

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6 responses to “Baited (Complete!)”

  3. Loving the two new stories. Zero and Baited are shaping up to be great additions to your output. Thank you so much for sharing your wonderful talents with us.

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    • Wow, thank you so much! I am so glad you’re enjoying both stories. I hope to have ‘Baited’ finished soon and have another chapter to post in Zero after that. Thanks for reading and enjoying my stuff!

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