WIP Topping's Blog: Male Transformation stories

Erotic Stories Focusing on Male Body Transformation and Mind Control

Transposed (in progress)

Inspiration for the character Terry

Note: Even though it’s unclear if he ever actually said the words, Mark Twain is often quoted as saying, ‘History may not repeat itself, but it often rhymes.’ This story is an improvisation on that saying.

I’m not going to reveal the specific themes of this story but you can guess one theme from the title and from the pictures above. There are plenty of others but I don’t want to ruin the surprise. You can rest assured, however, that it contains my usual favorites. Enjoy!

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Quick Links:

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Chapter 1

Terry Squire’s sister, Mattie, could tell when something was bothering him. “Hey, bro,” she coaxed, “what’s up? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I’m fine,” he lied. “Juss didn’t sleep too good.” 

He swallowed uncomfortably, trying to forget the horrible dream. Lifting up his Tigers baseball cap, he ran a hand through his curly, brown hair, touching his ever-growing bald spot. That fucking barren patch of skin on his head was his biggest obsession these days and he couldn’t stop touching it, especially when he was anxious. This movement–one of Terry’s tells–caused Mattie to narrow her eyes skeptically. He knew she didn’t buy his lie for a second.

Terry was a beefy, lean and very muscular kid who had just turned eighteen and was about to begin his senior year in a new high school. His father–bald as a cue ball at only forty-four, presaging Terry’s ignominious future–had gotten a job in Arkansas and moved Terry and Mattie to a small city not far from Bentonville. Terry was supposed to try out for the varsity football team in an hour and didn’t need any distractions, even if he already knew he was a shoo-in for the top spot on the team. That’s why the timing of the dream sucked; it had been particularly vivid and left him feeling shaken…just when he had to be at the top of his game.

The morning was already hot and he was sweating in his cutoff t-shirt. He rifled his hand through his curls again, index finger tracing the perimeter of his bald patch and wondering irrationally if it had grown bigger in just the last few seconds. After obsessing yet again at being cursed with male pattern baldness at such a young age, he wondered idly if he should change into some different attire before practice. 

Ultimately, he shrugged his broad shoulders, deciding he’d stick with his red mesh shorts even if his white jockstrap was visible underneath. (Terry was gifted with an exceptionally large butt for his stature which meant even the baggiest pair of shorts fit his ass like a glove.) But, fuck it! He didn’t care. It’s not like it was illegal to have a big booty. He was a dude and dudes didn’t worry about stupid shit like other people’s hangups. If the other guys saw his jock through his shorts, that was their problem! He had nothing to be ashamed of. He smirked to himself, the bad vibes from the dream fading already.

Mattie, however, was like a bloodhound when she detected a lie and nothing threw her off the scent. “C’mon, Terry,” she cajoled, patting the cushion on the patio chair next to her. “Tell me what’s going on.”

He looked at her and then the cushion, finally opting to plop down in the chair, spreading his legs wide and scratching his crotch. Mattie rolled her eyes, waiting for him to talk. He scowled at her but, rather than opening up and having a heart-to-heart, his hand swooped across the table and grabbed her bowl of cereal. Grinning stupidly, he shoved a spoonful into his mouth. When she squawked in protest, he swiveled away, gobbling as much as he could before she could snatch it back from him. He smirked proudly back at her, milk dribbling down his stubbly chin.

“You’re so immature!” she huffed, looking down forlornly at her half-empty bowl. “Why don’t you go in there and get your own damned breakfast?”

“‘Cuz it’s late an’ I don’t got no time,” he replied glibly, still giving her a shit-eating grin. “An’ don’t worry. I’m fine. I’ll tell ya ‘bout it later!”

He got up from the table and had just grabbed the keys to his old, beat-up Ford pickup truck when she called out, “Hey! Can I drive you to tryouts? I need practice driving stick.”

“No shit, sis!” he goaded, “You are still a virgin after all!” He ducked to avoid the spoon she threw at him.

She stuck her tongue out at him, rejoining, “You’re one to talk!” He scowled and was about to slam the screen door behind him when she leaped out of her chair and caught it. “C’mon, Terry!” she pleaded. “Just lemme drive!”

He looked over his shoulder, growling, “I could get in big trouble if we’re pulled over. Minors’re ‘sposed to drive with someone over twenty-one until they turn eighteen. In case ya forgot, I only juss turned eighteen.”

“It’ll be fine,” she reassured, snatching the keys out of his hand and running over to the driver’s side of the truck. She’d jumped in before he could stop her and refused to get out no matter how angry he got. In the end, he gave in and let her drive because it was already getting late and he couldn’t afford to make a bad impression on his first meeting with his future teammates.

He stomped around the side of the truck and sat down sullenly in the passenger seat. Slouching down in the cracked vinyl seat, he folded his arms and scowled while she ground the gears, trying to find reverse.

***

He made her drop him off in front of the school so no one saw him being let off by his little sister. “You gonna wait for me?” he demanded, “‘Cuz I ain’t gonna wait around for you. When it’s over, I’m headin’ home.”

“I’m just going over there,” she pointed to a restaurant across the street. He followed her finger, reading the sign in front, ‘PRAISE THE LARD BBQ.’ It was one of those open-air Arkansas barbecue joints with a fence around a bunch of outdoor tables. There was a smoke pit with grills and a bunch of big, cast iron smokers. Lights were strung up around the perimeter and the main building was pleasantly rambling with a low, wood-shingled roof and wide windows through which he could see more seating and a long bar.

“What’s in there?” he asked, confused. “You hungry?”

“No, you dope,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I’m gonna apply for a job. Figure I can work there after school. It’s right across the street after all.” She paused, her brown eyes lighting up, “You should work there, too. It’d be super fun!”

“Nah, I can’t work and go to football practice, too.” He turned to leave, “Just be ready to go when I’m done.” With that, he turned his back on her, lifting a hand in farewell as he sauntered off.

He strode around the back of the brick-walled school where the rest of the guys were assembling. The coach, a portly man by the name of Cribley, was holding an iPad and checking names off his list as guys arrived. He looked up and did a double take when he saw Terry, his frown turning into a wide smile.

Terry grinned back at him. He knew what the dude was thinking, ‘Here comes my new star quarterback.’ And he was absolutely right! Terry not only had the classic physique of a quarterback, he had the skill to back it up. He’d been playing football since he was a little kid and loved the game with a passion. He’d led his previous football team to three state championships, one for each year he was on the team.

“Squire,” Coach Cribley grunted, trying hard to conceal his glee. “Glad ya made it.”

Terry nodded, “Coach.”

Cribley reached out and shook his hand, turning it into a slap on the back. “Go meet the rest of the guys. They’ve been waitin’ for ya.”

Terry swaggered over to the ragged line of young men standing on the dusty field. There were thirty or more of them–football was a religion in this part of Arkansas–and were of all different sizes, shapes and races. One African American guy–a big bruiser with an expressive face and bright eyes–waved him over. As Terry approached, he shook his head, letting out a low whistle, “Wowie! If it ain’t THE Terry Squire come to grace our humble football team!”

“Got that right,” Terry grunted, bumping knuckles with the big guy. “And who’re you?”

“Name’s Crawley,” the big guy said. “Randy Crawley. Tight end.”

Terry craned his neck, looking at Randy’s ass, teasing, “Yeah, yer not lyin’. That is a tight end if I ever saw one.”

Randy’s bright eyes narrowed, “Damned straight. Ain’t no end ‘round here tighter than mine!”

They both laughed. Randy placed his hand on Terry’s shoulder as they waited for the coach to begin.

***

After sweating through an overly long intro in the hot sun, the coach had them run through a bunch of drills, each one more challenging than the next. Terry stood out from the very beginning and, even though the heat got to him by the end, he had no trouble showing off his skills. The coach read out the roster, announcing that he was making Terry the captain and lead quarterback. The rest of the guys clapped him on the shoulder, welcoming him to the team, and–just like that–Terry’s senior year in high school got off to a brilliant start.

With one exception.

Everyone seemed happy about him being the new quarterback save for one guy: A tall, rangy, very tattooed kid with a few straggly whiskers on his chin and blue eyes that always seemed to be narrowed. His black hair was shaved down to the (tattooed) skin on the side of his head but long and swept back over the top of his head. His tanned face was lean and rugged. This, combined with his tall, lanky body and the fact he didn’t mingle with the rest of the team, gave him the air of a lone wolf. He might have been handsome if not for his perpetually sour expression and the air of sleaziness that seemed to waft off of his sinewy body.

This guy, Shane Davis–or simply Davis–had been the only one to compete with Terry for the quarterback position but, even though his skills were top notch for a high school football team, they were nothing compared to Terry’s. In the end, Terry had trounced him, leaving him panting in the dust. Even though the coach made him the second string quarterback, it didn’t seem to mollify him very much. Davis stood off to the side, watching Terry with folded arms, a scowl on his face. When everyone else piled on their praise, he held back, refusing to even look in Terry’s direction.

Terry noticed Davis but chose to ignore him. He’d met plenty of guys like him before and knew how to deal with them. In fact, he’d expected there would be more Davises in this group and was pleasantly surprised by how welcoming everyone was. He gathered that Davis was a transfer student like him and therefore lacked a peer group. Terry was privately thankful for this because, in his experience, guys like Davis were the most dangerous when they ran in packs. Without a bunch of bros to back him up, Davis was somewhat tied down. He hoped this meant he wouldn’t be too much of a problem on the team. All it took was one bad actor and it could ruin a team’s chances at a championship. In any case, he was glad the lone wolf was caged…for now at least. 

Afterwards, he and Randy sat in the shade, drinking Gatorade. There was something kind of magnetic about Randy, he decided. He was laid back and very chill but also had a way of making you feel like you were the only person in the world when he was talking to you. The fact that he had looked up Terry on the Internet and knew so much about his football career also helped. Terry wasn’t vain but he didn’t mind attention, either. It was cool having someone to chat about football, especially someone who loved the game as much as he did.

“We’re all super excited yer here, bro,” Randy revealed. “The team’s, well, let’s juss say it’s been a while since we had a winnin’ streak. It’d be totally awesome if we could make it to finals before I graduate.”

“Don’t worry,” Terry intoned modestly, “we’re as good as there, I promise.”

Randy grinned, bumping into him with his shoulder. He paused then and, looking around, realized the rest of the guys had already left. “You got a ride, man?” he asked. “I couldn’t drop you off at home if you want.”

Terry shook his head, “Nah, my little sister’s got my truck.” He pointed to the barbecue joint across the road where his rusty old pickup truck sat in the gravel parking lot, “She’s over there.”

“At Stella’s place?” Randy asked, pulling a wry face. “Stella’s my cousin. I work there on the weekends and sometimes after school. Bro, you should, too. She’d love to hire you!” Without waiting for an answer, he clapped his hand onto Terry’s shoulder and steered him across the street and into the restaurant.

The place didn’t open until later and was mostly dark when Randy pushed Terry through the door. Terry spotted Mattie sitting at a table with a petite African American woman who looked over and smiled broadly when she spotted them. She was quite young and very pretty. Terry felt a little starstruck and tonguetied when she got up and approached them. Despite the heat, she wore a tight pair of jeans, a black lace top and a tattered denim jacket.

“Randy? What’re you doin’ here?” she asked. “Yer shift don’t start til five.” She may have been talking to Randy but her eyes were glued onto Terry as she looked him up and down with approval. Terry was used to this; he had that effect on women (especially when he wore his ball cap, covering up his bald spot.) “An’ who dis? I don’t recognize him.” Addressing Terry, she asked, “You come lookin’ for work?” She somewhat brazenly grabbed his arm, squeezing his sizable muscles, “I could use a big guy like you behind the bar. You eighteen? You gotta be at least eighteen to serve alcohol.”

“I, uh, yeah, I juss turned eighteen last week.”

Stella’s grin widened, “Yer hired! Can ya start tonight? It’s gonna be real busy an’ Nick could use the help.”

“Nick?’ Terry asked.

“The bartender,” Randy explained. “He’s my–” 

He got distracted before he could finish, though. His voice trailed off midsentence and his jaw went slack as he stared at something across the room. Terry followed his glassy-eyed stare and bristled when he realized Randy was eyeballing his little sister. He pursed his lips in distaste when Mattie looked up demurely and batted her eyelashes at Randy. Then she pushed herself elegantly up from the table and sashayed over to them, her broad hips swishing behind her. The fuckin’ minx! Terry thought, incensed.

He tried to step in front of her but she smoothly bypassed him, coming to stand before Randy whose eyeballs had all but popped out of his head and were dangling from the sockets, riveted on Mattie. Stella folded her arms, a knowing look flitting across her beautiful face, as Randy’s huge Adam’s apple bobbed up and down, following the movement of his lips which were refusing to form words.

“Jesus, girl!” he finally stammered. “Yer tall! An’ beautiful!”

Mattie lifted her hand to cover her mouth as she giggled. Her statuesque height was something everyone noticed about her, much like they noticed Terry’s bugling muscles and cocky attitude. She and Terry were nearly the same height, both just under six feet tall. Unlike Terry, though, Mattie had luxurious, satiny brown locks. Her long body possessed curves upon curves, something that drove the boys wild.

“Randy likes tall women,” Stella noted before elbowing her cousin in the ribs and prompting, “C’mon, Randy! Remember yer manners. Introduce yerself to her.”

Randy bowed deeply to Mattie before standing up and extending his hand, “I’m Randy Crawley. Very pleased to meet you, Miss–?”

“Mattie,” Terry’s sister tittered, lapping up his attention, “I’m Mattie Squire.”

“Mattie?” Randy repeated, tasting the name on his tongue like a fine wine. “Mattie. Beautiful. Just like you.”

Terry and Stella rolled their eyes and Stella took the opportunity to draw Terry aside so the two budding lovebirds could have a moment together. 

After they had gone, Stella continued, “I’m serious ‘bout offerin’ you a job. If you can come back around 4:30, I’ll introduce you to Nick and have him show you around the bar. He’s been bitching at me ‘bout needin’ an assistant for ages but none of the other guys on staff are…built…quite like you. Folks can get rowdy here, ‘specially on the weekends and, even though Nick’s a total brick shithouse, he’s juss one guy an’ can’t always keep ‘em under control.” 

Still not convinced by the job offer, Terry jerked his chin over at Randy. “What ‘bout him? He’s big and strong. Prolly even bigger an’ stronger than me.”

In reply, Stella did the most bizarre thing. Out of nowhere, she aimed a swift kick at his crotch. Fortunately, Terry was blessed with lightning fast reflexes and caught Stella’s knee before it could connect to his groin. He held it immobile, demanding, “What was that for?”

Stella chuckled, removing her knee from his grasp. “That’s why Randy’s no good for the job an’ yer the perfect candidate. When I did the same thing to Randy, he couldn’t walk for a week. You practice Taekwondo, dontcha?” He nodded and she grinned, “Nick used the same move when I tested him.”

“An’ that’s how you interview all yer bartenders?” He shook his head. “Listen,” he started to say, “don’t do–” but was forced to pivot and catch Stella’s fist as she aimed a punch at the side of his head. He dodged but his baseball cap fell off in the process and he stooped quickly to pull it back over his bald spot. Straightening, he yelled, “What was that for?!”

“That was part two of Stella’s bartender exam,” Randy called over, looking briefly away from Mattie, “she don’t care if you can mix a drink, bro. All she cares ‘bout is if ya can hold yer own in a fight.” He grinned, “And from the looks of things, I’d say yer golden. Right, Stell?”

Stella nodded, smiling innocently. “Yeah, you passed both tests with flyin’ colors. Welcome aboard, Terry! Yer shift starts at 4:30.” When he hesitated, she offered, “Does fifteen dollars an hour sound Ok?”

Terry blinked. That was more money than he’d ever earned before! And so, in the end, despite his reservations, he agreed to take the job and promised he’d be back later that afternoon to begin training.

***

Chapter 2

Mattie looked over at him from the driver’s seat, scolding, “Stop that! Yer gonna make it worse!” She’d talked Terry into letting her drive on the back roads after leaving the restaurant and, while she navigated the sometimes narrow roads, Terry absently rubbed his bald spot. He straightened, chagrined, and placed his cap back down on his head.

“You don’t know how lucky you are,” he grumbled. “Girls don’t gotta worry ‘bout goin’ bald!”

“Oh, poor baby!” she chided, turning her attention back to the road. “You wanna trade all of yer male privilege with me?” She snorted, “It’s you who don’t know how lucky you are, bro! I mean, look at you! You’re handsome and loaded with muscles. Every guy wants to be you and every girl wants to be with you. So what if you’re balding? You still got it made.”

“If that’s the case,” Terry grumbled, unconvinced, “then how come I’m still a vir–?” His voice trailed off as he suddenly froze, barking, “Stop the truck! Stop the truck!”

Confused, Mattie obeyed, pulling over under the shade of a large oak tree. She followed his gaze to an old white church in the middle of a distant field. The church was surrounded by some stately shortleaf pines with a small graveyard tucked around behind it. There was a low, rusted iron fence around the church and the graveyard. Behind it waved acre upon acre of golden grasses, bending and rustling in the soft August breeze.

Terry stared at the church, transfixed, all of the color draining out of his normally chestnut-tanned cheeks. His hands were shaking.

“Terry, what–?” Mattie reached out to touch him but he jerked away, an expression of pure terror on his face. 

He swallowed, fingers unconsciously digging into his thighs. It was some time before he managed to choke out, “It-It-It’s real! It wasn’t a dream!”

“What?” Mattie demanded. “What wasn’t a dream?” She turned from him to the church in the distance, thoroughly perplexed.

“It’s–”

Before he could explain, a police siren wailed behind them. They looked back to see a motorcycle cop resting his bike on its stand. Wearing tight, form-fitting pants with blue piping down the sides and black bullet-proof vest over his bare chest, he cut quite an intimidating figure, especially when you took into consideration the bad-ass tattoos inked all over his body. The tats even snaked up his neck and covered the top of his shaved head. Only his chin, cheeks and a little of the skin around his eyes had been left uninked.

Mattie was the first to recover, shouting, “Oh, shit! Terry! Change places with me!”

Terry shook his head, chilled despite the baking temperature. “No way, sis! He already knows you were driving.”

The trooper approached the driver’s side and made a motion with his hand, indicating that Mattie should roll down her window. She did so with shaking hands and did her best to look her cutest as he demanded, “Lemme see yer driver’s license and registration, miss.”

“What seems to be the problem, Officer?” Terry asked from the passenger seat as he rummaged through the glove compartment to remove his truck’s registration. “Is it illegal to pull off on the side of the road in Arkansas?”

The man shook his head, gazing back at him from behind the mirrored lenses of his aviator sunglasses. “No, sir, it’s perfectly legal to park on the side of the road in this state.” His voice was exceedingly deep and authoritative, “But it is illegal to block traffic.” He jerked his chin at the line of traffic piled up behind the truck. “Now what in the heck is so important that you two felt the need to park right here on a busy road?”

Mattie looked down, “Sorry.”

“It was my fault,” Terry explained. “I told her to.”

The policeman sighed and pointed to the driveway that led to the parking area next to the old church. “Kindly park there while I run your license through the system.”

Mattie sheepishly complied, grinding the gears a few times before she managed to get it into first. The truck jerked forward, drawing to a halt just inside the driveway. The cop pulled his motorcycle in behind them, blocking their exit and took his time on his CB radio, calling in Mattie’s license and the truck’s registration and proof of insurance. The whole time, Mattie sweated in the truck’s anemic air-conditioning while Terry stared at the church with a haunted expression. His whole body was still shaking.

The cop returned, this time coming to Terry’s side of the truck and rapping on the window with his knuckle. Terry rolled down the window, too freaked out to say anything.

When he remained silent, the cop asked, “Can I see your driver’s license, too?” Terry dug it out of his wallet and handed it over, nearly dropping it. The cop must have assumed he was nervous from being pulled over and soothed, “Don’t worry, son. You ain’t in any trouble…yet.” He studied the license, looking from the photo ID to Terry and back. “You’re from Michigan?” Terry nodded. “Says here you juss turned eighteen.” Another nod. The cop sighed, “It take it Miss Matilda here’s yer sister?” Terry swallowed, nodding again. The cop lowered his sunglasses. His eyes were cinnamon brown, a shade or two lighter than his skin. It made his eyes seem to glow. He was, Terry realized, devastatingly handsome. “Mr. Squire,” the cop asked, “do you realize that your sister has to be accompanied by a legal adult when she drives in the State of Arkansas.” Even his deep, lilting Southern drawl was sexy, dammit!

Terry decided to play dumb, “No, sir. I did not realize that. I’m sorry! In Michigan–”

“We ain’t in Michigan,” the cop pointed out, exasperated. “What the hell’re y’all doin’ so far from home anyways? Where’re yer parents?”

“I’m sorry, Officer,” Terry said, trying on his most polite voice, “we only just moved to Arkansas earlier this week. Our father is at work at the chemical plant down the road. I was just letting my sister get some miles in when we spotted that, uh,” he cast a leery eye toward the church in the distance, “beautiful church caught our eye and we thought we’d, um, stop and appreciate it. You see, we’re looking to join a–”

“It’s closed,” the cop stated flatly. “This here church’s closed. Has been for years. Can’t you see that? It’s practically fallin’ in!” He studied Terry’s face, clearly sensing a lie but unable to prove anything. Finally, he said, “C’mon. Follow me. I’m gonna escort ya home an’ have a talk with yer daddy once he gets done with work.”

Terry and Mattie’s eyes widened with panic and Terry sputtered, “But he won’t be home until after five and we have to get to work by 4:30! Can’t we–?”

“No, you can’t,” the cop stated, handing back their drivers’ licenses, insurance and registration. “Yer lucky ‘cuz I’m lettin’ ya off with only a warning this time.” He stuck his finger in Terry’s face, adding, “If I catch you doing this again, though, I’m gonna give ya a ticket. Got it?” Terry and Mattie nodded, sullen. The cop glared at them before concluding, “And if y’all’re livin’ here in Arkansas now, you need Arkansas drivers’ licenses. Got it?” When they nodded, he shook his head. “Good, now gimme yer address and stay a polite distance behind my motorcycle. You out-of-staters always like to tailgate.”

***

Officer Baylor sat patiently in their living room after escorting them back home with his lights flashing the whole way. Terry spotted the neighbors peeping out from behind their curtains as they pulled into the driveway in front of their little one-story ranch house. Great, he thought, Dad’s gonna be so thrilled when he finds out people’re already gossipin’ ‘bout us.

Behaving just like a skittish teenage girl, Mattie scurried into her bedroom and shut the door as soon as they invited Baylor inside. This left Terry the inevitable chore of entertaining him while they waited for their father to return from work. He briefly excused himself to send Randy a text message, asking him to explain to Stella why they’d be late, and then turned back to the waiting police officer.

“Can I, uh, get you anything?” he offered, trying to avert his eyes from the truly epic bulge in the man’s overly tight uniform. The trooper’s pants were all but painted on his lean, muscular physique! Baylor was manspreading on the couch, his beefy, tatted arms spread out on the cushions on either side of him and his enormous bulge jutting upward. It was so big, the zipper on his pants was visible, stressed from the effort of containing that monster. Terry cleared his throat, “I mean, I’d offer you a beer but yer on duty–”

“–and yer still a minor,” Baylor finished for him. “Listen, kid, you know how thin the ice is down here in Arkansas?” He didn’t wait for Terry to answer before replying, “A helluva a lot thinner than in Michigan and yer standin’ on it. Now, shut up and sit down.”

Later, Terry would wonder why he did it but, instead of taking a seat in the recliner on the other side of the room, he opted to sit on the sofa next to Baylor. And he didn’t sit on the end, either. No, he cozied up right next to the big man. Baylor turned and gave him a cold look, his sunglasses on top of his bald head. Terry smiled innocently back at him. Baylor looked away but he didn’t shift away from him.

“You hot?” Terry asked, fanning himself. “‘Cuz I am. It’s hella hot here. How do y’all stand it anyways?” He was prattling but he didn’t care. Anything to fill the awkward silence. Sitting so close to the big man, he realized Baylor smelled good. Like cinnamon. Cinnamon? Yeah, that was it. Baylor had cinnamon-colored eyes, cinnamon-colored skin and cinnamon scent? He turned his head and sniffed the air delicately, smiling.

Baylor caught him sniffing. His eyebrows–which were black and perfectly trimmed–drew together. “You alright?” he asked, his voice a deep, guttural bark.

“I’m fine!” Terry chirped, embarrassed. He knew it was dangerous to goad a police officer but he couldn’t help it! “It’s just that you, um, I mean, I like the way you smell. I must be your aftershave. What brand is it?”

Baylor blinked at him, not deigning to dignify the question with a response.

“Or maybe it’s yer soap?” Terry continued, undeterred. “Is it liquid? Gel? A slippery bar?” He was getting on the man’s nerves but could not make himself shut up.

This barrage was met with more stony silence.

“Nothing?” Terry prompted, really enjoying yanking Officer Baylor’s chain. He was amazed at himself. The usual Terry would never engage in such juvenile behavior but there was something about the cop’s clamped jaw and icy stare that made him irresistible. He took a breath, intent on getting a reaction.

Then his gaze landed on the pistol strapped to a holster on Baylor’s belt.

“Is that a gun?” he asked.

Baylor turned his bored gaze toward him, muttering, “What are you, stupid? No shit it’s a gun!”

“Is it loaded? It looks loaded.” Terry leaned closer, extending a finger to poke at it. “Can I touch it? I really wanna touch it! I’ve never held a gun before. My dad would never let me. He says they’re dangerous and only morons need a gun. Oops! I’m sure he didn’t mean you when he said that ‘cuz yer not a moron. Kinda dumb maybe but–” His voice cut off as he heard the strangest sound. It sounded just like fabric under stress, the sound it made right before ripping…

Next to him, Officer Baylor cleared his throat and, for the first time since Terry had sat down next to him, shifted his position, trying to rotate his body away from him.

“What was that noise?” Terry asked, perplexed. He examined Baylor’s face, seeing that his cheeks were flushed and the tips of his really tiny ears were rosy red.

The noise continued until finally Terry’s gaze inevitably slid down toward the man’s crotch. Holy fuck!!! He was just in time to see the cop’s enormous trouser-snake sliding down his pant leg. Its outline beneath those super tight pants was truly stupendous. Terry had never seen an erection this big! Until that moment, he hadn’t believed it was possible for a man’s penis to be that huge.

His jaw fell open.

After an excruciatingly long silence, Baylor’s tough exterior cracked and he clapped his hands over his crotch, trying vainly to cover his hardon. Even with hands as big as his, though, he couldn’t do it. That beast reached nearly to his knee!

His erection had the unintended but–from Baylor’s perspective at least–desirable effect of rendering Terry mute. His whole face went red and sweat ran down his armpits. Next to him, Baylor grew redder and redder as his hardon stubbornly refused to subside.

Finally, Baylor ordered between clenched teeth, “STOP LOOKING AT ME!” 

He turned his back to Terry, blocking his view, seething with outrage and embarrassment. Terry felt like the dog that had finally caught the car he’d been chasing only to discover he had no idea what to do now that he’d succeeded. He sat there crossing his legs, both amused and aroused. He’d never been with a man like this before, especially not one who was turned on. Shit, he’d never been with a guy before at all! Somehow, the fact that Baylor was fully clothed only added to the sexual charge.

The seconds ticked by, lasting an eternity without either saying a word or moving. Finally, Baylor let out a long sigh and resumed his previous manspreading. His bulge, while still significant, had retreated to the crotch of his pants. The only evidence of his recent arousal was slimy trail running up his thigh, residue from all that goo drooled out by his succulent anaconda.

“So, I guess that means I can’t hold your pistol?” Terry quipped. Baylor shot him an angry glare.

To distract himself, Terry fidgeted for a while, anxiously looking from the clock on his iPhone to the driveway where his father should be driving in at any moment. He couldn’t wait to tell his sister about Baylor’s lurid display. He wondered what she would say? Probably nothing, just laugh her ass off.

What to do? What to do?

Other topics exhausted and still giddy from watching the studly cop get aroused, Terry moved his attention to his tattoos. Baylor was wearing a black vest and nothing underneath. This made it both easy and hard to see the tattoos covering his chest. Easy because they covered everything–his chest, shoulders, neck, under his chin–everywhere. Hard because they formed a complex design and, try as he might, Terry couldn’t make it all out. 

There was bold lettering in black and blue ink across his clavicles but the straps of his vest covered most of it. What appeared to be deer antlers fanned out over his chest and up to his shoulders but Terry couldn’t see the rest of the deer and couldn’t tell if it was the picture of a live deer (which would be cool) or a deer skull (even cooler) or perhaps a deer-monster (the coolest thing ever.) The tattoos on the tops of Baylor’s shoulders and neck were stylized evergreen branches, also rendered in black and blue ink. In fact, all of the tattoos were the same duo-toned colors. They were–

“What?!” Baylor demanded, catching him staring.

Terry looked away innocently. “Nuthin’.” He cleared his throat, forging ahead despite his better judgment, “I mean, I was admiring yer tats, Dawg.”

“I ain’t no dog,” Baylor corrected, voice colder than a frigid plunge in an icy lake.

“Whatever. They’re really super cool. Can I, um, look at them?” 

Terry leaned closer, eyeballs sliding down the gap between Baylor vest and his chiseled chest. He had the most muscular and defined chest that Terry had ever seen and it was shaved completely smooth. Terry had never considered such a possibility and wondered whether he should shave his own furry chest? But, no, he liked the hair on his chest. It had only just appeared over the past year, spreading out from the center of his pecs until it engulfed his big nipples and ran down to join that dense mat of pubic hair around his crotch. Still, he thought Baylor’s smooth, rounded and yet so rugged chest was very sexy.

“No, you may not.” Baylor’s cinnamon eyes–such a warm color–had the surprising capacity to turn just as cold as his voice.

Unconcerned, Terry continued, “Well, I like ‘em. I’m kinda envious. I wish I had tats like yers.”

It was strange the effect these words had on the man. Baylor’s body went rigid and his eyes filled with some unreadable emotion. Whatever it was, though, it wasn’t good and he spat, “Don’t you EVER say that to me again!” He turned and clamped both hands painfully down on Terry’s shoulders and, torquing him bodily so he was forced to stare at him directly in the eyes, yelled, “DO NOT. I repeat: DO NOT say one more word. If you do, I sweat to God I’ll–”

“You’ll what?” came a deep voice from the other end of the room. “And who are you and why are you manhandling my son like that?”

Saved by his dad!

Terry sagged with relief and Baylor hurriedly removed his hands, letting them fall down to his sides before pushing himself off the couch and walking stiffly over to Mr. Squire.

“Mr. Squire,” he began, “I have some news I need to share with you about your son and daughter…”

***

Chapter 3

Baylor couldn’t believe he’d gotten aroused in front of that stupid kid! Fuck, he could get fired! What if the sheriff found out? He was already on shaky ground at work. The other deputies hated him and the sheriff had never trusted him because of his personal history and his tattoos. He couldn’t afford to lose his job–or, worse, what if the kid ratted him out to his father and his father reported him? Even though the boy was eighteen, he was still only a senior in high school. Exposing himself to a teenager?! Fuck. Fuck. Fuck! Why fuck had he let that happen? 

He told himself it was because he was having a bad day and the boy caught him at a weak moment.

Why?

Because it was August 21, the date that would forever haunt him.

Every year when it came around, he braced himself, knowing he was at risk of falling apart if he didn’t keep his emotions in check.

This year had been no different and he was a total wreck. Normally, he had no trouble keeping his sexual urges under control. Shit, he was practically a monk! He’d never let himself get tied down, was proudly single and celibate. He barely even masturbated.

But, every August 21, he regressed and became an awkward, horny teenager again. Just like he’d been on that night.

Why, oh, why did the kid have to show up outside the church on August 21 of all days?

It was extraordinarily bad timing!

The fateful encounter with the boy kept replaying itself inside his head, slowly driving him crazy even as it stirred an unquenchable fire in his loins. Why had he looked back in his rearview mirror at that moment? If he’d only just kept driving, everything would’ve been fine. Fuck.

Here it came one more time: The scene playing itself out in his mind’s eye, tormenting him. He’d just passed by the church. That fucking church! The place where his world fell apart on that night so many years ago. He knew he should stay away from there but somehow every year on August 21st, he found himself back there. He couldn’t stay away. He was like a lemming drawn inexorably to his extinction. No matter what he did, he always came back.

At first, today hadn’t been any different from all of the preceding August 21sts. Haunted and angry and hurt, he’d driven past the church, clenching his jaw and shaking his head, furiously trying to force back the tears that welled up in his eyes. But then it happened. Just after he’d cruised past, he glanced in his motorcycle’s rearview mirror and saw an old pickup truck stopped in the middle of the road. 

He immediately saw red, one thought blazing through his mind, incinerating his better judgment and leaving him seething with rage: GAWKERS!

The church had been featured a couple years ago in one of those stupid true crime podcasts and interest in the church as the site of a notorious crime had once again surged. People came from all over the country–even the world–to visit the place. For more than a year, the place was deluged with gawkers. Even two years on, there were still a few stragglers.

It enraged him. Why couldn’t everyone stay away? Why couldn’t the events of that night be forgotten? Why couldn’t they just let the dead lie in peace? Didn’t people know there were still people–namely, himself–who had lived through that horrible night and were still haunted by it? It really chapped his ass that the worst day of his whole fucking life had become a rubbernecker’s dream.

When he saw that truck stopped there, he assumed it was more gawkers and he lost it. He spun around in the middle of the road, deciding to use his authority as a police officer to make their fucking lives miserable. Little did he realize that he was unwittingly sowing the seeds of his own humiliation.

He pulled the truck over, intending to chew the driver out and give them a ticket…

…but then he’d spotted that boy’s face. The kid wasn’t even looking at him. Baylor could see his face reflected back at him from the truck’s passenger side mirror. The boy–who was a total jock with shaggy brown hair curling out from under a Tigers ball cap–was beyond cute. His face and lips were still soft but the rest of him was already fully a man. With his strong jaw covered in thick stubble, his wide face, broadly flared nose and full lips…he was…he was…he was fucking exquisite, that’s what. 

But that wasn’t all.

If the kid had merely been jock-cute, Baylor could have gotten over it. After all, there were plenty of cute jocks around. As jocks went, the kid wasn’t any cuter than, say, his cousin Randy. Not that he was into Randy! He shuddered at the thought.

No, it was something else about the jock that hit Baylor right where it hurt: His stone-cold, hermetically-sealed heart.

As Baylor stared at the boy’s reflection, he felt his heart clench for the first time in decades. He watched, stricken, as tears filled the boy’s eyes. When the pretty young thing blinked his long eyelashes, those tears tumbled down onto his cheeks, running into his stubble and gathering on the rounded curve of his cleft chin.

In that moment, the agonizing memory of another face came unbidden into Baylor’s mind. That face had also been jock-cute, expressive and tender and he’d been trying his damndest to forget it for nearly twenty years.

He promptly lost all reason and self-control.

Fuck! Why’d it have to happen to him?!

Deputy Baylor!

The one dubbed the ‘Ice Man’ by his fellow deputies.

But one look at the boy’s face and he completely melted inside. It took all of his will power to maintain his tough, crusty, macho exterior.

It was all because today’s date was August 21.

He flushed, slamming his fist against the handlebars of his motorcycle. It wasn’t fair! The boy wasn’t anyone special. He didn’t even give a shit about him. It was only because it was August 21 and his face reminded him of that other face.

Fuck! Why did it have to be today?!

But it was too late. He’d fucking blown it and let the kid get under his skin. The boy had seen his big, ugly erection! Argh! How disgusting! He was a disgusting pervert! He should never have escorted the kids back to their house and he really never should’ve gone inside.

Unfortunately, that’s exactly what he’d done.

Baylor had been sporting obvious wood as soon as the boy got out of the truck, turning his rear end to Baylor and waddling toward the house.

It was that butt.

The boy had the biggest, roundest, heaviest, fullest–and totally perky!–ass he’d ever seen. To make matters worse, the little fucker was wearing a jockstrap under his over-stretched, mesh shorts. Baylor had swallowed, feeling his cock roar to life when he saw those stark, thick, white elastic straps framing the kid’s hairy ass cheeks.

He was rock-hard in seconds.

It made him crazy.

It terrified him.

It left him shaken.

The image of that butt was forever emblazoned in my mind. It burned his synapses, leaving a charred trail of death and destruction–and desire–through his beleaguered gray matter.

Baylor came undone.

He lost it in the most spectacular way imaginable.

And now the boy–that fuckin’ brat!–knew his weakness.

He could only hope: 1) the kid didn’t tell anyone, and 2) he never saw the boy again.

With cold logic, Baylor reasoned he could survive if Number 1 happened but he would be completely lost if Number 2 were to ever occur.

He prayed to God above that he never saw Terry Squire again.

***

Stella was only slightly perturbed when Terry and Mattie showed up an hour late for their training shift. “You got pulled over by the cops?” she asked, shaking her head. “All I can say is it’s a good thing yer both white kids or you’d be in jail right now. This here’s Arkansas after all.”

“Who says we’re white?” Terry retorted, bent out of shape after the tongue-lashing his father had given them. His dad’s fiery retribution struck him as completely unfair. What annoyed him even more, though, was the way Officer Baylor had stood there smirking at him the whole time.

Stella paused, giving them a closer look. “You ain’t white? Really?”

Terry and Mattie exchanged a look before Terry said, “You need to meet our father. Then you’ll understand. He’s half Black and half Latino. Our mom was white, though. People usually think we’re Asian for some reason.”

“I see.” Something shifted in Stella’s demeanor. It was subtle but she warmed even more to them. “Did you remember to bring birth certificates and drivers licenses with you? I need to get you processed before I can officially hire you.” When they handed her their passports, she amended, “Those’ll work, too. Thanks. Now, go sit over there and fill out an application. I know it’s a bunch of bullshit but I like to do things right.”

They sat down and entered their information in the pair of iPads that Stella handed them. While they worked, Stella busied herself scanning their passports. The restaurant had only just opened and only a few guests had arrived. The place was already bustling, though, with staff members getting everything set up for the evening. The clattering of dishes echoed from the kitchen and the smell of wood smoke hung in the air, wafting in every time someone pushed through the doors leading to the outdoor seating and grilling area.

Randy Crawley was there already, of course. As soon as he saw Mattie, he came bounding over to announce that he’d be the one training her. His eyes were dancing with excitement at the prospect of spending so much time with her. Hell, his whole body was dancing; he was completely unable to contain his glee. For her part, Mattie was equally excited but did a better job of concealing it…at least from Randy; Terry knew her too well to be fooled. He shook his head, both amused and irritated with his sister. He’d only just met his first friend here in Arkansas and his sister had already stolen him away.

He was getting a little sad and a little jealous when a very deep, gruff voice barked, “What THE FUCK are you doing here?”

They all jumped, looking up to discover that Officer Baylor had followed them into the restaurant. Having changed out of his uniform, he was no less provocatively dressed, wearing only a skintight pair of jeans and a white apron. His signature aviator sunglasses were perched on the top of his bald head.

Randy was the first to recover. “Nick,” he said, sucking his teeth in scorn. “Calm down. You know I work here.”

“Not you, Randy,” Baylor said, glaring at Terry and Mattie. “Them. They’re the kids I juss busted back at the Spooks Holler Church.”

Spooks Holler? Terry thought, filing this information in the back of his mind for later. I wonder if I can Google it? So much had happened since they stopped in front of the church that he’d almost forgotten about it. In a rush, though, his bizarre dream came back to him, along with the impossibility of seeing the church from that dream in real life. It couldn’t be the same place…could it?

But he didn’t have time to think about that dream right now; he was too shocked by seeing the very sexy–and hung!–Officer Baylor standing in front of him once again.

Randy looked from Baylor to Terry and Mattie, his mouth forming an ‘O’. “You’s the cop who busted my friends? Really, man? What were you thinkin’? They’s new in town an’ yer already arrestin’ ‘em?”

“Damn right I am!” Baylor was irate, that was for sure. “Fuckin’ Michiganders!”

In spite of themselves, both Terry and Mattie laughed at this. Grinning, Mattie corrected, “I’m not a gander, bro! I’m a Michigoose,” while Terry made silly honking noises and flapped his arms like he was flying.

This did nothing to endear them to Baylor. He wrinkled his lip, preparing to launch into an angry lecture, but was interrupted by Stella, “Nick, shut up and get to work. Bein’ a cop has got y’all uppity.” She inserted herself between Baylor and the Squire siblings, and–much to Terry’s delight and dismay–pushed him over to Nick. “This here’s yer new boss, Terry,” she announced. “Nick’s the head bartender. He’s gonna train ya tonight.” Turning to the indignant Baylor, she said, “You already know Terry ‘cuz you tried to arrest him. Try an’ let bygones be bygones an’ treat him nice, Ok? He’s a good kid.”

Terry looked up at Baylor apologetically, acting cute and disarming. Baylor’s lip curled as he stared down at him. Terry instinctively lowered his eyes only to have them land on that epic bulge. It thrust out from Baylor’s crotch, tenting the white apron luridly. What’s wrong with him? he wondered, unconsciously licking his lips. Is he hard again? Really?

Baylor’s hand shot out and grabbed Terry’s chin, forcing him to meet his gaze. “Stop it!” he ordered. “Keep yer eyes up here!”

Terry’s cheeks flamed crimson at being caught ogling the dude’s crotch again. He looked around and was relieved to discover that Randy and Mattie were making goo-goo eyes at each other and Stella had wandered off.

Baylor grabbed him by the shoulders and steered him across the restaurant to the huge bar that took up the entire south wall. It was pleasantly air-conditioned, Terry noticed gratefully, and very well stocked. Row upon row of expensive liquors were lined up behind them. The bar counter was an antique, having been moved from an old saloon down the road. It gave the place a homey, yet strangely modern feel.

“I don’t know why the fuck Stella ever hired you,” Baylor grumbled, handing him an apron. Terry tied it around his slim hips and was pleased to see it clung to his rugged chest muscles, accentuating his manly physique. “Shit. I don’t even know why the fuck I still work here,” he mused, still fuming. “I don’t need the fuckin’ money…or the hassle, for that matter. In fact, I–” 

His voice choked off and his eyes went wide as he saw Terry’s fist coming straight at him. It all but whistled through the air, aimed directly at the side of his head. Without thinking, Baylor spun and caught the fist, pinning it behind Terry’s back and shoving him facedown on the counter. 

Staff and customers alike stared aghast at them as Terry struggled to free himself. It was impossible, though, with Baylor’s big, hard, muscular body pressing against his back and his arms painfully wrenched backwards.

“What the FUCK is wrong with you?” Baylor hissed in his ear. “You lookin’ to get yer ass kicked, boy? Dontcha know it’s a felony to assault an officer of the law?!”

Terry moaned as Baylor smooshed his face down on the counter but he still had the chutzpah to reply, “It’s against the law to assault a minor, too!”

“Nice try but you ain’t no minor,” Baylor corrected. “I saw yer license.” He took a deep breath before stating in a very clear, very calm voice, “Now, I’m gonna give ya one chance: Tell me why the fuck you juss tried to punch my head or I’m gonna haul yer sorry ass down to the pen and yer gonna spend the rest of the night in the fuckin’ slammer.”

“Can you let up a bit first?” Terry pleaded, lip bleeding. “I can’t breathe!” Baylor eased his hold somewhat and Terry sighed with relief, explaining, “Stella tole me you took Taeknondo an’ I wanted to test yer reflexes. Ha! You passed! You definitely passed!”

Baylor’s mouth was still in his ear and Terry was surprised when he laughed. He’d succeeded in making Nick Baylor laugh! As pleased as he was with this coup, though, he barely noticed because his attention was suddenly drawn to something else. Something very large and very hard. He shifted, hardly able to believe what he was feeling. But, no, he wasn’t imagining it! It was really happening! 

The full brunt of Baylor’s body was pressed against his back. Especially against his butt.

Terry flushed with happiness.

He hit the jackpot!

Baylor’s 

Hard.

Throbbing.

Erection.

Was.

Pressed.

Into.

His.

Butt.

Exultant, he wiggled his plus-sized derriere, savoring this hard-won victory. It totally made getting his face smashed onto the counter worth it because he’d been rewarded with Baylor’s cock in his ass. Fuck! So amazing! Who knew when he woke up that morning that he’d end the day with a cop’s erection wedged into the welcoming and very generous cleft of his buttocks?

He really wanted to prolong the contact but he wasn’t stupid. Baylor was worked up and not paying attention to his groin at the moment but he would come back to himself soon enough. Terry grinned. Better to strike while the cop’s iron was hot!

With that, he flipped himself easily out of Baylor’s grip and quickly reversed their positions, pinning Baylor facedown against the bar counter. Baylor let out a startled squawk and tried to break free but, even though he was bigger and stronger than Terry, he was completely immobilized.

Grinning from ear to ear, Terry leaned down and whispered in Baylor’s ear, “Turns out, bro, I know Taekwondo, too.”

***

Chapter 4

Terry didn’t have long to savor his victory because Stella was already flouncing over to the bar, her face a sea of confusion.

“What is going on over here?” she demanded, her hands on her hips. “People said y’all were fighting!”

Baylor shrugged his shoulders and Terry looked innocent. Together they said, “Nah, we’re good.”

Stella narrowed her eyes, looking from Terry to Baylor. Her finger went up and she pointed it at Baylor, ordering, “You behave! You’ve already harassed this poor lil’ thing enough for one day.”

“What?! Me?!” Baylor shouted as Terry thrust out his lower lip, a cute little puppy dog. “He’s the one who started it! Shit, he’s the one who started it earlier, too! I’m juss doin’ my job!”

Stella was unconvinced as she thrust her finger into Baylor’s nose, warning, “I got my eye on you, Nick. Behave!” She waltzed away, her generous hips swaying behind her.

Baylor stood there with his mouth hanging open. After she was out of ear shot, he rounded on Terry, threatening, “You! Stay the fuck away from me! You think yer hot shit right now but yer playin’ with fire! When I have my badge, I’m gonna–”

“Ok, Ok!” Terry said, holding up his hands. “I’m sorry, alright? I was outta line.” He smiled disarmingly, grabbing Baylor’s hand and shaking it, “We got off on the wrong foot earlier. Let’s juss start over, Ok? Friends?” He squeezed Baylor’s hand, grinning up at him and batting his long eyelashes.

Baylor stared at him stonily before grunting, “See that bucket over there? Fill it with ice. And get those martini glasses dried off. They juss came outta the washer an’re still wet. The customers’re gonna be here any minute.”

Terry dropped his hand and got busy, turning his back and bending over to pick up the bucket. As he did so, Baylor’s face went red. The kid was still wearing the same mesh shorts he had on earlier and, in the light of the bar, the white lines of his jockstrap were even more noticeable. He stared in disbelief. Terry’s ass was basically in full view. It almost looked like he wasn’t wearing anything under his apron.

“You–!” he sputtered. “You are NOT wearing that! Do you wanna get arrested? What do you think this is? A strip club?”

“Huh?” Terry looked innocently back at him over his shoulder. The crack of his ass, Baylor could easily tell, was spread wide open and his crack was very hairy. How on earth could a mere kid have an ass that hairy?

“Those shorts,” Baylor pronounced. “They’ve got to go!”

Terry shrugged, agreeing, “If you say so, boss!”

And then he started to pull them down.

Baylor flushed crimson as the thick waistband of Terry’s jock appeared, followed by four, five, six, seven inches of–

He grabbed the brat and wrestled him into the mop closet, yanking his shorts up and giving him a painful wedgie as he did so. Terry cried out but Baylor had none of it. “Listen,” he hissed in the insolent brat’s ear, “I’ve had enough! If you don’t stop this–this–this obscene behavior right now, I’m throwin’ in my apron an’ leavin’. Got it? Stop it with the gay antics! It’s drivin’ me crazy an’ it’s gonna get ya fired!”

Terry lowered his head, abashed. His ball cap was askew on his head and he straightened it before looking up at Baylor. “S-S-Sorry, sir! I didn’t–”

“Aw, cut the shit!” Baylor released him, shoving him away and grabbing another apron from a hanger. “Put this on.” The boy accepted it, acting confused because he was already wearing one. “Backwards,” Baylor clarified, “You need something to cover yer ass. I don’t never wanna see ya prancin’ around in public in those shorts again. You hear?”

Terry wisely kept his mouth shut and dutifully tied the apron around his waist, making sure to drape it over his salacious cakes. When he was done, he held out his arms to display his body for inspection, “How I look? Ok?”

Baylor nodded gruffly and opened the door, ushering him out. “We only got a few minutes. We’re gonna have to hurry up.”

With that, he turned his back on Terry and sauntered over to the bar counter, ready to greet the first customers.

***

Terry gaped as Baylor walked away, taking in the sight of his naked back. WTF?! The man had the audacity to lecture him about his attire when he himself was naked from the waist up, save for the apron string around his neck. The apron only covered his front, though; his bare back was completely on display.

And what a back it was!

Every muscle was visible beneath his taut skin. The cop had a real man’s body, both lithe and beefy at the same time. It was the sort of physique that boys like Terry dreamed of having one day. However, as much as he loved seeing every part of Baylor’s gorgeous body, he was more captivated by the man’s tattoos.

On the back of Baylor’s bald scalp, there was a tattoo of a skull with phallic-shaped mushrooms crawling out of its empty eye sockets. The skull motif didn’t stop there, though. No, an entire skeleton had been tattooed down his neck and back. Or maybe it was more accurate to say it was a partially decomposed corpse?

The tattooed skull was connected to neck vertebrae leading down to the rest of the skeleton. It roughly matched the size and shape of Baylor’s own skeleton being overlaid on his skin with remarkable authenticity. An artist had clearly spent hours on it, investing a lot of blue and black ink to cover every square inch of that taut, sinewy body. There wasn’t a patch of uninked skin!

The skeleton was covered in bits of decomposing flesh and more mushrooms thrust out from within its rattling bones, curling and twining in a particularly suggestive manner. As if that wasn’t enough, the word, STINKHORN, was spelled out across his shoulderblades, its huge letters formed by yet more of those profane mushrooms.

Terry mouthed the word, wondering what it referred to? The obvious answer was Baylor’s cock. Did the dude have a really smelly dick? Was he so proud of it he felt compelled to advertise it to the world? Terry shook his head, perplexed. He couldn’t imagine ever doing such a thing to his own body. Oh, he liked tattoos alright and thought they were cool…in moderation. Proud of his big biceps, he was seriously contemplating getting them tattooed, especially now that he was eighteen and could do so without his father’s permission. But walking around covered in tattoos from head to toe–especially ugly, disgusting ones like Baylor’s–completely short-circuited his brain. He was left bewildered and aroused at the same time. 

By tattooing himself like this, Baylor had ensured that people would think of strong, unpleasant odors and big cocks as soon as they saw him. Was that what he intended? He must have or he wouldn’t have gotten the ugly tats in the first place. And, if he was ashamed of them, he sure as heck wouldn’t parade around shirtless to flaunt them!

Baylor was one freaky dude!

His tattoos were effective, though: They’d succeeded in snaring Terry’s attention. Indeed, they were all he could think about! 

The skeleton didn’t stop at Baylor’s back but Terry’s view of the rest of the design was blocked by the man’s skintight jeans covering his significant rump. Enough of the hidden tats were visible to pique his curiosity, though. Based on the truncated artwork, it was obvious Baylor’s ass was covered in tattoos as well, probably more mushrooms. Fuck! Just imagining his bare ass–so big and muscular!–covered in lurid tattoos was enough to get him all horned up again. 

He was dying to ask Baylor why he chose to have such unflattering artwork permanently inked on his skin. He knew better than to ask, though. Baylor had made that explicitly clear earlier when they were sitting on the couch in the living room together. Plus, he could tell that he was getting on Baylor’s last raw nerve and was determined not to make the man hate him. He’d tormented him enough for one night!

He bit his tongue and got to work. What else could he do?

***

After they worked out their differences, Baylor and he fell into an easy rhythm. Terry was a fast learner and was at pains not to antagonize the beefy cop. He did everything he was told quickly and efficiently and even did a lot of things that Baylor didn’t tell him. He was naturally like that, his brain was wired to survey the big picture and figure out the next steps. He looked at life like it was a chess game and he excelled at it. This was one of the reasons he was such a talented quarterback: His ability to strategize and predict the moves of the opposing team was legendary. That night, he put those skills to work in Baylor’s bar and it went swimmingly.

The customers loved him, too, especially the ladies. They doted on him, lavishing him with praise and flirting outrageously. He lapped it up, extracting a hefty sum in tips in the process. He quickly learned that women were suckers for his dimples and innocent smile. He used them to his advantage, inadvertently aggravating Baylor in the process. The more drunk and flirty the customers got, the more protective he became of Terry.

It was actually kind of sweet.

Mattie’s shift ended before his but she caught a ride home with Randy. Terry had mixed feelings as he watched them walking out, hand in hand. As her older brother, he worried about her even though he knew instinctively that Randy would treat her right. She was sixteen and it was normal for girls to start dating at her age but nonetheless he was concerned. Was she ready for a relationship? And what if it didn’t work out? He knew her better than she knew herself in some ways and a breakup would devastate her. He sighed, placing his hands on his hips as Baylor observed him covertly from the sidelines, smirking to himself.

Finally, around midnight, Baylor sent him home. “Listen,” he said, drawing Terry off to the side, “it’s late and you need to get some sleep. I can take care of things from here.” He stood there frowning for a moment before adding, “You did good. Thanks.”

Terry was speechless. After standing there in a daze–Baylor had praised him!–he finally snapped out of it and threw his arms around the big man, pressing against him in a full-body hug. It was just for a moment but it was long enough for him to feel the monster lurking in Baylor’s pants stir from its slumber and stiffen.

He backed away, grinning from ear to ear, and waved goodbye, “See ya tomorrow at 5pm!”

Baylor watched him expressionlessly, his apron tenting out before he realized it and turned to hide his crotch behind the bar counter. Terry winked and sauntered away, feeling Nick’s eyes glued to his big, heavy buttocks the whole way to the door. He seductively removed the apron tied backwards around his waist and gyrated his hips, making his booty swing and sway. When he cast a coy look over his shoulder, Baylor’s mouth was hanging open and his eyes were on fire with lust.

Terry grinned. Working with Baylor had been so much fun! He hadn’t obsessed once that night about going bald or the strange dream he’d had the night before. How could he? He was too busy being infatuated with his own personal, super-sexy, tatted-up cop!

***

Chapter 5

Terry awoke refreshed, having slept the whole night without any nightmares. Ever since moving to Arkansas, he’d been tormented by the same horrifying dream. Each night, a little more was revealed but in the morning he would awake having forgotten most of it. The only thing that remained was a lingering sense of unease. He’d almost forgotten what it was like to get a decent night’s sleep!

It was telling that his first thoughts were of Baylor and he pulled out his phone and texted him a cheerful, >>G’morning, Stud! How are ya? I miss U already<< before placing his head back down on the pillow and grinning mischievously.

Not a minute passed before Baylor responded with an terse, >>How in the FUCK did you get this number??? DELETE IT FROM YOUR CONTACTS OR I’M GONNA BLOCK YOU!<<

Feeling sassy, Terry replied, >>I got it from the staff phone list last night, Stud. And I know you won’t block me. You’re all bark and no bite but I wouldn’t mind it if you did bite me, a nibble at least. 🐶<<

Baylor message followed immediately, >>You little fucker. Yer playin with fire u know it?<<

>>I do and I can’t wait to get burned by you, Stud.🔥<< 

A few seconds later, his phone rang then and he picked up, tickled to death by the sound of Baylor gruff voice on the other end. “I’m serious,” the big man huffed. “Leave me the fuck alone! This ain’t cool. I ain’t yer plaything, Terry.”

Terry grinned, “You called me by my first name! That’s the first time!”

“Fuck off.”

“Only if you’re there doing it to me,” Terry replied, giggling at Baylor’s growl of frustration. Taking the bull by the horns, he shot for the moon, “I’m serious, Nick. I like you. I wanna be with you. And I know you wanna be with me, too.”

“Yer crazy. You don’t even know me. You juss met me yesterday an’ I’m twice yer age.”

Terry was ready for this, “And I’m eighteen. I can be with whoever I want. Besides, how old are you really?”

“Thirty-four.” Baylor’s voice sounded strangled. Terry knew without seeing him that he was stroking his big, thick, ridiculously long cock.

“Pfff. That’s not old. Yer still in yer prime, Stud.”

“God, Terry! You know how much trouble I could get in if my boss or yer daddy or, worse, both found out ‘bout us?” His voice broke off in a rough pant as he stifled a moan. He was indeed jacking himself! “Do you understand what yer doin’? Have ya ever been with a guy before? In rural Arkansas? It ain’t the same as in Michigan. Folks don’t like fags too much down here. An’ yer still in high school! What if we don’t like each other? It’s one thing to have a school-boy crush on someone an’ it’s ‘nother to play ‘round with somebody’s heart. I ain’t relationship material, Terry. I’m too damaged! An’ I come with a fuck-ton of baggage. I’m tellin’ ya to think twice. If we do this, neither of our lives’re ever gonna be the same. We could get hurt. Hurt real bad, an’ I don’t juss mean emotionally. This here’s serious bidness, boy!”

Ah, the naivete of youth! Terry had never even dated before and his adolescent brain wasn’t equipped to ponder all of the ramifications of what he was about to do. He just knew that Baylor was a smokin’ hot stud and he couldn’t think of anyone better to lose his virginity to. Yeah, Baylor was experienced and would take him for a wild ride. It was a win-win as far as he was concerned. Consequences be damned!

And so he threw caution to the four directions, wholeheartedly answering, “I don’t give a fuck, Baylor. I want you and only you. I don’t care what people say. I can handle my father. Can you handle your boss?”

There was a long silence and then, “Fuck. Why the fuck did I let my cock do the thinking for me yesterday? Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”

Then he hung up.

After a moment of stunned disbelief, Terry let out an ecstatic whoop loud enough to wake Mattie in the room next door.

Baylor was his! Nick Baylor was his man!

***

He drifted as if through a sweet haze of honey-scented dew, eyes unfocused, a dreamy expression on his face. For her part, Mattie was in a similar state, getting lost in her Corn Flakes as she grinned to herself. She was texting Randy while Terry was texting Baylor. The two siblings giggled conspiratorially across the breakfast table as their father stared at them, shaking his head.

Nick finally told Terry to fuck off and stop texting him because he was on duty. Terry reluctantly complied, belatedly remembering football practice. “Oh, shit!” he exclaimed, scrambling to get his gear together. “It’s the first day of practice!”

“Can I drive you again?” Mattie asked, clearly angling to see Randy again. When Terry vetoed this idea, she pouted, “Well, can I at least tag along to practice? Randy says the other guys’ girlfriends are allowed to watch from the sidelines.”

Terry gave her an exasperated look, “Can you be ready in five minutes? It’s gonna be hot out there. There ain’t no shade. Make sure ya bring one of them parasols yer so fond of. And water. Lotsa water ‘cuz yer gonna need it.”

Five minutes later, he was driving down the road in his pickup truck with Mattie clapping her hands in excitement. He cast her a sidelong glance, grumbling, “That sundress’s too short. How can you walk around like that?”

Mattie pulled a face, “The same way you can walk around with yer super-tight shorts stretched across yer big bootycheeks.” She stuck out her tongue, “I can totally see the straps of yer jock through the mesh!”

Terry’s ears grew hot as he remembered Baylor having essentially the same reaction the night before. “Are they really that tight?” he asked, unconsciously looking down at his red mesh shorts. He obviously couldn’t see himself from behind but he trusted Mattie’s assessment. Should he turn the truck around and put on another pair of shorts? All of his shorts were pretty tight in back, though. He didn’t know if he had a pair that were any looser.

“Yeah and it’s pretty gross,” Mattie said, sticking out her tongue. “You need a new wardrobe, bro. Those shorts fit ya when you were fourteen but you’ve grown a lot and now they’re way too tight.”

“Shit. What am I gonna do?”

As always, Mattie was practical, “Yer gonna change into yer practice uniform, right? Just drape yer duffle bag over yer ass until ya get into the locker room. Nobody’ll notice.”

“Gotcha.” Terry sagged down in his seat, relieved. Then he remembered he’d worn the same shorts during the tryouts yesterday. That meant all of the guys on the team had seen him running around out on the field in a nearly transparent pair of shorts! Fuck, what had he done? No one had said anything about it, not even Randy, so maybe it was Ok? It was all he could do to not twist his hips in the drivers seat to check out his ass.

Unfortunately for him, another worry soon outweighed his concern about the shorts: The locker room. 

For as long as he could remember, Terry had been terrified of the boy’s locker room. He hated getting naked in front of other guys. It was one of his biggest hangups. He told himself it was because he preferred to keep his privates private. That’s why they were called privates, right? However, his fear of public nudity ran deeper than simple modesty; it was actually more about survival. Just walking into a locker room was enough to make him break out in a cold sweat.

He’d been safe in his old high school because the other boys were almost as timid about revealing their nakedness as he was. Most of them changed under towels and skipped the showers after practice so he felt secure doing the same thing. In Arkansas, though, he’d heard the schools were old fashioned and boys were still expected to get fully naked in front of each other and share a communal shower. Was that how it would be at his new high school? The uncertainty of it drove him nuts!

Randy met them in the parking lot outside the school and gave Mattie a lingering hug, stepping back to look her up and down with approval. “You look great, Matt! Love that dress on you!” Mattie flushed with this praise, grinning from ear to ear.

“What ‘bout me?” Terry prompted, slinging his duffle bag over his shoulder and making sure it covered his big butt. “How do I look, bro?”

“You look great, too, bro.” Randy grinned, slapping him on the shoulder. “C’mon. Let’s get ready.” He kept his hand on Terry’s shoulder as he steered him into the building, calling out to Mattie, “Wait out on the field for us. Ok, Matt? You can sit on the bleachers with the rest of the girlfriends.”

“‘The rest of the girlfriends’?” Terry repeated after they’d stepped through the doorway, the whoosh of cool air soothing on his skin as they entered the air conditioning. “Bro, this is where I gotta be the older brother and tell ya that you’d better mean it. Mattie’s head over heels for you already. I won’t see her crushed if you decide to dump her.”

Randy laughed, “Bro, you must have me confused with an asshole ‘cuz I don’t play ‘round with the ladies. When I tell ya that Mattie’s my girl, I mean it. Hundred percent.”

“That’s good.” 

Terry’s stomach was gripped by dread with each step towards the locker room. His hands were trembling and sweat dripped down his back. He tried his best to act nonchalant but inside he was a mess. He’d never been this scared before.

“Here,” Randy said, pointing to a swinging door. “We’ll get changed in there. The coach has all the pads and other gear in his office. You can try ‘em on and see what fits.” Misinterpreting Terry’s hesitancy, he coaxed, “Don’t worry, bro! It’s all practically brand new stuff. The school don’t skimp when it comes to football.” He pushed through the door and disappeared inside.

Terry stood outside, smelling the familiar humid and slightly fungal smell of a boy’s locker room. His heart was pounding painfully in his chest but then he squared his shoulders and strode in resolutely, telling himself, “You gotta fake it til ya make it, right?” He smiled grimly and stepped through the inner door, emerging into the brightly lit locker room on the other side.

As soon as he saw the other guys, he relaxed, giddy with relief. Just like in Michigan, they were changing under their towels. Behind them, he could see the showers and breathed a silent prayer of thanks when he saw there were individual stalls with privacy curtains. Thank God! he sighed, feeling weak with relief. Suddenly, the day got a lot brighter.

He swaggered over to the lockers, picking one next to Terry and setting down his bag. Then he followed his new friend over to the coach’s office just off the main room and rifled through the gear, pulling out a hip girdle and shoulder pads that fit his broad frame. The coach had brand new practice and game uniforms that were just his size as well. He held up his new jersey, emblazoned with the number 21, and grinned. 21 was his lucky number!

“Hey!” a deep voice growled as soon as he picked up the jersey. “Twenty-one’s my number!” A big hand tried to snatch it away but Terry held on fast, turning to confront this would-be thief. 

His jaw went slack when he saw Shane Davis standing there, totally shirt-cocking. The tall, lanky jock was wearing only a ratty t-shirt, his thick, beer-can cock swinging languorously between his lean, tattooed thighs. The dude had a truly massive girth-stick! It was not only hefty but incongruously dark-skinned, especially compared to the rest of his body which was pale-skinned. And, alluringly as far as Terry was concerned, he was uncut; his foreskin bunched up around his moist cockhead. Terry had never seen a dick that thick. And talk about big balls! He couldn’t believe the size of Shane’s furry nuts. They looked bigger than a pair of oversized avocados!

“Hey, fag!” Davis sneered, catching him staring. “Eyes up here!”

Terry’s cheeks flushed scarlet beneath his stubbly beard and he lifted his gaze to inadvertently drown in the depths of Shane’s ice-cold eyes. The boy was incredibly handsome and radiated danger. This combination was Terry’s kryptonite and he felt his knees go weak. This was basically the same way he felt when confronted with the full brunt of Baylor’s machismo. There was just something irresistible about bad boys!

Shane was perfectly well aware of the effect he was having on him. His eyes blazed with victory as he tried to wrestle the jersey out of Terry’s grip. This proved to be a fatal misjudgment on his part. Terry might be awestruck in the face of such virile male beauty but he wasn’t a quitter and yanked the jersey back, causing Shane to lose his balance when he was forced to let go. Terry was shorter than him but he was a big, stocky dude in his own right and knew how to use his bulk to his advantage. He smirked as Shane windmilled his arms, trying to regain his balance, his thick cock flopping heavily up and down as he did so.

Pulling the jersey over his head, he spat, “This is MY number, asshole! Go find another one.”

Humiliated by his loss, Davis glared back at him. His formerly cock attitude vanished when he realized the whole locker room had witnessed his ignominious defeat at Terry’s hands. Suddenly, his shirt-cocked state shifted from intimidating to ridiculous as the other boys hooted with laughter. He was forced to beat a hasty retreat and throw on a jockstrap, huddling in a corner of the locker room. Terry watched him, feeling both triumphant and a little smitten despite his better judgment. 

His eyes lingered on Shane, taking in his massively tattooed body. Seeing him almost naked, he realized the boy was nearly as tatted up as Baylor. The bold, brutalistic tattoos climbed up his neck to his ears. His arms and chest and waist were likewise covered, tapering off only just above his woolly, black pubes. His body was so lean and yet muscular. He might lack Baylor’s massive size but he cut a striking figure nonetheless.

There was no doubt about it: Shane Davis was smokin’ hot. And a raging asshole to boot. Terry shook his head, wondering at himself. If he could zap the attraction he felt towards the boy from his brain, he would do so without hesitation. Even as his groin stirred with arousal, he had a feeling that nothing good would come of getting involved with Shane.

Reluctantly, he turned away and busied himself getting changed, under his towel, of course!

***

Practice passed like a dream.

Now that he knew he was safe from public nudity in the locker room, he was free to savor his good fortune. He looked over at Randy, profoundly grateful to have a new, best friend. In the background, he spotted Mattie chattering in the stands with a bunch of other girls, her pink parasol delicately shading her face. She looked so at ease, so radiant, so happy. She waved to him and Randy, smiling broadly. He grinned back at her, heart soft and easy seeing that she was also adjusting well to her new life in Arkansas. He’d been so worried about her, especially after her rough patch last winter. But now anything seemed possible again. A tear of happiness rolled down his cheek and he brushed it away before anyone noticed.

Unnoticed beside him, Shane’s eyes narrowed as he looked from Terry over to Mattie. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it but he knew there was something odd about this pair of siblings. The other guys might be rolling over and peeing on themselves with happiness now that Terry Squire was their captain but he knew there was more than met the eye about this boy. Clenching his fists, he vowed to Google-stalk him as soon as practice was over…

***

Terry showered and dressed after practice, emerging from the school feeling self-conscious once again. He’d looked over his shoulder in the mirror before exiting the locker room and winced when he saw that both Mattie and Nick had been right: His big ass was indeed on full display. It stretched his poor mesh shorts to the breaking point, leaving almost nothing to the imagination. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t realized how indecent they were until now!

There was nothing to do but keep his big butt covered as best he could with his bag. Thankfully, none of the other guys seemed to notice or, if they did, they didn’t seem to care. One after another, they came up and clapped him on the shoulder, congratulating him. He’d been on fire on the practice field, more than living up to his reputation as a crafty and steadfast leader. He was fast. He was tough. He was agile. And he was clever. Everyone, including the coach, had been astounded. And it was only the first day of practice!

“Man,” Randy praised, shaking his head, “yer really sumthin’! I ain’t never seen a guy with yer talent on a varsity team like ours. You gonna go pro?”

“Ha! Maybe someday. Right now, I’m still considering offers from universities.” Terry lowered his head modestly, “But first, I gotta get through high school without gettin’ injured. Ya know what? I think I’ll–?” 

His voice broke off as he witnessed the impossible: Nick Baylor pulling up in front of the school on his motorcycle. He was off duty and dressed in a leather harness with a matching pair of black leather chaps. His bike was a sleek, black Harley Davidson. As he slowed to a stop before them, he held out a helmet and jerked his chin at Terry, saying, “Get on.”

Terry’s jaw fell open but he recovered quickly, asking Randy, “Can you drive Mattie home for me? Looks like Nick has business with me.”

Randy watched him and Nick through narrowed eyes, “I’ll bet he does. You be careful, Ok? My cousin can be a real fucker.”

Nick flipped him off and Randy laughed, waving to Mattie. Terry didn’t notice because he was already straddling the bike and cozying up behind the baddest, hottest, sexiest man in the world: His new boyfriend!

***

Nick drove him up into the hills behind town where there was some state forestland. He parked down a little two-track, leaving the bike hidden in the shade of a couple of tulip poplars. Dismounting, he motioned for Terry to follow him up a little trail that wended upward through some undergrowth. After climbing a rocky ledge, they found themselves standing before a gorgeous little waterfall. Terry looked up in wonder at the rivulets of water raining down from a craggy, mossy cliffside overhead. He held out his hand, smiling when he realized the water was pleasantly cool. Just being near the waterfall seemed to lower the outside temperature by at least ten degrees. Nature’s air conditioning, indeed!

“Don’t take off yer clothes,” Nick growled. “We ain’t swimming. And we sure as fuck ain’t here to fuck, neither.”

“Well, what are we here for then?” Terry pouted. Riding on the bike, he’d wrapped his arms around Nick’s taut tummy and cozied up to his bare back, getting himself all worked up in the process. He was dying to take their newfound relationship to the next level.

Nick sat down on the rocky ledge, dangling his black boots over the edge. He patted a spot next to him and Terry obliged, sitting down and scooching as close as he could to Nick. It was almost unbearable being with the man and not being able to touch him.

“I see yer still showing off yer big, slutty ass to the whole world,” Baylor grumbled, looking askance at Terry’s overtight shorts. “Shameless!”

Terry leaned back on his hands, musing, “Doesn’t having a slutty ass sorta imply that I’ve had lotsa sex? If that’s the case, then what’re you waitin’ for? Make my ass slutty!” He turned his head and puckered his lips only to have Nick push his face away in disgust.

“Yer still a virgin?” he demanded. When Terry nodded, he was incredulous, “Really? How’s a guy like you still a virgin? It’s not juss me, Terry. Yer beyond hot. Juss ask all them ladies at the bar last night.”

Terry was thoughtful, “I dunno. I just haven’t met the right guy…until now.” He turned and smiled, “And you are the right guy, Nick. I can feel it.” He reached out and was delighted when Nick allowed him to place his hand on his thigh.

Nick stared down at the pool of water twenty or so feet below them where the water from the cascade sprinkled in an endless dance. He refused to look at him as he said, “Those same words comin’ outta anybody else’s mouth would sound corny.” He sighed, “Yer only eighteen an’ ain’t never been fucked, much less been in a committed relationship. ‘Sides, you don’t know me. Like, at all. How could you know I’m the right guy for you?” He held up his hand when Terry tried to interrupt, saying, “But–Fuck me sideways!–I bah-lieve ya. I really fuckin’ bah-lieve ya.” At last, he turned his cinnamon-colored gaze in his direction. Terry’s heart clenched when he saw those eyes were filled with dark and roiling emotion. Nick swallowed hard, continuing, “The really fuckin’ crazy thing is that I feel the same way ‘bout you. God, Terry. I don’t understand it but I want ya so bad it’s fuckin’ killin’ me. I didn’t sleep at all last night an’ every time I close my eyes, all I see is you smilin’ back at me. What the fuck did you do to me? Are you some kind of witch? I ain’t never been this bad off before.”

Terry took the man’s agonized face between his hands, forcing him to look at him when he tried to turn away. He didn’t say anything, though. All he did was look at him.

And then they were hugging. Baylor buried his face against his chest, clutching at him like a drowning man. He didn’t make a sound but Terry could feel his body shaking and knew he was crying. This didn’t surprise him because he was crying, too. Never had he expected that the first guy he fell for would be the love of his life. 

Nick really wanted to take it farther but he restrained himself. With a deep sigh, he pulled away, saying, “We’re gonna do this my way or not at all. That’s my only condition, Ok?” He gestured to his crazily tatted body, explaining, “I know I look like a total sex fiend but I ain’t. Truth is, I’ve only been with one guy before an’ that…ended badly. It scarred me. Bad. Worse than bad, actually. And I’ll never get over it. Never.” He hung his head, reliving some of those awful memories before resolutely banishing them from his mind. “But it’s time. I ain’t made of stone, Terry. I’m a man and I got a man’s needs. I need love.” He turned to face him, eyes flicking bashfully up to Terry’s before flicking away, “I need you.”

Terry, being the impish little brat that he was, really wanted to say, “And I need yer big dick in my big, slutty butt,” but he refrained, not wanting to piss off Nick again. It was true he didn’t know the man next to him very well. In fact, he was kind of scared of him but that was part of Baylor’s allure. He’d always liked to play with fire and something told him that being with Baylor would be like throwing gasoline on a raging inferno. He didn’t give a fuck if he got burned as long as he got fucked by this tortured, fucking gorgeous stud with a fiercely protected heart. He wanted Baylor. He wanted every part of Baylor, even the ugly, violent and sadistic parts. All of him. No price was too big to pay. He was up for the challenge and ready for the fireworks.

Exercising more wisdom than most eighteen-year-olds, he bit his tongue and didn’t ruin the poignant atmosphere. Leaning forward, he placed a little, adorable kiss on the big stud’s cheek and said, “And I need you.”

Baylor blinked back tears and hung his head. But, after letting out a long, low, shuddering breath, he held out his arms wide, declaring, “You got me. I’m yours. I just hope you know what you’re doin’ ‘cuz I sure as fuck don’t.”

***

Chapter 6

Baylor had an erection during the entire shift at the restaurant that night. Every time Terry turned around, the big stud was staring at him, his apron tented obscenely. Somehow, he managed to keep it concealed from the customers but not from Terry. It left him feeling breathless and out of sorts. Concentrating on anything besides that epic bulge was almost impossible.

“Serves ya right, ya lil’ fucker,” Baylor grunted at one point, after Terry got a drink order wrong for the third time. He took the glass from the irate customer’s hands, poured it down the drain, and mixed the cocktail again. Handing it to the customer, he told them, “It’s on the house. My…associate…here’s still learnin’ the ropes an’ don’t know how to mix drinks yet.”

Terry hung his head. He was disheveled and flustered and couldn’t stop staring longingly at Baylor’s dick. It wasn’t fair! He was so fucking horny he coudln’t stand it! Didn’t Baylor know how hard it was to be eighteen fucking years old and still a fucking virgin! He owed him that cock! He’d earned it!

He thrust out his lower lip, giving Baylor his most pathetic puppydog impersonation…to no avail. “Listen,” Baylor said, “I’m basically a virgin, too. I ain’t had sex in eighteen years, neither. If I can endure it, so can you. Now focus! We got work to do!”

“But, Baylor!” Terry whined. “Why can’t we–?”

“Shut it!” Baylor ordered, looking around to be sure no one was listening in. “Just do yer fuckin’ job an’ wait. I tole ya we’re doin’ this on my terms, didn’t I? These’re my terms: No sex yet.” When Terry stomped his foot petulantly, he added, “It builds character. Now get to work!” He slapped him painfully on the buttocks, making Terry yelp.

That was the hardest night of Terry’s young life because it was when he learned a very difficult lesson: When you know something is out of reach, it’s possible to get over it eventually. But when you’ve been told something you want is yours but you can’t have it yet…that’s just cruel.

Eager for anything to take his mind off of Baylor’s untouchable cock, he spotted a guitar case propped up behind the bar. “Is that yers?” he asked, reaching out to pick it up. Baylor grabbed it out of his hands and set it back down. “Yes, it is and, no, you can’t touch it. It’s off limits…like my dick.”

“Yer so mean!” Terry pouted, reaching out for the case again only to get his hands slapped by Baylor. “I’m a musician, too, you know!”

Baylor turned toward him, cinnamon eyes studying him with renewed interest. “You are?”

Terry nodded, “Yeah, I sing. And play a little guitar, too.”

“Huh.” Baylor was intrigued, rocking back on his heels. “You any good?”

“Not quite as good as I am at football,” Terry admitted, tilting his head. “But I’m not bad.”

Baylor was silent for a moment, contemplating this. “Randy sez yer a total superstar on the field,” he reasoned, “if that’s true, what yer really sayin’ is yer a damned fine singer. Am I wrong?”

“Yeah, you could say that.” Unlike pretty much everything else, Terry was an epic failure at modesty.

“Hmm.”

“What’s that ‘sposed to mean?” Terry stepped closer, noticing that Baylor’s crotch throbbed as he did so. He grinned, “Are you sayin’ we can play together?”

Baylor grunted with laughter, “Yer such a lil’ slut. Is everything ‘bout sex with you?” Before Terry could say yes, he continued, “If you can keep yer–”

He never finished because Stella appeared behind the bar at that moment, tying an apron around her waist. “Ok, Nick, I’m ready to take over. Go set up with the rest of the band.”

Terry looked from her to Baylor, his hands on his hips, “Wait. Yer playin’ tonight? As in, yer part of a band?”

“Yep, that’s right.” Baylor was already grabbing his guitar and heading over to the small stage in the far corner of the restaurant. Several other scruffy guys were already in the process of unpacking their instruments. 

It was only then that Terry noticed Baylor was wearing more clothing than usual, just barely. When he took off his apron, he had on a t-shirt underneath that was so thin you could almost see his tattoos beneath it along with the stark relief of his many bulging muscles. He grinned at Terry, slapping a black leather Stetson on his head and slinging his guitar case over his shoulder as he sauntered up to the stage. He was even wearing black leather cowboy boots! Ungh! Could he get any sexier?

Terry watched him go, crestfallen. He’d been looking forward to flirting and perhaps copping a feel of the cop’s cock! Baylor couldn’t go now! Terry needed him!

Stella watched him with a knowing smile, stating, “You got it bad, huh?”

Terry looked dejectedly over to her, “Yeah.” He wrung his hands together, shivering with desire. “He’s juss so…dreamy!”

Stella’s eyebrows went up, “‘Dreamy’? Nick?” She put her hand on his forehead, “Boy, you sick er sumthin’?” She snorted to herself, “Listen, Terry, I love Nick–he’s my own flesh an’ blood, ya know–but he’s ‘bout as far away from dreamy as ya ca throw a stick. He more like a wakin’ nightmare! Ha!”

“He’s been injured,” Terry said, defensive. “But he’s a total sweetheart underneath it all.”

“Huh. Maaaybe?” Stella raised an eyebrow as she studied Baylor plugging his guitar into the amp and testing it by strumming a few chords. “Nick’s diff’rent, dat’s fo sho. Had a real rough childhood and…” her voice trailed off as she thought better of what she’d been about to say. Instead, she put her hands on her hips and sighed, “Juss be careful, lil’ boy. That’s my advice to you. Yer playin’ with fire when yer with Nick.”

“That’s what he told me but I don’t care.” Terry lifted his ball cap and ran his hand through his thinning hair. “I want him and I’ll do anything to have him.”

Stella didn’t reply to this, merely turned her back and started drying glasses with her apron. He couldn’t see it but she was shaking her head at him.

Terry stared longingly at Baylor, eating up the sight of the big, tatted stud, dreaming of getting him naked and riding that huge pole. His fantasies were interrupted, though, by a rude voice demanding, “Hey! What the fuck do I gotta do to get some service ‘round here?”

He turned to find none other than Shane Davis sitting on a bar stool right beside him. His eyebrows lifted; Shane was the last person he’d expected to see at the bar tonight! 

Before he could answer, Stella interjected, “Depends. You got ID on you?” She pushed between Terry and Shane, holding out her hand and wiggling her fingers. “‘Cuz if you ain’t twenty-one then you ain’t getting nuthin’ but sody-pop from me.”

Shane scowled but duly pulled out his driver’s license, handing it over. Stella examined it critically before taking a pair of scissors from her apron and cutting it in two, pronouncing, “Fake. Now get the hell out of my bar!”

“What?!” Shane protested, “It’s not fake! Why’d you cut it up?!”

Stella leaned forward, hissing, “Listen, you lil’ fucker, yer lucky that I ain’t Nick,” she jerked her chin over at Baylor, “‘cuz he’d have ya in handcuffs right now. I’m juss tellin’ ya to fuck off an’ get outta here. Ain’t that better than gettin’ arrested?”

Shane’s blue eyes flashed but he wisely kept his mouth shut. Before he turned to go, though, he leered at Terry, saying, “See ya later…Terilynn.”

This went right over Stella’s head but Terry’s face promptly drained of color and he had to reach out to steady himself on the counter. Shane’s eyes flashed with malice when he saw his reaction. Only then did he get up and slowly saunter away, giving them both the middle finger as he did so.

Stella watched the oily jock leave with a furious look on her face, muttering something vicious under her breath. Terry didn’t hear her, though; he was too busy shaking with dread. When he remained silent, she turned to him, asking, “What’s wrong, Sugar? Yer awful pale.”

Terry swallowed, his mouth working up and down, before he managed to choke, “Nah, I’m fine. Juss hungry’s all.”

“Didn’t you take yer break yet?” Stella patted him on the butt. “Go on, boy! Go get sumthin’ to eat from the kitchen.” She looked around at the empty bar, “It’s gonna be a while before the customers show up. The band’s not up for ‘nother half hour yet.”

***

Terry locked himself in the storage closet, trying to compose himself. He kept hearing Shane’s sneer echoing in his head: Terilynn. Terilynn. Terilynn! It got louder and more derisive each time until finally it thundered through his skull, making his head ache. He put his hands over his ears in the vain attempt to silence it to no avail. He couldn’t escape it any more than he could escape his past.

He knows.

OMG, he knows!

How the fuck had he found out? Terry had done everything in his power to expunge all traces of that name from the Internet. He thought he’d been successful, too. He thought he’d finally left that all behind him. 

But, no. He hadn’t. He’d merely been deluding himself.

Shane Davis had found out his secret.

Oh, fuck! What do I do now? he wondered, agonizing. What if he tells the rest of the team? Or, worse, what if he knows about Mattie, too?

Terry was confident he could handle the fallout but his sister was another story. She was more fragile, sensitive. He was tough and could easily defend himself. But Mattie…just thinking about her getting hurt made him tear up. He clenched his fists. He would do anything to protect his sister. Anything!

“Hey, Sugar?” Stella’s voice called out from behind the door, followed by a soft knock. “You done in there? We got customers to tend to!”

He sighed, running his hand through his hair for the thousandth time. As worried as he was, though, he didn’t have time right now to deal with this. He’d have to figure out what to do later. He squared his broad shoulders and unlocked the door, forcing a smile on his face as he got busy serving drinks.

***

Baylor was not only the lead guitarist but also the lead singer in his band. Specializing in honkytonk, country and a little bit of hip-hop, Baylor’s deep baritone was at its best when he was singing Shaboozie songs. The audience swelled with each number until the bar was overflowing with fans. Stella was on cloud nine because the alcohol sales alone were enough to keep the bar afloat for a whole year. She and Terry had their hands full, especially because Terry was still learning the ropes. They managed to stem the tide, though…just barely.

Being so busy combined with hearing Baylor’s super sexy voice helped stabilize Terry’s mood. He soon forgot about Shane Davis as he found himself falling more deeply in love with Nick. There was something about having a man sing to you! And there was no doubt that Nick was singing to him and no one else. Every time he looked up, Nick’s eyes were riveted on him, filled with affection…and lust. Terry shivered with delight.

After playing for nearly two hours, the band called out for requests to close out their set. A bunch of people yelled out their favorites but something overtook Terry at that moment and, almost without hesitation, he strode out from behind the bar and headed directly up to the stage.

Nick stared at him in surprise as he neared, numbly relinquishing the microphone as he stepped up next to him. The rest of the band and the audience watched them in confusion, uncertain if his appearance had been planned or not.

Turning his ball cap around backwards on his head, Terry positioned the mic under his mouth, announcing, “I wanna make a request and sing it, too. That Ok?”

Helpless to refuse him, Nick cast a look of apology to his bandmates before agreeing, “Sure, go ahead. What’re we playing?”

“Lose Control by Teddie Swims,” Terry replied before saying sassily, “You know it?”

Nick’s eyes went wide and there were murmurs of surprise from the audience. “You sure?” he pressed. “That song’s real hard to pull off. Even I can’t do it justice.”

Terry nodded, confident as ever, “Yeah, just you wait. I can do it.”

Nick swallowed, eyes wide. He could tell Terry wasn’t boasting; if he said he could sing it, he would do so. He stepped back and checked in with the rest of the band to make sure they knew the song. They did and soon the first chords were echoing through the bar.

Terry waited until his cue and then opened his mouth and let loose with his rich tenor,

Something’s got a hold of me lately

No, I don’t know myself anymore

Feels like the walls are all closing in

And the devil’s knocking at my door, whoa

Beside him, Nick’s eyebrows went up as he played his guitar. He didn’t speak but it was clear he was shocked by the beauty and control of Terry’s voice. Terry turned to him, locking eyes and not letting him go. Nick was captured by him, utterly helpless.

They forgot about anything else, lost together in their own musical world. If they’d been aware, they would’ve seen Stella watching them with her hands on her hips, eyes misty with emotion as she stared at them from across the crowded room. They would’ve seen Mattie and Randy exchanging stunned, yet knowing, looks as they forgot about waiting on their tables. They would have seen Nick’s bandmates as their mouths fell open, their souls–and gonads–singed by the erotic charge scintillating around the two, soon-to-be lovers. And they would have seen the audience completely enraptured as they witnessed seduction carried out on a whole other level. 

Yes, Terry’s voice was that compelling and Nick’s accompaniment was that skillful. It was a moment of pure magic.

Problem is, when I’m with you, I’m an addict

And I need some relief, my skin in your teeth

Can’t see the forest through the trees

Got me down on my knees, darling, please, oh

The magic only increased when Terry reached the most difficult part of the song and absolutely nailed it with his haunting, peerless tone:

I lose control

When you’re not here with me, mm

I’m falling apart right in front of you, can’t you see?

I lose control

When you’re not here with me, mm-hmm

Yeah, you’re breaking my heart, baby

You make a mess of me

“You make a mess of me.”

It took Terry a moment to realize that it was Nick’s husky baritone singing harmony. Their voices blended together seamlessly, building off of each other and combining into something greater than the sum of their parts. The sum of love and desire is more than both.

The song ended and there was deathly silence. Everyone present was too awed to say or do anything. The quiet stretched for a long time before the crowd finally rocketed to their feet, cheering thunderously.

Nick and Terry barely heard because they were too busy kissing each other’s faces off.

***

Chapter 7

After such a grand finale the night before, Terry awoke the next morning brimming with confidence. He knew–he just knew!–that Baylor was finally going to give in and fuck him. He couldn’t wait! He stretched, grinning from ear to ear as he reached for his phone to text his sexy cop…

…only to stop in surprise when he saw his iPhone’s lock screen was loaded with notifications. Puzzled, he swiped his finger across, unlocking it. His mouth fell open as he did so.

The video of him and Baylor singing together–and kissing afterwards–had gone viral. Multiple people had recorded his song and uploaded the videos to numerous social networking sites. Those had been reposted on other platforms, taking the Internet by storm. Someone had even posted it on his football team’s private chat group and it looked like everyone had commented on it already.

His hands were shaking as he opened the chat app. He held his breath, expecting the worst. While he didn’t keep his sexual orientation a secret, he also wasn’t out to anyone on the team yet, unless you counted Randy who had witnessed the whole thing at the bar the night before. In hindsight, his impulsive decision to make out with Baylor on stage in front of a hundred people probably wasn’t the best thing to do.

But, wait! He could scarcely believe it! Everyone on the team was fine with it. Breathless, he searched through the comments, convinced he was going to get trolled but the guys were nearly uniform in their praise of the video. Only one person had said, >>huh not my thing but whatevs as long as he can win idgaf whos hes with<< That was the worst of it, other than a comment from Shane that had already been deleted. 

The rest of the team was congratulatory. One guy even said he was jealous that Terry had snagged the hottest cop in town and many of them complimented him on his singing skills. >>is there anything u cant do?<< someone wrote. >>amazing!<<. Another person added, >>bring ur bf to practice so we can congratulate him<<

Terry’s palms were sweating and his forehead was furrowed but he slowly relaxed, lying back on his pillow and staring at the ceiling in utter disbelief. He’d certainly never expected that his teammates would be this supportive. It made him feel warm and fuzzy all over.

He immediately texted Baylor.

A minute went by.

Then another.

After three minutes, there was still no reply.

Concerned, he tried calling him but he got sent to voicemail. He left a message, asking him to call him back and hung up, waiting another few minutes before trying again.

Still nothing.

Concerned, he got out of bed and started pacing around his room, texting and calling Baylor every minute for the next hour. Finally, Mattie knocked on his door, reminding him that football practice started in a half hour and she wanted to go with him so she could see Randy. He flung open the door, wild-eyed with panic.

Seeing his face, she misinterpreted his concern, asking, “What’s wrong? Gettin’ a lot of hate ‘cuz of that video?” She sighed. “This is Arkansas, bro! What’d you–?”

“It’s not that,” Terry interrupted, waving this off. “It’s Baylor. I can’t reach him. He hasn’t replied to my texts or phone calls.” He wrung his hands, “Fuck, Mattie! What should I do? Do you think he’s mad at me?”

Making a face, she pushed aside one of his dirty jockstraps with her toe before entering his room, “He’s on duty, Terry. He works the early shift, right? I don’t know how he can stay up until 2am and then get up at five. It’s a crazy schedule!”

Terry was unconvinced. The pit forming in his stomach told him something was wrong.. Very wrong. He looked down at his feet for a moment before looking up again, freaking out. “Should I go see him? What if he’s hurt? What if somebody hurt him? He’s a cop and everybody knows cops’re total homophobes. What about the other deputies? They might’ve beat him up! He could be hurt!”

“Terry, calm down!” Mattie put her hand on his shoulder. “Nick is fine. He’s a big guy who can take care of himself. Besides, I just told you he’s at work. What’re you gonna do? Go down to the police station and ask to see your boyfriend?”

“Yeah,” he replied. “That’s exactly what I’m gonna do!” 

He started to push past her but she clamped down on his elbow before he could step around her. She had a surprisingly strong grip for a girl! “No, you’re not,” she stated, forcefully turning him around so he had to look at her. “Terry, you’re going to put on some clothes and go to practice. Nick will get back to you soon.” Her eyebrows lifted meaningfully as she looked down at his crotch.

Terry started to argue but then he followed her gaze, realizing he was buck-naked, his oversized clit swinging heavily between his pussy lips. (Terry had started hormone replacement therapy young and therefore his clit had grown nearly to the size of an adult man’s penis.) He was so worked up that he’d forgotten he was completely nude. 

Embarrassed, he bent over and–much to Mattie’s disgust–stepped into the same dirty jockstrap that she had just kicked aside. Straightening, he shrugged a t-shirt over his head and slapped on his ball cap before slipping into the new pair of (roomier) shorts he’d purchased at Walmart the day before. Mattie watched him, shaking her head. Unlike him, she was fully clothed and freshly made-up, her full lips glistening with gloss and a sultry sundress lilting like a soft breeze over her nubile body. She really was becoming a very beautiful young girl!

When he was finally presentable, he grabbed his duffle bag and headed into the kitchen to grab some breakfast. He stopped, though, when he found their father standing there, waiting for him.

“Dad?” he asked. “What’s up?” This was very unusual; his father was always at work before Terry even struggled out of bed in the morning.

In answer, his father held out his smartphone where the video of Terry and Nick ardently kissing was playing. With a raised eyebrow, he asked, “Terry, is this the same police officer who was here the other day?”

Jaw hanging open, Terry tore his gaze away from the phone to look at his dad. When he saw how unhappy his dad was, he lowered his eyes sheepishly, grunting, “Uh, yeah. That’s the one.”

“Terry, look at me.” When he lifted his chin, his dad reached out and slapped the back of his head, scolding, “Terry! What is wrong with you?! He’s more than twice your age!”

Terry gave his father an injured look and rubbed the back of his head, pointing out, “No, he’s not! Two years ago, he was twice my age but now he’s only seventeen-ninths my age!” When his dad gave him an exasperated look he protested, “Hey! Don’t I at least get credit for using correct fractions? And, in case you didn’t realize it, our ages’ll get proportionally closer the older we get. By the time I’m eighty four, he’ll only be…uh, twenty five twenty-firsts my age!”

“You know what I mean,” his dad said, glowering. “You could’ve at least informed me before you decided to announce to the entire State of Arkansas that you’re gay. You haven’t even started your first day of high school yet!”

Mattie came to Terry’s defense then, not because she cared about their fight but because she really wanted to see Randy before practice started, “Dad, it’s Ok,” she soothed, rubbing his shoulder with her palm. “Terry’s eighteen now. He can take care of himself. And Nick’s a good guy. You should’ve seen ‘em together last night! They were soooo cute!”

Mr. Squire held out his phone, “I did see them and I disagree. That cop looks like trouble.” He turned back to Terry, holding up his palms, “Terry, you know why I’m worried about you, right? It’s because you’re–”

“Don’t you think I know that?!” Terry snapped, looking over at his sister. “Do you think even a fuckin’ minute passes when Mattie an’ me don’t think about it? We’re not stupid! We know what’s goin’ on in the world. We’re on the front of the fuckin’ lines in the Culture Wars for fuck’s sake! Dad, we never forget because NOBODY EVER LETS US FORGET. Even for one fuckin’ second! We know! We know! WE FUCKIN’ KNOW!”

He stood there, fists clenched, only to be taken aback when his father’s eyes filled with tears. Rubbing his eyes, his dad’s voice cracked when he spoke, “I’m sorry, Son. I really am. I just–” His voice broke off and Terry and Mattie stared in disbelief as their dad completely lost it, dropping his face in his hands and sobbing. 

They rushed to hug their arms around him, exchanging worried looks as they did so. Their father never cried–Never!–this was the first time either sibling could remember seeing him cry and it shook them. He hadn’t even cried when their mother died! They were used to him being the rock of the family. Throughout the past ten very tumultuous years, he’d never once cracked. He’d stood by them resolutely, no matter what.

After several excruciating minutes, he finally calmed down enough to apologize, “I’m sorry! I’m really sorry! Please don’t misunderstand me! I’m really not mad at you and I’m glad that both of you are finally dating like every other teenager out there. It’s just that I worry. I don’t know what I’d do if anything ever happened–”

“It’s not,” Terry interrupted. “Nuthin’ gonna ever happen to us ‘cuz I won’t fuckin’ let it.” He held up his finger for emphasis, “Got that? Mattie and me’re gonna be juss fine.”

His father stared at him, eyes still red-rimmed. He looked from Terry to Mattie and Mattie nodded, placing her hand on Terry’s shoulder. Finally, he exhaled heavily, still wiping tears from his eyes, “Someday. Someday kids like you’ll be treated just like everyone else and parents won’t have to worry.” He hung his head, adding, “At least I hope so. I really hope so.”

***

Terry and Mattie were silent during the drive to football practice. Only when Terry had parked the truck in the school’s gravel lot did he look over at her. “Mattie, I–there’s something I gotta tell ya.”

She looked over at him, her soft, brown eyes solemn. “Yeah?”

“One of the guys on the team knows ‘bout me.” He swallowed, clarifying, “Knows I’m trans.” He held up his hand when her eyes went wide, soothing, “Hey, we knew it would happen eventually, right? I mean, it’s hard to keep it a secret, ‘specially when you play team sports.”

“Did he see you in the–?”

Terry shook his head. “No, definitely not. I ain’t never gotten naked in front of ‘em in there an’ I sure as fuck don’t plan on it. I don’t know how he figured it out but I’m guessin’ he Googled me an’ found out my dead name which means…”

“…that he probably knows about me, too,” Mattie finished, frowning as she looked down at her hands folded in her lap.

“Pretty much,” Terry agreed. “Mattie, I’m sorry!”

Her head flew up and her brown eyes blazed with sudden fire, “No! Don’t say that! Don’t ever say that! We have nothing to apologize for, Terry! We’re the normal ones. It’s everybody else that’s crazy.” She took a deep breath before stating, “I’m tired of hiding, Terry. I’m tired of pretending. I’ve decided I don’t care anymore. I’m dating Randy and I’m gonna tell him. He’s gotta know. And if he can’t take it…well, fuck him! I don’t give a shit!”

Terry watched her, impressed. He reached out and took her hand in his, squeezing it. She had such soft, lovely hands! “And I’m gonna tell Nick, too,” he assured before amending, “eventually. Juss not right now.”

“What about the football team?” Mattie asked. “Will you tell them, too?”

Terry looked off to the side, repeating, “Eventually. Juss not right now.”

“What about the boy who found out?” she pressed. “Aren’t you worried he’ll tell the rest of the team?”

“He might.” Now Terry was looking down at his own lap. “Maybe? Probably? I don’t know. I’ll figure it out when the time comes.” He looked back over at her and smiled disarmingly, back to his usual cocky self, “Or maybe I’ll juss kick the shit outta him an’ be done with it?” He smacked his hand into his palm, “I kinda feel like kickin’ some ass anyways. Might as well be a transphobe!”

***

Randy was waiting outside the truck when they looked up. As soon as Mattie made eye contact with him, he was at the passenger door, opening it for her. She stepped out, accepting his hand as he cordially helped her out of the truck. As soon as she was on the ground, he had her in his arms. They hugged and then kissed lightly before separating.

“Randy?” Mattie said matter-of-factly after he’d released her.

“Yeah, girl?” His eyes were alive in his face as he devoured her with his hungry gaze. Terry recognized that look; it was the same one that Nick was always giving him…and the one that he was always giving Nick.

Mattie smoothed out a wrinkle in her dress, hesitating only a moment before plunging ahead, “There’s something I need to tell you…”

“Uh, gotta go!” Terry chirped, grabbing his duffle bag and scuttling out of there. He had no wish to be around to hear what he knew was coming next. He made a beeline for the locker room, not looking back.

***

Mentally steeling himself, he held his breath as he pushed through the swinging inner door of the locker room. But, strangely, the guys in the locker room were…completely normal…when he strode inside. He was prepared for anything but not for business as usual. The guys grunted at him when they saw him, jerking their chins in a typical jock-bro greeting. A couple of them clapped him on the back as he took up position in front of his locker. One guy asked where Randy was but that was it. It was just like every other day at practice. He pulled his t-shirt over his head, wondering at the mysteries of life. 

When their dad had announced they would be moving to Arkansas, he’d been furious and Mattie had been a wreck. “Arkansas?!” he’d yelled, getting in his father’s face even though the man was almost eight inches taller than him, “WTF? Arkansas?! You tryna kill us or sumthin’? You know how they treat trans kids down there, Dad? They hate us! THEY FUCKIN’ HATE US!”

But here he was in rural Arkansas in the locker room with a bunch of guys and it was…fine? How was that possible? Of course, he reasoned, looking around for Shane and not seeing him, Shane might not have told them about me yet. Once he does…well, we’ll see how normal they treat me then. Being gay is one thing, being gay and a transdude? Ha! I can’t wait!

Even the coach was fine. He patted him on the shoulder, saying, “Saw that video of you in the bar last night, Squire. Man, you got a set of lungs on ya!” He chuckled to himself and sauntered away, flicking his finger across the screen of his iPad, already moving on to the next thing on the practice schedule.

Bemused, Terry trotted out onto the practice field, looking over at the stands where Randy and Mattie were sitting a little apart from the other players’ girlfriends. They were clasping hands, heads lowered. When Terry called out to his friend, telling him he’d better get ready or the coach would get after him, Randy looked up and smiled and so did Mattie. He watched in pleased disbelief as Randy kissed his sister on the lips and then jogged into the locker room to get dressed, giving Terry the thumbs up as he did so.

“She told him ‘bout her boy parts, I see,” a droll voice commented at his elbow.

Terry spun around to find Shane standing beside him, his tattooed arms crossed and a knowing look on his face.

“Where the fuck did you come from?!” Terry demanded. “You weren’t in the locker room!”

“Oh, did ya miss me?” Removing his helmet, Shane made a kissy face, puckering his lips. He laughed harshly when Terry scowled back at him, “Juss got here. Didn’t want ya ogling my big man-cock in the locker room.” Grinning, he added, “Now that I know ya don’t got nuthin’ down there, it makes sense why yer always starin’ at me when I’m naked. Feels SOOOO good having a cock between my legs!” He dropped a hand down and caressed his bulge–it was big even when contained in a rubber cup–goading, “Does yer cop know ‘bout yer pussy, Terilynn? Betcha he’d gonna fuckin’ lose it when he finds out!”

“Why, you–!” Terry lifted his fist to pummel the fucker but stopped when the rest of the team turned to stare in their direction. He lowered his hand, relaxing his fingers and turning the movement into a stiff clap on Shane’s back, hissing, “Watch it. That’s all I’m gonna say. When ya play with fire, yer gonna get burned, bro.”

“Ha! I could say the same to you,” Shane chuckled. “Watch it. An’ watch yer sister, too, while yer at it.” His eyes narrowed as he glanced at Mattie sitting primly in the stands, a sunny smile on her face. “I wonder what the other girls’ll say when they find out she’s a chick with a dick? Ha! An’ I wonder what the guys’ll say when they find out Randy’s fuckin’ her?”

“Don’t. You. Say. One. More. Word.” Terry’s eyes blazed hot and fiery at the mention of his sister and best friend. “I’ll fuckin’ kill you if you do anything–ANYTHING!–to hurt my sister or Randy!”

Shane was unmoved, “Huh? What’s a pathetic lil’ pussyboy like you gonna do to me?” He pushed past him, jogging out to gather with the rest of the guys around the coach. “It’s you who’d better watch out.”

Terry clenched his fists, exercising every last ounce of his self-restraint when he really, really, really wanted to march over and kick the fucking shit out of Shane Davis.

***

Chapter 8

Terry wasn’t stupid. He’d dealt with bullies like Shane many times before and knew exactly what the fucker hoped to accomplish: He wanted to throw him off of his game so the coach demoted him from his position as lead quarterback and promoted Shane instead. If this was Shane’s plan, he had no idea who he was dealing with. Terry had long ago developed a steadfast focus and almost nothing could distract him when he was in the zone. He loved football and gave it one hundred percent of his attention, no matter what. So, while he was inwardly boiling over with rage at Shane, he channeled this aggression, using it to increase his potency on the field.

He was on fire.

It just so happened that the morning’s practice was a scrimmage match. Coach Cribley divided the team into two sides and had them play a practice game against each other. This, he informed them, was a good way to apply their skills in a more or less real world scenario and to learn from their mistakes. He made Terry the quarterback of one team and Shane the quarterback of the other. To make things interesting, he assigned the least experienced players to Terry’s team so that he found himself facing off not only against his nemesis, Shane, but also team stalwarts like Randy. Coach Cribley liked to keep things interesting!

Much to everyone’s surprise, Terry’s side ended up beating Shane’s team soundly.

Terry was like that. First and foremost, he was a team player who put aside his ego in the interest of team cohesion and, more importantly, in service to the ultimate goal: Winning. By trouncing the other team, he proved to any doubters that he wasn’t just an excellent quarterback, he was destined to lead a pro team on the national level.

He knew how to motivate his fellow teammates and played strategy like no one’s business. With just a few words and some well-chosen claps on the back, he helped his brand new team coalesce. Soon, they were working as one, each player doing his best to support his fellow teammates. He made the game seem like a choreographed dance, coordinating everyone’s movement like a precision game of chess. Witnessing it brought tears to the coach’s eyes. Even the girlfriends in the stands, who were normally too focused on their boyfriends to pay attention, were in awe.

It didn’t hurt, either, that Shane was a singularly disagreeable asshole. He might have the skills of a solid quarterback but he lacked Terry’s charisma and preternatural ability to watch the game unfold in his mind’s eye, recalibrating on the fly when things didn’t go as planned. At heart, Shane lacked a strategic mind and couldn’t get his players motivated because they disliked him so much.

It was a sound defeat. When Shane’s team failed to score a single point after two quarters, the coach called the game over and gathered his sweaty players together for a play-by-play analysis. He’d recorded the match on his iPad and fast-forwarded through the footage, highlighting key moments. 

As everyone watched, Terry could feel their admiration and astonishment growing. It was one thing to play the game but quite another to watch it on video. By the time the review was over, Terry’s shoulders were sore from all of the congratulatory slaps he’d received and he’d firmly cemented his status as the team hero. He bowed his head, humbly accepting the praise. 

He could feel Mattie’s eyes on him from across the field. When he looked up and met her gaze, he was glad to see she was surrounded by the other girlfriends, like a princess among her retinue. He grinned back at her, giving her the thumbs up, and she responded with a radiant smile. His heart felt warm and easy, the menace of Shane’s threats completely forgotten. He didn’t even notice that Shane had disappeared, slinking off the field before practice was officially over.

***

As soon as he showered and dressed after practice, he checked his phone for a reply from Baylor. When there was nothing, his panic returned with full force and Randy had to talk him back from the abyss of despair

“Bro,” he soothed, squeezing his shoulder, “Nick’s a busy dude. He prolly had a big arrest or sumthin’. It don’t mean nuthin’. He’ll get in touch when he’s done with his shift.”

Terry’s voice was full of anguish, “Really? You don’t think he’s mad at me, do ya? Last night, he–”

“He’s fine,” Randy said, cutting him off and steering him by the elbow out of the locker room. “He’ll call ya. Don’t worry.”

“Really?”

Randy smiled reassuringly, his bright eyes full of understanding, “Really.”

Terry’s shoulders sagged as he felt the full weight of his worry hit him. He’d successfully pushed it away during practice and was surprised by how heavy it was when it settled over him again. It felt good, though, to have Randy there to talk to. Randy was Nick’s cousin and he knew him well. If he said Nick was busy, then he trusted that was the case. The weight lifted slightly and he smiled, mumbling, “Thanks, bro.”

Randy returned the smile, “No prob.”

They exited the school to find Mattie waiting outside in the hot sun, her parasol slung casually over a delicate shoulder. She sauntered over and Randy pulled her in for a little kiss before slinging his arm protectively around her slim waist. Together, the three of them walked over to Stella’s restaurant across the street for a short staff meeting.

Terry looked around hopefully when they entered the pleasantly air-conditioned space but Nick wasn’t among the fifty or so assembled staff members. Stella, immediately guessing who was on his mind when he scanned the room, swished over to inform him, “Nick won’t be here. He at work.”

Terry lowered his head, “Am I that obvious?”

Stella laughed softly, “Um, yeah. You look like a lovesick puppy.” She chucked him affectionately under the chin, “Chill out, dude. You don’t got nuthin’ to worry ‘bout. I saw Nick with you last night an’ he’s head over heels for ya. He ain’t gonna disappear!”

Terry smiled wanly but couldn’t help feeling forlorn. It needled him that Randy and Mattie were standing right next to him, holding hands and grinning at each other through lowered eyelashes. Meanwhile, he was conspicuously alone, bereft and abandoned by his would-be boyfriend. Where the fuck was Nick when he needed him?

***

The day dragged by without any word from Baylor. Terry became increasingly distraught, his anxiety cresting the highwater mark when he and Mattie arrived back at Stella’s for their shift and discovered that Nick wasn’t there.

Terry’s heart twisted when he saw Stella–who was definitely not Nick–leaning against the bar counter, wearing an apron and studying her smartphone. She looked up when he approached, smiling sadly.

“Where’s Nick?” he wailed, unable to keep the tears from filling his eyes.

“He called in sick,” Stella informed him, still looking down at her phone. “I’m covering for him tonight.”

“WHAAAT?!”

Stella held out her phone to him, saying, “Go on. Take it.”

Confused, Terry accepted the smartphone. His mouth fell open when he saw the screen: On it was a grainy photo of a teenage boy who looked almost exactly like him. Tall and muscular with a cute-handsome face and scruffy brown hair curling out from under an Oakland Raiders cap, he radiated jock energy down to his cut-off t-shirt exposing his ripped physique. Resting on his shoulders was another, younger boy with scrawny arms and knobby legs. This boy had a round face and a fuzzy Afro and grinned back at the camera with a gap-toothed smile, arms wrapped lovingly around the jock’s neck. Even though the boy was quite small, Terry judged he was probably close in age to the bigger kid.

“Who is that?” he asked, brows furrowed. He felt like he was staring at a ghost; the older boy in the photo could have been his twin brother.

“That boy–the one who looks juss like you–” Stella explained, “is the reason I think Nick ain’t here right now. At least, that’s my theory.” She sighed, taking the phone back and patting the counter next to her. He hesitated for a moment before settling in beside her. She looked over at him sadly, “Listen, Terry, there’s a lot you don’t know ‘bout Nick. An’ a lot of it is right here in his photo.” Her gaze flicked down at the phone again before looking away. “I didn’t think ‘bout it until juss now but the way he was lookin’ at you last night on stage reminds me of this here photo. It was taken a couple years before Terrence was killed.”

“Terrence?” Terry’s heart was in his throat. Even the boy’s name was similar to his own.

“Terrence Saliers,” Stella said, nodding. “The love of Nick’s life.”

“Wait,” Terry said, wheels turning in his head as he stared at the little boy in the picture, “that kid on my–I mean, his shoulders. That’s Nick, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, that’s Nick,” Stella confirmed in a hoarse voice. “He was fourteen in that photo. Can you believe it? He was such a pitiful lil’ thing! I still can’t believe he grew up so big! You’d never guess it from this here pic, right?”

Terry examined the little boy in the photo again, skin prickling. Now that he looked at it more closely, he recognized Nick’s features. They were softer and less defined than his face was now and all that hair made him look really different but those eyes! There was nobody else with such beautiful, cinnamon-colored eyes! He stared and stared, unable to quite make himself believe that this little boy with frizzy hair would grow up to be Nick Baylor. Talk about a mind-fuck!

His throat moved up and down for a time before he was able to choke out, “Wh-What happened? To Terrence, I mean?”

Stella snorted, “You mean to both of ‘em? Nick nearly died that night, too. In fact, he woulda died if Terrence hadn’t saved him. Sacrificed his own life in the process.” She wiped at her eyes which had grown misty, “That was Terrence, though. Always lookin’ out for Nick. Loved him like a brother, he did. Well, more than a brother. I’ve always thought Terrence an’ Nick was lovers. Oh, Nick’s never said as much but I can tell, Terry. A woman can tell these things, you know?”

“Yes.”

Terry was biologically female, too, and his gut told him that Stella’s hunch was correct: Terrence and Nick had been boyfriends. He could tell just by looking at the expressions in the photo.

“Terrence was killed? And Nick was hurt?” Terry asked, heartstricken. “By who?” 

Stella gazed back at him with soft eyes. “Look at the photo again.” She held the phone back and Terry studied it more closely this time, eyebrows lifting as he did so. He hadn’t noticed it the first time but another boy had been cropped out of the picture. His face might be gone but his tattooed arm was slung around Terrence’s waist, his hand draped somewhat suggestively over his crotch.

Terry swallowed hard, “Who’s that? Who’s holding Terrence?”

Stella didn’t answer directly. Instead, she took her phone back from him, saying, “The anniversary of Terrence’s murder was only a couple days ago…which, I believe, is the same day he pulled you an’ Mattie over in front of the Spooks Holler church. In other words, it was the first day he met you.” She turned to fix him with her level gaze, “Think ‘bout it, Terry: You show up lookin’ like Terrence fresh outta the grave on the same day that he was killed. Yer a smart kid. You tell me why Nick ain’t here tonight. ‘Specially after the way you shook him last night. The poor man’s fallin’ apart right now.”

Terry exhaled deeply as the pieces of the puzzle came together, thanks to Stella. “Where is he?” he demanded. “Do you know where he is?”

Stella paused, looking off into space. After a long time she said, “I think I know.” She turned to him and fixed him with her soft, brown eyes, “I’m warning you, though, Terry. Don’t go there unless yer serious ‘bout Nick. If yer juss after a lil’ fun in the sack, then I want ya to stay right here in this here bar with me. Better he don’t see you again then you go ‘round messin’ with his heart. It’d kill him, Terry. If yer juss gonna play him, he’s better off dead.”

***

Terry pulled up in front of the church in his truck a half hour later. It was nearly dark out and the nighttime insects were singing overhead in the shortleaf pine trees. The air was cooling off after a particularly hot, sticky day and a light breeze brushed against his cheek, wafting in through the rolled-down window. He caught his breath when he spotted Nick’s motorcycle parked off to the side. So, he thought, Stella was right. She really did know where he’d be tonight. He shifted into neutral and set the parking brake, quietly getting out and stalking toward the front of the building.

The church was old and falling down but still structurally sound. The front doors were slightly ajar, their white paint peeling. A dim light spilled across the threshold, barely an orange sliver in the darkness. He stood on the rickety steps before slowly opening the doors. They creaked slightly, their hinges rusty. He stepped inside, looking up toward the steeple overhead. A faint rustling came from high up, probably bats getting ready to depart for their evening hunt.

He looked ahead into the sanctuary. The pews were covered in pigeon droppings; he could hear their soft cooing coming from the arched ceiling. The air inside smelled stale, slightly mildewy. The stained glass windows were still intact, their panes painted black by the encroaching night. In the front was a raised dais with a small altar over which a white cross was hung. Under the cross, sitting before a circle of yellow roses, was Nick Baylor.

Terry took a deep breath, slowly approaching. Before he even took five steps, though, Nick stated coldly, “Get out.” He didn’t even bother to turn around.

Terry didn’t reply. He just kept walking until he was right behind Nick. The big man was shirtless and sitting on his knees, his head bowed. His tattoos blended together, making his skin look gray. He was so still that he could have been a statue.

Later, Terry would wonder what came over him. The words he’d been rehearsing disappeared from his mind and instead he found himself stating, “Stanky, what the fuck you still doin’ hangin’ around this fuckin’ church? Time to let it go, boy.”

Nick’s whole body went taut as soon as he heard his old nickname and he stood bolt upright, whirling around to confront him, “What. The. Fuck. Did. You. Juss. Call. Me.”

Terry folded his arms, defiantly looking up at the big man whose arms were braced as if he was going to punch him. Lip curled, he taunted, “Stanky. You heard me. Stanky. Stanky. Stanky!” He shook his head, laughing. “You ain’t changed one bit, Stanky. ‘Cept, ‘course yer ugly as fuck now. Shit, bro! What the fuck you go an’ cover up yer body with all them fugly tats for? Shee-it! Ya look like a total freak! An’ yer bald, too. Fuck, what happened to all yer hair? You always had such nice hair!”

Nick stared down at him, mouth falling open. Terry’s body language and the tone of his voice had changed in an instant, almost like he’d become a whole different person. Well, not exactly a different person. More like the same person. Too much the same. It was more than his poor brain could handle seeing this ghost from his past come back to life before him. He sank down to his knees, holding his face in his hands and sobbing.

Terry watched him for a moment, a faint smile on his lips. Finally, he knelt down and took him in his arms, hugging him tightly. “Stanky, stop it. I tole ya I’d be back, didn’t I? When did I ever lie to you? You ‘an me, Stanky. Forever. Remember?”

Nick was blathering, tears and snot running down his face as he looked up into Terry’s eyes. “Terrence? Is it really you? This ain’t a trick, is it? You ain’t fuckin’ with me?”

Terry laughed, “It’s me, Stank. Well, almost.” He kissed Nick’s forehead. “This boy here is me but he don’t know it yet. It’s like…” his voice trailed off in thought, “it’s like this: Time ain’t linear, bro. It’s circular, always loopin’ back around itself. This here body I’m in right now don’t remember you–or me–yet but he will soon ‘nuff. It’s yo job to teach him. Help him remember me, will ya? He’s both me an’ he more than me, too. An’ he needs you, Stank. Needs ya bad. Take care of him for me. Until he remembers. Can ya do that for ol’ Terrence?”

Nick’s cinnamon-tinged eyes were full of wonder, horror, confusion, love and desire. Mouth still hanging open, he nodded and Terry patted him on the bald head, praising, “That’s good, Stank. It’s good to be back again, even if you is uglier than fuck now.” He smiled sadly, shivering, “Well, it almos’ time for me to go. This boy here’s strong an’ he fightin’ to take over again. I’ll be back, though. With yer help. I’ll be back!”

“Terrence!” Nick cried. “Wait! Don’t g–!”

Terry’s mouth quirked and he acted like he was going to say something before changing his mind, “Oh, one more thing, Stank: It’s more than juss me who’s back. He’s back, too. An’ he needs ya juss as much as this here boy do.”

Nick repeated dumbly, “He? You mean–?” His hands clenched into fists when he understood who Terry was referring to. “NO!” he shouted. “I’LL KILL HIM! I’LL FUCKIN’ KILL HIM!”

“Stank. Oh, Stank!” Terry’s voice was full of pity. “That’s all in the past now, Stank. You gotta let it go. He didn’t mean to hurt us. He had no choice. And look! I’m back! It’s all better now. We’s together again. Juss like ol’ times. You gotta find it in yer heart to forgive him, Stank. He deserves to be forgiven.”

“NO!” Nick was shaking with rage by this point. “NO!”

“Yes,” Terry corrected. “Yes. Do it, Stanky. Do it for me, Ok? It’s the only thing I ask: Forgive him.”

With this, he lowered his head and kissed Nick on the lips. No sooner had their soft, pliable skin touched than Terry’s body sagged down in Nick’s arms like a deflated balloon. His eyelids closed sleepily before fluttering open a few moments later. Staring into Nick’s concerned eyes, he panted, “What…just…happened?” He rubbed his forehead, groaning. “I feel so weird!”

Tears splashed down from Nick’s lashes as he replied, “You came home. That’s what happened. You came home.”

Even as he said this, though, Baylor’s heart was a storm of fury and confusion. He had a feeling that things were about to get ugly. Really ugly. 

The past, he realized then, is never really dead. In fact, it isn’t even the past.

***

Chapter 9

Baylor carried Terry in his arms back to his truck and, borrowing his keys, drove him to his housetrailer on the edge of town. Terry was sleepy and out of sorts, feeling like he’d missed something big but had no idea what. He could tell from the way Baylor was acting, though, that something had happened. The big man was teary-eyed and deadly silent, his brow furrowed and his hands gripping the steering wheel like he was holding on for dear life. 

When they pulled up in front of Baylor’s little carport, the cop got out and came around to the side to help him out of the cab. Terry pretended to stumble just so Nick had to catch him. When he landed in his arms, he lifted his head and stole a kiss. Baylor’s mouth was soft and warm, his lips melting into his own.

“I love you, Baylor.”

They both stared at each other in shock after he said it. Terry blinked, trying to figure out how to backtrack. He knew Baylor was conflicted over their relationship and the last thing he wanted to do was spook him by coming on too fast. The words, though, were true. He really did love Baylor with all of his heart. Maybe it was seeing the pic of Baylor as a boy, riding atop the broad shoulders of the jock who looked so much like him, but he felt like he’d known this man for years.

Fortunately, Baylor chose to ignore his proclamation. “Let’s get you inside,” he grunted. “It’s gettin’ cold. Yer shiverin’.”

It was true that Terry was shivering but not from the cold. As a Michigan boy, he’d never describe Arkansas in August as chilly. If anything, the humid night air clung to him like a sweltering blanket. Still, he wasn’t about to dispute anything Baylor said. He folded himself into the big man’s arms and allowed himself to be carried to the little trailer and across the threshold like a new bride. He smiled lazily up at Nick, his eyes full of smoldering love.

“Well, what do we do now?” Baylor asked once he deposited Terry on the floor in the galley kitchen. “Want a beer?” He hesitated, then added, “Oh, right. Yer not even twenty-one yet.”

“I’ll still take a beer, though.” Terry grinned, batting his lashes innocently up at Nick. “I won’t tell nobody.”

“Yer nuthin’ but trouble,” Baylor grumbled. “Anyone ever tell ya that?” Nonetheless, he dutifully retrieved a couple of beers from the half-sized refrigerator and, popping the tab on one, handed it over to him.

Terry clunked his can against Baylor’s before tilting it back and swallowing. Baylor watched him thoughtfully as he did so, noticing for the first time that Terry lacked an Adam’s apple. Unconsciously, he reached up and felt his own; the thick knob of cartilage jutted out prominently from his tattooed throat.

There weren’t very many words. What could they say? All Terry wanted to do was look at the big, beautiful man and that enormous bulge in his pants. But this was also the first time he’d seen the tattoos on Baylor’s chest and he reluctantly tore his gaze away from that bulge long enough to appreciate them.

Unlike his back, which was all about death and decay, his front was about life and procreation. The scene was an ardent stag rearing up with his hooves pawing the air. The deer’s antlers spread across Baylor’s upper chest and shoulders and its magnificent head was in the center of his chest, right between his chiseled pecs. The stag’s body–like the corpse’s on his back–continued down below his navel but Terry’s view of the rest of the tattoo was blocked by Baylor’s jeans. In an arc across his pecs, the word, “STAGHORN” was stenciled. Pine branches ran up his neck but his arms were covered by the pinnate leaves and velvety berry clusters of the staghorn sumac.

Those tattoos were so hot!

Terry studied them, getting more and more aroused. He was dying to see the rest of them below Baylor’s belt buckle! Somehow, though, he knew now was not the time. There was too much hanging in the heavy, humid air between them. Too much history. Too deep of feelings.

And something else.

Something important that Terry needed to share with Baylor.

Yeah, it was time.

He couldn’t delay any longer. He had to tell Baylor before they became intimate. Waiting any longer would just lead to trouble.

He took a deep breath, screwing up his courage, voice trembling as he said, “B-B-Baylor?”

“Yeah?” The big man was devouring him with his sultry gaze in much the same way that Terry had just been devouring him. “What’s up?”

Terry lowered his head. “There’s, uh, sumthin’ I gotta tell you. Sumthin’ important ‘bout me you gotta know.”

Baylor leaned forward, beer can nestled between his thick fingers like the shaft of a hulking cock. “Yeah? What’s that?”

Terry’s hands were shaking and he started to nervously lift his ballcap to run his hand through his hair but stopped. He opened his mouth, struggling to make himself speak. Finally, he choked out, “It’s better if I show ya.”

“Ok.”

Baylor was seriously intrigued now and stepped forward. The bulge in his overly tight pants was truly enormous. Worse, a dark spot was forming under the ridge of his thick glans, plastered obscenely against the overstretched denim.

Terry wouldn’t look at him as he took a deep breath and plunged ahead, lifting his hands to remove his Detroit Tigers hat. As Baylor stared, he lowered his head to show him his bald spot. “I’m goin’ bald, Baylor!” he wailed, voice cracking like an adolescent. “I’m fuckin’ goin’ bald!”

Silence.

Finally, Baylor exhaled deeply, laughing, “Is that all? Fuck, I thought ya were gonna tell me you ain’t got no cock or sumthin’! WTF, bro? You think I care if yer bald? Have ya looked at the top of my head? Do you see any hair up there?”

“It’s not funny!” Terry complained, stung. “I hate myself! I can’t even stand to look at myself in the mirror any more! I’m so ugly! I look like an old man already an’ I’m juss eighteen!”

To shut him up, Baylor kissed him. He worked his probing tongue between his lips and pulled him against his muscular bulk. Terry barely had time to set his beer aside before Baylor bore down upon him, throwing his entire weight onto him and driving him breathlessly downward. His giant cock, even encased in his jeans, felt like a battering ram against his tummy. Terry moaned, unable to resist when Baylor pulled his cap off his head and tossed it aside. He kept bearing down on him until he was laying flat on the kitchen floor and Baylor was smothering him, his mouth and tongue consuming him utterly. His passion was white-hot, blistering and full of abject need.

“You.”

“Belong.”

“To.”

“Me.”

Unstoppable, Baylor drove himself relentlessly down on top of him, undulating his hips and thrusting his bulge against Terry’s crotch. Terry was being pulverized, his pussy oozing hot juices, his cunt lips on fire with desire. He wanted Baylor’s cock inside him. He wanted to ride that cock! He had to ride that cock!

Baylor’s rough hands moved up his shirt. He paused for a moment when he grabbed Terry’s large, fleshy nipples. Terry hadn’t had top surgery yet but he’d been taking male hormones since puberty so his female parts hadn’t developed much. Nevertheless, he still had some breast tissue and very large nipples. Baylor paused, feeling his breasts curiously, and Terry froze, worried about his reaction. His concern proved to be unfounded  because, if anything, his big tits only seemed to turn Baylor on even more. He twisted his nipples cruelly and Terry cried out. It was a cry of delight as much as pain, though. 

They writhed together on the floor, Terry’s fingernails shredding Nick’s back and Nick’s erection grinding ferociously into his pussy through the fabric of his shorts. They both ended up orgasming together, Nick jettisoning cum like a gushing fountain, soaking the entire front of his jeans in a wet spot that quickly grew to the size of a dinner plate. For his part, Terry’s cunt spewed its share of eager juices and the front of his shorts were stained just as dark. His engorged clit looked like an erection and he stared down at himself proudly, taking in the sight of its effulgent outline. Not as impressive as Baylor’s epic bulge but not bad for a transman. Nick stared at it, too, obviously taking it for a cock. A small cock, perhaps, but a cock nonetheless. 

There was blood in Terry’s fingernails. Propping himself up on his elbows beneath Nick, Terry apologized, “Oh, God, Nick! I hurt you! I’m so–”

Nick put his finger over his lips, smiling down at him as he gently lifted the hem of Terry’s t-shirt, exposing his chest. His areolas were already turning purple from angry bruises and his nipples were swollen to more than double their usual size. “Fair’s fair,” he murmured, smirking at his handiwork. “Yer gonna wanna keep those things covered in the locker room on Monday.” He stood up, holding out his hand, “Now, c’mon. It’s time for bed.”

He hauled Terry to his feet and led him through the narrow living area and past the tiny bathroom into the bedroom at the back of the trailer. There, he tossed Terry a small towel and a pair of boxer shorts from the top drawer of his dresser. Then he grabbed a pair for himself, turning out the light before stripping down and changing. Terry tried to steal a glimpse of his cock but was disappointed because it was too dark. He was dying to see–and touch–that giant anaconda! Why was Baylor being so covert? It didn’t make any sense.

In the end, he was forced to set his burning curiosity aside as Baylor threw back the covers and invited him into his bed, folding his big, brutish, tattooed body around him and spooning him. Terry started to drift off to sleep with that big cock pressed into the crack of his big butt. He grinned sleepily as he felt it inflate but was disappointed when Baylor fell asleep before they could take it any further. 

One of these days he was going to finally lose virginity! 

Just not tonight, apparently.

Before falling asleep, he remembered to text his father, telling him he was spending the night at a friend’s. Then he took one of Baylor’s huge, heavy arms and draped it over himself, nuzzling into the fragrant armpit.

***

He awoke to Baylor kissing him. The morning light streamed through the windows over them, blurring Baylor’s tattoos and turning his honey-colored skin golden. His cinnamon eyes and cinnamon scent filled Terry’s nostrils. They kissed and kissed, Baylor punishing his pussy by rubbing his achingly hard bulge against his mound. Terry’s clit was so hard it felt like it would pop! He opened his mouth, inviting Baylor’s tongue inside and hoping that the big idiot would take the hint and stick his big cock inside him, too.

Baylor didn’t.

After writhing together and kissing deeply, they both came in their underpants again like the night before. Afterwards, Baylor grew shy, covering his soaking crotch with his big hands. He clambered out of bed and staggered into the bathroom, tossing Terry a washcloth and towel and telling him to shower first.

“I’ll make us some breakfast,” he grunted, swatting Terry on the butt.

Terry badly wanted to shower with him but realized as soon as he opened the door to the miniscule bathroom that this would be impossible: The shower was only big enough for one. He sighed, closing the door behind himself and turning on the water.

While he was showering, he started feeling out of sorts for some reason. When he looked down at himself, he worried that his tummy seemed bloated. Normally so lean and muscular, it was unusually swollen. Worse, he was cramping. He doubled over, clutching his stomach and moaning. What the fuck was going on? Was this food poisoning? But, no, it couldn’t be that. The pain was too far down and felt deeper than his stomach. He finished showering, gingerly putting on the boxers that Baylor had left out for him. The cop’s waist was bigger than his but the underwear fit over his big butt so Terry didn’t complain too much. He missed his trusty jockstrap, though!

“What’s wrong?” Baylor asked, looking over his mounded shoulder at him when he exited the bathroom. He was frying eggs over the narrow stove. “You Ok?”

The truth was Terry felt awful and was peevish on top of it but he forced himself to smile wanly, “Don’t worry. ‘M fine.” He sat down on a stool in the breakfast nook, folding his arms and scowling.

“You don’t look fine,” Baylor observed, moving over and placing his hand on his forehead, “but you don’t got a fever. Did you eat sumthin’ bad yesterday?”

“No,” Terry grumbled, reaching out to grab at Baylor’s crotch, “but I want to. I’m real hungry for sumthin’ real bad. Real big, too. When’re ya gonna let me at it?” He licked his lips, wanting to suck off that bloated behemoth in the worst way.

Baylor laughed, dancing away from him. The magnificent bulge in his boxers grew even more magnificent as he did so. “Soon ‘nuff, lil’ pup. Soon ‘nuff.”

“Yer no fun.” Terry thrust out his lower lip, pouting. “I’m dyin’ over here!”

“Poor baby.” Baylor returned to the stove, shoveling a mountain of eggs onto a plate and handing it to him. “Now eat up. I’m gonna go rinse off.”

“Can I watch at least?” Terry asked. When Baylor shook his head, he grumpily took the plate and grabbed a fork from a cup on the table, stuffing the steaming eggs into his mouth.

Baylor was such a fuckin’ prick tease!

***

Chapter 10

Wearing only matching pairs of boxer shorts, they lifted weights out in the carport after breakfast. Baylor had a shed that opened onto the carport and tucked away inside was a full gym setup. He wheeled out a bench and weight rack, motioning for Terry to lie down on the cushion while he loaded the bar with weights. He was impressed with how much Terry could lift, his perfectly-plucked eyebrows lifting in surprise when he managed to press over two hundred pounds on the first set.

“What?” Terry demanded when he noticed that Baylor had grown silent, eyebrows drawn together; the big cop was staring down fixedly at his chest. Still feeling irritable, Terry had to resist the urge to cover his swollen nipples when he huffed, “Well? Tell me, dammit!”

Baylor’s face was stone-cold serious, “Terry, don’t lie to me: Do you do ‘roids?”

“What?! Where’d that come from?” Terry was indignant. “Of course, I don’t do steroids!”

Baylor kept silent, still studying him. Finally, he said, “Yer real built. An’ you can lift an awful lot of weight for yer size. Plus, look at yer pecs! Them’re a pair of bitch tits if I never saw ‘em. That tells me yer doin’ ‘roids.” He sighed heavily, “‘Roids’re illegal, Terry. And dangerous!”

Terry couldn’t help it; he laughed. Steroids? WTF?! Him? But then he looked down at his chest again, taking in the sight of his small, yet succulent, breasts and large nipples. Seeing them from Baylor’s perspective, he realized that steroid use was the logical conclusion. Baylor didn’t know he was trans yet so, of course, he’d think he had bitch tits!

He took a deep breath and, sitting up on the bench, looked back at his big, beautiful cop. “Baylor, do you trust me?”

Baylor lowered his head, unhappy. Nonetheless, he said, “Yeah, I do. I trust ya.”

Terry smiled. “Then believe me when I tell ya I ain’t doin’ no steroids. I juss got big tits is all.”

“Ok.”

“Now let’s lift.”

Terry lay back down on the bench and knocked out another three sets, adding fifty more pounds by the end. Baylor spotted him, still looking unhappy, but he didn’t bring up steroids again. The whole time, though, he didn’t take his eyes off his big tits.

***

After the workout, they sat side by side on the bench together, bodies drenched in sweat. It was early in the morning and yet the day was already really hot. Cicadas chirred endlessly from the oak trees overhead and sunlight felt scorching. All but oblivious to the heat, Terry leaned against Baylor, savoring his musky scent and loving the sensation of his slick skin against his own.

“Baylor?”

Nick turned his cinnamon eyes on him, face suffused with both affection and desire. “Yeah?”

Terry looked down. “I’m ready.”

“For what?” Baylor pressed before sighing, “If yer talkin’ bout sex, then I ain’t–”

“Not sex,” Terry admitted, feeling extremely bashful.

“What then?”

In answer, Terry lifted his Tigers cap off his head and tapped his bald spot. “I wanna look like you, Baylor. I wanna be bald. Completely bald. Will you shave my head?”

Baylor was silent for so long that Terry almost asked him what was wrong but then he heard that telltale sound again. It was the same sound he heard the first day he’d met Baylor when they were sitting beside each other on the couch: The sound of fabric stretching to the shredding point. 

Suddenly breathless, Terry glanced down and saw the monster between Baylor’s thighs rearing its ugly head. The man’s cock was so stupendously hard, his poor boxers were on the verge of tearing off of his rock–hard body.

Baylor’s throat moved up and down. He was so close to tossing Terry down on the ground and fucking his big, fat ass that it scared him. With difficulty, he managed to rein in his desire and stood up unsteadily on his feet. “Sure,” he grunted in a husky voice. “C’mon.”

He led Terry inside the trailer, his erection thrusting out more than a foot in front of him. Terry stumbled along behind, drinking in the sight of Baylor’s broad, naked back and perfect, pert buttocks encased in those strained boxer shorts. He wanted badly to rip them off of him but the desire to have Baylor shave his head was even greater. 

Shaving his head? 

Really?

He almost couldn’t believe what he was about to do.

It both thrilled him and terrified him. He’d never shaved his head before, had always been vain about his mop of thick, curly hair. But that was before he’d started to lose it. Now that he was balding, he hated his hair because it reminded him of how temporary everything was. Hair. Youth. Looks. It was all just temporary, fading away before he’d even had a chance to really savor it. Life was just too cruel. Better to be bald as a cueball than be tormented with the slow and inexorable loss of his beautiful locks.

Baylor pushed him down on a stool and padded into the bathroom, returning a moment later with a pair of clippers and a razor. Placing a towel around Terry’s shoulders, he asked, “You sure ‘bout this? You really ready to lose all yer hair?” 

Terry swallowed. Baylor’s erection was at eye level because he was sitting down and he had to fight the urge to pull off those tented boxers with his teeth. He swallowed again, hands clammy and cunt dripping. “Yeah, I’m ready. Take it all. Make me bald.”

Baylor nodded and got to work. Terry braced when the clippers roared to life in the cop’s hand and he grabbed the edge of the stool when he placed the buzzing blades against his scalp. 

A few moments. 

That’s all it took. 

And it was gone!

His long, thick hair tumbled down around his wide shoulders, landing in a fuzzy pile at his bare feet. He gulped air, tears filling his eyes. Losing his hair was both exquisite and incredibly heartwrenching. He wasn’t prepared for the cool breeze that caressed his newly bald pate or the weightlessness that came from having no more hair on his head. He thought he’d barely notice it but being bald was unmistakable and he was filled with an overwhelming sense of loss.

He stared at the strands of his precious hair clinging to the towel around his shoulders, grimacing when Baylor massaged his buzzed scalp with a wet cloth before dabbing it with shaving gel. In a moment, he was drawing the razor over his head, erasing every last trace of hair and leaving Terry utterly and devastatingly bald. 

Or mostly bald at least.

“Wait!” Terry complained when Baylor held out a hand mirror and he gazed back at himself. “Why’d you leave a tuft of hair on top? Shave it off! I look stupid!”

“Nah, it stays,” Baylor laughed, massaging his still-tumescent crotch. “It’s hot.”

“It is not!” Terry lifted a hand and plucked at the little bit of hair clinging to the front of his forehead. “Baylor! Take it off!”

“Nope.” Baylor folded his brawny arms. “I like you this way. ‘Sides, you’ll lose it soon enough. Yer hairline’s receding, too, ya know.” When Terry tried to grab the clippers, he stopped him, chiding, “Stop it! Juss give it a few days. It’ll…grow…on ya.”

“Ha fuckin’ ha,” Terry pouted, unable to stop staring at his reflection. He didn’t even recognize himself anymore! Being bald was surreal. It changed his appearance completely.

“You look better,” Baylor pronounced, patting him on the top of the shiny head. “More grown up. More mature. And, truss me, you’ll never wanna go back to havin’ hair now. Bein’ bald’s the way to go.” He slapped him on the shoulder, removing the towel from his shoulders, “Now do me. My back needs to be shaved.” He laughed, admitting, “I can’t reach it on my own.”

Before Terry could respond, he sauntered into the bathroom, emerging a moment later wearing just a towel around his slim hips. The terrycloth was tented noticeably before him as he approached. With a sly grin, he turned and presented him with his back.

Terry stood up, dying to pull down that fucking towel and see Baylor in his full, potent glory. In the end, though, he gave in and grabbed the clippers, razoring off the surprisingly thick coat of fur from Baylor’s shoulders and back. As he did so, the man’s lurid tattoos were exposed in stark relief and Terry found himself admiring the finely-rendered lines of the corpse and phallic-shaped mushrooms. He realized they seemed less creepy now that he knew Baylor better. Yeah, it was weird but they suited him.

He worked his way downward, dutifully shearing off every last trace of hair from Baylor’s muscular back. His brow wrinkled when he saw the long, bloody score marks from his nails the night before and he was careful not to reopen them with the clippers. Baylor didn’t seem to mind the wounds, though. In fact, there was pride in his voice when he grunted, “You nailed me good, bro.” Terry grinned self-consciously and continued shaving. His breath caught in his chest the farther down he worked. His mouth went dry as he approached the significant rise of Baylor’s manly buttocks jutting out from beneath the soft folds of the towel.

Buzz. 

Buzz. 

Buzz.

Closer.

Closer.

Even closer.

Would Baylor do it?

Would he lower the towel and let him shave his beautiful booty?

As if reading his mind, Baylor leaned forward against the wall and spread his legs wider. The towel shifted, its drape increasing as it slipped further and further downward.

An inch.

Then another.

And then it happened.

It really happened!

He couldn’t fucking believe it.

His heart caught in his throat as Baylor allowed the towel to slip down off his ass completely, only catching it when it was wrapped around his muscular thighs.

Terry stared.

Baylor’s ass was as epic as his cock!

Big.

Firm.

Voluptuous.

Swollen.

And yet rugged.

And so square.

And covered in…

…mushrooms?

The corpse and mushroom tattoos continued below Baylor’s hips. Etched over each plump buttock was a macabre but artistically accurate design of a pelvic girdle. More mushrooms, long and fat and very fecund, curled out and around the bones of the corpse’s pelvis, working their way inward, disappearing very suggestively into the shadowed cleft of Baylor’s ass. The fungi looked for all the world like a dozen fat, throbbing cocks aimed right at his–

Baylor spread his legs even wider and Terry’s eyes widened when he got the full view of the man’s buried butthole.

Baylor’s hole!

He was seeing Baylor’s hole!

And what a gaping hole it was!

Shocked and stunned, Terry gaped almost as wide as that beleaguered butthole.

He’d never seen anything like it before! And he’d seen more than his share of hole during his late night Internet porn searches. (Men’s buttholes were one of Terry’s fetishes.)

Nick Baylor’s hole was so big and wide it almost wasn’t even a hole any more.

No, not a hole at all.

It was a man-cunt.

That gaping, vertical slit was more than four inches wide.

Terry was as aroused as he was confused–Baylor was a consummate top! How could he have a cunt this huge? Unless he–but no! Terry knew–just knew!–Baylor was no bottom slut who’d senselessly stretched out his asshole until it was utterly and completely destroyed. No, Nick Baylor was many things but Terry was confident in one thing: He was a top, through and through.

If that was the case, though, how–?

And why–?

“What’s wrong?” Baylor’s gruff voice interrupted his reverie. “Why’d you stop? Go on. Shave my ass, too.”

Terry jumped, realizing he was standing there frozen, holding the still buzzing clippers in his hand. He shook himself, belatedly recognizing the knowing tone in Baylor’s voice. 

And then he understood.

He set his jaw, blinking back tears.

He knew why Nick had done this, had shown him his ugly man-cunt.

This whole thing was a setup.

Nick didn’t need anyone to shave his back; there were attachments to extend the reach of a pair of clippers so he could shave himself. In fact, Terry was quite sure that Nick had just such an attachment hidden somewhere in his bathroom cabinet.

No, Nick hadn’t asked him to shave his back because he needed the help.

He’d done it as recompense, repaying Terry’s vulnerability in kind. Terry had touched (and aroused) him by asking him to shave his head so he had decided to return the favor, inviting him to see his own private shame: His ruined butthole.

Staring down at that gaping man-cunt, Terry had no idea how he knew it but he understood what Nick was showing him and knew without any doubt one thing:

Baylor had been gang-raped.

Brutally and without mercy.

Over and over and over.

Until he was completely and utterly destroyed.

And now he had the asshole to show for it.

A permanent and gaping memento that ensured he’d never forget.

Nick Baylor wasn’t just showing him his hole.

He was exposing his heart. And his heartache.

It nearly killed Terry.

“Nick, I–” he started to say but stopped when he felt the strangest sensation between his legs. It was like when his pussy was wet with desire but he wasn’t turned on right now. Far from it! But if he wasn’t turned on, then why was he–

He looked down, jerking in surprise when he saw red.

Rivulets of blood were running down his thighs.

What the fuck?!

He was bleeding out of his pussy!

***

Chapter 11

Terry grabbed the towel off of Bayor’s waist and threw it around his middle, concealing the blood. The cop barked in protest, immediately dropping his hands to cover his erection. He kept his back turned to him, his shoulders and neck gradually turning scarlet beneath his tattoos. Terry barely noticed, though; he was too busy skedaddling. 

He swept his truck keys off the counter and bolted out of the trailer, getting into his truck and squealing out of Baylor’s driveway. He drove recklessly home, screeching to a halt in front of his family’s single story ranch house and, cinching the towel securely around his waist, sneaked out of the truck, hoping the neighbors weren’t watching.

Much to his relief, his father wasn’t home, having been called into work even though it was Sunday. Only Mattie was there. She jumped up off the couch as soon as he barged in, nearly tossing her Cornflakes in the air. Her eyes went from his bald head (with the ridiculous tuft of curly brown hair on top) to his bruised and swollen nipples.

Mouth forming an O, her voice came out high and tremulous, “Terry? What happened to you? What’d you do to yer hair?”

“I don’t got time for this!” he snapped, dropping the towel and showing her his bloody thighs. “I gotta see a doctor! Something’s wrong down there!” He jabbed his finger down at the crotch of his (actually, Baylor’s) underwear. The gray fabric was stained dark red.

Mattie’s eyebrows lifted at first but then understanding settled over her and she folded her arms, patiently explaining, “You don’t need a doctor, you big dope! You’re having your period!” She shook her head in disbelief, “Geesh! I don’t even have ovaries and I know that!”

Terry’s lips formed the word, ‘Period?’ and Mattie nodded, a sarcastic smile creasing her lips. Terry looked down at his bloody crotch, unable to square what he was seeing with the female menstrual cycle. Finally, he stammered, “B-B-But I can’t have a period! I’m a boy!”

“Aw, c’mon, Terry!” Mattie chided. “You can’t be serious. Haven’t you ever had a period before?”

He shook his head, still staring down at himself in disbelief. “No! Of course, not! I started hormone therapy when I was twelve! How could I have had a period?” He lifted his panic-stricken face and fixed her with his pleading brown eyes, “Mattie! How could I get a period? And right now of all times? Me an’ Nick’re ‘about to fuck! Oh, fuck! How the fuck can I let him fuck me with a bloody pussy?!”

The sarcasm faded from Mattie’s face as she reached out and put her hand on his shoulder. “Terry, bro? Calm down, Ok? This isn’t the end of the world. It’s just a period. It’ll be over in a few days.”

“A FEW DAYS???!!!” he wailed. “I CAN’T HAVE A BLOODY PUSSY FOR A FEW DAYS!!! I GOTTA PLAY FOOTBALL! THE FIRST GAME IS THIS WEEK!”

Mattie took him by the shoulders and shook him, forcing him to meet her gaze. “Terry!” she barked. “Stop it! You can still play football and have a period at the same time! Girls do it all the time. Well, maybe not play football but they play other sports when they have their periods. You’ll be fine. Trust me.”

He stared at her, feeling hapless and out of sorts. Now the mysterious cramping and bloating from earlier finally made sense. They weren’t because of something he ate, they were a sign of the changes going on within his female anatomy. He’d never experienced a period before and was completely unready for the experience. He naively believed he’d never have a menstrual cycle because of the male hormones he took. For the first time in his life, he felt the same feelings that his fellow biological females felt every twenty-eight days or so when they weren’t on the pill.

And he hated it.

He felt like his body had betrayed him as he stared down at his crotch with distaste.

How could his cunt do this to him right now?

It wasn’t fair!

IT WASN’T FUCKING FAIR!

“I’m going to the drugstore to get you some tampons,” Mattie informed him, stalking off to her bedroom to throw on a dress and some shoes. When she emerged again, she plucked his truck keys out of his hands and headed to the door, calling out, “I’ll be back in fifteen minutes.” 

The door closed behind her before he remembered that she wasn’t old enough to drive legally yet. By then, though, it was too late to stop her because she was already pulling out of the driveway. He stood in the living room, feeling helpless, the blood slowly oozing out of his female orifice.

He was still standing there in shock when she returned. She sighed heavily, taking him by the arm and steering him into the bathroom. “Here,” she said, holding out a package of tampons. “Do you need my help inserting it or can you do it on your own?”

Numbly, he accepted the box, staring at it uncomprehendingly. He honestly was at a loss. His mother had died before he came out as trans so he’d never had a woman around to teach him about these sorts of things. He felt completely adrift, unmoored and disconsolate.

When she saw how helpless he was, Mattie knelt down and pulled down his underpants. Looking up from his bloody cunt, she said, “We need to wash you up first.” She took a clean washcloth out of the drawer next to the sink and wet it under the faucet before dabbing at him, slowly and gently wiping away the blood. And then she read the instructions on the back of the tampon box, familiarizing herself with the procedure before walking him through it, step by step.

By the end, he’d learned what it felt like to have a tampon stuck up inside him. He shifted around, whining, “It feels weird, sis! I hate it!” He thrust out his lower lip, pouting, “You don’t know how lucky you are! You really got it made, you know that?”

“Shut up. I don’t wanna hear it, bro.” Mattie pursed her lips, straightening and washing her hands off in the sink. “That’s the only time I’m gonna stick a rag inside yer twat. Got it? Yer on yer own from now on. Remember, you gotta change it every four to eight hours.”

“Yer so mean!”

Mattie rolled her eyes and was about to make a scathing retort when there was a loud pounding on the front door. They both jumped, exchanging worried glances as they heard Nick Baylor’s booming voice, “Terry! Hey, Terry! Did you forget I need you to drive back to the church to pick up my motorcycle?” He pounded on the door again, adding, “Come out! I know yer in there!”

Mattie narrowed her eyes, accusing, “You spent the night with Nick last night, didn’t you? Really, bro?!” She exhaled harshly, staring at his bruised nipples with sudden understanding. “You fucked, didn’t you?”

“No, we didn’t! I mean, yes, I did!” Terry hissed before clarifying, “Yes, I spent the night at Nick’s and, no, we didn’t fuck. We juss, you know, sorta messed around a little.” He added defiantly, “He’s my boyfriend, ain’t he? So what if we spent the night together?”

“Does Dad know?” Mattie pressed. “He would never let me spend the night at Randy’s!”

“Yer not eighteen yet,” Terry pointed out. “Dad can’t tell me what to do no more.”

“I’d like to hear you tell him that,” Mattie replied drolly. “I’m sure that would go over well. It’s a good thing he’s not here right now!”

“HEY!” Nick yelled, interrupting them. “STOP HIDING FROM ME! I’M AN OFFICER OF THE LAW, REMEMBER?!”

Terry’s eyes got wide and he turned to Mattie, pleading, “Sis? Hey, sis! You gotta help me out! I can’t see him right now!” He gestured to his naked pussy, still slightly bloody after Mattie’s ministrations. “Not like this!”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” Mattie huffed, pulling their father’s bathrobe off the hook on the door and handing it to him. “Apparently, I have to do everything for you today. Go on. Put this on and go to your bedroom. I’ll tell Nick you’re sick and can’t come out to play right now.” She grabbed his blood-soaked underpants and the towel he’d stolen from Baylor and shoved them inside the dirty clothes hamper before pushing Terry out of the bathroom.

***

Nick wouldn’t take no for an answer.

He stuck his head in Terry’s room five minutes later, fending Mattie off with one hand while holding the door open with the other. Terry was hiding in his bed and stared up at him like a little mouse that had just been cornered by a cat.

“You!” Nick yelled, stepping into the room and slamming the door in Mattie’s face. “You don’t hide from me. Got it?”

He was red-faced and covered in sweat after apparently running the three miles from his trailer to Terry’s house. At that moment, Terry regretted that Baylor knew where he lived. The day would have been much easier on him if that weren’t the case.

Pulling the covers over his face, he wailed, “Leave me alone! I’m sick!”

There was a pause and then he felt the bed sag beneath Nick’s weight as he settled down on the mattress beside him. A moment later, Nick peeled the blankets away and took Terry’s face in his hand, forcing him to look him in the eyes. “If you’re sick, then lemme take care of you,” he reasoned, cinnamon-colored eyes softening with concern. “You don’t juss go runnin’ off! We’re together now, Terry. We’re a couple. Couples do things for each other.”

Terry knew it was mostly his messed up hormones but he couldn’t stop his eyes from filling with tears, “I-I-I know that,” he stammered, hating how high and pathetic his voice sounded, “b-b-but now’s not a good time. I-I-I need to be alone.”

“Why?” Baylor demanded. “Tell me it ain’t ‘cuz of what you juss saw back at my place.” He couldn’t even make himself say the words, Terry noticed. Clearly, Baylor was very sensitive about his ruined hole. Indeed, the next moment, the big man’s eyes filled with tears as he pleaded, “Tell me, Terry. Please, juss tell me you don’t hate me.” He stifled a sob, “I can’t take it if you hate me or think less of me ‘cuz of…what happened…to me.”

Heart breaking, Terry sat up and took Baylor in his arms. At first, Nick froze but then he melted into his embrace, lowering his bald head against the nape of his neck and crying. “Nick,” Terry soothed. “Hey, Nick? Of course, I don’t hate you! How could I hate you…for that? If anything, I love you even more for showing me. I could never hate you!”

“Then why’d you run off like that?” Nick’s deep voice was muffled against Terry’s hairy chest.

“I already tole ya!” Terry protested. “It’s ‘cuz I don’t feel so good. It ain’t ‘cuz I’m mad at ya or think less of you!”

“Then let me stay here with you.” Nick lifted his head, looking up at him with his big, brown eyes. He’d never looked more vulnerable or beautiful as at that moment. “I want to be with you, Terry. Don’t force me away.”

“Oh, Christ!” Terry sighed, brushing more tears from his eyes. “Listen to you! Up until now it’s been me following you around like a lost puppy. I can’t get used to you actin’ this way. Yer ‘sposed to be the strong, manly one.”

“That’s only an act,” Baylor admitted. “Inside, I am a lost puppy. The truth is I need you, Terry.” He blinked, tears falling from his long lashes. “I really, really need you an’ I’m scared that my need is gonna scare you away.”

“Aw, Nick!” Terry lowered his lips and kissed him. “I’m not scared. I’m glad. I’m glad we feel the same way ‘cuz I really need you, too.”

Nick drank in his mouth like a man lost in the desert guzzles water, kissing him long and deeply. When they finally parted, he said, “Then don’t ever run off on me again. You hear?”

Terry nodded, “I hear you. And I won’t do that again.”

“Good.” Nick sat up, smiling, and looked around, “Now where were we? Oh, yeah, I was showing you my–”

“Nick! Not here!” Terry looked around wildly. “My dad could be back at any minute! We have to behave ourselves.”

Baylor thrust out his lower lip, imitating Terry’s behavior from earlier. They both laughed and Nick got up off the bed, excusing himself to use the bathroom. Terry pointed him in the appropriate direction and sank back into his bed, a silly smile plastered across his face.

In such a blissed out state, he was completely unprepared for Baylor’s sudden entrance and abrupt change in demeanor. Gone was the soft vulnerability of a few minutes ago; it had been incinerated by a blazing sense of righteous outrage.

“Nick?” Terry asked, sitting up in the face of such smoldering fury. “What’s wrong?”

“This is what’s wrong!” Nick held out a syringe and vial of testosterone. Terry stared at them, realizing that Baylor must have found them inside the medicine cabinet when he’d gone to use the bathroom. Baylor’s face clouded with fury as he stated coldly, “You tole me you ain’t doin’ ‘roids, Terry!” He thrust the syringe and vial in his face. “If that’s true, then what’re these?!”

Oh, shit. Terry thought as his gaze flicked from the syringe and vial to Baylor’s angry face. I guess we’re doin’ this now. Fuck. Well, no time like the present, I guess.

“Well?” Baylor demanded when he remained silent. “Tell me the truth! You said you’d never lie to me! You tole me to trust you!”

Terry pushed Baylor’s hand away and sat up in bed, throwing the covers off as he did so. “Nick,” he said calmly, “there’s something you don’t know ‘bout me. I was gonna tell ya a while ago but I didn’t have the balls. Literally. So, I guess I’m juss gonna have to show ya.”

With that, he unfastened the belt on his bathrobe and pulled open flaps, revealing his pussy in all of its feminine glory.

***

Chapter 12

Chapter 12

There was complete silence as Baylor stared down at Terry’s crotch. As the seconds dragged by, Terry started squirming on the bed, trying to resist the urge to cover his pussy. Does he hate it? he wondered worriedly. Not all gay guys were into pussies after all. 

But then he saw the fiery look in the big cop’s eyes and heard the familiar sound of straining fabric. Terry’s eyes slid down Baylor’s torso and landed on the growing bulge in his sweatpants. Fuck! That bulge was bigger than ever and growing larger all the time! How the fuck was Baylor that hung? He was beyond human down there!

And then Baylor’s whole body was convulsing. He rocked back on his heels, throwing his head back and moaning loudly as his crotch vibrated in spontaneous orgasm. And then there was cum–and lots of it! It soaked through his sweatpants, turning the dun-colored fabric a dark black. Loads of milky white jizz trickled out everywhere. By the time Baylor’s intense cumming was complete, he was a total mess. He sank down onto his heels, panting and red-faced.

“So?” Terry asked finally. “You’re Ok dating a transman?”

Baylor looked up at him, still panting. “Fucker. You goddamned fucker! You need to stop messin’ with my head–both of ‘em!” He jerked his chin down at his mounded crotch, making it clear which head he was referring to. “FUCK! If you get any fuckin’ hotter, I’m not gonna be able to walk no more ‘cuz I’m juss gonna be spewing cum all the time. Fuck.”

Jubilant, Terry swung his legs over the bed and jumped down onto the floor, getting behind Baylor and hugging him. “Does this mean yer finally gonna fuck me, Stud?” He kissed his ear. “My pussy’s all ready for yer big, fat cock!”

Chuckling, Baylor grabbed him and wrestled him onto his cum-soaked lap, bouncing him up and down like a bear cub. “Jesus, bro! I wanna but we can’t do it yet.”

“Why?” Terry’s lower lip was sticking out. He wanted to be fucked so bad!

Baylor smiled sadly, explaining, “Before we do it, you need to be on PrEP.”

Terry’s brow furrowed for a moment before he put two and two together. Then, “Yer…poz?”

Baylor nodded, “‘Fraid so, Pup.”

“When you showed me yer, um, hole this morning,” Terry continued, feeling his way over this new, uncertain and very emotional terrain, “you were raped, right?” Another nod and Terry swallowed, “And infected with HIV at the same time?”

“Yup.” Baylor smiled, hugging him tighter. “Yer a smart lil’ pup, Pup!” He let out a long, slow exhale. “I was too scared to tell ya so I had to show ya. An’ now maybe you can understand why I haven’t fucked ya yet, right? Even though my viral load is undetectable, I don’t wanna take a chance an’ infect ya, too. Plus, there ain’t no condoms big ‘nuff for my big man so that kind of safer sex ain’t an option. You gotta be on PrEP. An’ ya gotta get tested regularly.”

Terry threw his arms around Baylor’s bull neck, hugging him tightly, “Don’t worry! I’ll go to the doctor tomorrow and get a prescription. Me an’ Mattie already have an appointment anyways. Plus, we gotta get our new drivers licenses.”

“Damned straight you do!” Baylor nuzzled him, rubbing his hands over Terry’s bald head. “We’re gonna make an Arkansas boy outta ya yet!”

In hindsight, it seemed odd to Terry that Baylor was so matter of fact about his HIV status. The man had been sexually assaulted and infected as a result. If this had happened to Terry, he’d be devastated and bitter. Beyond devastated, actually; he’d be completely ruined. What he didn’t know is that Baylor had been devastated and bitter. The infection only added to the trauma of the assault, a constant reminder of being violated that would never go away. It was like being psychically branded. His world had shrunk as a result and he’d become a shadow of a man.

Now, though, Terry was seeing the birth of a whole new Baylor, a man who didn’t give a fuck about the past and refused to be defined by it. Such was the spark and the magic Nick felt when he was with Terry. His heart, long stagnant and frozen, was blooming red and fiery with new life and passion. And Terry was the catalyst, the reason hope and happiness had returned to Baylor’s life.

***

Monday morning football practice came around and Terry was glowing. He couldn’t wait to get his prescription for PrEP later that day and finally get fucked by Baylor’s big cock. His virginal pussy was all juicy at the thought! Of course, he’d have to wait a few days before having sex which meant the soonest he’d get pounded would be the weekend. Still, even if he had to wait a few days, he couldn’t think of a better way to celebrate his football team’s impending victory that Friday night. Saturday would find his crotch permanently locked onto his big cop’s cock!

“Hol-ee shee-it!”

He looked up to find Randy staring at him in disbelief. In his excitement over Baylor, Terry had forgotten that his teammates hadn’t seen him with a shaved head yet. He grinned, rubbing his hand over his bald pate. “You like?”

Randy’s mouth was hanging open. “Normally, I think white guys look dumb with shaved heads but–”

“I’m not white!” Terry complained. “How many times do I have to tell you that?”

Randy shook his head, “Ya look white, bro, an’ that’s what counts. Plus, as I was sayin’ before you interrupted me, I think you look super cool bald. That lil’ tuft of hair, though…bro, what’s up with that?”

Terry shook his head, unable to stop from reaching up and plucking at the little sprig of hair up there, “Ask Baylor ‘bout that, bro. He’s the one who left it there. The fucker won’t let me shave it off, neither!”

Randy let out a low whistle, “Yer man’s shavin’ yer head, huh? You know what that means, dontcha?”

“No. What?”

“It’s like a dog pissin’ ‘round the yard. Nick’s marked you as his territory, Terry. It’s his way of tellin’ other guys–and gals–to stay away from ya. Next thing he’s gonna do is tattoo ya somewhere prominent. Somewhere ya can’t hide so everyone’ll know you belong to him.”

Terry fell silent at this, feeling his female parts pulse. He’d just changed his tampon and was glad it absorbed more than just blood because he was going to be soaking down there if he didn’t think about something besides Nick tattooing him.

“I see yer already planning out the design,” Randy observed, smirking at his reaction. “The thing is, bro, Nick’s in charge an’ he ain’t gonna let ya choose either the location on yer body or the design of the tattoo. Yer body belongs to him now, remember?”

“Ungh!”

Randy found this almost subvocal moan highly amusing and chuckled to himself, clapping Terry on the back. “C’mon, man. Get yer head in the game. We’s at practice, remember? There’ll be time to jump Nick’s bones later. Right now, you need to focus on football.”

He steered him by the elbow into the locker room where Terry got undressed in a daze. He couldn’t stop thinking about the thrill of being turned into Nick Baylor’s personal plaything.

***

When he jogged out onto the field, there was no sign of Shane Davis. He wondered about the absence but didn’t dare say anything; he didn’t want to inadvertently jinx his good fortune by having the asshole show up beside him, whispering words of anti-trans malice in his ear. 

Coach Cribley, however, dropped a bombshell after everyone had gathered. “Davis is off the team,” he informed them, obviously not too broken up about the loss of the second string quarterback. “He’s joined the Jefferson City Roaches. Word is he’s their new quarterback.”

This news was met with a mixture of relief and jubilation from the other players and Terry felt his shoulders relax. He hadn’t realized how on edge he’d been, always on guard against Shane’s next attack. He sighed, bumping against Randy’s shoulder and smiling. Randy looked over at him and winked.

“Remember, guys,” Cribley continued, “we face off against the Roaches this Friday in our first game of the season. Rumor has it their team is full of a bunch of tough bastards this year. If we’re gonna beat ‘em, we need to train hard this week!”

The other players grumbled amongst themselves, clearly unhappy. Terry turned to Randy, curious. “What’s wrong?”

Randy spit off to the side. “The Roaches’re the worst team from the worst school, bro. They’s a bunch of big, fat, stupid rednecks who play dirty and smell even dirtier.”

“Oh.” Terry looked around, assessing his teammates. They weren’t, he realized, the biggest or toughest group of guys around. Oh, they were big brutes, alright, but nothing special compared to other high school football teams. If the Roaches were big and tough and played dirty…well, Friday’s game wasn’t in the bag like he’d hoped a few minutes ago. Winning against them would take work and a lot of it!

But Terry was a winner, through and through. He actually got off on challenges, the bigger and more insurmountable the better. He’d played against teams that were physically bigger and stronger before and had faced off against plenty who didn’t play by the rules. The fact that they would be playing on the Roaches’ home turf made the challenge even greater but he was up to it. He’d figure out how to win because he’d sooner die than hand Shane Davis a win.

“Well,” he grunted, “let’s get to it ‘cuz we got a victory celebration to plan for on Friday night after the game!” He raised his fist in the air, shouting, “LET’S GO, CATS!” The rest of the guys followed his lead, pumping their fists. “LET’S GO, CATS!!!” echoed across the field, stirring the hearts of everyone who heard it.

***

Later that morning, Terry and Mattie drove to Bentonville, the location of the nearest Department of Motor Vehicles bureau and their new physician’s office. They needed to get their drivers licenses updated and were excited to meet their new primary care doctor. Finding a doctor had been tough, especially now that they were living in a deep rep state that banned gender-affirming care. They’d been forced to rely on an underground network of physicians who served trans patients. Their new doctor had assured them that their privacy would never be compromised and that they’d continue to receive the puberty-suppressing hormones they required.

Being eighteen years old, Terry was in a slightly better position than Mattie because he was a legal adult. Even so, most states wouldn’t openly treat trans youth until they turned nineteen. He was counting down the days until he could finally get a historectomy. He never wanted to have another period again!

Initially nervous, they were put at ease by the doctor’s calm, steady demeanor. They’d developed such a tight bond with their doctor in Michigan that they’d been incredibly sad to leave their care. This new one, however, did everything she could to reassure them. Even better, when Terry asked her for a prescription to PrEP, she surprised him by offering the injectable form of the drug right there in her office, rather than forcing him to go to a pharmacy for the pills.

“Give it a few days before you engage in penetrative sexual activity,” she warned as she inserted the needle in his arm. “And take these as a precaution.” She handed him some sample pills. “We’ll make sure to test you when you come in for another injection in two months.”

He smiled and popped one of the pills in his mouth, swallowing it without water. The prospect of Baylor’s big cock dangled enticingly before his very eyes.

***

Unfortunately, the trip to the DMV office didn’t go as smoothly. After waiting in line forever, the lady behind the desk informed them that their passports weren’t sufficient; they’d need to show her their birth certificates. Terry and Mattie exchanged worried glances. Unlike their passports which had been issued under the Biden Administration and were marked with their preferred genders, their birth certificates showed their gender assigned at birth. 

No amount of arguing helped. In the end, they were forced to drive back home and get their birth certificates. As luck would have it, they were waited upon by the same lady when they returned to the DMV office. She stared at the certificates, eyes flicking from the documents to their faces and back. When understanding finally dawned, her lips pursed into a thin line and she disappeared behind the counter for a few minutes.

“Here you go, Terilynn and Matthew,” she said as she handed them their temporary permits. She all but tossed the paper at them.

Terry clenched his fists but Mattie’s soothing hand on his shoulder stopped him from making a scene. They had been through this same scenario so many times! By this point, Mattie was inured to the indignity of it even as Terry’s outrage kept right on building.

They drove back home in stony silence, Terry grinding his teeth and Mattie staring wistfully out of the passenger side window.

***

Back in the breakroom at Stella’s restaurant, Terry told a sympathetic Baylor about their degrading experience at the DMV, concluding, “You know what would make me feel better?” He didn’t wait for Nick to reply before saying, “If I could finally touch yer cock.”

Baylor laughed and then shocked him by unzipping his jeans and pulling down his boxers. Terry’s mouth fell open. The cop’s giant cock snagged on the waistband of his underwear before finally snapping loose to bob heavily up and down before his startled eyes. It was rapidly inflating, growing ever thicker and longer until it surpassed two feet in length and more than four inches in diameter. It was a truly massive member!

The stag tattoo covering the front of Baylor’s body was an apt one, he realized then. Just as he’d expected, the stag’s body continued below Baylor’s belt. Etched in blue and black ink, it reared up on its hind legs, its crotch superimposed over Nick’s such that Nick’s giant dick looked for all the world like a stag’s cock, such was the artistry and realism of the tattoo.

Nick Baylor was hung like a beast!

A total fucking beast!

“Well, go on!” Baylor urged. “Touch me before somebody walks in!”

Terry looked around nervously, mouth and pussy watering. It was only a few minutes before their shift started and anyone could enter at any moment. Somehow, though, this only added to his excitement. 

He got down on his knees and spun his ball cap around backwards, opening his mouth as wide as he could to take in that beautiful cock. He even managed to reach out and slick back Baylor’s long, thick foreskin before the cop stopped him.

“Uh, uh,” he chastised, pushing Terry’s mouth away. “I said ‘touch,’ not ‘suck’!”

“Aw, Baylor!” Terry whined. “Why n–?”

His voice cut off at the sound of the door opening behind him. He scrambled to his feet as Nick frantically tried to stuff his oversized erection back into his pants. He couldn’t do it, though, and Terry was forced to stand in front of him, blocking that throbbing member from the interloper’s view.

“What’re you two doing?” Mattie asked, eyes narrowing suspiciously as Nick moaned in pain behind Terry. He’d managed to snag his foreskin in his zipper and now his eyes were watering in agony. It hurt like fuck!

“Nuthin’,” Terry mumbled, tying an apron around his waist and using the action to grant Nick more cover. “Juss talkin’.”

“Then why’re your cheeks so red?” Matte pressed, craning her neck to look at Baylor. “And why does he look like he’s gonna pass out?”

“Juss shut up an’ get outta here,” Terry ordered, pushing her out of the door. “And don’t come back in until we’re done!”

He slammed the door shut, blocking out her squawk of protest, and tried to help Nick liberate his foreskin from the zipper. The big cop cried out in pain as he yanked down on it, leaving a long, bloody streak on the reddened flesh on his shaft.

“It’ll be Ok,” Terry soothed, puckering up to kiss the wound.

Nick stopped him, admonishing, “Don’t! It’s too soon. Give the PrEP more time before you go lickin’ up my bodily fluids.” When Terry complained, he stuffed his cock back in his boxers and gingerly zipped up his pants, “I said yer nuthin’ but trouble an’ I meant it! Now get ready for yer shift!”

“But yer wounded!” Terry protested, patting Nick’s bulge softly. “Are ya gonna be Ok?”

“I’ve been through worse,” Nick huffed, shoving him away. “Now shoo!”

***

Terry didn’t have any balls but nonetheless felt like he had a pair of blue ones, such was his ever-growing state of horniness. Even starting the first day of his senior year at a new high school didn’t distract him from his desire to finally spread his legs and get fucked by Baylor’s huge dick.

While he might be distracted, the rest of his classmates were not; his reputation as a top jock preceded him and he entered school already a legend. His skill and drive on the field had made him the hero of the football team and his teammates all vied for his attention, acting like a bunch of lovesick puppies whenever he was around. He found it endearing but the guys’ girlfriends were nonplussed. More than a few of them complained that their boyfriends were hotter for Terry than they were for them. 

His stellar reputation even rubbed off on Mattie as more and more girls approached her to ask if they stood a chance with Terry. She got tired of telling them that, yes, Terry was really gay and he already had a boyfriend. Somehow, though, the girls didn’t want to believe this was true. Terry was like that: He appealed to all genders, not just those of the male persuasion.

For her part, Mattie was content to hold hands with Randy between classes and quietly lead her own life, far away from her jock brother’s shadow. She and Terry were very different people after all. She was studious and introverted, more content reading a book than being the center of attention. Terry, on the other hand, soaked in attention like a luxurious bath. He loved swaggering down the hallways with his posse of football players by his side. He’d never felt happier and didn’t miss the irony of the fact that he’d finally found his ideal life deep in the red state of Arkansas. He quickly forgot all about Shane Davis and the humiliating experience at the DMV; he was happy and that’s all that mattered.

He might have forgotten about Shane but the opposite was not true. The tall, tattooed jock couldn’t wait to face off against Terry. He’d planned long and hard, finally arriving at the perfect strategy to take him down and had laid his trap well. Quitting the Wildcats and joining the Roaches was only part of his brilliant scheme. There was more. So much more! He couldn’t wait for Friday night!

Terry was caught by surprise when he jogged out onto the grass under the bright lights of the football field. He knew the Roaches were legendary but he was unprepared for just how large and menacing the guys on the other team were. The crowd booed the Wildcats, something that Randy had warned him about; the Jefferson City fans were renowned for their rudeness. Terry barely heard the booing, though; he was too busy studying those towering walls of muscle dressed in their black and silver uniforms. Standing in the center and wearing a cocky smirk on his handsome face was Shane Davis. The taste of sweet victory was already filling his mouth as he stared down at Terry.

Shane was undeniably handsome in a feral sort of way. His football tights hugged his lean physique, accenting his toned muscles and towering stature. His tattoos were visible snaking up his bare arms and up his neck. Terry wasn’t sure but it looked like the dude had gotten even more tattoos since he’d last seen him. His forehead was now completely covered as was most of his scalp. Terry swallowed, unwillingly turned on. He had a weakness for tattooed men!

Shane was surrounded by a bunch of tough redneck bros who looked, well, a lot like him, only bigger and meaner. The lone wolf found his pack, Terry thought with a distinct sense of foreboding. He didn’t know why but he had a feeling that, even if his team beat the Roaches, he would be seeing this pack of mangy wolves again. The menace seemed to waft off of the guys like a musky scent, dangerous and alluring at the same time.

Terry lifted his chin defiantly at Shane and then ignored him. He needed to focus on the game, not on what the future might hold. Indeed, his mind was already flying through a number of defensive and offensive strategies. After a few moments, he found one that he was fairly certain would work and he paced over to consult with Coach Cribley.

The coach listened to him carefully, nodding and smiling as Terry’s plan unfolded. Slapping him hard on the shoulder, he praised, “That’s my boy! I knew you were the right one to lead this team! Now go out there and show the Roaches how it’s done!”

Terry grinned and jogged back to rejoin his teammates. They’d been watching his interaction with the coach closely and were very curious to learn what he was scheming. Placing his hands on the shoulders of two of the guys who were closest to him, he leaned into the huddle, saying, “Ok, guys, this is what we’re gonna do…”

Baylor and Mattie watched the game unfold from the visitors section of the bleachers. They shared Terry’s nervousness when they saw the size of the opposing team. Nick was especially worked up, never having seen Terry play before. His anxiety spiked after the first play when the Roaches’ offense broke through the Wildcat’s defensive line and Shane Davis nearly sacked Terry. Somehow, though, Terry managed to pass the ball to Randy at the last second. Randy caught it and ran, making it nearly to the Roaches’ ten yard line before being tackled. Behind him, Terry danced out of Shane’s grasp, leaving him in the dust.

“Relax,” Mattie soothed at Baylor’s sharp intake of breath. “Terry was faking him out. He’s just toying with them, trying to make them overly confident. Just watch and see. Nobody gets the better of Terry on the field.”

Sure enough, Terry egged the Roaches on, teasing their offense in his effort to draw them out. By playing such a tempting target, they singled him out and forgot about the rest of the Wildcats. This proved to be a fatal error. By the end of the first quarter, the Wildcats had scored three touchdowns and led the Roaches by fourteen points.

It took the Roaches another quarter to figure out what the Wildcats were doing but it was too late. By then, they were already more than thirty points behind. After halftime, they switched to a new strategy but Terry quickly figured it out and used it against them. When the final buzzer rang, the Wildcats were ahead by over sixty points and the Roaches had never succeeded in sacking him once. Terry had shown them who’s boss!

On fire with victory, his teammates dunked him in a cooler full of Gatorade and he rode atop their shoulders as they did a lap around the field. The Roaches’ fans watched in stony silence while the smaller contingent of Wildcats’ fans cheered raucously. 

Nick Baylor was by the far the loudest of the lot. He picked up Mattie and held her high in the air, whooping, “He did it! He really did it!”

“Told ya,” Mattie replied, smoothing her dress after he set her back down on the ground. “Terry’s gonna go pro. Just you watch.”

***

Terry took his time getting dressed after the game because the locker room wasn’t as private as the one at his high school and he was forced to change in front of both his teammates and the Roaches. Worse, the showers were an open bank against the back wall without any partitions or curtains. He swallowed uncomfortably as Shane Davis stripped out of his uniform and, stepping out of his jockstrap, twirled it around his index finger provocatively, his beer-can cock swinging around thick and proud for all to see. His eyes were locked onto Terry’s.

It was a silent challenge; he was daring Terry to disrobe in front of everyone.

Terry didn’t take the bait and instead headed into the restroom where he waited in a stall until everyone had showered and dressed before emerging once again. He dressed in a hurry, skipping the shower even though he was dirty, sweaty and stinky. He was used to it, though. This wasn’t the first time he’d avoided the showers after a game.

Randy had already gone in search of Mattie by the time he stalked out of the locker room. Terry had told the coach he wasn’t riding back to the school in the bus with the rest of the team and instead waited eagerly for Nick to appear. It was Friday night and he’d been on PrEP long enough to finally have sex. His pussy was on fire, dripping hot juices in anticipation of riding Nick’s big cock.

Sure enough, a tall silhouette was waiting for him, backlit by the bright lights of the parking lot. Terry shielded his eyes, Nick’s name dying on his lips when he realized it wasn’t his boyfriend.

“What the fuck are you doin’ here?” he growled, annoyed to find Shane Davis waiting for him.

“Relax, bro,” the lanky jock laughed, sauntering up and holding out of a small package, “I come bearing gifts. Call it a little token of my esteem, sumthin’ to congratulate ya on yer victory tonight.”

Terry’s eyes narrowed; he refused to reach for the little bag, demanding, “What is it?”

“Open it and find out,” Shane said, dangling the bag in front of him.

Certain he wouldn’t like whatever was inside, Terry nonetheless accepted the gift. When he reached into the bag, his fingers touched silken fabric and his eyebrow lifted in surprise when he realized what it was: A pink, lacey pair of panties. And not just any kind of panties, it was a thong! A tiny, pink thong!

Shane’s guffaw of triumph had scarcely exited his mouth when it was followed by the oof of defeat. He folded over, clutching his stomach where Terry had just punched him. The wind knocked out of him, he toppled backward and fell behind a low shrub, landing on his back in the dirt.

He groaned once and fell silent.

Terry was tempted to leave him lying there unconscious but his conscience pricked him when he started to walk away. Against his better judgment, he turned and, stepping behind the shrub, knelt down beside the supine jock. He held his hand under Shane’s nose, trying to detect breathing. When he didn’t feel anything, he lowered himself down, tilting his ear to Shane’s nostrils.

And then he was caught!

Shane took his face in his big hands and kissed him deeply, forcing his hot tongue between Terry’s teeth before he knew what was happening. Terry’s eyes widened and he windmilled his arms, collapsing on top of Shane’s broad chest as Shane continued to aggressively dominate his mouth.

After struggling for a few moments, Shane finally released him and, wiping a hand across his mouth, praised, “God, I’ve been wantin’ to do that since I first saw you.” He laughed, propping himself up on his elbows, “It was so worth getting sucker punched! Shit, I’d even let ya trounce my team ten more times as long as I get a chance to kiss ya again!”

Ruffled, confused and–he hated to admit it–very turned on, Terry stared back at him, “Wait. You…like…me? As in, yer hot for me? Really?”

“I wouldn’t go that far, bro.” Shane couldn’t stop laughing. “I mean, I do think yer a total a-hole. The way you strut around, actin’ like a little rooster, really chaps my ass. It ain’t right!” He held up his hand, forestalling Terry’s sharp retort, “But yer hot as fuck, bro, and I’d do anything to stick my tongue in yer pussy.” His eyes narrowed, “Tell me an’ be honest, bro. Does yer cop boyfriend know how to go down on that fuckin’ gorgeous pussy of yers?” He flicked out his long, moist tongue provocatively, adding, “Wanna know what it feels like to have a real man’s tongue between yer legs? C’mon, bro! Lemme go down ya! Lemme lick yer pussy!”

“I’m not a girl,” Terry stated coldly. “Stop treating me like one. I’m more of a man than you’ll ever be.”

Shane seemed amused by this. “‘Course ya are, bro. That’s obvious.”

“It is?” Terry was taken aback. He’d never expected Shane to agree so readily. “But didn’t you juss try an’ give me a pair of girl’s panties?”

“God, you sure are dumb sometimes, bro!” Shane reached around him to pick up the discarded thong. “This was never meant for you.” He stuck the frilly garment in Terry’s face, pointing at the sizable pouch. “This here’s for a man’s package, dude. This thong,” he stated, punching his thumbs into his chest, “is for me, not you!”

Terry stared at the thong, realizing that Shane was right; it might be frilly but it was most assuredly made to hold a man’s sizable equipment. He rubbed his temples, feeling aroused and disoriented at the same time. “I-I-I don’t get it,” he finally stammered. “What’re you tryna tell me?”

Shane rolled his eyes. “Ain’t it obvious, bro? I want you to put this thong on me. Think of it as my new uniform, Ok? Once you put it on me, I’m gonna wear it as my badge of honor.”

“‘Badge of honor’?” Terry repeated, thoroughly flummoxed. “But…why?”

Shane grinned, “That’s easy: I want the whole fuckin’ world to know I’m Terry Squire’s bitch!”

***

Chapter 13

Terry hated how turned on he was. By all rights, he should’ve been revolted by Shane Davis–he was a transphobic redneck after all! What could be less unappealing than that? And yet he couldn’t deny the tingling in his jockstrap. Shane’s kiss had been electric and the thought of him wearing only a girly thong…Ungh! It really popped his cork. Even so, he wasn’t so far gone that he was ready to surrender his common sense and take Shane up on his proposal…yet, anyway.

“Yer crazy if you think I want anything to do with you,” he spat, struggling to push himself off of the jock. “I’m with Nick and I ain’t gonna cheat on him!” He hesitated, though, when he felt something hard and fat and long pressing into his butt. He was still straddling Shane and the jock was sporting a raging hardon inside his jeans and using it to his advantage by thrusting it provocatively into Terry’s butt.

“Yer hot as fuck, dude,” Shane purred, grasping him by the hips and pulling him down onto his erection. It throbbed against Terry’s ass, a truly man-sized piece of meat (which meant it was less than half the size of Nick’s beast. Still, by any measure, Shane was hung and girthy.) He reached up and took Terry’s face in his hands, pulling him down for another long, sloppy kiss. When he released him again, Terry was red-faced and flustered and utterly aroused. 

Shane watched him through heavily lidded eyes, lips quirked in a smile that verged upon a sneer. “I ain’t gonna lie, Terry,” he murmured. “I ain’t a nice person. And I fuckin’ hate ya so much I can’t stand it. I really wanna take ya down, expose ya, humiliate ya an’ make ya suffer. But I also want ya so bad I can taste it. Out there on the field tonight, I loved bein’ beaten by you. I’ve been boned up ever since that first play. Ha! I don’t know why! It’s so fucked up but I fuckin’ loved bein’ owned by you. Part of me REALLY wants everybody to know yer better than me. And what better way than to be yer bitch? I’ll let ya do anything to me. Anytime. Anywhere. The more humiliating the better. How’s that sound?”

Terry’s head was swimming. All he could feel was Shane’s boner shoved against his butthole and those big, strong hands gripping his arms. The fucked up part was he could easily bust his way free, kicking the jock’s ass in the process. Why didn’t he do that? What kept him here, sitting on Shane’s lap, especially when the words coming out of Shane’s mouth were complete nonsense? Why? The truth was simple: He liked how he felt right now.

“So, what’s it gonna be?” Shane prompted, grinding his cock so hard against his butthole it hurt, “Are ya gonna accept my offer? I gotta warn ya before you do, though: I ain’t to be trusted. Not for one goddamn minute. You got it? I ain’t yer friend and swear I’m gonna take ya down someday. So only say yes if yer Ok with us stayin’ enemies.” He held up finger, adding, “And there’s another condition: If I give you my body, you give me yers, too.” He gestured to his ripped, tattooed physique, “This is all yers. Hundred percent. But yer body’s mine, too. Hundred percent.”

This snapped Terry out of his reverie and he looked down at Shane, saying, “No! I’d never do that! That’s just fucked up.”

“Ha! ‘Course it is!” Shane laughed, still holding him by the hips. “That’s the point. If I’m gonna be yer bitch, you gotta give me sumthin’ on trade. It don’t mean that I’ll do anything to ya right away.” He grinned impishly, “I’m juss keepin’ my options open, is all.”

“Fuck, why do you have to be such a fuckin’ stud?” Terry grumbled, his resolve wavering. “I hate that I want you juss as bad as you want me. It’s fucked up!”

“True dat!” Shane agreed, grinning wolfishly. “I really do hate you as much as you hate me, bro, prolly even more. But I also find you juss as hot as you find me. That’s the very definition of fucked up. Look, I didn’t ask for this, Ok? It’s like ya cast some sorta spell on me er sumthin’. And, as much as I hate you, I hate the thought of bein’ yer bitch even more. But I want it, too. Want it in the worse way!”

Terry forced himself to calm down and think clearly. “I can’t say yes,” he said finally. “But I’m not sayin’ no, either. Not yet, at least.”

Shane started to frown at the first part but grew hopeful by the end. He couldn’t stop grinning. With his mouth so wide and toothy, he really did look like a rabid wolf, all that was missing was the slaver dripping from his jaws. And this, the truth be told, was precisely why Terry found him so irresistible. When he was with Shane, when he was being touched by Shane, groped by Shane, kissed by Shane, Shane became the only thing he could think about. He forgot about Nick. About football. About his principles. He even forgot he was trans. When he was with Shane, drowning in his hate and desire, he was just a man. A man with needs. A man who wanted to fuck and be fucked. A man who wanted to dominate and be dominated. How weird was that?

As he wavered, he heard Nick’s deep voice calling him and remembered that the big cop was waiting to take him out of town for a special weekend getaway in Eureka Springs. Terry’s dad had even given Nick his permission to take Terry, a touching gesture that made him feel like he was finally being treated like a grownup. This was the weekend that he would finally lose his virginity to Nick Baylor and he couldn’t wait!

“Listen, bro,” he said, removing Shane’s hands from his hips and standing up. As he stared down at him, the shrubbery cast a dark shadow across his body, hiding half of his face. All he could see was the jock’s feral, red eyes glaring up at him from the dirt. It both chilled and excited him. “Can I have a raincheck? I gotta go meet Nick right now. I promise I’ll think it over and let ya know soon.”

Those feral eyes narrowed unhappily but Shane nonetheless agreed, picking up the discarded thong and stuffing it in his pocket. His erection was plastered against his jeans, a hot, throbbing masterpiece of masculinity. Terry eyed it hungrily, feeling weak in the knees. He was sorely tempted to jump back down on top of the jock and fuck like crazy.

But he loved Nick and the last thing he wanted to do was hurt him, especially when he knew what a big deal it was for the big, stoic cop to finally bare his soul and let another man into his heart.

He couldn’t hurt him.

He wouldn’t hurt him.

“I will wait,” Shane snarled, a wolf deprived of his dinner. “But not forever.” He staggered to his feet, jeans tented obscenely before him and stalked off into the night.

***

Terry crept up on Nick, using all of his stealth skills and tried to jump onto his back from behind. Even so, the sexy cop spun around and caught him in mid air. Rather than holding him around the neck, Terry found himself cradled in Nick’s arms.

“Yer awful noisy,” Nick teased. “I heard ya comin’ miles away.”

“Yer gonna hear me cumming from a lot closer in ‘bout an hour,” Terry quipped, kissing him on the lips. He giggled as Nick squeezed him in a bear hug, stifling him against his big, muscular chest. He was shirtless as usual; Nick liked to think of his tattoos as a sort of clothing and therefore preferred to go around wearing as little as possible. This suited Terry who was always pleading with him to walk around naked since his tattoos covered every part of his body except his penis and face. For some reason, Nick had yet to take him up on the dare.

They kissed and fondled each other for a while. Finally, Nick pulled away, saying, “Yer lips taste like Gatorade and ya smell like a locker room. Didn’t ya shower after the game?”

“Would you shower in front of everyone if you had cunt between yer legs?” Terry rejoined.

“Fair point,” Nick said, licking him along the jaw line. “Though I could watch you shower for hours and never get tired of it.”

Terry laughed. “Yer not most guys, ‘specially not most jocks. I’m crazy for playin’ team sports. I shoulda taken up marathon running instead. Havin’ a cunt’s a bonus in long distance runnin’ an’ ain’t nobody around to see ya naked afterwards. Problem is I’m too fat for runnin’.” He was shivering from the sensation of Nick’s long, hot tongue licking his face.

Nick sighed. “Yer ‘bout as far away from fat as possible. Yer thicc. There’s a difference.” When Terry stuck out his lower lip at this, he added, “I like it when yer stinky an’ I love that yer a quarterback.” He stroked Terry’s sticky bald head. “It’s hot. Plus, yer scent drives me wild!”

“Can we go now?” Terry pleaded. “I can’t wait a minute longer! I need you to fuck me so bad I can taste it!”

“Sure, Pup,” Nick replied, carrying him to his motorcycle and handing him a helmet. “Let’s go fuck.”

***

Arriving at the quaint Victorian inn just before midnight in Eureka Springs, they didn’t waste any time getting naked after checking into their suite of rooms. But, after a lot of heavy petting, they only ended up half-fucking that night.

Terry was a bit disappointed he didn’t lose his pussy virginity even though he was the one to blame. Despite the flow from his period having stemmed, he still needed a tampon to catch the few drops that remained. Nick insisted he didn’t care if his pussy was bloody but Terry still had his principles. The thought of his boyfriend going down on him grossed him out. He wasn’t about to let Nick lick or fuck him down there!

“Hey, I’m the one who’s poz,” Nick pointed. “It’s my blood you should be worried ‘bout.” His hulking cock fully was engorged and waggling before him. Terry had never seen a cock that huge. It still gave him goosebumps every time he saw Nick in all of his glory.

Terry lowered his head, ashamed. “I’m sorry.”

Nick reached out and lifted his chin so he was forced to look him in the eyes. “There ain’t nuthin’ to be sorry about, Pup. We’re here. We’re naked. And we’re gonna fuck. What could be better?”

Terry smiled wanly, still feeling like his body was betraying him. Why did it have to keep reminding him that he’d been born a girl? 

Nick chuckled and took him in his arms, wedging his throbbing beast between Terry’s legs and moving upward until it was rubbing provocatively across his pussy. The friction of that huge dick, burning like a poker, was enough to make him trickle juices of aching love. 

When Terry moaned, Nick reached back and cupped his ass in his hands, squeezing his very large buttocks. “Ahhhh, now this is what I’ve been dying to do since I first saw you!” He squeezed harder and Terry moaned louder. “Now that’s a man-ass!”

“It’s kind of girly, actually.”

Nick shut him up with a kiss before pulling back and admonishing, “Will you stop? You’re a man, dammit! In every way! There ain’t nuthin’ girly ‘bout you!”

Terry gave him a hangdog grin. “Thanks. That’s nice of you but I know the truth.”

Nick shook him. “Stop it!” he insisted. “What’s wrong with you? Where’s the cocky jock I know and love? You just kicked the Roaches’ asses back to last week and showed the whole fuckin’ world that yer a total fuckin’ badass. Now act like it!”

“This is me, Nick.” Even Terry didn’t know why he was feeling so melancholy. By all rights, he should be celebrating. After all, he had just won a really tough game and he was about to get fucked for the first time in his life…by the biggest dick in the world. Who wouldn’t be ecstatic? “I’m a freak. I’ll always be a freak.”

“Hey,” Nick said, holding him tightly. “Hey! Yer not a freak! Yer my man! Yer always gonna be my man.” He kissed him again, growing more and more passionate. His giant cock grew even bigger and fatter, astounding Terry. Just when he thought it was as big as possible, it swelled even larger!

At a certain point, Nick succeeded in working him up so much he forgot about his sadness. The friction of that monster cock as it thrust over his aching pussy lips was electric. And then Nick pushed him onto his back and put his legs over his broad, tattooed shoulders. Spitting in his palm, he slicked up his dick before reaching out to trace a finger over his butthole. Terry sighed, relaxing down there and inviting Nick to finger him. He’d never had anything inserted into his butthole before, not even his own finger, and he was surprised by how much it turned him on. He moaned, scooting down the bed toward Nick and thereby pushing that thick finger in deeper.

Nick flipped him over so that Terry was on all fours and wedged his giant erection between his thighs. It pushed up and against his pussy, rubbing fiercely and making Terry see stars. Biting his ear, Nick fumbled with the bottle of lube on the bed beside them and slicked up his cock. Then he backed up and urged Terry to flare his big buttocks.

“Ah, fuck!”

Nick’s cockhead was pressing against his little butthole!

Nick reached down and wormed a lubed-up finger into his vagina, pulling out the tampon and flinging it across the room.  And then he simultaneously thrust between Terry’s moist pussy lips with his thick finger while pushing inside his man-cunt with his cock. Terry’s eyes rolled back in his head and he felt his anus stretching wide to accommodate that behemoth. Nick tickled his G-spot–how he’d located it so unerringly gave Terry goosebumps–and Terry cried out in delirious pleasure as both his pussies got fucked at the same time.

The big cop’s massive, muscular, sweaty body clamped over him. Nick wrapped an arm around his chest and pushed his monster cock deeper inside until he could bite Terry’s ear again. Terry’s wails of happiness grew more ecstatic as Nick fully entered him, thrusting his cock and finger as deep inside as possible.

And then he stopped.

It was magical.

Nick held him, nibbling his ear and licking his neck while his cock and finger wiggled inside him every so slightly. Terry had expected that the big man would brutalize him, slamming into his butthole with ever-growing ferocity until he came in a volcanic climax.

But this was even better.

“I love you, Terry.”

Terry mewled like a little kitten, feeling Nick’s love throughout his body. Nick held him tightly, protecting him and satisfying him. His big, strong, muscular body was as merged with Terry’s as was humanly possible. They were like one, melded and molded to each other. Terry felt tears flood his eyes. They dripped down on the pillows beneath him.

Nick started rocking back and forth, in and out, his finger and dick in perfect sync. Terry whimpered, feeling his pussy lips swelling with arousal. He was so pent up that his first orgasm came after only a few seconds. It was quickly followed by a second and a third. With each orgasm, Nick increased the depth and power of his thrusts, working Terry higher and higher until his body was vibrating with orgasms nonstop. Only when he felt like he couldn’t take any more did Nick give in and allow himself to explode inside him.

Terry braced, feeling that giant gun shoot load after load inside him. He was almost disappointed that Nick wasn’t fucking his vagina because–and he’d never felt this before in his entire life–he would have loved to bear Nick’s babies. Nick was such a big, beautiful stud that Terry would even consider going off hormones and getting pregnant. He couldn’t think of anything more satisfying than giving birth to Nick’s children.

“That…was…fuckin’…amazin’,” he finally managed to gasp. Nick chuckled behind him, still lodged deeply inside both orifices. His hulking cock only very slowly began to soften.

“It was all you,” Nick murmured, running his tongue along the edge of Terry’s ear. “You did that to me.”

Terry was smart enough to read the heartbreaking meaning behind these words: Nick had been raped eighteen years ago and had closed down afterwards, living a sexless life devoid of love and affection. 

Until now. 

Terry had to swallow several times as the full brunt of Nick’s confession hit him. It made him love him even more than he thought possible.

He turned his head and kissed him.

***

They showered together afterwards, Nick cradling him in his brawny arms. When they finally lay down to sleep it was nearly morning and Nick promptly started snoring. For his part, Terry found himself wide awake. His whole body was thrumming after sex and he felt completely alive and ready for anything.

After lying there for a few minutes, he finally extricated himself from Nick’s embrace and walked out onto the little patio area outside their room. Nick had reserved a private suite and the patio was sheltered within a fragrant garden. A huge oak tree spread its limbs overhead and the sultry late August air was filled with the perfume of tea roses.

Completely naked, his entire body caressed by a soft breeze, Terry sighed. He stood with his hands on the railing of the patio, gazing out at the garden. The moon was low, casting its quicksilver light over the rosebeds, accentuating the shadows and the pale light. The rosebuds looked black.

There was a rustling overhead and he swung around to find Shane dropping down from the limb of the oak tree. The big, tattooed jock was naked save for the lacey pair of panties he’d presented Terry earlier. As Terry stared at him with his jaw hanging open, Shane laughed harshly, “You two sure are noisy when you fuck! Jesus.”

“Shane!” Terry hissed. “What the fuck are you doing here! Go away!”

Shane spread his arms, indicating that his whole body was there for Terry’s pleasure. “You sure you wanna say no to this, bro? Really?” The pouch of his panties was overly full; his erection getting ready to split out of it at any moment.

Before Terry could answer, the jock was on his knees before him. He grasped Terry by the buttocks and pulled him toward him. Terry’s knees went weak when Shane’s tongue buried itself inside his pussy. Either the big jock didn’t know that he was still in the midst of his period or he didn’t care. He didn’t hesitate; he got busy proving to Terry that he hadn’t been boasting when he’d promised to do things to his pussy that no man could ever do.

In no time, Terry was stifling moans as he came again and again. His pussy felt like it was both melting and on fire! Shane seemed not to need to breathe as he pressed in closer, extending his prehensile tongue in deeper.

At some point, Terry looked down and saw the ardent jock had pulled his big dick out of his panties and was stroking himself. Just as Terry’s body unleashed yet another violent orgasm, Shane climaxed, shooting his load over Terry’s bare feet.

They were both panting when Shane pulled back and looked up at him with a cocky glint in his eye as he announced, “Yer welcome, bro. Now let’s be boyfriends. Or fuck buddies. Or whatever. Juss so long as yer pussy is mine.”

***

Chapter 14

Shane brazenly followed him from the balcony into the bedroom where Nick lay sleeping. Terry whirled on him, terrified that Nick would wake up and discover his lover had just cucked him from a mere twenty feet away. Shane’s face was cast in shadow but his eyes seemed to glow with wickedness in the dim light as he stuck his finger in front of his lips and breathed, “Shhhh, I’ll be gone by the time he wakes up.”

He took Terry by the shoulders and steered him towards the bed where he pushed him down and urged him to cuddle up next to Nick. He put his hand over Terry’s mouth when he tried to protest. Gently, he turned Terry around so he was spooning against Nick’s bulk and then folded into bed behind him, spooning him in turn, his still-hard cock wedged between Terry’s thighs. He wrapped Terry in his arms, even sliding one underneath him to rest on Nick’s muscular back.

Terry’s heart was pounding. He couldn’t believe he was doing this! What would Nick do if he woke up and found Shane in bed with them? He worried the big cop would kill him without a second thought. Shane’s lips pressed against the back of his neck and he snuggled closer, pressing the entirety of his long, lean, muscular body against him. Despite himself, Terry sighed. It felt so good to be sandwiched between these two studs! What was better than Nick Baylor? Nick Baylor and Shane Davis, that’s what. He shivered, succumbing to Shane’s seduction.

He had only just slipped into a fitful slumber when Nick’s pager went off. The big cop sat bolt upright in bed as Shane unceremoniously flung himself onto the floor, skittering under the bed before Nick realized he was there.

“What was that?” Nick asked, rubbing his forehead as he silenced the pager.

Terry stretched and yawned innocently, “What was what?”

“Didn’t you hear a thud?” When Terry merely blinked back at him, he shook himself and got out of bed. “Sorry. I musta been dreamin’.” Leaning over to plant a kiss on Terry’s lips, he chuckled, “I must be dreamin’ ‘cuz the hottest jock in the whole world is in my bed.”

Terry laughed, flinging his arms around Nick’s bull neck. When they finally parted, he asked, “What’s with the page? I thought you had the weekend off?”

“Cops never have the weekend off,” Nick grumbled. “They must need backup. I gotta run back to town.” When Terry groaned, he added, “But I won’t be gone long. Early afternoon at the latest. Juss lie back down and go back to sleep. I’ll see you again soon!”

Terry pouted, throwing himself down on the bed and crossing his arms. Nick stared longingly down at him, his giant cock slowly filling up with blood until it was fully engorged and sticking out more than fifteen inches from his crotch. It was so big that it looked almost like it was fake but Terry’s sore butthole could attest to the fact that it was one hundred percent real. He clenched his hole, feeling his ass lips burning. Maybe it was a good idea that Nick was going? His poor butthole could use the time off to recover!

“God, yer such a fuckin’ stud!” Nick exhaled, gripping his cock. “I wish I could fuck ya! How am I ‘sposed to get dressed like this?”

“Go to work naked,” Terry suggested. “I’d pay to see that.”

Nick gave him a hangdog grin. “You’d like that, wouldn’t ya? Ya lil’ slut!”

“That’s me!” Terry chirped, clapping his hands together. “I’m yer lil’ cockslut!”

“Ha!” Nick leaned down and kissed him one last time before awkwardly stuffing his erection inside his trousers and putting on his boots. In a moment, he was out of the door.

Shane waited until Nick’s footsteps had retreated down the hallway before clambering out from under the bed. His face was white and he appeared shaken. His cock, normally so big and girthy, had shrunk up between his legs, making him look almost prepubescent.

“What’s wrong?” Terry asked, looking from his face to his little, shrunken pee pistol. “Are you Ok?”

Shane’s mouth opened but it was a while before he managed to stammer, “B-b-b-big! He’s so big! How is that humanly possible?”

Terry smiled. “You could see his cock down there under the bed? Ha! He’s super hung, isn’t he?”

It was kind of cute how Shane climbed into bed and curled up in a little ball, huddling against him like a scared little boy. “Hold me,” he pleaded. “I feel so inadequate. Fuck! I hate him so much!”

“It’s not all about being the biggest, dude.” Terry rubbed his back, enjoying his well-developed muscles. “And yer dick’s the biggest I’ve seen, next to Nick’s, of course.”

Shane looked up at him balefully, “Not helping, bro. Not helping. That’s like tellin’ me that I’m the second best quarterback next to you. Fuck! And here I thought there was finally sumthin’ I could offer you that nobody else could: The biggest dick. Fuck! I hate myself but I hate Nick even more!” He held his face in his hands. “Yer better than me at football and Nick’s bigger than me below the belt. Fuck! Is there anything I’m the best at?!”

Terry shut him up with a kiss. As his lips sealed over Shane’s, he coaxed him upward until Shane’s hands were pinned on either side of his head. Shane gazed down at him, his cock slowly growing back to its normal stupendous size. He took Terry in his arms. They kissed and kissed until they fell asleep.

***

They woke up entangled in each other’s arms. Terry would have gladly stayed like that forever but Shane had other plans. Peeling away from him, he stood up and held his arms out from his sides. Terry gazed up at him, mesmerized.

“What’re you doing?” he asked, eyes drinking in Shane’s body. This was the first time he’d seen Shane completely naked in full light and the sight left him breathless.

“Bro,” Shane said, suddenly serious. “I wanna show ya the real me. The one I’ve been hidin’ from ya up to now. Maybe then you’ll understand why I can’t be trusted.”

“‘The real you’?” Terry repeated. “I don’t get it. Aren’t I looking at the real you right now?”

Completely naked and in his glory, Shane was a sight to behold. He was tall and lanky and muscular, at least as tall as Nick if not quite as beefy. And he was tattooed. All over. Terry blinked, realizing that Shane had gotten more tattoos since the first time he’d seen him naked in the locker room. Back then, the jock’s cock had been untatted but now his fat shaft had been inked up to look like a huge snake was devouring it. Hanging down nearly a foot, the serpent’s jaws opened to encircle his uncut cockhead. The effect was masterful. It really looked like a snake was swallowing his manhood!

But the snake theme didn’t end there.

A perverse thrill ran down Terry’s spine when he realized Shane–like Nick–had planned out his tattoos meticulously, following a serpent theme. Like his penis, his legs and arms were tattooed to resemble corded pythons. The snakes’ fanged mouths opened at his wrists and ankles as if they were consuming Shane whole, leaving only the ends of his extremities visible.

His neck had been tattooed similarly as if a very large snake were swallowing his head. Its jaws gaped around his head, the long fangs ringing his chin, temples and forehead. His shaggy black hair obscured the head of the giant snake, though, making Terry curious to see what it looked like. 

Even with his hair covering the snake’s head, the illusion was very convincing. Shane’s face seemed to peer out of the fanged maw. Jaws wide, its long fangs reached down across his forehead and up along his cheeks, dripping venom down his face.

Whoever had inked him was a true artist! 

“I had all my body hair removed,” Shane revealed, face glowing pink under Terry’s scrutiny. Clearly, he enjoyed showing off! “I didn’t want anything to get in the way of my tats!”

“Are you tattooed everywhere now?” Terry’s heart thumped against his ribcage. What was it about a guy covered from head to toe in tattoos that got him going? He shivered with excitement, growing hornier for Shane by the moment.

Laughing, Shane turned around and presented him with his bare butt. Even his buns were tattooed with scales! He wiggled his green, scaled buttocks provocatively, showing off his prominent backside. Then he bent over and spread his ass cheeks with his hands. Terry barked in surprise when he saw his asshole: Yet another snake’s maw gaped around Shane’s anus, its ruby-red eyes sparkling with prurient malice. Shane’s tattoos were almost as impressive in back as in front!

“You like?” Shane asked, staring gleefully at him from between his legs.

“I don’t like, I LOVE!” Terry cried enthusiastically. “Is this what you mean by your true self?”

Shane winked. “Not quite. Here. Take these and help me put ‘em on.” Kneeling by the bed, he grabbed a leather bag he’d hidden under the mattress and tossed to him. Terry caught it, grunting with surprise when he realized how heavy it was.

“What the fuck is in here?” Terry asked, hefting the bag in his hands. It had to weigh over twenty pounds! “Iron chains?”

“Close. Steel, not iron.”

Terry opened the sack, exclaiming, “Holy shit!” when he saw it contained a ton of stainless steel piercings. Rings, inserts and spikes. “Are these all yours?” He looked from the bag of metal up to Shane, realizing for the first time that the boy’s body was scored with dozens of sizable holes. He wondered why he’d never noticed before because they were very obvious. They covered everything, his penis, testicles, belly button, nipples, lips, eyebrows, nose, cheeks and ears. “I didn’t know you were pierced, too!”

“I’m a total freak, dude.” By this point, Shane was fully erect, his glistening cockhead emerging from between the folds of his foreskin, seeming to grow right out of the tattooed serpent’s mouth. “It’s ‘cuz of football I can’t show my true colors. Piercings ain’t allowed during games and practice.” His eyes burned as he coaxed, “C’mon! Help me stick ‘em in!”

By the time they were done, Shane was covered from head to toe with clanking metal jewelry. Seemingly every part of his body was pierced and not just with slender rings. No, the dude preferred heavy-gauged jewelry, the thicker and heavier the better.

His avocado-sized balls sagged down to his knees in their shaved sac, weighed by numerous ball-stretchers. He had a large ring through his glans and a bunch of rings through his taint, running all the way up to his little, virgin butthole. His belly button was pierced as was the skin from his navel up to his sternum. His nipples hung limp, tunneled out with big rings. He’d even pierced the skin over his Adam’s apple, around his lips, through his nostrils and septum as well as all over his eyebrows. He inserted large disks through the tunnels in his earlobes and had rings along the edge of his ears.

When he walked into the bathroom, a clanking and jingling followed his every movement. Terry waited expectantly until he emerged again, this time wearing red-tinted contact lenses with vertical slit pupils. Terry stared, entranced. Of his entire body, only his face had been left uninked but he made up for that with extra piercings. He stared down at Terry, slitted eyes slowly blinking.

The effect was otherworldly.

But he wasn’t done. He floored Terry by holding out a pair of clippers, ordering, “Shave my head, bro. I wanna be completely bald like you.”

Terry was thrilled by the prospect but couldn’t help asking, “Why?”

Shane laughed, “You ever seen a snake with hair, bro?” Terry stood up and Shane kneeled before him, lowering his shaggy head for shearing. When Terry lowered the clippers down on the top of his crown, Shane warned, “Careful. Watch out for the implants.”

“Implants?”

“You’ll see. Juss go slow is all.”

Terry’s hands were shaking with fear and desire as he carefully began to shave, the dude’s black hair sliding down to the floor at his feet. He held his breath as the snake head tattoo on the top of Shane’s scalp was revealed. Sure enough, he encountered bumps under the skin as the clippers buzzed away his hair, revealing the snake’s glowing red eyes. Shane had something hard and semicircular implanted under his skin to mimic the serpent’s eyeballs! But that wasn’t all, there were more bumps running down his head, mimicking the ridges of the snake’s nose. And finally there were two prominent bumps at the top of his forehead, the snake’s nostrils. After Terry applied shaving cream and removed all traces of stubble, the effect was beyond creepy…and hot.

Shane stood up, fully transformed. He no longer looked even remotely human and seemed more reptile than anything else. He grinned down at him, clearly happy with his transformation, “God! It feels so FUCKIN’ great! I’m finally me!”

Terry was stunned into silence, opposite emotions warring inside. He felt like he was peering over a precipice that plunged into the frightening depths of darkness. Shane radiated a sinister malevolence, a recklessness without bounds. If he was willing to permanently transform himself at such a young age, what other social norms was he willing to flaunt? Was he safe to be around? His words of warning from the night before came back full force, “I ain’t to be trusted. And I swear to God I’m gonna take ya down someday.” Looking at him, he knew Shane hadn’t been lying. He really could not be trusted. Being with him was like playing with matches around open fumes: He would get burned badly.

But why did he feel such a strong attraction to him? Was it just lust? Shane was undeniably sexy. Being with him was a heady experience that overrode Terry’s usual common sense. And yet he couldn’t make himself care. It was super fucked up. He wrapped his arms about himself, drawing back a step.

“What?” Shane pressed. “What’s wrong?”

“Nuthin’,” Terry muttered, forcing himself to move closer once again. He even took another step beyond that. Soon, he was close enough to feel the heat radiating off of Shane’s long, lean body. In that way at least he was unlike a snake; he was clearly not cold-blooded! 

Shane grinned, the rings lining his lips swaying back and forth. “Clearly, you’re lyin’. Are you scared of me?”

“A little,” Terry admitted, looking up at his alien visage; Shane’s snake-eyes stared down at him unblinking. “I was juss thinkin’ how diff’rent we are, bro.” He smiled sadly, “I-I’ve spent my whole life tryin’ to blend in, you know. I mean, I was born a girl but I’m really a boy. I’ve only ever wanted people to look at me and see a real boy. And you…well, you want everyone to look at you and see a monster. It’s…just really hard for me to understand, I guess.”

“You think I’m a monster, bro?”

Terry reached out and took this ‘Shane Monster’ in his arms, drawing him close. The monster’s sharp piercings bit into his flesh but it didn’t stop him from nestling his head into the crook of Shane’s shoulder. He waited until the boy hugged him back, drawing him in closer. 

Finally, he answered, “I do. I do think you’re a monster, Shane. But honestly I wouldn’t want you any other way. I like the feeling I get when I’m with you. I-I-I like feeling like you might hurt me at any moment. I guess we’re both pretty fucked up, huh?”

“Hmm?” Shane nuzzled his head. “We’re actually more alike than you know. You’re a freak. I heard you tell Nick that earlier before you two fucked. And I’m a freak, too. The difference is I don’t hide it. You try to blend in, I want to be seen. That’s the only difference. Maybe someday you’ll wanna be seen for who you really are, too?”

“I could get killed if I did.” It was the truth. Especially in Arkansas.

“I could, too,” Shane countered. “You’ll see when we go out for breakfast.”

Terry’s head snapped up, unable to believe that Shane was serious about being seen like this in public. “You mean…?”

Shane laughed, “Yeah, I’m done hidin’, bro. I want everyone to see me as I am. But before we go out to eat, I gotta show ya one last thing. Look.” He stuck out his tongue.

Terry stared at it. Shane’s tongue was long and pink but otherwise pretty ordinary. “Yeah?”

The snake boy winked, “Watch.” Terry gaped as his tongue bifurcated in his mouth, splitting apart into a long, sinuous fork. Red-slitted eyes dancing with glee, Shane wiggled the organ suggestively before rolling it back into his mouth. “Now you know why I’m so good at cunnilingus, bro. Guess there’s sumthin’ I got on Nick after all!”

Terry shivered, remembering Shane’s tongue parting his pussy lips and tickling in places no one had ever touched. “I don’t even wanna know how you did that to yer tongue. But I gotta say I’m not mad about it!”

“C’mon,” Shane said, hooking his arm through Terry’s and grasping his hand. “Let’s go get something to eat!”

***

Chapter 15

Shane donned a pair of boardshorts and a tank top that barely amounted to a couple of strings hanging down off of his broad shoulders. He refused to wear a belt and his pink thong rode up and over the mounded globes of his ass, obvious to anyone who saw him from behind. 

He laughed at Terry’s stunned expression, saying, “I tole ya: I’m yer bitch an’ I want everyone to know it.” He grabbed a skateboard that he’d stowed outside on the balcony and slung it over his shoulder, adding, “I’ll show ya some moves later on after breakfast. I’m a pretty badass skate-fuck if I do say so myself.”

Terry had never experienced anything like accompanying Shane in public. Eureka Springs was a rare liberal haven in the Ozarks and thus its population was more tolerant than elsewhere. Even so, the stares they got as they strode downtown together, hand in hand, were priceless. People even crossed the street rather than passing close to them on the sidewalk.

Shane had been right about taking a risk in going out in public like this. They drew some attention for holding hands but it was Shane’s appearance that really drew ire. Several drivers rolled down their windows to yell at him as they drove by. “FREAK!” was the most common taunt. Mostly, Shane would smile and wave but, when one man yelled, “FUCKIN’ FAGGOT SINNERS!” Shane lost it. Holding up both middle fingers, he swore, “UP YOURS, ASSHOLE!” before grabbing his crotch.

The truck screeched to a halt and Terry instinctively moved in front of Shane as the enraged man emerged from the vehicle. He was confident in his ability to defend both of them as long as a gun wasn’t involved. But, even if the dude did draw a weapon, he reasoned his odds were better than fifty-fifty. He’d sparred extensively and knew how to win a fight.

The man’s face was red but he drew back in fear when saw Terry. Terry was a total badass and built like a bruiser. Anyone would think twice before tangling with him.  When he smacked a fist menacingly into his palm, it was almost funny watching the dude scurry away and speed off. Terry looked back at Shane to find the boy watching him with stars in his snake eyes.

“You defended me!” he gasped. “Nobody’s ever defended me before! Fuck, that was hot!”

Terry grinned, “I’m yer man. What else would I do?”

Shane didn’t answer but dabbed at his eyes. If Terry didn’t know any better, he would’ve sworn the tough dude was crying.

At one point while they were strolling through the old downtown section, they passed by an antique shop in a renovated false-front building made of brick and adorned with plaster filigree. Shane looked over and noticed there was a big mirror in the window behind a row of antique lamps.

“Stop.”

Terry looked back at him. “Yeah?”

Shane was staring at their reflections in the mirror. Terry joined him, smiling when Shane slung an arm over his shoulders, “Look at us, bro. Ain’t we a pair?”

Maybe it was the contrast between them but, looking at their reflection, Terry saw himself with new eyes. He stared at the handsome, wholesome-looking jock looking back at him with the red ball cap snapped back on his head. Was that really him? He looked so beefy and…well, hot. He’d always had a strong jaw but now it was even more pronounced, accentuating his wide neck. His body was stout and stocky yet also rugged and lean. He’d thrown on his letterman’s jacket even though it was a hot day and wore a pair of snug jeans. His big quads stretched out the denim in a very pleasing fashion. His eyes were warm and alive and he had an air of both innocence and resolve about him. He was a total stud!

In contrast, Shane looked exceptionally seedy. If Terry had seen him on the street, he would have assumed he was homeless. Everything about him screamed sleaze. He looked oily, slithery and snakey and completely disreputable. On top of that, with the tattoos, bald head, piercings and contact lenses, he was a total freak. He was utterly monstrous and oozed poisonous danger.

“We’re almost the same size,” Shane observed, “I’m taller but yer heavier than me. Dude! Yer smokin’ hot! Ain’t nobody would guess yer trans if they saw ya. Yer a man. Hundred percent.” He spread his arms, grinning luridly at his own reflection, “And me? What am I, bro?”

“Yer smokin’ hot, too,” Terry said, lowering his eyes demurely. “Super hot, really.”

“Ha! Only you would say that.” Shane lowered his lips and kissed him; his piercings were cold and hard against Terry’s skin. “I like bein’ with you. I feel like I’m corruptin’ you more an’ more with every passin’ second. It makes me happy.”

He let go of Terry and tugged him along. On the next block, they found a funky coffee shop inside a converted dress shop and ordered breakfast bagels and cups of espresso. The barista sported extensive tattoos and gushed profusely when she saw Shane. She was so flirtatious that Terry put his arm around Shane’s shoulders and kissed him on the ear. He didn’t want the girl getting any ideas!

All eyes were covertly watching them as they sat down and munched their bagels. Shane looked over at the barista and winked, causing Terry’s hands to clench. Shane’s snake eyes were dancing as he teased, “Jealous much, bro?”

“Shut up.”

Just then, a young guy seated next to them turned and caught Terry’s eye. The boy was quite handsome in a hippy sort of way and he raised his eyebrows suggestively as their gazes met. Shane followed Terry’s attention and scowled at the dude, telling him in no uncertain terms, “He’s mine. Go find yer own fag.” When Terry kicked him under the table, he protested, “What?! It’s bad enough I gotta share ya with that douche-bag cop. I can do sloppy seconds but I ain’t doin’ no sloppy thirds!”

Afterwards, they made their way to a city park that ran down into a steep ravine. It was already hot and Terry was regretting wearing his letterman’s jacket. He took it off and slung it over his beefy shoulder, watching Shane hop onto his skateboard and pull some moves on the sidewalk. The pathway wound pretty far down into a wooded valley, becoming more overgrown as it descended. It was quite lovely.

As they neared the bottom of the ravine, they discovered a hidden basketball court and playground, both of them empty at that hour. Below the court and playground was a ramp that led into an outdoor amphitheater. Terry sat on top of a picnic table in the shade while Shane hopped up on the handrailing with his board, riding it downhill and executing a perfect flip at the end. He bowed theatrically when Terry clapped.

And then he shocked him by shedding his shorts and shirt, resuming skateboarding wearing just his thong. The pouch was super stretched out, straining to contain his more-than-man-sized junk, the huge ball-stretchers and all of the piercings.

Terry looked around frantically, shouting, “Shane! You could be arrested! We’re in public!”

Shane held out his arms, brazenly displaying his near nudity, declaring, “Fuck ‘em. And fuck the police if they try an’ arrest me! Now get yer ass down here so I can teach ya how to ride this thing.” He flipped the skateboard into his hand with a practiced stomp of his foot.

Terry looked around furtively, realizing they were alone in the park. Further, the view of the amphitheater was obscured in the secluded grotto. Nonetheless, he couldn’t believe Shane had the balls to parade in that obscene, pink thong!

“Good,” Shane pronounced when he joined him on the cement plaza before the amphitheater. He put the board down in front of Terry and held it in position with his foot. “Now put yer feet on it like that.” Terry stepped on, windmilling his arms even though the board was stationary. Shane rolled his eyes, “Don’t be a drama queen. You got this. C’mon. I’ve seen yer moves on the field.”

Terry was surprised to find that Shane was right. Shaky at first, he quickly got his ‘sea legs’ under him and soon had mastered most of the basic techniques. He even rode the board over a low curb, jumping in the air and landing smoothly on it on the other side.

Shane clapped loudly before catching him in his arms and kissing him. Their sweaty bodies were wet and fragrant with musk. Aroused, they grew frisky and soon they were making out in earnest, Shane’s erection plastered against Terry’s thigh. They were so lost in their lusty kissing that they didn’t hear the two skateboarders approaching until one cleared his throat behind them.

“Uh, don’t mind us,” he said in a deep voice. “We think it’s cool yer gay.”

They looked over to discover a heavily tattooed young guy with shaved head and a blond, braided rat-tail running down his back. Naked above the waist, his canvas shorts were stained and filthy. Indeed, a strong, musky odor wafted off of his body. Like Shane, he was pierced but not quite so dramatically so. 

Terry blinked when he saw a brown rat perched on the guy’s shoulder. It watched him with beady eyes, its nose raised and whiskers twitching as it sniffed the air. The guy reached up and scratched its head affectionately when he caught Terry staring. It was then that Terry noticed the prominent tattoo on the dude’s shaved chest. It was a rat. A really big one. Unlike the cute, fuzzy rat on his shoulder, though, this rat was scrawny and flea-bitten and had red, glowing eyes. Even more shocking were the animal’s oversized balls. The tattooed rat was hung like nobody’s business! 

Terry’s cheeks colored as his gaze traveled downward, following the suggestive arc of the rat’s tail. It was pointed right down at the guy’s crotch and, judging from the prominent bulge tenting out those filthy shorts, he was incredibly well endowed, much like the animal tattooed on his chest. Terry looked away, his gaze landing on the boy standing next to him.

Talk about opposites! Unlike his friend, the boy’s pale body was doughy, soft and flabby. Like his friend, he was bare-chested and smooth but he lacked any definition and his pecs were distinctly rounded with breast tissue, his nipples big and puffy. Pillowy rolls of fat sagged over the waistband of his rainbow-colored boxer shorts which were several sizes too small.  His ass and thighs were really thick and jello-y, giving him a heavy pear shape. His face was likewise hairless but it wasn’t from shaving; he appeared to not have any facial hair despite the fact he was clearly well past puberty. Soft, blond curls graced the top of his head, making him look like an oversized cherub. Shy and tentative, he kept his eyes downcast except to periodically look up at Terry.

“C’mon, Skeet,” the rat-tatted dude said, hauling his chubby friend along by the hand. “Don’t stare.”

“I wasn’t staring,” Skeet said in a soft, feminine voice. His fingernails, Terry noticed, were painted in rainbow colors like his shorts. He lifted his eyes and regarded Terry through his long, blond lashes before hastily looking away again. When Terry looked over at his friend, he realized the dude was studying him through narrowed eyes. The dude hastily looked away when Terry caught him staring.

“Why were they looking at me like that?” Terry whispered after they were out of earshot. “Yer the one who’s tattooed like a snake an’ wearin’ a thong!”

“Dude,” Shane said, laughing. “Don’t you get it? Look at ‘em! They’re skate-fucks like me. Anything goes in the skatin’ community. It’s the jocks like you who’re the freaks!”

Sure enough, Skeet and his butch friend couldn’t help but cast curious glances in Terry’s direction. The more Terry demonstrated his skills on the board, though, the more they warmed up to him. After a half hour, they were boarding together, Skeet and his friend trading boards with Terry and Shane. Poor Skeet was the worst skater of the bunch even though Terry had only just stepped onto a board for the first time an hour ago. It was almost pathetic watching him struggle to keep his balance, the soft folds of fat jiggling around his waist while his friend teased him mercilessly.

Finally, Skeet called it quits and the four guys took a break together, reclining on a picnic table and sharing sips from a bottle of whiskey that Slater–the butch skater dude–offered them. Somehow, Slater’s pet rat had managed to cling to his shoulder throughout all of the skating and was now placidly munching on a peanut it held between its front paws. 

Slater leaned back on his elbows, Skeet nestled between his legs. After watching them for a moment, Shane leaned back next to him and urged Terry between his legs like Skeet. He looked over and exchanged a fist-bump with Slater.

“Nice piercings and tats, Snake Boy,” Slater praised, drinking in Shane’s otherworldly appearance. “I wanna be tatted up like you someday. But, I gotta ask, don’t the piercings get in the way when you’re skatin’?” He glanced meaningfully down at the pouch of Shane’s thong. It was near bursting with the effort of trying to restrain his equipment.

“Sure,” Shane admitted, “they hurt like fuck but that’s half the fun, ain’t it?”

Slater chuckled, “True dat.” He was thoughtful for a moment before jerking his chin at Terry, “He yer bitch? He looks juss like Skeet here used to before I had him snipped. Fuck! Ol’ Skeet used to be a total prick of a jock!” Skeet lowered his head, abashed, his cheeks coloring. Slater laughed harshly and pulled his phone out of his pocket. Flicking through it, he held it out to them, “See? That’s him a year ago before he graduated from high school. Can you believe it? Ha! The cocky little twat.”

Terry and Shane gaped at the stunning jock in the photo. Tall and muscular with buzzed blond hair and wearing a football uniform, the Skeet in the photo was almost unrecognizable compared to the Skeet sitting next to them. They looked from the phone to Skeet and back again. When Slater brought up Skeet’s old Instagram feed, they both gawked. The ripped, muscular jock in the videos was not only cocky–parading around in boxers with the prominent outline of his erect member plastered against the flimsy fabric–but also incredibly narcissistic. It was almost prurient the way he vamped for the camera. Terry sneaked another glance at the now very marshmallowy Skeet, unable to believe this was the same guy!

“What do you mean you had him snipped?” Shane asked, taking Slater’s phone and flicking through the photos, his mouth hanging open.

“I cut off his balls,” Slater answered matter of factly. “He’s a fuckin’ eunuch now. This is what happens to a jock deprived of male hormones for a year.”

Shane was dumbstruck. “That’s…that’s…that’s…”

“Brilliant?” Slater finished for him. “Look, I did the world a favor, Ok? We got enough cocky jocks already.” He squeezed his hands around Skeet’s belly, squishing the soft rolls of flab between his fingers. “And he’s happier now. Ain’t ya, Skeet?”

“Y-Y-Yeah.” Skeet didn’t sound very happy, though.

Slater laughed, nuzzling his ear before looking back to Shane, “You should do the same thing to yer lil’ bitch there.” He gestured toward Terry. “You’ll both be glad you did.” He spit a thick wad of saliva on the sidewalk, cursing, “Fuckin’ jocks! I hate ‘em!”

Shane’s mouth quirked as he hugged Terry against him, “Uh, yeah. That won’t work.” He laughed. “You might say Terry’s already been snipped. ‘Sides, I like his jockiness. He’s big and tough and hot. Plus, he takes care of me.”

Both Slater and Skeet were incredulous, asking Terry at the same time, “Yer already neutered?”

Terry turned to give Shane the gimlet eyeball. Looking back at Slater and Skeet, he clarified, “No, you can only be neutered if you were born with balls.”

Slater’s brow furrowed. “I don’t get it. You look like a regular dude. Too regular, if you ask me.”

“I’m trans, Ok?” Terry rolled his eyes. “And you’re sick. I can’t believe you neutered your boyfriend!”

“Trans, huh? Hawt.” Slater feasted his eyes on him with renewed appreciation, not the least bit concerned by Terry’s negative opinion. He petted his rat a moment before continuing, “Speakin’ of trans, I’m savin’ up to have Skeet turned into a girl. Or maybe I’ll leave him like this? I haven’t decided yet. I like fattening him up and watching him grow curves.”

Skeet hung his head, eyes veiled behind his long lashes. Terry felt bad for him. He was appalled by what the sadistic Slater had done to him!

Shane had a different reaction and seemed intrigued. “How’d you do it?” he asked, his slitted eyes lighting up with curiosity. “How’d you convince him to go through it? Did he let you, er, snip him willingly.”

Slater barked with harsh laughter, startling the rat and Skeet. “‘Course he did! The lil’ twat was beggin’ me to neuter him!”

“Really?” Terry’s eyes narrowed as he looked from the domineering Slater to the meek Skeet. Something didn’t add up.

Slater leaned over to whisper in Shane’s ear, “Wanna know my secret?” Shane nodded eagerly but before Slater could reply, he looked past Shane up the hill to the basketball courts where a couple of tall, lanky jocks had just arrived. Wearing baggy nylon shorts, they pulled off their tank tops and commenced playing a game of one-on-one basketball. Slater exchanged a knowing look with Skeet before easing him off his lap and saying, “Hey, Skeet, why don’t you show our new friends here the springs? Go ahead an’ soak with ‘em while I go introduce myself to those fuckin’ twats up there.”

He stood up and pulled out a tattered backpack he’d stowed under the picnic table. Retrieving a couple bottles of milky white liquid from inside, he sauntered up the hill towards the basketball court, the rat still clinging to his shoulder.

***

Chapter 16

With a creeping sense of dread, Terry watched Slater saunter up the hill, the rat still perched on his shoulder. As the tatted-up skater approached the two jocks playing basketball, they stopped playing and turned to stare at him. At first, they recoiled but then Slater held out the bottles of water as a peace offering and took his pet rat off his shoulder, holding it out to them. The guys were intrigued and stepped closer. One of them reached out and tickled the creature’s chin. The rat squeaked happily and the guy laughed, all sense of unease dissipating.

Terry turned to Skeet and noticed his face had gone pale. When the boy became aware of his scrutiny, though, he turned away, slinging his backpack over his slim shoulder. “C’mon,” he said, heading into the underbrush where a small path lay concealed. “I’ll show ya sumthin’.”

Shane followed immediately but Terry hesitated. Casting one last glance back up the hill, he saw one of the jocks tipping the bottle of milky water that Slater offered him to his lips and swallowing deeply. Fuck, he thought, I don’t have a good feeling about this! 

He was about to march up the hill and confront Slater when Shane stopped him. “Leave ‘em alone, bro,” he soothed, steering him toward the overgrown path. “They’re juss a couple of douche-bag jocks.”

“What’s he gonna do to them?” Terry demanded.

Shane shrugged. “Who cares? Leave ‘em be. Now c’mon!” He pulled Terry along, trailing behind Skeet.

“Slater found these springs a few years ago,” Skeet explained as he picked his way down the ravine. “Eureka Springs got its start because of the springs in the caves surrounding the town. People used to come from all over. They thought the water had special healing powers.”

“That’s so cool!” Shane breathed. “I had no idea.”

Terry kept his mouth shut, wondering where Skeet was taking them. He didn’t need to wait long because the trail led to a wedge-shaped hole in a rocky outcropping. Cool, moist air exhaled from deep inside the earth as Skeet clambered down into the hole. Shane quickly followed, jumping down to land with a jingle of piercings on the soft, leafy floor below. He held out his arms and Terry jumped, allowing Shane to catch him. It was more an excuse to be held by the big stud than anything else and they kissed, Shane running his hand down Terry’s crotch and fondling his pussy. Terry purred in his ear, nibbling at the tunnels bored through his earlobes.

Skeet cleared his throat and they broke apart unwillingly. This was the perfect place to fuck! If only the neutered boy wasn’t there!

The crack they had jumped through opened into a man-made cave. It had obviously been long abandoned given the mass of dead leaves and bat guano accumulated beneath their feet. Overhead, the ceiling was vaulted and covered in ornate filigree that was crumbling with moisture and age. Cool air caressed their faces, drifting up the tunnel and Skeet motioned for them to follow. Overhead, someone had drilled holes and, while most of them had long since filled up with detritus, enough light trickled through to illuminate the tunnel floor.

After heading downward for a few minutes, they entered an immense antechamber. Overhead, a cast iron candelabra still hung from the ceiling. It was of Gothic design which seemed a little out of place when Terry looked around at the carved rock walls which were clearly Neoclassical. (Terry had a thing for architecture and was thinking of majoring it when he entered college.) Stark doric columns rose up from the floor supporting a bas relief reminiscent of an ancient Greek temple. 

Before them opened three archways, a grand central one flanked by two smaller ones. Terry examined the arches, intrigued when he noticed writing over each entrance. The words were covered in lichen and difficult to see in the dim light but Terry was eventually able to decipher them. Chiseled in the rock over the central arch was the word, ‘Laconica,’ whereas the archway to the left read, ‘Mnemnosyne,’ and the one on the right read, ‘Lethe’. 

Steam wafted out of the doorway from the central doorway whereas an eerie, milky blue light emanated from the one labeled, ‘Lethe.’ Terry shivered, remembering the milky bottles of water that Slater had offered to the two jocks playing basketball. His instincts told that, no matter what, he should avoid going inside that room!

The Mnemosyne door was different. A faint, golden glow cast reflections on the ceiling and floor. For some reason, Terry felt drawn to enter but Skeet caught his arm before he could take two steps. “Not that way!” he hissed. “Slater said never to go in there!” He tugged Terry toward the central, more humid archway. “This is where we should go.”

“Wait.” Terry extracted his arm from Skeet’s grip. “I wanna check this out.”

Shane put his hands on his hips, impatient. He was already halfway through the central archway. “Dude!” he complained. “If we’re not ‘sposed to go in there, let’s not, Ok? I’m sure Slater has his reasons.”

Terry ignored him, turning resolutely toward the Mnemnosyne entrance. “I’m going in. You two can head into the hot springs if you want.” He paused, feeling the deliciously cool air rolling through the archway. “I’m gonna go cool off.”

He stalked inside. Shane harrumphed but followed after casting a helpless glance at Skeet. Skeet wavered but, in the end, followed both of them inside.

By the time they caught up, Terry had already stripped down to his underpants. His clothes were folded neatly on a little bench to the right. In the center of the room was a wide, shallow pool filled with the clearest water he’d ever seen. There wasn’t a trace of detritus floating on the surface; it was like someone had been taking care of it just for him. The air smelled clean, almost bracing, and the temperature in the little room was easily ten degrees cooler than outside.

Shane and Skeet paused in the entranceway, uncertain whether to join him. “Why’s the water glowing?” Shane asked uneasily. “I don’t like it.”

“It’s just natural phosphorescence,” Terry replied, keenly aware of Skeet’s eyes on his naked body as it was illuminated by the soft glow of the water. The ex-jock was staring longingly at his muscular bulk, a complex expression on his chubby face. Terry smiled, saying, “Yeah, this is what a transman looks like, bro.” He winked and pulled down his boxers, exposing his man-sized clit and hairy clam. “And this is what my vag looks like. Pretty hot, right?”

Skeet swallowed, entranced, as Shane moved hastily between them, blocking Skeet’s view of Terry’s pussy and scolding, “Not cool, bro! Seriously not cool! Yer mine, remember? I’m the only one who gets to see yer vagina!”

Terry laughed, dancing away from him. He’d never felt freer or sexier than that moment. “Dude! It’s only been a few hours and you’ve already forgotten about Nick? He’s my primary, remember?”

Shane’s face darkened. “Primary?!” he spat. “Fuck him!” He jabbed his thumbs into his chest, “I’m yer one and only, bro! You belong to ME!”

“Oh, yeah?” Terry derived endless glee from yanking Shane’s chain. “Tell that to Nick and see what he has to say!” When Shane’s face paled, he relented, pulling the thong-clad stud into his arms and allowing him to finger his cunt. Shane probed deep, making him pant, until he looked over his shoulder and saw Skeet standing there forlornly. Pulling away, Terry whispered in Shane’s ear, “I belong to both of you now.”

“You two are cute together,” Skeet murmured, voice filled with longing. He looked down at his blobby, saggy, hairless body and frowned. “I wish I was like you. Slater used to pay more attention to me before I got fat.”

“He made you this way,” Terry pointed out. “It’s not your fault. ‘Sides, I think yer hot the way you are. You got a killer booty on you, bro!” It was true; Skeet’s big, round ass was a thing of pure beauty.

“If only I could get hard.” Skeet was staring down at the floor, his soft, hairless cheeks rosy. “I’m pathetic!”

Terry peeled Shane’s arms off of him and padded over to Skeet. Removing the boy’s backpack and setting it aside, he reached out and placed his hands on the overstretched waistband of the boy’s rainbow boxers, asking, “May I?” Skeet nodded bashfully and Terry gently worked them down those corpulent thighs. After some struggling–the boxers were way too small for Skeet at his present girth–the young man’s shrunken, hairless penis bobbed into view. Terry stared at it, not used to seeing a cock without any balls under it. The absence of testicles was quite jarring and Skeet’s tiny shaft sagged lifelessly downward. It was a truly sad sight.

Smiling, Terry reached down and cradled that tiny peanut in his hand as he leaned forward and kissed Skeet deeply. When Shane barked in protest behind him, he waved him off. Skeet froze for a moment before responding voraciously. His soft, pillowy lips opened and his eager mouth devoured Terry’s. Behind them, Shane harumphed in annoyance but what could he do? After a few seconds, Skeet’s nub in Terry’s fingers began to stiffen. In another minute, Skeet was sporting a baby-sized erection.

Terry stepped back, grinning at Skeet’s reaction when he beheld his micro hardon. “There. You can still get hard!”

At first, Skeet was elated but then his face fell as he wailed, “It’s so small! I swear it used to be bigger!”

“Well, you were neutered,” Shane grumbled, pulling Terry back to his side. “That’s only to be expected.”

Skeet looked up at this, repeating, “Neutered?”

Shane furrowed his brow at the boy’s ignorance. Couldn’t he see that he didn’t have any balls? He opened his mouth to say something rude but Terry stopped him, coaxing, “It’s Ok. Don’t worry, Skeet. Let’s just soak in the water together until Slater gets here.”

Stepping out of his thong, Shane’s massive equipment swung heavily from side to side. His weighed-down balls flopped languidly out of the pouch of the thong and slapped against his knees. If Skeet had been entranced by Terry’s nudity, he was doubly captivated by Shane’s. And for good reason: Shane was the epitome of everything he’d lost when Slater castrated him.

Terry intervened when he noticed Skeet’s lower lip trembling. He moved to the boy’s side, gripping his hand and urging, “Don’t look, bro. Let’s juss jump in!”

With that, he stepped into the pool of deliciously cool water, pulling Skeet along with him. After hesitating only a moment, Shane jumped in after them.

Terry wasn’t well-versed in Greek mythology and only had a vague idea what the word, ‘Lethe’, referred to and even less about, ‘Mnemosyne’. He only knew that the water that Slater offered the two basketball jocks was an ominous milky blue just like the water in the ‘Lethe’ archway. In contrast, the ‘Mnemosyne’ water was both cool and inviting. You couldn’t blame him for not knowing that Mnemosyne was the goddess of memory. And he certainly couldn’t be expected to know that his life’s trajectory would be forever altered by his decision to set foot in her pool!

As soon as they touched the water, something odd happened. Terry’s consciousness shifted, just like it had that night a couple of weeks ago when he found Nick grieving in the Spooks Holler church on the anniversary of his former boyhood lover’s death. As Terry’s old memories from that life before flooded over him, all of his boyishness disappeared. His expression hardened and his posture grew rigid. His eyes turned flinty as he turned towards Shane. 

For this part, Shane reacted like he’d been punched. His usual cocky bravado evaporated when he laid eyes on this changed Terry and he shrank back from him, cowering in a corner of the pool. 

Beside them, poor Skeet recovered his memory, too, and the result wasn’t pleasant. He looked down at his soft, voluptuous, hairless body as if seeing it for the first time and howled in outrage. “WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK!!!??? WHO THE FUCK DID THIS TO ME???!!!”

Terry–now Terrence Saliers–ignored him and instead grabbed Shane by the throat, lifting him bodily out of the water. Shane struggled ineffectually, trying in vain to dislodge Terrence’s fingers from his throat. “Long time no see, Snake!” Terrence growled in a voice that was completely unlike his usual, lighthearted one. “I was wondering how long it would take for you to show up.”

“T-T-T-Terrence!” Shane–now the former ‘Snake’ Davies–choked, “how’d ya know it was me?”

“I could smell you a mile away,” Terrence snorted. “You smell worse than Stanky ever did on a good day.” His eyes narrowed, “Tell me why I shouldn’t strangle you to death right here and right now? Ain’t nobody could blame me if I did,” he glanced meaningfully down at his vagina, perfectly visible in the stunningly clear water, “‘specially after what you did to me.”

“I-I-I didn’t mean to!” Snake protested. “God’s honest truth. I didn’t mean it!”

Terrence laughed coldly. “Really? Which part didn’t you mean? The maiming and killing me part or the raping Stanky part?” He snorted, lowering Snake’s body and crushing him painfully against the rocky rim of the pool. “We trusted you, Snake! We loved you!” His voice broke as he cried,”I loved you!”

“I loved you, too!” Snake insisted. “I really did! You gotta bah-lieve me, bro!”

“Sure,” Terrence drawled, “‘cuz, you know, everybody kills the man they love. It happens all the time. It was an accident, after all.”

Snake was in too much pain and too afraid to hear the sarcasm dripping from Terrence’s voice. Nodding vigorously, he said, “Yeah! Yeah! I’m glad you get it! I’d never hurt my best bro in the whole world on purpose! It was an accident! An accident!”

Terrence held up his finger to pause their conversation and turned to Skeet who was still hollering at the top of his lungs, “Skeet? Buddy?” The pudgy eunuch stopped at the sound of his name and Terrence continued, “Would you quiet down for a sec? In case you haven’t figured it out yet, both Snake an’ me here have finally recovered our memories, too. I got shit to work out with Snake here but I promise I’ll help ya get back yer manhood when we’re done. Deal?” At first Skeet just continued to wail but something about Terrence’s tone or words finally got through to him and he eventually fell silent. When he nodded solemnly, Terrence praised, “Good man! Now juss hang out there for a sec. We’ll be done soon.”

Once Skeet clammed up, Terrence turned back to Snake. “Yer lucky I’m a forgiving man,” he continued, “‘cuz you’ve redeemed yerself…slightly. Terry may be oblivious to my presence but that don’t mean I’m unaware of his. In fact, I’ve watched everything you’ve done since you came back into his life and I’m impressed.”

He released his grip on Snake’s throat and the hapless guy exhaled in relief before gulping air. Snaked nodded eagerly, agreeing, “See? I’ve changed, bro! I’m a whole new man! I’ll never hurt him…I mean, you again. Or Stanky, for that matter. I might still hate you both but I ain’t gonna hurt ya!” He lowered his head, regarding Terrence through slitted eyes. “Remember, I died that night, too.”

“You deserved it,” Terrence grunted, unmoved by Snake’s show of contrition. “I only wish it was me who did you in.”

Snake’s face fell, “Low blow, bro! I wasn’t lyin’ when I said I loved you. You know that, right? And yet you fell in love with Stanky instead. How do you think that feels?” He clenched his jaw, muttering, “It’s why I hated you both so much.”

Terrence sighed heavily, “Last I checked a man can love more than one person, Snake. I loved…I mean, love both of you equally. I always did.”

“Wait.” Snake’s eyes lit up. “Did you juss say you still love me? Even after…?”

“‘Course I do, you dumbass.” Terrence laughed. “Bein’ dead’s given me plenty of time to think. It took me a good eighteen years but I’m over it. Truth is–an’ I don’t know why–I forgave ya a long time ago.” He paused, warning, “Stanky, though. He still hates you. And I…let’s juss say I mighta forgiven you but that don’t mean you don’t still owe me.” He looked once again down at his vagina before staring pointedly at Snake’s enormous cock.

Snake followed his gaze, his pierced eyebrows drawing upward. “What? You sayin’ you want my dick?” He chuckled, “I’d give it to you but I’m sorta attached to it. And, as far as I know, there ain’t no such thing as a penis transplant.”

Terrence smirked. “Maybe not but that’s not what I’m talkin’ ‘bout.”

Perplexed, Snake asked, “Then what do you want? You know I’ll do anything for you, Terrence! If I can make it right, I promise I’ll do it!”

“Ha! I was hopin’ you’d say that.” Terrence folded his beefy arms. “Turns out that I’ve got a plan but it’s gonna take some work. Are you sure you wanna make it up to me?” Snake nodded vigorously and Terrence smiled, “Good. Now it’s time for a little help from our friend, Skeet here.” He turned to Skeet, “Hey, buddy? I’ll help you if you help me. Is it a deal?”

Skeet was still mostly in shock after having gone to sleep one night confident in his status as a hot, hung stud only to rudely wake up a year later to find himself a complete laughingstock, a genderless freak. “How’re you gonna help me?” he demanded, sullen. “Can you give me back my balls?”

Terrence shook his head sadly, admitting, “I can’t turn ya back into the man you once were, any more than Snake here can give me back my missing equipment.”

Skeet’s face closed and he set his jaw, “Then why should I help you?”

Terrence grinned, “I might be able to get yer balls back but I can give you the next best thing.”

“What’s that?”

“Help me out and I’ll tell you.”

Skeet acted put out by this answer but Terrence could see the wheels turning in his head. Finally, he sighed resignedly, “What do I gotta do?”

Terrence sat up in the water, “It’s easy. I want you to go into the room marked, Lethe, and fill up those bottles in yer pack,” he jerked his chin at the boy’s partially open backpack inside which were stashed a couple of empty bottles, “and bring them back here. Snake an’ me’ll drink ‘em and, once we do, we’ll forget that any of this ever happened.” He held up a finger in warning, adding, “But be careful not to let any of that water touch you. You’ve already drunk it once and look what happened to you!”

Skeet paled, inadvertently looking down at neutered crotch, before nodding, “Ok, I’ll do it. But why do you wanna forget ‘bout this?” He gestured at them, indicating the men they were now, their memories fully restored. “Why go back to bein’ ignorant?”

Snake leaned forward, agreeing, “Yeah, why do ya want us to forget again?”

Terrence’s smile was sly as a fox, “‘Cuz Snake here’ll never agree to go through with my plan once he hears it. I need him to forget ‘bout it, juss like I need Terry,” he jabbed his thumbs at himself, “to forget, too. If Terry were to find out, he’s such a perfect little Boy Scout that he’d never go along with it, neither.”

This time it was Snake’s turn to pale. “Dude!” he protested. “What’re you gonna do to me?”

Terrence regarded him, still smiling. “I’m gonna tell you right now,” he revealed, “and then yer gonna forget all ‘bout it when ya drink that Lethe water.”

“What makes you think I’ll go along with it,” Skeet pointed out, “if both you an’ Snake’re gonna be against it?”

Terrence watched them, obviously savoring the suspense. Finally, he pointed a finger at Skeet, saying, “I know you’ll agree to it because it’s yer chance to get revenge against Slater.” Then he pointed at Snake, concluding, “And I know you’ll agree ‘cuz you ain’t got no choice. I’ll fuckin’ kick yer snakey ass to next week if don’t drink that water an’ forget again.”

Snake swallowed uncomfortably and looked unhappy. “I don’t like this.” He thrust out his lip and crossed his arms, “I don’t even know what yer plannin’ yet but I already know I ain’t gonna like it!”

“That’s why yer gonna drink the water of forgetting,” Terrence said. “Remember, you gave me yer word. I’m gonna hold you to it! You owe me big time, bro!”

Snake sank back against the edge of the pool and sulked. Terrence watched him with a small smile for a moment before turning back to Skeet. “Alright, listen up an’ don’t forget nuthin’, Ok? A lot’s ridin’ on you gettin’ this right. Slip up on one thing and you can kiss yer chance at gettin’ revenge on Slater goodbye. Got it?” When Skeet nodded solemnly, Terrence smiled, continuing, “Now here’s what yer gonna do…”

***

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