bred by squall

by uzumakixxx

Smutsmutsmutsmutsmut

15. ch15

Slow, patient steps. That's what it took. Kohl-darkened eyes squinting. Jesus, the floor creaked more than he could fuckingbear. Every foot took about thirty or forty years. At least his parents were half-deaf, the tee-vee blasting its dumbassPraaaiiiiiiseeeeee Hiiiiiiimat seven-hundred decibels. But he knew enough not to be too complacent about it.

Especially with the floorboards part of the conspiracy against a night out.

"Are y'all havin' problems with your cheeldrun?"

That's right, Doctor Koch!

"Afraid your kids might be doin' ungawdly thangs?"

That's right!

Christ, it was that Doctor Koch asshole. Louis had seen the pamphlets on the battered coffee table when his mother had interrupted a perfectly lovely evening of doing absolutely nothing productive with a polite cough and a soft little rap at his bedroom's door, her usual mousy murmur something he couldn't ignore 'cause it'd become his dad'sroar. And with at least enough of the wine Rachel'd given him to slip him into a perfect mellow, he wasn't gonna harsh it with the usual,Getcher ass down here, boy!

The Koch Method: Doctor Monstrum F Koch's Reparative Therapy Clinic.

The hell did his parentsthinkabout him, anyway? Reparative therapy? Wasn't that for homos? Rachel could definitely have attested to hisnotbeing a homo.

Now, son, we're real... Real worried about, uh, y'know... Larry, help me out here.

Boy's your problem, Jeanette.

The old man'd just grunted into his beer, huge Frankenstein's Monster feet thrown over the coffee table's rim, the television's remote a weird lolling black tongue from his oversized workman's hands. Louis didn't have huge hands: He'd noticed that.

What was it? Bisphenols in cans? Industrial pollution? Black skies and black lungs and poisoned water? Or maybe just becauseeverythingabout Louis was small. Even his name. Family name. Prissy and French like Jeanette. Did names make the man? Then Larry was always destined to be the grease-monkey he was, a constant clattering confusion of wrenches and hammers and huge wheezing things that still weren't as huge of a tool ashewas.

Head always dragged back and forth like a brain-damaged gorilla when it wasRachelat the door when the old bastard opened it and not, what, one of the football team fudgepackers? Yeah, that'ddefinitelybe straight. Palling around with back-slapping future frat boys whose idea of a fun night was crashing their perspiring bodies into one another and then steeping in steam and rutting around in a fug of ball sweat and foot fungus.

Their local team was theLancers. Jesus Christ. It didn't exactly take deep Freudian analysis to find something a little queer withthatone. Their colors wereroyal violet and madder red. Why not just fuchsia frosted with a bit of jizz-white? At least that would've been a little closer to pussy. But, no, no, his dad's abiding horror, histrauma, that Louis wasn't exactly football material.

Which wasn't true. The jock-itch moronshadthrown him around like one. He'd felt their hands more than once clapped on his ass; wrenched from his feet and flung into a locker. Shuddered with a wheezing revulsion under their heavy thick bulk. He'dbeenfootball material. As the football.

Assholes.

But he was creeping nearer to the door. Almost finished with the stairs, wending down the last few steps, that heavy newly-varnished slab in sight, a glossy complexion under the cold light that slopped into the kitchen and poured down the hallway that it faced.

His fingers twisting around the knob, breath sucked in a sharp hiss through his lips. Yes. Yes. A night with Rachel. He could alreadyfeelthose soft caramel thighs twisted around his hips; could alreadytastethat dripping-honey softness in her pussy's lips, and-

"Gawddammit!" Oh,fuck.

A sudden screech and then a roar like industrial flatulence and Louisknewjust what it was: Those asshole neighbors, those fuckface zit-littered dumb-shit-bone-stick-stupid Harrelson pricks and their big-block-whatever ten-billion horsepower monstrous phallic surrogate car that sent his dad into a snarling rage whenever they peeled out with a rubber-ripping frenzy that sent a funk like an evening on the Western Front wafting intoLouis' bedroom window.

And now the old man was tearing ass with his huge clomping feet around the corner, fist upraised, bellowing his imprecation against missing even asecondof that oh so wholesome and life-affirmingwon't you just find it in yer hearts to give a little bit from your kids' college funds to Jeeesus? Creston Dollar Praise Hour.

And Louis was standing there. He could've just sprung away; could've flung his clattering patent leather combat boots back into the closet; could've done or saidanything. And should have. But he wasn't exactly Indiana Jones, even if his dad was a boulder straight out of Central Casting.

Leather caught the streetlight spilling misty and diffuse through the broad frosted window tucked gracefully into the door, a brilliant sheen capering across its lambent face.

"Thehellare yew doin', boy?" Was it something generational, or maybe just that Louis had read at least a few books that didn't involve redneck jokes or guided interpretations of the Bible? Who fucking knew. But Louis' voice was nothing like his dad's; his dad's nothing even like his mom's, definitely destined to inherit the earth if he'd readthatpassage right with her stooping shoulders and uneasy smiles and still faintly regal affect that couldn't be shaken out even squatting in Niggerkill, Georgia.

Well, the name was probably Praisethelordanallhisworkspraisehimkillthegaysantranniesamen, Georgia, but that was agreatdeal harder to fit onto a freeway sign. Not that anyone evendrovethere. Louis could've reflected even on its sublime beauty, which would have been true. The thick willows rustling with long forlorn winds pouring over satiny fields of rippling high grasses and copses that stood like jungle canopy in rich waxen malachite. Perfumed banks slumping into endless forested sloughs; the orderly and well-manicured cemeteries whose time-weathered stone stood out stark and black against ghostly swamp light in the great houses' shadows that still reverberated with the overseers' crack on the slaves' scarred hides.Thatwas where he'd been destined tonight.

But,no.

There was no fucking beauty here. Not with the old man's glare catching the Louis' eyes darkened like Theda Bara's. God, the bastard wouldn't even have known who Theda Bara was.Some queer thang, is what she is.

Yeah. Sure.

"What thehellare yew doin'?" Repeating it was very helpful.

"Ah, well, uh, ugh, guh, uh, I- I was just... Just pickin' up my boots-"

"Bullll-sheeeeeit." His dad was like every other shitkicker: Endowed with a talent to prolong two syllables into about ninety. "Jeanette, get out here!" So she was. Silhouetted in the threshold between the hall and the kitchen, that small lissome woman from whom Louis clearly inherited his tremendous talent for being a football, and his fine slender waist and his maybe too-round hips and slim shoulders.

And his pretty face, of course, never mind the hair that was slicked down over his back, a pin-straight brilliant full flourish in polished jet that cradled the light with a lover's dewy enthusiasm. It poured to an ass that Rachel had cradled under her spearing high heels with a few murmurs about justhowbubbly it was.

It'd pissed him off.

A little.

And then she'd begged him to add to the creamy makeup that set off her face like a ghost's against dark skin; implored somethingmuchmore generous than a pearl necklace for her heavy hand-filling tits;whimperedthat her blood-red lips needed amuchlovelier juice. So, well, everything melted off, not just forgotten butevaporatingout of his head while they rutted in the graveyard on the blanket she'd drag out of her dad's middle-aged Honda they'd baptized enough to be born-again about a billion times over.

"What is it, Larry?" It was something freakish: His translucent-skinned high-boned beauty of a mother and farmer-tanned jowled thick-jawed bullnecked boot-stomper of a dad. Itmusthave been a wedding not just with one shotgun but a firing squad. And not to coerce the old man but his mother.

"Our son's tryin' ta sneak out." Well,shit. His dadwasactually right about that.

"Larry, it's- it's not what it looks like, I'm sure." At least mom had his back. Or something like it, anyway, even if her eyes were still forever downcast. Her glasses captured the light, scattered it in a strange prismatic spray.

"Oh, Iknowwhat it is. He's sneakin' out t'be with his faggy devil-worshiper friends. Lookit this! He's wearin' makeup, gawddammit! I ain't raisin' no faggot son!" One of his dad's humongous paws justclappedon Louis' cheek; it came away lead-white with a bit of the pancake foundation that at least camouflaged a bit of the very misfortunate acne that'd chosen that day to fountain out of his right cheek.

"Larry, that's- is that true, honey?" Oh, for god's sake.

"I- what? Devil-worshipers? We're not devil-worshipers!" Wearing goth clothing was as close to worshiping the Prince of Darkness as wearing a hood was joining the Sanson family. "I- I just wear goth clothing-"

"Bullllsheeeit!" And his dad had found the loose thread in that brilliantly assembled thesis. "Goth meansGothic. I was readin' up on it. Devils an' such." Christ. "Get back up to yer room, boy!"

"Dad, I- I was just going out with Rachel-"

"I'm sure. Y'were goin' out to be withboys, weren't'cha? That's what Pastor Cooley told me." The diaper-sniper? A very fine insight into an affection for boys. Louis had barely slithered away fromthatclammy-handed freak's prolonged "youth counseling" sessions that'd turned more than one of his friends borderline catatonic for a few years. "That's what them gothsdo, Jeanette!

"Gawddammit, it's worse'n I thought-"

"Jesus, dad-"

"Don't take the Lord's name in vain, boy!" Fuck,thatwas not a gentle little pawing at his cheek. That was a slap that promised a bit of relief in at least a few childhood memories pounded out against his skull.

"Lawrence, don't-"

"A boy like thatneedsta be hit." Louis' shoulder had slumped against the wall, struggling to drag himself upright again. "Now geddup ta yer room! I'm not gonna have no faggot in my house, boy. So you better get ready fer the consequences." The old man was ferocious. Eyes flared like a golem's, raw-red and savage.

"Dad, I- I didn't do anything. I was just gonna- gonna go out with Rachel. Don't you want me having a girlfriend?" Shouldn'tthathave meant something?

"That girl's no good. She's turnin' our boy inna goddamnsissy; makin' him a faggot. 's how I heard it happens. All that goth stuff an' the makeup."

"I'm," fucking, "Dating her!"

"Don't lie, boy!" Whuh?

"She's my girlfriend, all right-"

"Don't you lie! I know you ain't got no girlfriend! Not with long hair like that; not with that makeup." Holycrap. That was it?

"I- I just have long hair; that's all. Samson had long hair-"

"Don't bring Samson inna this! He was a Hebe, anyway!" Oh, well, there they were. "Now geddup to yer goddamn room, boy! An' don't ever lemme hear ya bring up the Lord again! Christ!" The old bastard was hyperventilating. Apoplectic.

And what could charitably be called a conversation reverberated up through the floor. Squawking, roaring; his dad's voice rose like theHindenburg's maiden voyage. And Louis was reasonably sure the night would be like its last. His gut roiled, quavered.

Faggot! Impure influences! Goth sheeeeeit! Ungodly! Turned our boy into a ho-mo-seckshual!

Goddamn.

If only he'd taken up Rachel on her flushing whisper that her fantasy was the camera's cold eye. Just a picture. Justone.

I kinda... I mean, like, it'd besonasty an' hot, right, to be in porn? Not really, but... It's one'a those weird fantasies I got.

He could've just brandished it like a holy talisman.

See, dad?! See?! That'smycum onhersexy seventeen-year-old face and, um, pneumatic twenty-five-year-old tits!

And then there was silence. The old bastard'd finally succumbed to the artery-splintering aneurysm that was his birthright and the object of more than a few of Louis' prayers, genuflecting before god and justbeggingfor the sonofabitch to buy it and for mom to capture a multibillionaire's eye, or at least averyerudite local noble who'd drag them the fuck away from there.

Loius' room wasn't exactly a frilled pink-curtained extravagance; no princessly four-poster bed; nothing to suggest that the closet was anything but a doored box for his clothes. Crisp gray sheets that'd already begun to darken a bit with the anxious sweat bleeding off his brow, his shoulders; half-naked, having shrugged off the night's wardrobe.

Rachel'd be pissed. He'd mumbled a quicksorrydadwentcrazycan'tgoouttonightinto her voice mail; had no fucking idea if she'd even heard it.

It wasn't as if she'd never threatened to frolic with someoneelsein the graveyard or at some house party rushing with enough booze to dim the simple eardrum-battering annoyance in the shitty rap every one of those dumbfuck wigger punks with Confederate flags proudly hoisted from the family manse justadored. 'course, she'd threatened to find solace in Jennifer Cole's arms, which didn't exactly invite any real sorrow if he could just be peering through a knothole, a cracked door,anything.

'cause Jennifer Cole could barely even drag her miniature dachshund into an embrace, much less anyone else, with a pair of macromastic tits that would be the planet's most delicious dry-drowning.

He'd started drifting off. The night's swelter was hideous. Even the maple craning its huge bristling leaves against his window didn't even rustle. It slathered him with sweat, twinkling on his skin, the fan little more than just a slow and meaningless stirring for the soupy black heat.

The problem was the fuckingheat. Nothing could correct that. Late April; dad wouldn't,couldn't, conceive of anything as sinful, so fuckin' decadent, as the AC 'til rising from one of the kitchen chairs was a melody like ripping open velcro.

Goddammit, it was too fucking hot for this. That was the problem. If they'd just snapped on the AC, then his dad's primitive brain wouldn't have overheated. That was Louis' running theory, anyway. And now there was his mom's slow rap at the door.

"You awake, honey?"Oh, oh, always thehoney.

"Yeah. Guess so." Surly. Palms laced under his head, wound through his hair.

The word for his mother was alady. Worthy, graceful. Marie Antoinette's prettier more dignified sister.

"We're both just worried about you, you know, Louis?" Settling on the mattress with the springs' slow creak. A hand on his knee. He was shirtless, stripped to a pair of shorts, slender chest and lithe arms and a shape that wouldn't exactly be mistaken for a man in the dark.

Skin like neon cream, brilliant under the faint streetlight.

"Yeah, I'm sure. Dad's just worried I'm a homo."

"Um, I... I'm a little worried about that, too." Jesus. What could he say tothat? "So... So we called somebody to talk to you, Louis."

"W-whuh?"Nowhe was lurching into an awkward sit-up. "Mom, I'mnotgay. I'm seriously not. Holy crap, Ilovegirls-"

"See, that's- that's just what the Pastor said you'd say. Denial, y'know?" Franz Kafka was obviously really the god directing his life. "Overcompensation."

"No. Overcompensation would be buying a cherry-red Mustang and tooling around with a twenty-four-year-old girl." Like the Pastor. 'cept he was just a huge tool with a cherry-red GMC Rapist van and molested kids. "I- I'm really okay-"

"You're not very manly, you know?" What kind of manliness had naturegivenhim, barring a cock that wasdefinitelytoo fucking huge for his body and a pussy hunger that was enough to fuel a future career in writingPenthouse Forumletters?

"I- I can't help that."

"You have that long hair. You wear makeup! I'm a little worried, too. It's just- I wantgrandchildrensomeday." There was that terrifyinglateweek when he and Rachel were certain she'd be a grandmother at about forty.

"N-no problem with that. I love girls. Seriously. I mean, y'know, Rachel's my girlfriend."

"I know that. She's your girl friend." Shit, he couldtastethe space in that. "But- but you-"

"Wescrew! All the time!"

"Oh, honey! Honey! Stop lying to us! And saying such filthy things! Rachel's a good girl!" Goddammit, this wasn't just Kafka. This was Kafka collaborating with Joe Heller in the City of Dis Artists' Colony. "Don't say that about her-"

"I'm serious. We fuckallthe time; I was going out tonight," yeah, fine, she could probably feel the bus' tire marks on her ass, but that washerproblem. Every goth for themselves or whatever. "To gowildin the cemetery.

"I mean, we- we were worried I'd gotten her pregnant-"

"You have... You have such acruelimagination." The woman's eyes were filling with tears. "I know Rachel and her parents. They're good Christian people. I- I'm done listening to this. You needhelp, Louis."

Shit.

Louisand nothoney, huh? He was fucked.

Seriously fucked.

So fucked that he didn't evenneedRachel; wouldn't need her for about thirty years. He was so fucked that... Something... Something...

Just as long as he didn't need to speak to that freaky Pastor Cooley.

He didn't. Movement. Eyes springing open. The door was opening. His bedroom door. All of it came as a dream, intruded into reality in movement's sharp-edged sketches, a nightmare's quality in absolute impotence. His voice died; not a single breath from his lungs. Diabolic strange figures cowled in shadow and with hideous non-faces stitched out of India ink darkness and masks or maybe it was just misty eyes and idiot terror.

Hewasfucking terrified. Horrified. It was worse than a nightmare. At least a nightmare was just something felt almost out-of-body; you could still say to yourself in a dream, Well, it's just a dream. Every one of those bits of rationalization, everything that would've flung the totalwrongness, the impossibility, into relief, well, they weren't there.

Christ! This was actually. Fucking.Happening.

Wrists and ankles clutched in hot roughly gloved hands and a firm pressure on his chest and then something else. Fingers on his lips, pulling, twisting.

The fuck's goin' on ?!

"Wahg-ahugh!" The words that'd actually been desired were,Stop it! The fuck?! Get away from me!Those weren't exactly practicable. The simpledesignwas flawed, anyway, 'cause his tongue was stabbing out, flailing and twisting itself around a tube that someone had produced, jabbed into his mouth. A plunger fell and a sticky warmth poured through his throat and then everything had begun to melt away. It wasn't dragged from the cinema's facile phantasia.

Slow; brutally slow. A feathery heat gathering behind his knees and rising up through his thighs and sloshing down to his ankles. It was a torch lashing its slow sensual kisses over an ice sculpture, strength melting away, spilling off. His tongue was numbed; his fingers justdied. It was beautiful, soaring through a dreamtime whose walls bloated out and whose hard lines distorted into unfocused nothing and he wassurehe'd heard voices.

His parents'.

Are yousurewe really need to do this?

's what the Doctor and Pastor said we gotta do.

Hands on his skin.

Black abyss.

Eyes opened with a legitimate flutter. Louis was, well, he wassomewhere. Obvious in less than a second it wasn't his bedroom and probably not the immediate ZIP code. There wasn't a ceiling. Well, there probably was, but the silky violet canopy drooping down toward his bleary stare was a bit of an obstacle. Too fuckingexhaustedstill to do more than just crane his head to the left, and then to the right.

Four-poster and extravagant. Heavy regal purple pennants coiled around thick ebony pillars. The walls like bitumen, shimmering with a strange and drowsy light pulsating in an undulating oily rise and fall; an industrial lava lamp in its hugeness, but four of them poised along the room's corners. Everything shone, swarmed over Louis in a black-velvet weirdness that still made him feel like he was inBlue Velvet.

"Grugh..." Eloquence embodied. It wasn'tquitehis fault, though, was it? Not with a glossy onyx rime almost enameling his lips together. The fuck? He woremakeup, fine, but notthis. Blinking quickened. His lashes were too goddamn heavy, too.

Familiar. More than familiar. Rachel had indulged herself more than once with his pussy-sated patience. Never mind the ethanol anesthesia.

C'mon, it'll befun. You're always telling me y'lovemymakeup, right? So why doncha try? You're gonna be sooooo pretty. Oh, Louise!Thathad always gnawed at him; less the aspersion against masculinity that meant shit to him and more that Louise was a name that he could only identify with his cranky and definitely less than gorgeous great-great-whatever-aunt.You're gonna be the belle of the ball. You's jus' gon' besoooopurty, sho' nuff.And then capering through that bit ofI'm allowed to be aGone With The Windrefugee 'cause my mom is blackshit.

Oh, Miss Scahlett...

Giggling. Moronically. Still shitfaced withwhateverhe'd been given. Enough that there was a bit of disconnect between the knowledge that he washereand that beingheremeant that it wasn't a dream, that those were memories, and the memories were wrists and ankles being twisted and shoved down into his mattress and something giddy and strange spilling hot down his throat.

But the immediate interest was exactly howheavyhis lashes were. The aesthetic'd enchanted him. Rachel's were a vast negative sunburst; they not only seemed light but weightless, batted with a shivering breath that he could feel across his cheeks when they slid sweetly together, let his hands settle on her belly, rise up to her tits' full flare.

They werenotweightless.

"The fuuuuck?" And his lashes had not just been mascara'd butsluttified. They were humongous; not those flamboyant fake threads, but just accentuating what had been there with enormous inky strands flicked out like an opened jackknife. His fingers had been, well, they were never exactly rough like his dad's, but they were perfectlysmoothednow. Nails glittered with a burgundy like freshly-spilled blood on red wine.

And that wasn't quite the weirdest, either.

It was probably the heels that jarred him out of that moron complacency. They were heels. High high high good fucking god these were heels that weren'tmeantto be worn upright. Six-inch stilettos; beveled sloping shapes and tight thongs biting into ankles that didn't even have the dignity to be bare. No, no.

His feet were tiny; he'd heardthatmore than once.

Even a little admiring from his mom.

Well, you know, we can just buy the kids' biggest size for you.

Fuck.

Shod in what would have beenverycharming fuck-me heels for Rachel. But he wasn't Rachel. His long shapely legs, hairless as every other inch but his head, less clothed and morepaintedwith gauzy tight stockings that felt like they'd been made from one of those lovely fabrics that could be a size tighter than their wearer's skin.Authenticstockings; seams announced with pussy-pink that shone almost neon in the twisting darkness.

Shapes rose and fell; wheeled up and plunged down like cage dancers in silhouette.

Garters rose across his legs, bound the stockings to a corset that had obviously been made with absolutely no understanding of what a corset's usewas. Tight around his belly, fine, but it only cinched in an already taut wasp waist; there definitely wasn't a pair of tits for its bustier. And the garters weren't even needed, anyway.

"Christ, I really am a sissy sometimes." Noticing that? The thigh-highs' tight crease across his thighs, dimpling the smooth ashen skin. But, well, he'd made generous study of it forRachel's delicious legs. Loved it when she'd grind a slick stockinged heel over his cock. Or sandwich that... God, that's why it wasn't there.

He was wearing panties. Panties. Silky black panties trimmed like the stockings in pink.

"What thefuck?" This wasn't just weird. This was a David Lynch production, and not just television. A palm stabbed at the sheets met something impossibly soft, sleek; sent him sprawling out across it. Rising was more than an ordeal. His legs were tangled together; finally pushed himself up to his knees.

And that was the instant the door opened.

They wore masks. Christ, was this it? Was this a hostage movie?

Did hostage movies usually have thick-shouldered dudes with balaclava and heavily-chiseled muscle, thick rippling shoulders and biceps that could probably fill a tank's turret ring and gnarled hands andverystuffed painted-on pants? Louis took a quick accounting.

Once.

Twice.

God, there were six of them there.

"Jesus Christ." And then there was the weaselly bald motherfucker between them, a squat potbellied figure that looked like nothing more than the offspring of Mister Monopoly and Joseph Mengele, a fat kewpie doll shitbird whose hairline receded and comb-over plunged down in measures equal enough almost to obliterate any impression of his having a pate.

A mustache sat heavily over his upper lip like a morbidly obese caterpillar. The suit was tacky, cheap, questionably fitted on a body whose lumpy oddity spoke of a creator that didn't carve in fine marble but assembleditschildren with potato sacks and polyester batting.

"Noooow, that ain't no way ta speak'a theLord." Shit. Shit. That dripping greasy hillbilly twang. There was... It was strange. A whisper in his ear. Recognition. Who the hellwasthis guy? At least it wasn't that creeper Pastor.

Even if that would have set everything into at least an order that made a great deal of sense.

"Uh, I guess... Um, who are you?"

"Whah, ah'm real happy ya asked. Ah'm Doctor Monstrum F Cock."

"Whuh? You're Doctor Cock-"

"Koch, boah. 's German. Well, bah way'a Argentina, but y'get what ah'm tryin'a'tell y'all, yes?" Something... Something. The guy's rubbery lips flapped together like an amateur puppeteer's labors.

"Uh... I... Guess so? Um, what am I doing here? And why am I dressed like this?"

"Whah, ah thought a boah like y'all'd be comfortable, on'account'a bein' a sissy-boah like that." Sissy? He'd...

Well, fine, Louis had heardsissymore than once. But he'd also heard that he was a devil-worshiper, and that sure as hell wasn't true. If he could call on the Father of Lies' indulgence, would hereallystill be in this fucking ruralnowhere?

"I- uh, I'm not a sissy-"

"Ah heard from yer parents." Whuh? "All them black clothes, an' that black makeup, an' thatlonghair. Don't tell me y'all ain't a sissy. 's real sissy ta me. An' that's where ah come in. Or ah should say, Doctor Koch's Patented Sexual Remediation Therapy."

That's where he'd heard it. And seen it. That reparative therapy shit on the table and blasting from the Gospel Hour or whatever on the television.Thiswas Doctor Koch? Christ, he couldn't have been more of a snake oil salesman if he actually had a bottle of it in one greasy paw. The fingers were as pink as every other inch, packed with fat and well-marbled meat.

The guy probably would have rippled for ten minutes if someone even slapped him on the back. And then there was the bodybuilders' chorus line around him. Wasn't this supposed to becuringqueers? If he'd been Elton John, he'd be wearing more balls than a soccer field.

"Um, I- I'm really not gay. I have a girlfriend. I've already fucked her about a billion times-"

"Oh, that's what ah heard. Y'know, that kinda o'ercommensation," whatever that meant, "Is somethin' thatyou peoplehave in common. But 's all right. 'cause the Patented Koch Method is gon' cure ya, boah."

"I- I don'tneedcuring, okay? I don't need this... Why am I dressed like a girl?"

"'cause youhoura girl." Jesus, this guy's accent was thick enough to blunt a chainsaw. "An' 's the problem. The Koch Method is... Is acorrectivetherapy, y'unnerstan'? It ain't 'bout jus'talkin'. Talk's cheap." But this lingerie definitely wasn't. Nor was the bedroom. And the... Everything.

God, this was his college fund, wasn't it?

"Butactionis somethin' that words.Acta non verba, y'know?" How could anyone with that moron accent pronounce Latin like a forum orator? "It's aboutaversivetherapy. Negative reinforcement. Hence the boahs." A rainbow of overgrown muscle and overstuffed shiny black pants in a weird bit sartorial homogeneity.

"Um, okay? So, what, they're... Gonna beat me up like everybody else, but I'll be wearing all this clothing? What the hell?"

"Notquite. Now, first, y'gotta unnerstand thatnothin'here is happenin' 'cause we're mean or nothin'. 's foryou, son." Oh, sure. The guy produced a compact from his pocket, flipped it open to brandish a mirror leveled with Louis' face while he sat on the bed's edge.

He was... Gorgeous. He? Was that the word? It wasn't justsissynow. Wasn't just Rachel's perfectly lovely but amateurish efforts. A professional; a fucking makeupartisthad airbrushed foundation in a creamy mist over his cheeks, accentuated fine high bones to a vertiginous regality, sent his eyespoppinginto limpid auburn puddles. His full lips were justvoluptuousnow, black with a gloss like wet shadow.

His hair had been perfected, slicked down in its shiny abundance.

God. He would've exploded through his pants if he'd seen a womanthisgorgeous. He could compete with Rachel. He could compete withanyone.

"Um... You've made me into a girl?"

"Oh, son, ah jus' don' thinkyer gettin' it. 's 'boutaversion."

"U-uh, yeah. It's, like, it's disgusting. Whew." Standing was a struggle. He finally wriggled upright in a confusion of twisting hips "Doc, you cured me. I'm gonna go drag a faggot behind a truck now, if you guys'll excuse me." Staggering along on those heels. Whoa. He'd never bitch about Rachel being too slow in herdeliciousthigh-high boots. "Uh. Fellas? Maybe you could stand aside."

They were juststandingthere. There was a door. Somewhere. Somewhere behind them, Louis was pretty sure.

"Anybody'd say that if they was skeered." God. That creepyDeliverancevoice from behind him. Thicker and more ominous now. "Gents?"

Uh?

Whuh?

Who the hellwerethese guys?

"'s time ta start the therapy."

---

"'s time ta start the therapy. But, uh, 'fore we start, ah jus' got one question for ye."

"What? Dude, lemme go. You're not allowed to do this." Well, anyone was allowed to doanything. The law was just something that happenedafterthe crime. But why obsess over the philosophies?

"What name ya want fer yerself?"

"Louis. My fuckingname. Man, tell your pet freaks to lemme go." They didn't. So Louis flung himself with every bit of strength trembling knees could summon at the men-wall.

Which was essentially an underfed puppy hurling itself at an M1 tank.

Smashed into them. They didn't even bother batting away the long-legged gnat.

"Jesus, lemme go!"

"Don't take the Lord's name in vain, son. Now, what name y'all want-"

"Forwhat?DnD-"

"Devil worship. 's what ah thought. Jus' like yer ma'n'pa said." Goddamn this shit. Goddamn this shit. Goddamn this shit. "So ah'll give ya a name. 's one'a mahfav'rites. Alice." Alice. The fuck did that even mean? "Now, 's 'bout admittin' ya gotta problem.

"So, say yer name now, son."

"Uh. Whuh?"

"Say yer name." Louis wheeling around now. A bare shoulder brushed one of the heavy-muscled chests. God, they were tall. Didn't onlytower. The Burj.

"Louis-"

"Ah. Ah kin see we're gon' need ta gethardinna correction. All right. Now, Johnny?"

"Yeah, boss?" One of the men's voicestolledout behind Louis like a lead funerary slab thundering closed. Wasn't southern. Justdeep. Basso profondo.

"Make sure y'adhere ta protocol."

"Got it, boss."

"'s fer all y'all, too. Show this boah that bein' a sissy an' a ho-mo-seckshual ain't jus' fun'n'games. 's abadlifestyle." God, what was this crap? But the fat asshole was waddling around the huge bastards.

Louis could feel somethingevilsettling over them. And then they were settling aroundhim. Alice? What kind of shit was that? He wasn't anAlice. That was... Wasn't his name. His name wasLouis. And these guys were rich with sweat. They shone with it. Rippling heavy muscle.

"U-uh, hey. You guys are... Are pretty big. Work out a lot? Of course you do. Um, bench-press, and... I'm more a runner, y'know?" That was bullshit. He just ran when there was aneedto run. Even Rachel'd teased him about it: He didn't even need a pedicure, she'd said. His feet were just so silky and unused. "Jogging and... And sprinting and...

"If you'll just let me get around-"

"Sorry, honey." The basso profondo dude was some unplaceable color; not black and not white and not exactly that caramel Hispanic color but just a littletanned. Mediterranean. Wow. What a fascinating study. He was still humongous and now a gigantic hand was falling on Louis' shoulder. "But there's a program here.

"And we're part of it. You're gonna learn it's not all fun. You need to understand you've got a problem. Believe me,Iunderstand. We've cured a lot of sissy boys like you. And the first step is admitting you have that problem." God, this guy at least spoke like someone who hadn't gone hunting with Dick Cheney without a helmet.

But his hands were enormous. Hot on Louis' shoulders.

"So, tell me your name. Oh, you're so pretty. You know,I'dbelieve you're a real girl." Oooooo...kay.

"Louis-"

"Oh, thisdenial. I'm sorry about needing to do this. But you leave me with reallynochoice at all. We could do it gently, but I think you're one of those sissy-boys who thinks he has it all figured out." There wasonethought caroming through Louis' brain.

Whafuck?

"Figured out? I- I'm seriously confused, man. But you're- you're really tall. Hey!" Someone's fingers were lacing up through his hair.

And then it hit him like an airborne freighter.

He wasn't just surrounded. They werethere. They'd assembled in a meat-ring around him. Their fingers weren't just on his hair. Rough hands swept over his arms; another settled around an ass that was averywell-shaped and bubbly roundness.

"Man, don't fuckin' touch me-"

"Thatnastymouth. And you're not even speaking in the right voice."

"Right voice? Jesus, dude-"

"Uh-uh-uh." Their... What, their leader? Only the guy's eyes rose into any real relief through the mask. A cold and pitiless gray. The mask was also open for his lips, just to behugelyfuckin' creepy. "You need tosoundlike a girl. To act like a girl.

"Don't you see? You're a sissy, after all-"

"Dude, are- are you tryin' tomakeme into a homo or something?" They were definitelytrying. Kneading his ass now. It was something incredibly weird. Just the heat roaring over him.

"So you admit you like this kind of thing?" What? No? What sorta sophistry was that?

"Man-"

"Honey." Oh, crap. Fingers gathered around his chin. And thensqueezed. This guy was gigantic. His hand could've covered Louis' entire face. "You need to learn your name. You need to hitbottombefore you can start getting better.

"Talking like a girl, admitting that your name isAlice, those are important parts of it. And Alice is a pretty name, isn't it, honey?" It wasn't that sort of mincing lispinghoneyyou'd expect from some dude who made Brad Pitt look like Schwarzenegger. It was something dark and husky and just... Hungry.

"Um, dude-"

Silenced with a thumb brushed on his lower lip. EvenLouisbarely believed how full it felt. And the guy peering down at him with those brutal gray eyes was definitely feeling it.

"Say itsweetly."

"Um,dude?" High falsetto.

"I think you know what I mean. I'll just need to help you, though." Was hesighing? "What's your name, honey?"

"Louis-"

"What. Is. Your.Name? This's the last time I'm going to ask nicely." Perfectly matter-of-fact.

"Lou-is. This's the last time I'm gonna answer nicely-"

"Oh, darling." Darling? Dude, that was... "I'm sorry that you're driving me to this. But you are. Hold her shoulders."Her? He was sure asshitnot aher- whuh?

Hands on his shoulders. Just like that. And a sudden pressure. Gray Eyes' fingers suddenly around Louis' neck. Skin dimpled with a slow squeeze. He wasn't just pissed off now; not just vaguely uneasy. His belly was boiling. This wasrealfear. This guy was gonna kill him for- forwhat, exactly? He was gonna die.

Jesus, he'd haunt his fucking parents for this!

Squeezing firmly enough that blood had started to build behind his eyes. Tight enough that, if it hadn't been for the heavy model-perfect makeup on his cheeks, he would've been scarlet. Purpling. His legs trembling and weakening 'til they just surrendered.

Slumping down to his knees. A shape that looked like Gray Eyes was smuggling an anaconda in those lustrous black pants. Too fucking close. Everything was too fucking close. They were falling around him now.

It wasn't just so fucking funny and abstract and a weird little anecdote that he could've drunk on at college when he finally blow the fuck out of Georgia with Rachel beside him or at least with him as her gigolo. This was...

Was the guy's hand on his cheek now. The fingers that'd beenpettinghis hair had become shackles, tangled through it, taking firm hold. Wrenching at the follicles 'til it was just fucking impossible even to move without a raising a sharp shock of pain through his scalp.

"Stop. Stop it. Stop it."

"I wish I could. But this's about corrective therapy. And you haven't even said your name." The adventurous answer would have been,My. Name. Is.Louis. Motherfucker.

But he wasn't adventurous. A tremor was flitting from the small of his back to his nape and back again. His eyes were even huger, ringed with inky lashes, lids gracefully kohl-darkened. He was beautiful knelt there.

Knelt. Oh, shit. He was. Those fuck-me heels were stabbing into his soft creamy ass now.

"Please. Please. I- I'm really sorry if- if, um, I-"

"Uh-uh. You're still not listening, are you?" One of Gray Eyes' hands was tracing a long slow passage from the bastard's chiseled belly to that menacing shape rippling through his pants.

"I- I'm really listening-"

"No, you're not." Louiswasn'tlistening. That was true. Could anyone listen when their blood was deafening them? Bile was roiling in his gut. Everything came slowly. And he could almost see himself from outside his own skin. That pretty slender girlish figure. No. Not girlish.

Girl. The corset drew his spine into an even more extravagant arch. He'd always had shapely hips, smeared with a tight shroud of sleek fat, and now they were evenrounder. Curvaceous thighs.

No tits. No chest at all, really. He was struggling not to breathe. Their scent had fallen from just familiar sweat to something overpowering. He was getting lightheaded with, well, it wasn't terror. Terror was just something that happened and scared the hell out of you: It was a madman brandishing a pistol and shooting at you; that was it.

Horror was prolonged. Horror wasknowingthere was a madman with a pistol but having no ideawherethey were. Horror was being stalked. Horror was this.

Gray Eyes' fingers lacing patiently into the pants. And then draggingitout. Louis didn't ever let his eyes open in gym class. Just shuddered for a few creepy minutes in the shower and thenfled. The assholes had crowed about such a tiny guy having such abigcock and where the fuck was the straightness in it and why was his brain wandering there?

He was stupid with horror. That was it. Gray Eyes' cock was bigger than his. Was bigger than anything he'd ever really let himself imagine. Thick and plump; cut; the head flaring into a throbbing relief, rounded and beveled and carved along wide sloping curves. It craned up a bit, strong, its weight the only thing keeping it from springing to the guy's belly.

"God, no. No. Don't do this. Really. I don't wanna do this. I'm so sorry." The words poured out of some visceral place where every other desperate prayer lay. Bring on the hostage video dudes with the swords or knives or whatever.

"You have suchprettyblack lips. I love that goth look. They look so soft." Pushing closer. The fuckface arresting his headstillhad his fingers fisted in Louis' hair, luscious and soft and satiny. He couldn't move. He was frozen.

Pinned there like a butterfly on a board. Louis' eyes were enormous, tears welling up in his eyes from the pain while hestillstruggled against the hands and just the horror in seeingitthere. Coming closer, and closer, and closer.

"Oh, that'ssonice." It washot. Sizzling on Louis' left cheek. Sweat had greased it, shimmered on the dark olive shaft. "You have the prettiest skin, Alice."

Stop stop stop stop stop stop stop.

Brushing the tip from Louis' chin to his left eyebrow, even slipping it over the pretty boy's forehead. The thing was huge, heavy; it settled over Louis' face now,dwarfedhim. Absolutely hairless, perfectly groomed; his... Oh, Christ, even the guy's scrotum, also, skin silken, the balls resting against Louis' chin more billiard than golf. Plump and straining and someone's laughter rose up, ugly and crawling through his nerves.

Oh, god, oh, god, oh, god, just let meoutof this.

Pleading and praying.

"Your skin's so soft."

"It looks soft." One of the other dudes' voice was closer to an articulated growl. It came from behind him. Who evenknewwho it was? Who even cared? "It looksrealsoft."

"I love white bitches. You just gonna put your cock on her face?" Her? Her? What the fuck was wrong with these mongoloids? "Lookit that skin. Man, it looks like somebody already nutted on her."

Goddammit.

Louis could- could dosomething, right?

"Wait your turn, man-"

"Johnny, you always pull this rank shit." Right. Gray Eyes' name wasJohnny. Not that it mattered. Great. Have the planet's commonest name to bring to the cops.

Why was he already letting his mind just slump to the aftermath? This was... This wasn't happening, right? This was just another layer of that fucking insane dream that he'd persuaded himself wasn't a dream. He could escape. Could wriggle out of it. Justthink.

Eyes frozen open. He couldn't blink.

Something horrible would happen if he blinked. It wasn't just that gnawing sense of suspicion; something terrible was already happening with his eyes open.

"Please, please, don't do this-"

"You're not getting it, are you? I'mreallygoing to have to teach you a lesson. Look around. All of theseverygood-looking men are gettingveryexcited about you." Louis felt it. The heat pouring out of them. "Do you think they'd be this happy about aboy?

"No way. You're a girl, honey. So, what's your name? Tell us your name. Tell us your name. For the camera, too." No fucking possibility. It was... "Look up at the camera. C'mon. Bring it closer." A fuckingcamera?

Louis' eyes were effulgent with tears now; they stood in a heavy pond across his eyes.

"Look. Bitch's cryin', boss." The guy who loved white bitches; he was the one cradling the camera in a meaty hand. Black. Hooded like all of the others. He'd dragged his cock out, also. A sharp pull had Louis' head whipping around.

Every one of them had been brandished. Constellations of heavy swollen meat. Some of them were so fucking massive they wilted down, drooped like a horse's. Some of them could'vebeenhorses. Others were just...

Large.

Pulsating. Fingers dragged languidly down them. This was just normal for these fucking freaks.

"Come on. Say your name for the camera." A scarlet mote strobed with a slow regular pulse beside an unblinking eye tucked into a cold silver tube. It loomed. Stared, swallowing down every second with total equanimity. They were really recording this. Gray Eyes...

It was easier to think of him asGray Eyes. Not a name at all.

His cock steadied in his hand.

"Say your name for the camera."

"Please, don't do this. Please. I'm sorry. I'll doanything; just don't do this to me. I- I don't have a lot of money, but-" laughter dwarfed that.

"Bitch,wegot money." The Cameraman was chortling down at Louis. "We equal investors in'is shit."

"Yeah, slut." The voice must've been the fucker tearing at his hair; he punctuatedslutwith a quick pull. "This's part'a the reward, anyway. C'mon."

"Bitch is already 'bout to startreallycryin', boss." The Cameraman was leering down at Louis beside his charge. His hand squeezed around a too-huge cock. It was humongous; as massive as Gray Eyes'. A hue like dark chocolate.

"Please, I- I just wanna go-"

"Oh, you're notlistening. You're just making it harder for yourself." Gray Eyes' answer was almostpitying, hooded head swept back and forth in a long slow shake.

"An' everybody else, too." It was the asshole holding his hair again. And... And now there was a cock's swollen hot weight being draped over his crown. "Goddamn, this hair. This's agirl's hair."

"What's your name? Tell us your name, honey? Tell the camera your name." It pitched closer while Gray Eyes encouraged him with that level soft voice. A glittering metal intruder craned nearer and nearer.

"I..." Louis felt it. Boiling in his gut. And there was hope, too. Maybe they'dstop. So he let his voice rise, just a bit, a velvety alto that he'd perfected in those liquor-stained and delirious moments with Rachel, pursing his rouged lips and burbling into her camera while they sprawled out shitfaced on her bed.

"Um, I'm Alice." It was...

Was the worst thing he'd ever said.

Ever done.

Felt a frothing nerve-numbing heat ineverything.

"What was that? Tell us again." Gray Eyes demanding it now. His cock slid over Louis' cheek, sweat-oiled, up and down and up and down.

"A-Alice. Alice. My name is Alice." Louis' voice hot from his chest. Trembling up from his throat. "Alice." It was horrible. He was gonna hurl from the words, bitter on his tongue. From the cock sliding smoothly across his left cheek. The bastard with the camera clutching at his own, wringing its neck; the fuckhead's behind him grinding up along the fine creamy seam that parted his lush long hair. The others had no compunction at all, hands on his skin.

They pulled at his shoulders; shoved through his hair; eased down to brush coarse fingers down to the small of his back. A cock slapped at Louis' cheek.

And now his eyes were crossing, sight twisted and misted with tears, staring at the hideous obscene thing leering down at him. A cyclopean python; a long broad vein pulsed over its shoulder. The faintly purpled lips were clasped together, even with one fat bead reeking like bleach flitting gathering on them.

"I- I'm Alice. I am. I- I really am. So, I- please. Please. Don't do anything more-"

"I don't think youreallybelieve you're Alice, then. It's natural for a woman to be interested in a man's body, right? A man's cock. And what's this? Answer, Alice. What aprettyname." What was so fucking wicked was exactlyhow, well,handsomeGrey Eyes' voice really was. A movie-perfect voice.

A voice that graceful shouldn't have been here.

Shouldn't have been doingthat.

That voice shouldn't be attached to the thick muscled body and the huge cock being stabbed at poor Louis like a dagger.

"I- I don't... I mean..."

"Unless you're alesbian. And that's a whole different kinda problem." Fuck, what'd theywantfrom him? Why were they doing this?! He could've screamed;wantedto scream. But something was tearing it back into his mouth. Not just the wish not to open it.

It was the fear's weight.

One simple question, teetering back and forth through every thought.Why were they doing this?!He wasn't a fuckinghomo. He didn'twantthis at all. Had no interest in it. He was obsessed with pussy. With Rachel. Rachel was- was a sable-skinnedgoddesswhose skin tasted like a kiss of paradise. Every fucking inch. They fuckeddaily. Twice daily. Rutting even in the disused bathroom stalls beside the auditorium's nerd haven. Those dinguses wouldn't ever utter a word 'cept maybe to giggle over the wet slapping skin.

And now the Cameraman was creeping closer, slapping that obscene cock at his right cheek.

"Jeeesus. This skin's like silk, boss. 's fuckin' great. I just wanna fuck this lil' sissy slut." No. No.No.

God, no. Fuck? Fuck? It was...

It was just impossible. Right? This was some demented scared-straight shit that'd gonewaytoo fuckin' far, but- but these assholes knew, right? Right?

"Not yet, Shawn." Shawn? The Cameraman. Fuck.

Notyet?

That was just to frighten him, right?

"Please. Please. I- I'll do whatever you want. I get it now. I get it. I- I really- I really don't want... Want anything to do with boys anymore." He understood it now. Epiphany.Whypeople scrawled their names over confessions that were nothing but empty paper for the cops' creative writing.

So he'd just admit it.

He was a faggot. A homo. A pillow-biter a doughnut-puncher awhateverjust as long as they'd get those fucking things out of his face.

"That's great. You're finally admitting it, Alice. That'sreallygreat." So why weren't they just backing the fuck off? Why were they gettingcloser? "Then you mustreallylove cock a lot. So we're here to show you just how nasty it can be."

The fuck?

"N-no! No! I'm done with it; I don't want it anymore-"

"The therapy's not done." The head was there. Prodding between his eyes. Oh,god. The flesh was soft, swollen, yielding a bit against Louis' skin. "I don't know if you'vereallyadmitted to yourself that you're pretty little Alice, have you?

"Have you now? There's a technique I use to see. It's really reliable." No, no, no, no, no. The peak jabbed at Louis' cheek. Stabbed at his lips. Cinched closed and still sosoftthat bloated hungry thing was beginning to worm between them. Hit his teeth. "Ngn... You're not opening up, Alice.

"Youneedto open up. You need to open up your mouth."

"Yeah, open up that slutty mouth-pussy, baby." The asshole holding his hair wasn't justholdingnow. Pulling more roughly. Jerking Louis back; the cock's head slipped out of his buttoned lips, and it was onlyworse. They were there. All of them. The jerkoff grasping his hair was the palest; not quite a fucking albino, but close enough. Almost colorless. His cock was a fat ruddy thing, sending Louis' eyes crossing idiotically just tounderstandwhat it was. An oversized worm.

"Now, now, don't be soindelicatewith our little Princess Alice." A perfectly apposite name for a sissy, fine, but... He wasn't. Having thick black hair and fine bones wasn't being a fuckin' sissy-boy; he wasn't a goddamngirl. This was absolutely batshit.

What were they doing?

"Now, open your mouth, Princess Alice." Open his mouth? Yeah, sure. And he'd be buying some real estate on the wrong side of some Louisiana levees, too. His hope was to shake his head; impossible, the Albino's fingers too fucking fiercely set in his hair even tomove. A tear slid down Louis' cheek in a long thin twinkling ant-line. No. No. No.

"Open your mouth, Princess Slut. C'mon. The boss-man wantsta show ya some love." The Cameraman stabbed that weird leering appendage out at him. It was an extension of the asshole's body, almost more than his hot throbbing flesh. "'less maybe you want some dark meat. Maybe 's it, boss."

"Oh, don't be soindelicate, Shawn." Who was Gray Eyes, anyway? "But I'm going to need to ask you to open up your mouth, young lady. You'll like it. It's what you do, right? C'mon. It's averysweet treat for you." Their laughter was so fucking ugly. "Open. Your. Mouth."

No. No.

So the bastard ground the cock up against Louis' lips again. Dark skin against polished onyx. They were too plush to be glass, and still stained with that soft luster.

"Open your mouth. Open it."

"Yeah, whore. Open your fuckin' mouth." The Albino was justtorturinghim now. Yanking at his hair, and Louis still wouldn't.

"I guess I'll need to be unkind. If youreallywant me to be rough with you, then I will be. This is for your own sake." Louis was already half-suffocating in their heavy sweat aura that poured off hard muscle and skin. Already barely able to breathe, just barely letting in a few whispers through nostrils half-closed, set in a hawked French nose.

And then Gray Eyes' fingers twisted around that.

He was smothering him. Oh, god, he was gonna die. He'd never feltthat. Held his breath, fine, but this wasn't that red-cheeked ridiculous bullshit. Wasn't even Rachel's hand on his mouth when he'd gotten alittletoo loud in the bathroom or in her house when her parents were home. This was a sharp pinch; he couldn't wriggle away. Couldn't struggle.

His hands came up, were batted away like underfed sparrows. Worse than that. Theysawhis fingers now; his ornately lacquered nails. It was instant: His wrists pinioned in thick fingers, dragged up, and now he was not only just knelt butrisingup on his knees, ground against the hideous thing jutting out at him like an accusing finger that someone had inflated into a flesh balloon.

It was gigantic. Everything was. They all were. Nausea shuddered through every inch when his splayed struggling fingers met soft warm skin; shocking familiarity. His. And not. Not when he'd take his own in his hands, and there was still that silk-on-hot-iron quality. Dragged over his palms.

"What a good little whore."

"These great fuckin' hands. So goddamn good. Yeah. Yeah. C'mon, sweetie. Stroke me off." No, no,no.

More than breathless. There was nothing in his lungs anymore. But it didn't matter. He'd rather goddamndiethan open his mouth. He was sure of that. Even while fiery motes started to gather and whirl across his eyes like embers kicked off a bonfire. He wasn't going to open his mouth.

He wasn'tAlice. EvenAlicewouldn't just kneel and suck off some asshole who'dabductedher. No. No. No. He should shake his head. Should do anything he could. Anything. Anything.

And his body betrayed him. Treacherous stupid atavistic piece of shit. Justbeggingfor breath, so it forced open his mouth, blasted out a huge wet spray from his lips, tore his jaws apart and sent his tongue lolling out, dragging in breath. And something else.

"There. Good girl!" The bastard was just shoving it in. "Now, don't bite, or I'mreallygoing to need to be mean with you, Princess Alice." There was only one word now.No.

No to everything.

Not to reality. None of this was real.

It was disgusting. That briny juice beading rheumy on its head. That weird hot bleach-and-skin tang in sweat and almost greasy in its slickness over his tongue. Just sitting there in his mouth.

"That's a good girl. That's averygood girl. But you shouldn't have bad manners, right?" With- with those motherfuckers' hands still biting into his wrists, still pushing their cocks across his palms? "Doesn't that feel better?" Gray Eyes' voice had become heavier. He was almost growling now, graveling. "God, your mouth's sohot. You have the prettiest lips. You reallyarea good little sissy-boy, y'know, Princess Alice?

"Iloveit with sweet little girls like you."

"Boss, you'realwayshordin' the good ones for yourself. I swear, man, it ain't fair atall." The Cameraman was still craning that endlessly staring lens down at them; still capturing the lips drawn in a trembling black ring around Gray Eyes' enormous shimmering cock; still staining its memory with indelible shades of revulsion on Louis' beautifully made-up face and the horror sizzling in his eyes. "Goddamn, I could just poprightnow-"

"No fucking way." The Albino bastard was growling from behind him. "You don't get to-"

"'shurting, man. I gotta hard-on so bad for this white bitch. She looks like she'd be real pretty with a big load'a my paste on her face-"

"Notyet, all right, Shawn? You're so impatient." Yet? No. No. Notever. "But you should have better manners, young lady." Gray Eyes was ordering him now. "Mmm... I think I'll take off my mask. It's so impersonal like this, isn't it?"

God, no.

No.

Louis hadnointerest in seeing Gray Eyes' face. Seeing anyone. Admitting that they evenhadfaces; that they were anything but a disgusting sex dream.

But it was coming off. The guy... The guy was handsome and that was evenmorehorrible. That craggy square-jawed look that was something from, well, what, maybe 'sixties Hollywood? Stubble like charcoal on his cheeks.

"Whew. Isn't that so much better-"

"I'm not takin' off my mask." The Cameraman didn't exactly swing his charge up to capture Gray Eyes' face, though. "Man, you're crazy, doin' that."

"It's all right. Now, Princess Alice, you can't justholda man's cock in your mouth. You need to be polite. Suck on it. You know how to do that, right? Sure you do. You just... Purse your lips." The bastard's powerful fingers were brushing over Louis' lips, cinching them together. Shoving that horrible cock just a bit deeper. "Use your tongue, too."

"An' make sure you strokeusoff, too, slut." Someone else's voice; probably one of the men that'd slapped their cock on his hand. "You can't just get all lazy when you got six big dicks that're gonna wanna use your pretty holes. A sissy whore should get to knowallthe cock that's gonna fill her right up." Louis' stomach had started pulsing like a surrogate heart when one of the assholes around him grunted out that.

No. Fuck, no. I'm not gonna do that. They're not gonna do that.

"Come on, Princess. Do it. Suck it. Suck it. Or I'll need toinsist." He wanted to sob. To howl. And then Gray Eyes justlungedinto his mouth; hammered his cock's enormous blunt head against Louis' palate, bruised the soft fragile flesh.

He was already gagging; a hot racking cough.

"See? We can do it the easy way, or theveryhard way-"

"Hard way's always the best. Gets all nasty an' messy, too. The camera loves your slutty face, baby." Cameraman was almost giggling every word now. "C'mon, give the camera a kiss."

Christ, this was disgusting. The strange and almost steely flavor in Gray Eyes' cock. The bare skin. The skin that should've at least been behindsomekind of clothing. This wasn't real. Reality wasn't a cock being pushed into his mouth.

Aboy's mouth.

It wasn't that freaky Albino motherfucker holding his hair so roughly that it just dragged out more tears from eyes that were already stained with them. There wererealtears now. He didn't fuckin' cry. Not even when some jock-itch motherfucker pushed him down onto his knees and there was a little ambiguity about whether this was fighting or fucking.

There wasn't much of a difference now.

"We should give our little Princess Alice the chance to do it theeasyway. Theniceway. I'm sorry, Alice, about all of these rustics." Whowasthis Gray Eyes motherfucker? Louis' eyes quaking and cranked up to him and to the heavy hot meat that settled on upturned palms. "But youreallyshould be nice to them, too."

How do you sayfuck youwith at least three four inches of cock in your soft pink mouth, between your glossy black lips? With enough fear to numb his tongue.

"Now, you know how to suck cock, right? Every good little sissy does. And aren't you a good little sissy, Princess Alice?"Princesswas worse than anything.

"Yeah, slut. C'mon. An' work them cocks with your pretty lil' hands, too." Cameraman was satisfied just to slaphison Louis' cheek. "Oh, that white skin'srealnice, huh?" Laughter from every one of them but Gray Eyes; guttural and rolling around through his head.

Howoldwere these motherfuckers?

"Kiss it. Kiss it. You'll start to feel your way around it." Gray Eyes was encouraging him now, a cheek cradling Louis' colorlessly alabaster cheek.

"Yeah. An' this cock, too, slut. Stroke it. Stroke it, whore." One of the bastards just folded Louis' trembling fingers around it. Hot. It was incredibly hot on his skin. And then the other asshole dragging closed Louis' hand. "C'mon, bitch. Do it.

"Don't justhold'em. Stroke 'em. Stroke 'em. Do it, slut." One of the other pricks, and without any sense of irony in that, justslammeda cock's iron-hard head on Louis' right ear. The boy was already terrified; now he was whimpering, a pathetic little mewl around Gray Eyes that sent long thready tremors down the shaft.

"That- that feelsreallygreat. But you need to start sucking now." Unequivocal. "Do it." He couldn't do it. Just fuckingcouldn'tdo this. But what the hell else could Louis do?

The nameAlicewas already weighing on his brain like lead sinking into a swamp.

Wouldn't it just be easier to do it?

So he did. Puckered his soft lips and kissed and it was... Wasn't that terrible. Not really. Not while he just clenched closed his eyes, drifting into some black sightless place where Gray Eyes' cock was just some weird flavorless popsicle, where skin's strange sensation was just part of the ambiance, where the round head was just some quirky design.

"Oh, that feelswonderful, Princess Alice. That's such a beautiful name for you, you know. A goth princess like you-"

"Goth slut, too." The fantasy... Delusion... Whatever. It would've been so much easier without the Cameraman's voice, without Gray Eyes', without two cocks being pounded now at his cheeks, slid up and down and back and forth. Without the Albino's... Christ! It was all just breaking down!

Louis' eyes opening again, because it was hopeless. Terror crushed even harder down on him, squeezed every nerve under a garden of poisoned knives, with his eyes closed. It was all just hopeless.

"That'sverygood. But you're just kissing." Now Gray Eyes was staring down at Louis, capturinghiseyes. Not quite unblinking. That was even worse. 'cause it was just so normal. 'cause Louis could feel his heavy mascara-thickened lashes beat across his cheeks when they fell closed. "Use your tongue, honey. Start to move. Unless you just wantmeto do it."

No. No. Louis' throatstillached just from that.

"An' start pumpin' them cocks. C'mon. The cameralovesyer slutty face, baby. 'specially gettin' slapped with all that dick." Pounding at him; beating at his cheeks 'til only the opaque makeup kept them from staining his cheeks red with them. He was mewling now.

A tortured little whine was rising up, higher and higher and higher.

A tantrum. A fucking meltdown. Just stop stop stop stopstop!

"Why doncha suck on me a lil' bit, honey? C'mon. Them lips're lookin'realnice. An' you're lookin' real hungry. Bitches love chocolate." Cameraman chuckling down at him. His cock just pushed against Gray Eyes'.

No complaints about it.

Who was the faggot?! Jesus! Why wouldn't they just stop?

"Suck it. Suck it, slut. C'mon."

"Well, don't berude, Princess Alice. It's about decorum." Gray Eyes wasn't pulling out his cock from Louis' mouth. Just standing there, waiting.

Nausea worked itself up from Louis' gut.

And he still let his lips slacken around Gray Eyes' cock. Eased away; just a few inches, but it was enough for something scalding and weird and almost... Flabbier than Gray Eyes' to push itself into his mouth. Cameraman wasn't as gentle. Didn't bother with any niceties.

Justshovedit in 'til it hit Louis' palate. And then stopped.

"That's alotof authentic black meat. How ya like it, honey? Y'ever sucked off a black guy before? I know all you white girls got abigthang about black dick-"

"Oh, quite with the big black cock shit.Mine's bigger'n yours." The Albino was registering his complaint with its flop against Louis' head; stillpainful, curtained in soft pillowy hair.

"Mine's thicker, man-"

"Sowhat? Bitches like it when it'slonger-"

"Thickness is where 's'at. Right, bitch? C'mon, white chocolate, let's see ya bob'at head on my cock. Suck it. You know how ta suck cock. I ain't gonna be gentle as Johnny. He's too nice to bitches who jus' need ta get shown they place." So Louis did. It was weird. Impossible. Just feeling everything start to go dark.

Not even vision. Not even sense. Just... Just all reason. Everything. He couldn't doanything. He'd always felt that he could dosomething. Even with his fuckface dad slapping him around; even with the faggy football jocks and everybody else. But this was hopeless. Helpless.

"Yeaaah!" Laughter around him. Every new sound roiled his gut. The cock was faintly oily, plump under his lips. "Oh, lookit them lips: They're even blacker'n my cock, baby." They were; obsidian against dark chocolate. "You love it, right? C'mon. C'mon.Yeah."

So he sucked. Let his lips twist, trembling, around the Cameraman.

"Use that tongue. C'mon, slut. Do it." And he did. Flattened it under the head. Rachel's technique could bring him off in about thirty seconds when shereallyapplied herself to it; a suction that couldn't only pull a golf ball through a straw but a battleship through a pinhole.

Louis felt it. Just... Just like dancing with her. He'd seen it, felt it, so why not just start to push himself through the motions? It wasn't exactly bobbing. Just the first few bits of uneasy movement. That obscene doughy cock slid, only one or two inches, and there was still movement, between lips like shapely black cherry petals.

"Oh, that'snice, slut. Yeah. Yeah. You're gettin' inna it now."

"Don't I always know, Shawn?" Gray Eyes still kept his cock brutally close to Louis' face. The tip even grazed one of his lashes, caught a quick and reflexive butterfly kiss that dragged a hiss through his perfect teeth. "Oh. Oh,yes.

"You're so pretty, you know, Princess Alice. A sissy isneverprettier than when she's on her knees sucking cock."

"'specially alottacock like this. C'mon. I wanna get inna that mouth." Albino was pulling even harder at Louis' hair now. The tears were coming up again.

Because they'd vanished for a bit. Louis just suddenlyfeltit. They'd desiccated, dried, flitted away like a stream shriveling into dust in August.

There was only the pain on his scalp now. His head's passage back and forth had become more graceful, eyes tilted up to the Cameraman's thickly-muscled stomach, crossed over his cock, even noticed his lips sucked out and pushed back with every rise and fall. The bastard wasgigantic; he couldn't swallow even half into his mouth without it hitting his throat, and still kept on with it.

"'s a good lil' whore. Yeah. Yeah. That'snice. Fuck, yeah. Yeah."

"O-oh, shit, 's real nice'a watch,mang." One of the paler guys, clamping Louis' right hand around his cock, was gurgling with a thyroid cretin's sense of sophistication. "Yeah, man, 's fuckin' hot. I love goth bitches."

"Everybody loves goth bitches. Sissy sluts like this're just thebest, dude." The one who'd taken his left. "Tug on my cock a lil' bit. C'mon. It ain't gon' bitecha, slut. Do it. Lemme show ya how." So Louis' hand was just being pulled, back and forth, up and down, stroked over skin that rode up and fell with his palm, his soft slender fingers.

They were a sissy's fingers; a girl's fingers, really. Delicate. The only labor they'd known was a bit of schoolwork and dragging a glass from the dishwasher. And now they were being dragged down a cock, a man's flesh, that throbbing selfish heat. His right hand, also.

Strange sense of coordination, mouth quickening around the Cameraman. The camera's lens stared at him; the bastard's eyes, too. But what could he do? Nothing. So he sucked. And sucked. Let a suction start to gather around the head like he'd felt with Rachel.

Maybe... Maybe it would be finished sooner.

Maybe.

"Ugh... Fuck, yeah, I'm 'bout ready to pop-"

"Then don't goyet. Don't be so rude, Shawn." Gray Eyes admonishing the Cameraman like Miss Manners clucking her tongue about some teatimefaux pas.

"Yeah, man. Let us feel this bitch's mouth without your nasty jizz in it-"

"Mothafucka, my jizz is just the icin' on the slut-cake, okay? Y'all love my jizz-"

"Fuck you. C'mere, whore. Gimme your head." Pulled to the right. To the caramel-skinned guy whose fingers bit into Louis' skin, jerked creamy fingers faster and faster across it. And now the Cameraman was dragged out of his mouth with a wet littlepopfrom damp lips.

Louis gasped, sucked down breath reeking of them, of sweat, of that strange pre-cum brine. And then sucked on the Caramel guy. It was already painted with perspiration; and its flavor and scent were different from Gray Eyes', from the Cameraman.

It should've shocked him. Knowing that therewasa difference between cocks' flavor. Yeah. That was averyimportant knowledge for anyone.

Dreamy and strange. They were staring at him. All of those eyes. His heart had started to hammer at his ribs. He was conscious of demented and distant and senseless things. How the bustier cradled his chest; the stockings had begun to heat his thighs; his ass was still too fuckingcool, even with the the room's leaden heat. Their hands fell into higher definition.

Rougher calluses and harder bone; thicker strength.

Louis'd become accustomed to it now. To pushing the cock between his lips, letting his tongue flail with a clumsy little flit around the head; start conjuring a wet suction that dragged them down even further, even brought his cheeks around the shaft while he rose and fell.

Someone else took his right hand, ground his palm against them. Smaller than the Caramel guy; those differences had... Had started to matter.

Not justcock.

A rounder head or a narrower one; his left hand was pulled away like dogs snarling and tearing a steak away from each other. Louis' lashes fluttered, swallowed breath through his nostrils, sometimes just let his lips open around it. Their grotesque flavor filled his mouth, slathered itself on his tongue. Weird and animal.

Some of them had hair, too; he caught glimpses of it, tiny inklings of those thick wiry copses in their pants. Their grunts raked at his ears. Jeers and laughter.

Lookit that. Lil' slut's gettin' inna it.

"Yeah, muthafucka. Lookit that. 's so fuckin' good. How ya likin' that white bitch's pretty black lips, Darien?" Darien? That was the Caramel Guy's name? Caramel Guy seemed... Seemed perfectly fine for him.

"Shit, man, they're just sosoft. These're some real class-A dick-suckin' lips. Lil' sissy's goin' at it." Groaning, growling. Deep voices from chests that were huge enough to cart luggage in; a hand clapped on his head, shoving him back away and then... Then the simple humiliation in being forced back down it. The head grazed his throat; and now Louis was being dragged away again.

Twisted around to confront the Albino, floppy and too-huge cock jutting out at him. The guy had stepped out of his pants, and he just stood there, well-trimmed crop of curls a stark black against almost colorless skin. His cock roiled red.

Louis was shuddering now. Shuddering with his eyes' darkening horizons; shuddering with skin's hot kiss on skin; shuddering with the sudden understanding that their hands weren't even on his wrists anymore. His hands worked; his arms had already started to strain with being constantly up, tugging at the Cameraman, and then at... At someone else.

It didn't even matter. His arms were being pulled around; his spine ached, body twisting away from that hard-edge alignment with his hips. Even being forced to roll his knees over the high-pile carpeting, luxuriant against his stockinged skin, to offer his mouth to them. They closed around him, nearer and nearer.

Definition became shadow. A slap of wet meat against his nape. One of the... Whatever they were. Shapes. Human darkness. They were twisting their cock through his hair, taking hold of a huge hank and plunging through it, hips rising and falling.

Louis', also. Rocking closer and then further away from the Albino freak's heavily-furred hips. His jaw was already aching; spit trickled from his lips' perpetual profane kiss; the guy's cock washorrible. A weird scent of peroxide that was starting to stab into his nose. He grew lightheaded. Reeled, let his body sway back and forth with his arms' quickening.

The thought that he was justhasteningall of this shit, his dignity's calvary, with it? It wasn't true. There wasn't any thought at all. Just the weird black heat behind his eyes. The endless twisting in his gut 'til everything throbbed, knotted together.

Even... Even between his legs. It was theheat. Everything. The movements were starting to grind his cock against the silky panties. They were too fucking small. Obviously. They'd been made for women. Women didn't havethis. Unless there was something to the sexy Japanese comics he'd read with Rachel, her long fingers between her thighs, murmuring that forever flattering refrain,Christ, if a chickthatsexy had a big cock, I'd dump your ass in five seconds. Unless you'd help me suck her off.

So he'd just nodded along with it.

Hah, yeah, sure, why not?

Why... Why couldn't this just be some psyche-twisted wet dream fromthat? Why couldn't he just be huddled against her in the heat, sweat plastering their hair to their skin, sodeepin the bag that half was about five million miles before that?

But it wasn't. His hair had started to heat, too. Everything was too goddamn hot. Starting to worm into his head. His brain was melting.

And now he was being pulled toanotherof them. It wasn't one he'd had yet. The sixth, maybe... Or the fifth? Or what did it matter? But he didn't feel his saliva on it; it was untouched. Sort of. And then he recognized the shape; the thick belly, the round head. He'd been stroking it just a moment again.

Glanced up at the hooded blank nothing and felt a long ugly shiver down his spine. Opened his mouth, flickered his tongue over the head. He was beautiful. The bastard leering down at him could definitely seethat. Even if what the guy saw was nothing thatLouisdid glancing at the mirror.

'cause the hair was thick and long and perfectly sleekly straightened; the skin was unblemished and tight and like perfect porcelain; he was made up with a grace like an angel painted as a whore. Obsidian lips that quivered, slid apart with a long hot breath pouring over the monstrous cock jabbing out of the guy's stern sharp-edged and athletic hips.

They were all weightlifters; this dude was even huger than the others. Biceps larger than Louis' head. A pair of hands that settled down on Louis' crown, fingers a flesh tiara, indifferent to the other wicked ornaments that coiled their throbbing flesh over his cheeks, twisted into his hair. The Albino was rhythmically slapping his cock on Louis' neck. Another had started sincerelyfuckinga huge brilliant handful of those soft black threads shining with a negative light.

Louis' hands were still busied, but his tongue was slow, kittenish, licking in patient strokes under the head.

Some distant memory was shrieking at him that this was fuckingstupid. What're you doing, you dumbass?

Another said thatthatwas exactly where it was fuckin' goddamn irresistiblyincredibleto feel Rachel's tongue. Revulsion. God, this was repugnant. He was forced on his knees and being pulled around a cauldron of hot meat and he waslickingthe cock of some motherfucker who looked like nothing more than balloon filled to bursting with hamburger frozen into strange sharp-edged shapes.

Wondering what was under his mask.

"You're real pretty, y'know?" The guy's voice poured out,poundeddown Louis' nerves. "Lookit that soft pink tongue. Open your mouth, Princess." So he did. Let his jaw fall open.Aaaah. "Goddamn, lookit that mouth-"

"Lemme have it, Burke. Christ." And now the last. Pulled away from the Bodybuilder and to this guy. One of the smaller cocks; it was still too fuckinghugefor Louis' mouth. Stillpainfulto wrench apart his jaws, to fasten his lips around it. Wait. The guy wasgigantic.

God.

It wasn't even that he was smaller; it was just small next to his megalithic body. It was the freakishlyhugeone that he'd felt under his hand. The one he'd been dreading.

Why was...

He was dreadingallof his. He wanted it to stop.

Pushing into his mouth now.

"I'm not gonna go so easy on you. Y'feel this one, right?" Louis' hand wrapped around the Bodybuilder's hot skin, wet with his own mouth. The guy had been, well,polite. Right? Wasn't that polite? Not just muscling his freak cock between Louis' lips like this. "Yeah, bitch. Yeah. Iloveputtin' sissies like you in their place.

"Y'fuckin' freak bitch. Yeah. Feel that? Feel that? That'steninches of thick fuck-cock for ya, whore. Yeah. Suck it. Suck it. Put your goddamnmoutharound it." Not justrough. Brutal. Grinding it deeper and deeper 'til it hit Louis' throat. And kept pushing. "C'mon. I'm gonna fuck this bitch-boy's mouth-"

"Carl, didn't I tell you that we were beingniceto our little Princess Alice?" Gray Eyes wasn't exactlyupbraidingthe Giant. Just murmuring through an almost absentminded laughter, like he'd forgotten where his keys were andwowwhat a buffoon, right? Louis' quavering brown eyes tugged away to glance at Gray Eyes, who'd taken Louis' hand's pride of place now.

Louis was stroking faster, faster, the guy's jaw set now, stare spearing him under heavy masculine brows.Itwas growing, too. He'd felt it.

A slow sigh from Gray Eyes' lips.

"Don't tell meyoudon't wanna fuck this slut's mouth, either, Johnny. Jeeesus. You're such a hypocrite, man." The Giant just... Just pushed his oversized hands over Louis' skin cheeks; wound his massive fingers around the sissy-boy's nape.

How beautiful he was; made-up, shivering, milky skin cradled in those gauzy tight fabrics. Thighs straining against the stockings, dimpling with the rubbery seams that'd become tacky and hot and sweaty around him.

"Yeah. Open your mouthrealwide, whore-"

"Christ, that ain't fair, Johnny.Iwanned'a fuck our lil' bitch's throat first, man, an' you saidno." Yeah. Yeah. That was right. The Cameraman was... Was right.

Right?

"I'm jus' bein'nice. When this bitch-boy takesmymonster down his neck, he'll be able to throat yours, no problem." The Giant had taken firm hold of Louis' nape now; buried his fingers in thick velveteen hair and startedstabbingthat demonic cock's head into his throat. It wasn't only that it'dbruise. The fucking thing wouldn't,couldn'tfucking fit! What the hell was wrong with this bastard?

But Louis' struggles were meaningless. The Albino had taken hold of his hair again, ground that rubbery cock into it, smeared long obsidian strands with dewy soft gems like diamond on black velvet announcing thatsomethingwas coming close. Or just coming.

"'s what I'm afraid'a, man. You're too goddamn big. His throat's gon' be like a goddamn tent." Cameraman whined at the Giant, still stretching out to clap his cock against Louis' cheek. "Jeeeesus, his cheeks're bulgin' already." They were.

Packed with cock. Spit.

"Y'ain't gonna fit that thing in-"

"Wanna bet, man?" Please, please,please, don't make any wager with the Giant. Not now; notever. Not about that.

Louis' hands still raced faster, faster, up and down and up and down across the congregated men. Found themselves groping at whatever swollen meat offered itself whenever one of them backed away. He was touching them.

Men. Weird faceless men whose bodies pulsated with long rippling waves of a weird fragrant heat. Cock swelled his cheeks, twisted open his jaws, filled his lips; its scent invaded his every sense. It was... Washeady.

Was almost delirious.

He'd started...

"Well, lookit that." No. No. No. It was just a coincidence, wasn't it? Wasn't it? "Man,this'snice. Camera loves youan'that too-big sissy dick, too. Lookit this. Ain't nothin'rightfor a lil' sissy-cunt like you, is it, slut?"No!

Screeching at something.

Anything.

Anything that wouldlistento him. Anything that'd hear. Nothing answered. So much for thePraise Him Whatever The Fuck He Was Never Really Listening Faith Power Hour.

Louis wasn't onlyhard. Hard was algebra in the original Arabic. This was... Was just outrageous. Why? Why the fuck was it just standing, coiling out of those luxurious silky panties like someone threading a steel pipe through a snake? And not a fucking garter snake.

"Lookit thisbiglil' sissy. Wow. That looks like a nice cock." The Albino had stretched over him; cooed with that ugly gurgling.

Everything just pounded at him. Something'd twisted and tortured his nerves intothis. It was just fear. Rachel'd said that girls ran like a goddamn flood when they were terrified. Or laughed. Or... Or were hungry orwhatever. That it meant fucking nothing.

This meant fuckingnothing.

"Oh, it's such abeautifulscepter for our Princess, isn't it, gentlemen?" Gray Eyes' bare foot brushed Louis' knee. "You shouldn't be socruelwith her, Carl, but... Sheisquite the indecent harlot right now.

"That's not appropriate behavior for someone who's undergoingcorrectivetherapy, is it?" It wasn't his fault wasn't his fault wasn't his fault. This unreal fucking haze. This soul-twisting ordeal. This... He was still stroking them, wasn't he?

His hands were still on their cocks; they weren't evenmovingnow, just letting his fingers drift through them, circling in a perverse game of musical chairs or just musical hands while Louis' soft skin was offered without any complaint, while he'd been pulling hot throbbing flesh between those brilliantly glossed lips and lolling out his tongue and swallowing them, slobbering over them, and... And he wasstilldoing it.

Aching. He hadn't had Rachel that day. That night. When evenwasthis? Everything howled; his cock cranked against his flat belly, kissed the corset's cool smooth fabric. It was more than erotic. It was the strange confluence in knowing his own body and feeling something totally apart from it. His hipsclenched.

Everything did.

"I guess you do need to punish our Princess after all. Go ahead, Carl." No! No fuckingway.

"Gee, thanks fer yer kind permission, boss. This slut's throat was mine from the beginnin'. Yer gon' see why 's called athroat-pussy, sissy bitch. 's only polite when you're throwin' a blowbang to show some real hosp'tality." Motherfucker.

This wasn't real. Wasn't fair.

"An' don't you start slackin' off on them hands, either." The Giant was, well, was justthat. Too huge. He would've been too fucking huge if he'd only beenhalfthat. A hand wound around Louis' nape and the other took firm hold of his hair, dragging it up in a massive standing column. Tears had started pouring through Louis' eyes again.

Fear.

Impotence. If only. But at least total helplessness. And his cock was still standing, jackknifed upright while Louis' hands were quickening. Faster. Faster. Faster. Something ineffable urging him on. It was everyone's pulse. Everything grew hotter.

Even the blood was speaking to him. The scents wafting up from them. Something was coming soon. Soon.

"Oh,yeah." Louis' eyes forced open, unblinking. He couldn't fucking blink. Not with that colossal cock just... Ten fuckinginches? And probably only two or three could fit with any ease into his mouth. Or maybe four or five but what did it matter when there was at least as much left? It crushed itself against his throat. "Open up that slutty throat, bitch. Yeah.

"Yeah. It's comin'. It's comin'." Firm hold on his neck; fingers bit into his jaw, heaved it apart. Louis' tongue slumped out, a feeble tremor against what felt like a goddamn living summer sausage, heavily veined and hammering out the bastard's heartbeat in a slow regular rhythmic reflection through his mouth.

It stained him with its strange flavor. Rheumy thin juices had already started to dribble out, oil his throat, greasing its passage down. He was gonna gag.

No. Hewasgagging. A sudden violent snap through every nerve. His body thrown away from the bastard, even if his mouth couldn't. Totally fucking futile; he was just being dragged back against that cock greased with Louis' own spit, with the juices that trickled out of its massive head. The bastard's mongoloid eyes stared down at him through the hood's slits.

A tongue stabbed out, flashed over his lips.

"Yeah, sissy-bitch, 'srealbig, ain't it? Yer gon' take thewholegoddamn thing, or yer not gon' be happy." The asshole gurgled out the words. And Louis still couldn't close his throat. Everything was just coming apart. He felt his neck begin to open; eyes swiveled up, transfixed with the enormous cock the moron was steadily working down Louis' throat. "Hoo-yeah! That's real fuckin' good.

"Christ, this sissy Princess might bring me off 'fore I even get it down there. Goddamn. Goddamn." Louis' hands trembled. Still, they were pumping the Albino's huge droopy cock; twisted around the Cameraman's. The guy was leaning closer, twisting to poise the camera in a cruel cold accusation in Louis' peripheral vision.

This wasn't fair. The Giant justrippedat his hair now, took up even huger thick fistfuls, pulled and pulled; ground his enormous stony fingers into the lovely little sissy's nape, soft skin dimpling, his jaw protesting,everything screaming. Tongue forced out of his mouth in a twinkling fuchsia stripe over his black lips and pale chin.

Rugh!

How eloquent the beauty's gagging was. Gasping, groaning, that humongous cock so fucking thick that it was an obstacle even to bringing up anything. It was torturing him, not just triggering his gag reflex but almost ripping everything off its frame. He couldtasteits stem being pushed deeper, and deeper, and deeper.

Could intuitsomething's hairless thick heat growing closer.

His eyes glazed, half-empty with the breath that was dying in his chest, lungs smeared with napalm, burning, charring; this asshole was justtorturinghim with cock. Not just taking firm hold of his hair like that Albino motherfucker had but ripping him closer and closer and closer. The Giant's strength was just too goddamn huge.

He could resist. It didn't matter. Louis' throat had started to yield. Just gave way. Thick gelid spit rose up, squirted around that heavy muscular intruder. Spilled down his chin in vast ropey cables.

"Christ, already looks like ya jizzed in that slut's mouth. Lookit that." The Cameraman wasn't quite supplying a running commentary. Or maybe he was. Louis' ears caught only about a third of what anyone said, a wheeling sonic haze.

Fuckin' slut. Lookiter go.

I wanna pound that throat.

Gonna bang that throat-pussy.

Lookit that. The whore's cryin'.

He was. Or at least there were enough tears now to pour down his cheeks. One of the bastards had crept closer again, pushed his cock through it.

"Oh, Christ, your cheek's so goddamnsoft. Jus' packed with cock like that." It was the Albino motherfucker. That weird droopy meat; that half-firmness that didn't quite fill it like the others'. Slipped up and down, slipping across Louis' tears. The head prodded his nose, stabbed at Giant's prick for a few seconds before it trailed back. "Yeah. Yeah.Thiskinda face-fuckin' I can do with, too.

"Jesus, I love this makeup. Ya did a great fuckin' job, boss."

Hedid that?

Who cared? Why did Louis carewhodid it?

"Thank you. Iamvery pleased with it. What a pretty girl. Especially justsurroundedwith so many men. It's where a sissy belongs, I think. And with a big, hard cock in her mouth. Are you liking it, Princess Alice?" Gray Eyes' voice managed to fill the room when the others' just ricocheted around like a swarm of berserk fleas. It was harder, heavier, a flintiness that the others lacked.

Who cared?

Whocared?

"Yeah. Yeah." The Giant's massive sausage-cock ground its veins against Louis' palate; strained his tongue and his mouth with its corpulent belly. His throatscreamedat him. Gag reflex flaring up again and again and again and the guy just kept falling.

The Albino's fingers on his throat.

"Wow,feelthat. Totally fuckin' full'a cock." It was. Bulging out, distorted. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't breathe. Oh,shit. Louis just couldn'tbreathenow. He was suffocating. He was going to fuckingdiefrom this.

He was.

And then the bastard's hips were rearing closer. The last push was just that; it was a shove, hammering himself against the last bit of resistance in Louis' throat 'til there was nothing at all, sagging and defeated. 'til Louis' nose hit the guy's belly. 'til the heavy sweat beads washing down that thick muscle smeared his nostrils. 'til the bastard's humongous balls slapped at his chin.

"Oh,yeah! Fuck, yeah. Fuck. Fuck. I'mrightdown'ere, slut. Y'feel'at?" He did. He did. Tears gushed over his cheeks; vindicated the makeup's waterproof claims. He was sobbing without a whimper, gurgling and wheezing.

Louis' chest blazed with it. Everythingached. His hands still worked at the other men's lust, pumped and twisted; rolled his palms against them, tugged the heads. They were so fucking soft, so silken.

Sogentlenext to this bastard.

"Goddamn. Yeah. Yeah.Yeah!" The tiniest little movement was too much. Too fucking much. Retching, gagging, some violent throb in his muscles sending eventhatmassive monstrous meat rocketing up out of Louis' neck on a rising column of brilliant gelid saliva so thick it didn't only clot his throat but churned through his mouth,chewedrather than just swallowed back.

It couldn't be swallowed. Another leaden weight to gag on, to struggle to spit up; he couldn't cope. A few tendrils squelched out of his mouth, hung in long strands down his chin while Louis dragged in breath. Euphoria. Everything wasmorethan beautiful. Joy; simple joy that he could just fuckingbreathe.

Holy shit. Hands still on the men, squeezed around them, his body tracing violent snapping sinuations up and down, spine a long lean beautiful arch, before the bastard took hold of him again. His mouth was still wadded with that thick deepthroat spit.

And the moron crammed that ridiculous freak-cock back into his mouth. Oiled itself with that quivering spittle like greased gelatin andpusheddown again. And again. Dragged huge retching gags from Louis while he just pumped now; nothing casual in it, and nothing gentle, rough and animal, ragged pants roaring from the fucker's lips.

"Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Feel'at, y'lil' slut? 's real good, ainnit? Yeah! Yeah! Yeah! Fuck!"

"Lookit that. Slut already looks like ya jizzed on her face." Cameraman was crowing it. Stalking closer and closer 'til the camera almost dove into the spit. It shellacked Louis' cheeks; enormous wads of it, gelid and trembling and painted across him, sent rocketing out when the Giant was finally comfortable enough to slip monolithic fingers away from Louis' nape and take firm hold of his hair with both hands, wrenching their little bitch-boy against his hips 'til his cock sank to the root.

Louis felt it even deeper. The Giant's hideous sweating balls slapped at his chin, almost whipping at his throat.

A pathetic whimper poured out of Louis' mouth; it was meaningless.

The gloss painted on his lips was as indelible as the other makeup, absolutely flawless with that hot meat's merciless plunge, pitching into his throat and dragging out another tortured gag from Louis; brutish rutting savagery, tears sent gushing out of his eyes and curling over his jaws and puddling with spit on his collarbone, shimmering on his thin bare chest.

Nipples stood up in a hard raw relief.

"Yeah. Yeah. Yeah." It wasn't just that he was being deepthroated now; his mouth was being fucked. "Yeah, sissy-bitch. How's it feel ta have yer throat turned inna a pussy? 's real nice, huh? A goddamn throat-pussy.

"Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. 's comin', whore."

"Christ. This's so fuckin' good. That's such a beautiful sight, I think I'm gonna cry." The Bodybuilder's iron-rigid cock was being pushed against Louis' left cheek right now. Every new thrust, every raw gag, every enormous curtaining spray of that lacquering spit, pushed Louis' cheeks out against the guy's cock.

"Or jizz on the fuckin' sissy's face. Yeah. Oh, shit. Shit. I'm seriously throbbin', man." The Albino's cock hulked closer. Louis' breath came in rough tormented sips through his nostrils. Eventhosewere starting to run with the spit, pouring down his lips, painting his sinuses with that hideous stink with a few labored pants between wet squelching thrusts. The Albino was there, just lay his greasy corpulent cock over Louis' brow, brushed it back and forth, slithering through the spit that'd climbed up even there.

He was filthy; his absolutely perfect hair had been tousled, tortured, slicked with that glittering jelly. His hands were still being filled. The Cameraman just stood there, a perpetual voyeur, hand working slowly, slowly over the stark black shape that leered down at him more threateningly than any camera.

"Yeah, baby. Camera loves ya, baby. Work that cock right inna that bitch's throat, man. Fuck that nasty slut's throat. Why doncha jus' start the party an' jizzallover his face-"

"Not right now. We can't be rude, can we? Our little sissy is already somessy-"

"'xactly, boss. What's some jizz gon' do, man?" The Cameraman craned closer, closer. It was ominous. Worse than ominous. "Already looks like the cunt's justfull-upwith cum." No.

No. Notthat.

The words barely caught between the freak's grunting hip-pumping thrusts. Louis was helpless, boneless, just slack under the bastard's onslaught. Only his arms still worked; only his hands could still squeeze, knead with a quick rhythmic grace. Absentminded. It'd become natural. His arms worked patiently; everything was rising up, was soaring to some delirious and impossible peak.

Cognitive dissonance. That was what it was. Total and profound disbelief of everything that wasthere, here, that was just real. It couldn't be. This couldn't be real; there couldn't be six men ringing him, hungry skin prodding and stabbing and brushed over him. An enormous livid sloppy cock couldn't be pushing itself higher and higher and higher over Louis' cheek; couldn't be rising onto his brow, planting the heavy sack under it against his face. It was hot.

Too fucking hot. Everything was drowning him. He was dying from heatstroke. They were torturing him with their warmth, with the strange stink that poured out of them, feral and leaden. They were beasts. That's what they were.

's what they had to be.

With the Giant's colossal balls slapped dense and with a quick jaunty cadence at his chin, spattering the spit in long lashing sprays over his chest. While it swelled up and choked his throat even more totally; while it plunged down on those huge fountains of viscid juices and worked itself almost to his stomach and while the bastard hovered over him, lips twisted in wicked smile through the mask.

While Gray Eyes pushed closer, Louis' fingers still twined around the stalk that shot out almost perfectly perpendicular to the man's muscular belly now. It was as strong as he was; throbbing and scalding like newly-forged steel draped in silk. The skin rippled a bit along it.

They were all drawing closer.

"Fuck, yeah. Fuck, yeah. Yeah. Yeah! Yeah!Shit." The Giant's last word just a bestial idiot grunt; the swelling wasn't just gradual but puffed out hideous fuck-meat crammed down Louis' neck while the other cocks congregated around him, levitated like a brace of candles about to loose their wax. They were bigger still. The Bodybuilder's fingers worked his cock's base, swelled the head against Louis' cheek while the Albino pounded on his forehead now, sent sharp little points of that deepthroat spit raining down across his stockinged thighs, over the bare skin and tight garters.

The Giant didn't onlycome. It was a production. The huge long haft distended, swelled up, corpulent belly morbidly obese now; the head pulsed, shoved apart their bitch-boy's throat-pussy's soft pink walls, and that was it. Careless, fast ramming pumps, driving Louis' glossy black lips against his groin and balls against Louis' chin and his cock to the root, again and again and again while cum finally had started to well up.

Louis hadn't tasted it. Ever. His own, fine. Once or twice; inquisition, dragging off a bit to daub on his tongue.

Maybe a few kisses after Rachel'd gone down on him.

That was another world. This wasn't possible. The first justsprayeddown into his gut; a pudding-thick wad that sank through the knotting acid in his belly and became a presence. It was horrible. A nauseating slap at every bit of the denial; every morsel of the pride and just the simple sense ofhumanitythat he had.

He was a hole for their cocks. That wasit. A fuck-doll; a toy; a sleeve like the one Rachel'd bought for him as a sixteenth-birthday gag gift and now those memories were being taken in massive hands and shredded and the confetti was being littered across the inside of his head, those shadowy perfections ripped and battered and broken. His throat was rubber; and now something started to creep up.

So fucking much of those weird quivering clots, those mucilaginous lumps, rank and rotten and bitter and pungent with a stink like their sweat and skin and hydrogen peroxide and bleach and old copper coins and even the sweetly fetid essence of cold aged milk. It was heavier than cream; than even condensed milk. It soared up. Gagging; coughing; at the height of one of the bastard's endless pounding strokes, it hit him.

Splashed on his tongue. Cum. A man's cum. That impossible unplaceable flavor. Rachel could cradle his in her mouth with a beatific joy; could brush her soft silky tongue through it and tease him, drive him fuckinginsane, toss out what little refractory period hehadwith that brain-melting play and- and this was just...

Was so fuckingnauseating. They'd fucked his mouth and now this humongous submoron was grunting and gritting his teeth and clenching his jaws and pouring out a fucking gallon of cum and he didn't want it; Louis didn't didn't didn'tdidn'twant any of it. Not a fucking drop. Struggled to shove it away; it was hopeless, the jizz only snarling in the spit, barely even working around the asshole's titanic angry invasion.

"Whew. Yeah. Fuckin' amazin'." And then the cretin was just dragging it out, Louis almost doubled over with revulsion, thick cables seamed with frothing white cream sprawling across his chin; quivering strings hit his chest, the non-tits and their thick peachy nipples and soft areolae; settled jellylike in translucent smears over his bustier. A few thick shapeless stars even gathered on his stockings.

Louis wheezed, trembled, struggled to cough up the cum and that was evenworse. It gathered on his tongue, raised the gagging to near-vomiting. He couldn't bring anything up. And there was just some distant certainty that there'd just bemorecum spraying out of his gut.

"Christ, that was good. 's one'a the best'n'tighest throat-pussies I e'er had. Yeah. Fuck. Even got s'more for ya, slut." One or two last drops to flick across Louis' face. They sat on his perfect face, a shade paler, huddled on the lucent mask spit had made over his skin.

"God, 's so fuckin' hot, watchin' a slut gag on jizz an' cock. Lookit that. Yeah. Yeah." The Albino was quickening the strokes across Louis' forehead, swept the head with a hot lingering pressure back and forth over his soft skin. "Oh, oh, goddammit, whadda I wanna do? Cream your slutty face, or-"

"I geddit first. Yeah. I- I can't hold it back. Sheeit. Sheeit. Wish somebody else was holdin' the camera." Cameraman rushed closer now; Louis' eyes swiveled up to registerthatat the last second, the bastard shoving his heavy dark-chocolate skin through jizz-enameled lips that still shone with the gloss' cold hard edge. The camera was being pushed into the Caramel guy's hands; Louis' fingers were wrapped around him, around Gray Eyes.

Gray Eyes just stood there; Louis couldfeelhim getting huger. The Caramel guy, too.

"Yeah, bitch. 's comin'." One last pump into Louis' lips, cinched closed in an instinct the little sissy-slut would rather not have felt at all. "Yeah, slut. Got somethin'nicefor ya. Goddamn. Them soft lips. I... Fuck,yeah." It was still there, working and wriggling shallowly between them. Louis' tongue was struggling to shove out the marbled cum and spit and it only slapped at the guy's stout charcoal-dark head. "Goddamn.

"Make sure ya get this, all right-"

"I'mrecording." Caramel guy's voice poured out like a growling dog's. "Shit, 's so fuckin' good. I feel likeIcould cream jus' watchin' this. 's so goddamn sexy, white girl with black lips an' a big black dick in her mouth. Work it, slut. Work my cock. The next one's gonna be mine."

The Giant had drifted back, still there, fingers cranking up and down his profane and outrageous cock.

"Yeah, whore! Here it comes. Chocolate with abigcream fillin' for ya. Fuck. Fuck. Suck it harder, slut." So Louis did. Ground plump atramentous lips around black skin and it came. Aglopit spat out on his tongue and the guy was wrenching it out before Louis even really registered anything but the foul sour cream hugeness that filled his mouth, thick like paste.

The guy was squeezing the base, wringing out every drop. The first spurt was something brutal. A slap at everything that he felt like could've ever been self-worth. Just taken in their hands and smashed. A massive splash between his eyes, wobbled in a viscous blob over his nose's bridge; a second that splattered his left eyebrow, fragmented into fine twinkling opals that settled with an even huger weight on his heavy lashes. A third and a fourth and a fifth and then just uncountably many, pale smears on his cheeks and even a few settling on the Albino's cock that still worked over Louis' forehead with only a soft little chortle and agee, thanks, man; great aim.

"F-fuck y'all. Yeah! Y'like that, whore? How's it feel, knowin' ya got a monster load on yer face? Gedda mirror or somethin'; sluts need'a see it." The mongoloid had already gotten one.

It was... Louis' eyes wouldn't close. A self-destructive need; it was staring at a cliff, just feeling the clamoring to taste gravity's pull on your every limb while you were dragged down into the abyss.

It was that beautiful girl's face. Absolutely fucking ravaged, even while the makeup was still perfect. Hair tangled and matted and spit's enormous smears varnishing her cheeks, a perfect primer for the cum that sat in enormous still pearls.

"Yeah. Don't leddit slide off." He wasn't being given a choice. Some asshole's hand settled in his hair, cranked his head back.

The Albinocrackedhis lazy huge cock on Louis' face roughly enough to raise a hot sting. Not that it mattered. Everything was falling apart. They were comingonhim; in his mouth. Jism dribbled in long threads across his pretty black lips that became an even lovelier pucker with the wince jerking at every nerve.

Crying. He was crying.

"Jesus, yeah. Watchin' a whore like you cry's just the fuckin'best. I could go off just from that. Here it comes: Your next cum-bath, slut." The Albino didn't even bother pushing it into Louis' mouth. Just sawed it with a tight firm pressure across Louis' brow, let it glide over his eye, sloshed through the cum that'd become a slush with his spit's tart-scented enormity. His cum pulsed out.

His orgasm was as lazy as his cock; gluey opaque lead-white puddles bubbling out of its parting lips while the asshole painted it across Louis' face. Little vigor, but there was enough that Louis had the certainty it would just beendless. Anemic little whimpers became slow soft sobs while the jizz slid through his tears; his cheeks had started to curdle with a vast pallid mask, enormous globs gathering, the Bodybuilder not even waiting for the Albino to finish before his hard fingers pounded around his cock, pushing out an enormous blast that was everything the Albino's wasn't but for simple volume.

It might've been huger still than the lazy bastard's: Itcrushedinto Louis' right eye. Startled the slut-boy; there wasn't even time to drag it closed, roiling with the raw hot blaze that let a few morsels ricochet away and still lingered and puddled in the socket, half-blinding him. It fuckinghurt!

Everything was anguish. The Albino's load wouldn't stop, endless, dribbling out while the Bodybuilder's lashed him, cock dragged down with a mischievous delight to lob a few sticky pulses through lips that'd opened when Louis' jaw sagged apart to accommodate his soft anguished weeping.

He was crying. Tortured. Trembling. And his cock still stood up, betrayed him; ground with exquisite craving against the bustier's soft fabric.

The Bodybuilder and Albino were finished; the Albino made a point of wiping off the excess in his hair, lacing it through the soft black threads.

"Oh, fuck, that was good. Goddamn. Lookit that. Lil' bitch-boy's already totally fuckin' covered. Man, ya gotcher work cut out, tryin'a find aninchwithout our spooge." It was true. Louis saw it; the mirror offered again to his eyes, or at least one of them, the other still swimming with the clotted lust from the Bodybuilder.

He'd jerked off to this face-painting shit with Rachel; she was a fucking porno addict. And he was a Rachel addict. But it'd been arresting. Watching it. Staring at it. Some beautiful woman knelt down and meekly surrendering to the cocks ringing her; or a ravenous slut with mouth open and tongue slashing through the cum-strands and begging for more.

And nowhewas that. Absolutely gorgeous. He'd always been awed with the aesthetic. The beauty in it. Perfect skin and fine airbrushed makeup as a canvas for jizz.

They'd sloshed it over him like upending a jug of it.

He was sobbing. Dragging in huge horrid breaths.

"C'mon, honey. Bring me off all over that pretty face. C'mon. C'mon." The Caramel guy was ordering it now. Closer, and closer, Louis' hand still around him.

"Oh,sweet. Makin' the lil' whore do it herself. Yeah, baby. Let's watch you work that cock all over your slutty face. C'mon. Do it, cunt. Do it. Do it." Louis was terrified. Degraded genuflecting slut-boy with a gallon of lust and probably a quadrillion sperm wallowing on his face and his lips wouldn't stay closed. Dense pale ropes poured between them, stained his tongue, dragged up new and horrible gags from his belly.

He wanted to hurl.

"Do it right. Don't flinch; no cum-dodging, you jizz-rag. C'mon. C'mon. Bring me off. I wanna feelgood, cunt."

"I think it would only be polite for our Princess to do it withbothof us. Playing favorites is bad manners." Gray Eyes lurking there. "Open your eyes, honey. Don't close them; that'sveryrude." And Louis did.

Just obeyed.

"Hey, lookit this. Lookit this big fuckin' thing. Still looks like a little kid's nexta mine." The Albino was lying down now on his left hip, staring up at Louis, his cock inflated again and taken in one hand andslappedat Louis'. He was just so fucking comfortable with it. "How's it feel, bitch-boy? Ya like feelin' a real man's dick on your little bitch-clit, right?"

The guy was probably an inch or so larger.

It was horrible. Greasy with jizz and Louis' deepthroat spit and... And his own tears and it was even worse in the sensation that worked itself through him when the Albino took them both in his hand, ground them together.

It was disgusting.

Hideous black electricity wormed through Louis' nerves.

The asshole was jerking them off together.

"Yeah. Yeah. This lil' slut-fuck's gonna come. I can feel it." No. No. No. Not with this asshole's balls against his; not with his shaft on this stupid horrible bastard's.

But what could Louis do?

He hated it.

Hated himself for it.

Hated the easy grace he felt in his own hands stroking Gray Eyes and the Caramel guy; hated the cringe and the wince that became shivers, became a heat so huge it was a bitter chill like planting his hand on a hot stove.

"Ngn... N-no, no." Louis' voice was still Princess Alice's graceful cooing alto, even huskier and thickened with spit and cum; his tongue fluttered a fragile dewy fuchsia through the gelid white cream. Luxurious onyx lips had finally been painted almost perfectlywhite.

"Oh, listen'a that. She's seriously losin' it. What a nasty cunt." Albino just pulling them together even more roughly. "Yeah. Fuck, yeah. This's abigsissy-dick, ain't it, boss?"

"Mmm... It's very pretty, though. Perfectly pretty for a lovely young lady like Princess Alice. It's... Ah... Are you close?" Louis felt it.

"Fuck, yeah. I- I been close enough to jizz for about a fuckin' hour now." An hour? An hour? How long had he been doing this?

It was horrific.

They should've justkilledhim. Murdered him.

The camera leered; it was a liquid humiliation pouring through everything. The mirror just validated everything he already knew the camera saw.

Fingers worked; those thick swollen cocks were close enough to his face that their heat poured through the cum's brilliant frost.

"I'm... I'm afraid Ican'thold back-" Gray Eyes swelling up.

"Paint this whore with me, dude. Yeah. Yeah!" The Caramel guy, also.

The Caramel guy did first; only a matter of moments, but it was first, more impatient, a huge flash of white in the mirror across Louis' left cheek. And then Gray Eyes churned across the right. Louis' arms outstretched and his pretty burgundy nails gleamed against swollen thick cock-flesh. They poured out everything, and he was milking them, urging everydropacross his own face, enormous cables crossing one another, spraying across his nose, settling in a dense lead-white gel across his eyebrows.

They enameled closed his eyes almost at once and he found them cranking open again, glutinous seams shackling him to a jizz cage. It reeked. Everything reeked of cum and sweat and his tears and now Louis was just bawling, warbling, wailing.

And then it came.

The last stroke he could take while his hands still kneaded and grasped and twisted with a quick and achingly expert grace at Gray Eyes and Caramel and then orgasmspearedhim, wrenched his spine in a ferocious arch and ground open his jaws with a slow rusting torment.

His own cum rising up; not a tiny trivial orgasm. He felt it. Everything. Every muscle work. Balls rocketing back up almost into his belly and a huge clenching pulsation sending an immense spurt up and then- then the worst was that the asshole just backed away.

"How ya like them ruined orgasms, bitch? Y'think a slut deserves toreallycream herself. Bull-fuckin'-shit." It was. It was. She'd done that to him...

To someone once.

To him.

In another place. It was still so fuckingamazing, his cock free to spasm and throb and rocket off long splashes across his belly. They even rose to his chin.

And then everyone but Gray Eyes backed away.

"Christ, that was fuckin'amazin'."

"Goddamn, man. I haven't creamed that hard fordays."

"Totally fuckin' worth it, savin' up my nut for this whore."

"Dude,yeah. Blowbangs are the fuckin' best."

"Glad this slut didn't puke on my cock." The mongoloid tossed the mirror into Gray Eyes' hand. And the guy lurked there; the Cameraman, also.

"Are you feeling the therapy starting to work?" The guy's voice was an iron fist on Louis' gut.

Louis was sure he should have heardPrincessorAliceorPrincess Alice. Expected it. Almost... It was even more humiliating to know that he could becomfortablewith it.

"Are you listening?" Louis was.

Yes.

"What's your name, honey? Tell the camera your name. You're so pretty, aren't you? What're you covered with, honey?" Gray Eyes was the worst torment; the cruelest torture. "Tell us. Tell us what you just did."

At least Cameraman had shut up.

Right?

"I- I just..." Louis' lips trembled with his jaws, his entire body. Shook the cum that'd gathered so vastly long white cords payed out, twisted down from his chin and quavered. A few fat drops splashed on his knees, tepid and cooling and rich with that hideous horrible stink. "I just-"

"You should tell. Unburden yourself."

"I just... Just sucked six- six cocks, and... And I'm covered w-w-with... With their..." Couldn't he just deny it? "With their cum."

"And what's your name?" A perfected silence reigned for a hot ragged eternity.

"Alice. Alice." Alice finally answered. "M-my name is Alice." Alice felt it; felt it in her voice, her belly clotted with cum that still slid down in sticky slime-trails through her throat, knotted with that evil. Alice, the soft-skinned cum-plastered bitch-boy, finally felt it.

"I think we're ready for the next phase of the therapy."

---

It was just a dream, right? It reallywasjust a dream, wasn't it? That would've been so goddamn convenient. It would've been better than convenient. It would've made the most sense, anyway, wouldn't it? All of this was just impossible bullshit.

Louis' eyes refused to open. Everything justdeniedthis place. Every sense said he was just home. With his bedroom window thrown closed and a strange sticky heat wheeling around him. Sickly. Feverish. That's what it was. It was just a fever-dream nightmare. A wet-fever-dream nightmare. Or somethin'. It was quiet 'cause it was just too fucking late for thatPraaaaaaaise Hiiiiim! Kill the Moozlims an' Amen an' Gawd Loves an' Jesus saaaaves Power Houror whatever the fuck it was to thunder through the ceiling. To fill his room like it always did.

Too late for his dad's clopping shoes on the heavy wooden floor and too late for the stairs to groan and too late for his mom to slide with that uneasy mousy hunch through the door after her knuckles' anemic little rap and too late forthis. Too late for all of this shit. Too late-

Christ, it was just too fucking late. A door was opening. Too far from wherever he was to cling to the fantasy that was like any: Better if it was true. But fantasies weren't true. The lottery. Eyes flitting open to find Rachel beside him and the Sicilian coast's emerald waters rushing over a platinum seashore and then turning to hisleftand finding some dusky local goddess and then Rachel's and her eyes meeting and thenmorethan their eyes, sticky glossed lips and soft velvet tongues and then-

"Good morning, Alice. Did you have pleasant dreams?" It was just too fucking late. Feet on the high-pile carpeting. A weird Doppler effect in their breath while they didn't do anything more thanwalk. They just walked closer, and closer, and closer, 'cause it was their simplerightto do it and nothing mattered and nothing Louis could drag out of a throat raw from a monstrous bazooka of a cock's pounding had any meaning.

"My name's not Alice, you fucking nutjob!" But he still... Okay, he didn'troarit. A mouse always wanted to roar, but it never really could aspire to more than a just averyenthusiastic squeak. So he squeaked it as enthusiastically as he could, which was fuckin' meaningless with cock-ravaged flesh ginning up the conviction to scream athimto shut his fucking mouth. Like his hungover dad on Sunday afternoon after having had his eardrums crushed with the Pastor's beet-faced warbling aboutCheeeeesus' wrath and it wasn't about anything Gouda, and...

Jesus, what the fuck was wrong with this place? What the fuck was wrong withhim? That giddy bullshit still ricocheting between his ears like a zipper being shot back and forth on a bullet. It would've been so poetic to say that everything just rushed back. But it didn't. It'd never really left; just lurked there, smeared on every nerve. Whenever a thought came, a tiny micron of that poison poured into it.

Cum's pungent briny stink; still slathered in a sticky paste on his tongue.

"That's not very nice." That was the guy's answer. Louis even knew the bastard's voice, of course. It was Gray Eyes. That shit his mom would've said was like a matinée idol. Did they evenhavematinées nowadays? The stubble's heavy smear like coffee grounds on his cheeks; the square jaw and chiseled bones and thehandsomefucking goddamnnicenessin everything. He lookednice.

Like some thirtysomething daddy-porn idol. Those warm and kind gray eyes. Everything was a fuckin' lie, unless the guy'd lost some seriously important screws somewhere and didn't bother picking 'em up again or at least trying to fit them back in.

Louis still wouldn't open his eyes. He'd sprung up, pissed off, some crazed steam pushing through his shoulders and hips and knotting his bare fingers and long stockinged legs into the silky sheets. Everything dominated with heavy lavender pennons and the shadowy drooping violet canopy. Stout pillars and their steeply seamed scrollwork.

'cause he'd stared at them. For hours, maybe, sexual venom dripping through his blood. Still heavy and sticky in his gut. He could still feel it churning in his belly. He'd wanted to justhurl. To bring something up. Bring everything up; couldn't. Couldn't.

Screamed and howled and planted his pretty freshly-washed face into the pillows and just warbled his total fucking denial and even that denial just pushed everything into harder relief. How do you deny something without saying what you're denying? He couldn't. So he didn't. Just thrashed through it. The hot skin, greasy and briny with his own spit, slapped at Louis' cheeks.

Pale skin painted with that creamy witch makeup. Every inch perfected with it. With Gray Eyes' technique and what the fuck was that?Perfected? He was just- the asshole had just... Had just broken what few hard shapes there were orgivenhim definition that a boy, much less a man, shouldn't have had. Hadn't just feminized him.

Had turned him into a fucking sissy. Into a goddamngirl.

A teen-queen goth slut; Count Dracula's slutty micromastic daughter who didn't evenneedto push her tits into the bustier that hung slack around a chest that was nothing but peachy pert nipples and tight lily-white skin. A corset cinched that impossible mirror image's slender waist intowaspyand threw girlish hips into a roundness they sure as hell shouldn't have had.

Louis still felt it. Had flung himself into the shower while Gray Eyes was silhouetted against in the door, murmuring soft sweet little nothings that were bare wires being jammed into his spine.

Aren't you just so beautiful, Princess Alice? You know, you reallymustbe one of the prettiest girls I've ever met. Aren't you proud that you can make so many men so happy?

Fuck you fuck you fuckyou.

And then Gray Eyes just stood there beside the bed while Louis sat, still brilliant and flushed with the shower. Peered down at the dripping soft-skinned bitch-boy and commanded him with that usual slow patient grace to wear another pair of stockings. Theotherhad been ravaged with jizz, long ribbons threaded through the satiny fabric, stark rheumy alabaster against the black. He'd seen it.

Touchedit while he swept off the nylon; felt it distend with a gluey thickness over his skin, almost enameling the fabric to round thighs and lissome calves and elegant ankles. And then Gray Eyes stood there until Louis had cooperated, had delicately- always, always, do itdelicately, you know, because a Princess shouldn't get a run by just dragging on her stockings- slid toes the bastard had painted and shaped and manicured into the smooth sleeves and pulled them up 'til rubbery bands bit into his thighs.

And heard the asshole purring it.

You have the mostbeautifullegs, too, you know, Princess. I don't think I'veeverseen such delicious legs. Really. Not just a sissy's legs.

Fucking degenerate. Cooing over him. Voice hot and those silky tight pants eventighter. Even worse was the feathery heat Louis'd felt flapping around in his gut like a coked-up sparrow. And now Gray Eyes was just standing there.

"Open your eyes, won't you, Princess Alice?"

"That's not my goddamned name!"

"And taking the Lord's name in vain. That's not very pious at all." Oh, sure, 'causeallof this other shit was just Church-approved.

Fuck. Well, maybe they had him there.

"My name isLouis-"

"Oh, and I thought we'd already been through all of this last night with your little tantrum." Oh, it was a fuckin' tantrum. Thrashing legs and kicking feet and that huge asshole's hard sinewy fingers around his wrists when Gray Eyes'd ordered him into a pair ofprofoundlypink panties. They were so goddamned icing-sugar pink that a diabetic would've started spazzing out at a glance. Pussy-pink at the core and then widening out in a paler wash and all of it just so treacly his soul would've melted down if he'd eventouched'em and they weren't painted over Rachel's skin.

Or some other chick's, anyway.

"You're not wearing your underwear, either. I'm very disappointed in you." Louis wouldn't open his eyes. He'd just beblind; the asshole couldn't force him to see any of this.

It was still fuckin' terrifying. Louis' cognitive dissonance cock had strained it. He'd adjusted it, again and again, with those blood-and-cabernet-lacquered fingers. And then there was epiphany.

I'm wearin' goddamn panties. I don'tweargoddamn panties, 'cause...

'cause he was a boy. That's what the epiphany screeched at him. It was about dignity, wasn't it?

So he'd shucked 'em off. Tossed themsomewherein the dark.

"Look at me, Princess Alice-"

"Don't call me that, you bastard. Don't you dare call me that, you fuckin' deviant. All of you are- you're the goddamned faggots. You're the perverts. You motherfuckers, you..." How could he say it?

"Yes? What did we do?" And that asshole's voice was always just so perfectlyneutral. So kind and thoughtful. Like having Doctor Mengele as a social worker.

"You- you- you-"

"What is it?"

"You forced-"

"Oh, I don't think so." Yes,Louisfuckin' thought so! "We didn't force you to do anything. I seem to remember you beingveryenthusiastic." No, no,no. The words clawed at his ears. "Wrapping your soft lips around me. You were pulling meverydeep into your soft warm mouth.

"You even took-"

"Shut your mouth, asshole! Shut it!"

"You even stroked off Miguel and me on your face. It wasverynice." Denial. Denial. That didn't fucking happen. He'd swear up and down to every deity, divinity, two-bit half-forgotten shrinewhateverthat it'd never happened. "You know, some people think it's indelicate, but I've always thought it's soprettyto watch a beautiful woman being painted-"

"Shut your goddamnedmouth!" Jesus! Louis' eyes sprang opennow. Fingers clapped on his lips; hot iron and rough silk. Not even a slap. Just a pressure.

"That sort of languagereallybothers me, honey." Louis saw it. Sawhim. Firm jaw and cool graphite-gray eyes and dark hair swept over the guy's proud brow. High bones. Soft lips that weren't pulpy. Fingers still clasped on Louis' lips; a twisting foreshortening, heavy muscled arm trailing off up to a broad chest that at least wasn't naked.

The guy was beautifully dressed.

Jesus, how fucking faggy was he getting?!

But it was true. A Windsor knot fastening scarlet silk around a stout neck; stood out in a heavy lurid relief against the crisp white shirt it bisected. Everything had been tailored. Or at least close enough. Chest huge enough that the dude was definitely out of Schwarzenegger parody central casting. Slacks in a dreamy colorlessness that captured the gelid worming lava-lamp light and shadow twisting through the room's wet heat that never grew stagnant.

There was almost a swampy quality; aGone With The Winddecadence that poured a sticky warmth around him, inflamed his skin. Sensual. Sexual. Was there much of a difference at all?

Leather shoes that'd not just been polished like his granddad's, well, hisnon-hillbillymaternal granddad's, anyway, but brushed to a chitinous Marine-perfect shine. They stood by the door; Louis caught a glimpse of their glittering when he threw his eyes asfaraway from Gray Eyes as he could.

"Working with those rustics is... Well, what can I do? I try to give them a good example of upright behavior. I can'tmakethem act like civilized people. It's like raising animals. But you? You're so beautiful.

"Ithurtsme to hear a beautiful girl like you use suchuglylanguage." This guy was even fuckingcrazierthan the others. Ray Charles could've seen that from his goddamn grave. That grace and dignity andwhat didn't he fucking understand?!

"Dude, I amnota girl-"

"Oh, that's just..." The guy's boulder-huge chest flared with a long breath. Louisfeltthe air being sucked between his lips. "It disappoints me." Louis' wasn't quite disappointment. Especially with those heavy firm fingersbitinginto his chin. "So beautiful, but so... Soblindto the truth.

"You need help. That's why you were brought here."

"I was brought here 'cause somebodykidnappedme." Miraculous that Louis ground out even two or three syllables.

"You have a problem. Don't you see? This sissy beauty? You'llneverbecome a real man. You're just too gorgeous." The fuckwasthis? "And you have those impure desires-"

"Jesus, dude-ugh!" Howeloquentthe little bitch-boy was now. Silenced with a hot little groan when another hand twisted around his throat. Bit into the soft skin; furrowed it with deep runnels carved into living marble.

He was suffocating. Fuck. Fuck. This again.

And... And there was something else. Something fuckingworse. The hell'd they done to him? Some sort ofManchurian CandidateorClockwork Orangeshit, wasn't it? 'cause...

"Do you see?" Gray Eyes' stare flickering down with a kiss ofpitybetween Louis' thighs. 'cause heat was settling there. Scarlet shot through his eyes; splashed trembling cheeks; began to throbthere. Down, down, down.

Belly still roiling with enough cum to subsidize a new maternity ward and he was nauseous and he hated it and that dumbass meat twitched, trembled, flared up higher and hotter and this was just fucking insane.

Both of them saw it. Louis' lashes trembled, beat at his cheeks.

"You know, evenwithoutthe makeup, you're just so lovely, Alice.Onlya real Princess would have that sort of elegance." A thick wheeze scrabbled out of Louis' throat. His eyes shuddered, a dazed cast settling over everything in the half-darkness. Shadows distended, slumped out of the order the lunging lava-lamp twisted through its indigo-stained lurid red mist.

Hot motes sprayed through his sight like a lit cigarette being pushed through celluloid.

"P-p-please-"

"Are you going to be nice anddelicate, then, Princess Alice?" This motherfucker. Just- justsmilingthat ingratiating treacly little smile down at him. He'd rather die.

Justdie.

Christ! No, no, no, he didn't wanna die! Not when the fucker's thumb found his trachea's cartilage and just pressed like it was as natural as brushing fingers through a lover's hair. Horrific gray stripes tore themselves up through Louis' sight.

He couldn't evenwhimper; it came out as a piteous little mewl that mantled up into his nostrils with some odd gummy spittle.

"Are you going to be nice and delicate now? Just nod if you are."

He wouldn't.

Couldn't.

Jesus, what the fuck was wrong with his body? That stupid cock wasn't only hard; it'd become a marble pillar, standing up at military attention, ground against his belly. A slow regular throb beat at every nerve. A long hideous frisson ground itself through every inch. Stained his thoughts black.

Oh, god, he was gonna die with a hard-on. How didthatmake any sense? He'd pass out, right? And then...

"Don't make me need to resort to theseextremecorrective measures, Alice. It hurts me. It hurts me so much to do need to do this." Oh, sure. Sure. 'causethiswas just anguish for him.

Like the asshole in some... Some weepy Irish poverty memoir who tells his kid he's cracking over the back with a razor strop,Aye, harts me more'n it harts ye. You motherfucker! Motherfucker! He'd be defiant. He'd kill this asshole if he could. And...

"Just nod, all right?" Louiswouldn't. He justwouldn't. Couldn't. And then he felt his chin and his head and his hair tracing through exactlythat. Long pin-straight black threads ghosting up and down across his shoulders, his back. No! No! Who the fuck was doing that?!

"That's a good girl." Louis doubled over. The breath rushed back into his lungs, the little slut-boy sucking down air in pounding gasps. And they were meaningless; every one sawed out of him again with a racking hideous cough that splattered lush lips with spittle that'd been frothed to a bubbling white foam.

It felt like cum.

Jesus, that wasn't something thatevershould've crept through his mind. But it was true, wasn't it? Visceral honesty. That sincerityno onecould ever shrug off. It poured out of the soul.

"P-p-please, lemme go-"

"You know, you... You make itsodifficult for your advocates." Gray Eyes' enormous bulk, his towering height, justcollapsedwith an accordion's grace, sinking to one knee. His eyes sought out Louis', brushed a firm finger over the boy's cheek.

Hot. How could anyone's skin be sohot?

"I'm trying to help you, Alice-"

"You- you just choked me to fuckin' death."

"No. Not to death." There was something that chilled him in that matter-of-fact gentleness. Sent a long snapping ice thread shooting through his spine. "Don't be so melodramatic. If you werereallysuffocating, you'd know-"

"Iwas." Gray Eyes' huge hand settled on Louis' shoulder. Almost charred it with its weight, its warmth.

"Shh. Don't interrupt someone when they're talking."

"W-why're youdoingthis to me, dammit?! Why are you making me act like a faggot if I'm s'posed to bestraight? Iamstraight; it's you motherfuckers who- who're trying to gangbang aboy! I'm a boy! I have a girlfriend; her name's Rachel-"

"I've heard about Rachel. Oh, she'sverypretty." The fuck?! "Yes. You know, it's strange. I like dark-skinned girls a little more. Usually. But you're even more beautiful than she is." Fuck this nutjob. "And you should know what the Method is.

"You need to understand just how rotten and decadent andbankruptthe deviant lifestyle is. You need to beimmersedin it. It's how Professor Koch's reasoned it out from years and years of study." This guy had... Had thatAmwayglow in his eyes; that fucked-up psychosis that was a real True Believer's.

Like any of those other fruitcake ex-fags or whatever pledging their love forJeeeeeesusand their porker lezbo sister wives in that Bible shit. They seriously fuckingbelievedit. Believed they just had little "relapses," too, when they were caught fist-deep in some manscaped seven-foot black dude in a velvet-and-leather-assless-chaps fuck club's bathroom while a midget latex-daddy sucked them off.

"I- I'm really done now. Seriously. I- I don't wantanythingto do with men." Jesus, wasn't that the truth. Could you be an angry man-hating lesbian if you had a cock?

"I wouldn't say that. Look at howexcitedyou are to be with me. Aren't I a man?" Oh, god. Oh, god, no. It wasn't even at half-mast. It was loud and proud and standing firm in the breeze like averypatriotic Fourth of July. A soft strangled moan was the only answer. "Exactly.

"Iama man. And you're a very beautiful little sis-"

"Stop calling me that-"

"You should stop interrupting me." At least Gray Eyes wasn't violent. Never mind. Fuck. This was even worse. 'cause Gray Eyes was playing some alluring soft-voiced romance novel stud or whatever the hell this was.

Easing closer, still knelt.

Thumb and forefinger settling around Louis' chin.

"You reallyarebeautiful. I'm here to help you, Alice. And admitting your problem reallyisthe first step. I thought we made great progress last night. I know it must've been difficult, just getting thrown into this like that. But you look like you had fun." Fuck, this was worse than evil. Everything ground back into his brain.

"It was soniceto watch you enjoying yourself. You can suck cockincrediblywell, you know. I've seen and, well, I don't want to kiss and tell, but I'vehadbetter. But you were still so nice. And your hands are just... Just sosoft. So fine and delicate." Louis' hand taken now. Not seized by the wrist and led around like a petulant dog but just cradled.

The huge man's palm dwarfed both of his. His fingers, also.

"You're beautiful, you know, Alice. I think it's a wonderful name for a little Princess. It really is anhonorto take care of you." To sissify him, also. To force all this femininecrapon him.

"Please. I just want to go home." Louis did. Hedid. Desperately. More than anything. Right?

"I know you're worried. But look at you. Do youreallythink you're anything like a boy? Here. I've brought something for you. It's against the wall by the door." Who the hell was this jerkoff? What sort of bullshit sugar-daddy crap was that?

And... Christ, justhowstrong was he? It was a mirror. Like a tank was a tractor. Huge. A towering panel that captured the wheeling light and shadow, spat back the room in its trippy lysergic acid whorls and twists. Louis' huge eyes, a gazelle's eyes, twinkling and trembling and tormented, stared at it, absolutely transfixed.

"I'll put it wherever you'd like it."

"Shove it up your ass, then."

"Oh, I don't think it'll fit." Gray Eyes' head shaken slowly, patiently. He'd seenthatshit before. It was his mom'sI'm very disappointed that you evenknowthose words, honeyshake. "You're trying sohardto shove me away. To push people away from you. It's a little... Well, it's overcompensating."

"That's a fancy word for a huge mongoloid like you-"

"Don't be mean. Really. I have a degree in psychology." And now the humongous asshole was taking up Louis' hands again.

"Then you'd know what you're doing is- you're gonna go away for this shit. And somebody evenbiggerthan you who's been spendin' twenty-to-life on the weight pile is gonna ramyourass so fucking hard you'll be shitting jizz for a year-"

"What amouthon you." As if this huge bastard'd never heard it. But the jerkoff wasn't clamping a hand on his lips; not fastening those fingers around his throat and wringing the air out of his lungs. Just drifting closer, and closer.

"T-the fuck're you-"

"Let's look at you in the mirror, all right? I think I know where it should go." Jesustap-dancingChrist, this guy was- he was justpullingLouis to his stockinged feet, fine and slender and scrabbling for purchase even on the lush plump pile. Louis' knees were melting rubber.

There was something weird in it. In this guy'spower. It didn't just dwarf him; Louis felt like he was being crushed down to nothing, less than a fleck of a morsel of a molecule of dust on a fly's ass. Towed in Gray Eyes' wake.

And then they were just standing there. Even themirrorwas taller. Not that he was a short-ass; it was just fuckin' gigantic.

"What do you think? Do you see a boy?" Louis, he... Well, it... If you... The figure standing there was beautiful. Hair a bit mussed and still a brilliant silky fall like some Polynesian princess', soft and capturing the light and casting it back out in velvet ripples.

There was a cock. It was too fuckin' huge, but with the soft shapes that felt like something a woman should have. EvenRachel'd said that cocks were too girly for guys to have. Legs that were probably long enough for two or three girls- boys, Jesus. Foranyone, really. Alabaster skin with nylon so tight it was painted-on; captured an inkling of the pallor beneath it.

Immense eyes. A rush of red in his cheeks. And his eyes.

"I- yeah, I see a boy. Duh, you big retard-"

"Do youreally? I'm a man." The motherfucker was huge enough that he could crane his spine, set his hard chin on Louis' lissome shoulder. There wasnothingmasculine in Louis. That would've been a lie too far. Even the collarbone's fine shapes weren't chiseled through the skin but whispered themselves, an evocative ripple like a low tide sagging over pearls set in the surf. "Do I look like you? Don't be glib; don't say something nasty and spiteful. Think about it. I'm not talking about color. About hair or skin or anything like that.

"I'm asking aboutyou." Fuck, this psychological warfare shit. It... It wouldn't work. "You're a very beautiful boy. A lovely sissy-boy-"

"Stop calling me that."

"Do you look likeanyman you've ever seen?" No. Even Louis couldn't erect a liethathuge on foundations about as sure as his love for shitty gangsta rap. "Tell me the truth."

This was fucking humiliating. And Gray Eyesknewit. Obviously. 'cause a smile quirked at the guy's cruel lips while something that was less red and more burgundy crept through Louis' cheeks. 'cause Gray Eyes could obviously see the fingers laced on Louis' slender elegantly shaped belly.

His lean arms and the biceps' fine figures and the brooding varnish on his nails.

"I- I'm just- I..." Christ, hedidlook like a sissy. "Well, I mean, put- put Brad Pitt or... Well, pre-Grizzly Adams Brat Pitt, anyway, in stockings, and... And a wig, and he'd be pretty fuckin' sissy too, right?"

"Tell me. Don't we just lookrighttogether? You and me?" Was this a fuckin' proposal, or a conversion? Gray Eyes' lips were- goddammit, they were softer than justsofton Louis' right cheek. A slow tortured whimper wrung itself from Louis' throat. His body justshookwhen Gray Eyes' mouth drifted down his jawline.

A hand on his belly; Gray Eyes' was huge enough to enfoldbothof Louis'.

"So fragile and soft. You even whimper like a girl. See? This is the problem, Alice."

"Louis-"

"You were so honest last night. Painted with our cum." Fucking degenerate. "It just meant howhappywe were to have you with us. And you camesohard. Was it difficult? A ruined orgasm? I don't know why they call it that.

"It feels wonderful, right-"

"It felt fucking disgusting. You're repulsive; geddoff me-"

"I can't do that. You know that. I need to continue the therapy." That was bullshit. And now Louis' hands were bound under Gray Eyes'.

"S-stop it; lemme go-"

"Then you'll just sulk. Which would beverycute." He sure as hell wouldn't sulk. Not if he had a nine-mil or a fucking knife or... Or anything. But that didn't matter, did it? And then Louis felt it. A heavy broad shape pushing against his spine.

"S-stop-"

"You reallydomake me desire you. Even more a reason you can't call yourself a boy. I don't haveanyattraction to men; neither do the others." Oh, sure. That was why they could just push their cocks on his face, between his lips. "You really are the softest little sissy I've ever met. I don't need to try atallto get excited about this."

Another hand on his neck again. And now wandering up to his chin. Some romance novel bullshit, pivoting Louis' face to his. Well, it would've been romance novel bullshit if the Marquis de Sade ever collaborated with Danielle Steel, anyway. His spine wascranked; mouth crushed against Gray Eyes'.

Worse than anything was Louis' cock just stillthere. Huge.Hard. The fuck'd they done to him? Pivoting around and overtaken with the bastard's simple hugeness. His bare flesh on coarse fabric and a heat pulsing up and down every vein.

Stop. Stop. Stop. Kissing him. Kissing Louis. Or was it Alice? There was something perverse in it. In the warmth in his gut. Almost sobbing while Gray Eyes' mouth clamped itself on his. Fuck. While the guy's tongue reached out, searching and brushing over Louis'.

And now a hand between them. Taking hold of Louis' cock. Blood pounded in the sissy-boy's head, a relentless timpani roar like someone'd stitched his eardrums to his heart.

Stop stop stop.

A stroke almost shattered his knees. Sent them clattering together; every bone just fuckingmelted. It wasn't Louis' hand; another's. Another fuckingman's. Wasn't- wasn't that greasy Albino motherfucker grinding his floppy cock against Louis'. This was something hard, irresistible.

"See? You don't hate it that much, right?"

"S-s-stop-" A squeeze sent electricity in huge distending columns from his ankles. Tore open Louis' jaws; sent his tongue rolling along a pouting lower lip.

"Stop it? Really?" And another slow caress. Gray Eyes' hand poured down slowly, slowly, a plodding and unhurried languor that rolled over the shaft, cradled the head against his colossal palm. The fuck was this?

"S-stop, stop it, y'-y'faggot-"

"I am? I wouldn't say so. I'm touchingyou, after all. And you love it. Look at yourself in the mirror, Princess Alice. It's not a very dignified expression, is it? I... I don't want to be crude, but you look like a little whore." The word cracked on his cheek harder than a sledgehammer to the jaw. "I'd say so.

"You look sohappyto have a man's hands on your skin. Don't you? Your cheeks are just sopretty; so flushed. You're growing hot-"

"L-lemme go. Lemme go." Soft trembling lips admitted a meaningless little mantra, about as persuasive as a spear brandished against a fighter-bomber. It was hopeless. Helpless. It meant absolutelynothing.

Doubly so with the little bitch-boy's knees quivering, less knocked and more swaying together, reeling and almost toppling at himself. Was that his reflection?

Cognitive dissonance. Hecouldn'tbelieve it. Couldn't believe that drooling slut's enthusiasm washis.

Couldn't believe that he was- washer, was that Princess Alice whore whose jaw had started to crane open, whose tongue was a wet pink slash creasing lush peachy lips; whose skin grew lurid with a flush creeping up from her chest through her collarbone and higher, and higher, and higher 'til even the ears intuited through hair like black silk burned scarlet. The slut in the mirror whose chest flared, whose nipples were pert and plump andstrainingand whose cock was being cradled with some gargantuan hand and still throbbed large from the fingers.

"P-please, stop it. I- I want you t-to stop; it's-"

"I'm not going to stop, Alice. Not until you admit you have a problem. And not until you understandexactlywhat the solution is." So Gray Eyes' hand was quickening, more and more. Long patient strokes became deft pumps, and the little bitch-boy's hips quivered, ass waggled, round and luscious, an overripe peach justbeggingto be touched.

Louis felt it. Felt Gray Eyes' fuck-flesh in its monstrous definition through his slacks; just embossed there, almost carving between the cheeks.

"Please, stop it-"

"Do you really think this is foryou, Alice? Thisistherapeutic, after all. You don't ask someone to stop giving you an injection in the middle of it-"

"Jesus, stop it! Stop it!" Louis heard it. His voice growing raw, hoarse. Not craggy with a man's outrage but a woman's husky frailty. His own voice was betraying him. The sensations were tunneling through resistance that was less iron-hard and more moth-eaten silk slung half-forgotten in some fading cotillion beauty's armoire.

Rot. That's what it was. Louis' every hope and wish justrottingthere. Knees sagging. So Gray Eyes just let him go, let the little slut-boy slump down with a muffled littlethump. The carpeting was a plump cushion under his skin. A wet wheeze flowered from his lips.

"Do you understand now, little Alice? Oh, you're so beautiful there on your knees. Just like yesterday. Are you hungry?" It was so fucking disgusting. That beautiful flushed whore there, less knelt and more genuflecting. That was the only word for it. Gray Eyes stood there, a tyrant, lording over him, the face meaningless because the little strumpet in lovely sleek stockings didn't evendeserveto glance up unless it was to grace him with her huge black eyes while she wrapped her lips around his cock.

"I- I'm..." What the hellwashe?Whenwas he? "I'm... I just..."

"I'm hungry, Alice. You've given mequitethe appetite. I think I'll have something very delicious. I've always loved peaches, you know." Louis' gut was already sinking through his hips. And it was just twisting out that profane unladylike thing even more. Quivering and waggling between shapely thighs.

They were a woman's. Lovely, curvaceous. His hips' sinuation wasn't a boy's. Even his fragile little feet.

"Stay- stay away-"

"No. Come on, now. Can't you get up? Or are- oh, that's just so precious." He should've been laughing, at least. Jeering at Louis with that hard-edged bray the ball-chucking fudgepackers had. But it was just so fuckingsincere. Slipping down and twisting fingers under Louis' knees and against his ass and just scooping him up with a quick weightless grace.

He should just die. Just die. Let his brain implode into itself or his heart melt in his chest orsomething. Just die. But he wasn't dying.

"You really don't even need makeup. I just thought you should be even prettier." With Gray Eyes' evil neutral ease slapping at his ears. Louis was there again. Plunged into that wet-lead darkness; curtained in those faceless shadows whose hungry flesh flashed out at him. The soft sweet gratitude in plump lacquered lips fastened around pulsating meat.

A cock. A cock in his mouth. And not just forced down, not that hideous thing stabbed into his throat like a mutant sword-swallower, but cradled, caressed, a soft pink tongue flitting out, flickering through the dewy pungent brine that flushed pallid cheeks and drained the blood fromhishead 'til it was light, empty of everything but justthat. Hungry. Pulling it deeper; cheeks sucked together in a sodden velvet caress around its shaft.

The head prodding a plump silky throat. Drawing back and falling back over it again. Again. Fine lissome fingers tangled around plump fuck-meat, dragged up and down and up and down with a quickening frenzy and all of that washis. He was there. He wasdoingit. Made-up and then just painted again. Thick. White-hot. Splattered over beautifully adorned skin. Gathered in voluptuous upturned lashes; puddling over his eyes with a pudding-thick enormity; smeared in heavy stripes over his forehead, settling on velvety brows and plastering closed curvaceous glossy lips in striated bands. Slopping over non-tits and curdling on the nipples and slumping in thinning streamers on the stockings' sweat-lucent fabric.

It was there.

In him.

Displacement. Flung out of the massive motherfucker's arms and on the mattress now.

"Lie down." Louis was. Sprawled out on his back. Cataplectic. This was fucking impossible. All of it. "You know, Ididreally want to see you as beautiful as yesterday. But, well, even like this, you're just so gorgeous, aren't you?

"Aren't you hungry for breakfast, Alice?" His name was Louis his name was Louis. "Do you know what time it is?" He didn't. "It's about eleven. Youreallyslept in. But that's all right. I think I'll have mine." Hands flashed out.

Clapped on the sissy's delicate ankles.

"W-what're you- fuckingstopit-"

"No." Terror. That was it. Or maybe it was horror. Or maybe Louis had absolutely no fuckingideaof what the sensation could be; what word you'd paint on something that no one ever admitted could even happen, so no one'd ever thought to bother inventing a word for it.

It was convulsive. A flamenco rhythm through his heart; his gut bubbling. Legs kicked and strained and were just suddenly frozen. Not because anything had happened but becausenothinghappened; because Gray Eyes' strength was so huge that Louis couldn't even imagine writhing or thrashing. It wasn't a struggle, wasn't whipping back and forth, a contest of strength.

Fingers pinioned lissome arching shapes. Tasted the delicacy, the simple fetishistic beauty in fabric painted on delectable feminine skin. Gorged themselves on the heat leaking through the nylon's weave and sweat's crisp aroma. There was even still a kiss of the cumsomewhereon his skin that the little bitch-boy had missed. Not thathewould've noticed it, jizz still plastering his sinuses, drowning him in lust.

"Stop it. Really. Don't. Don't. I don't want you to do this-"

"Oh, don't be afraid. It'll be wonderful." Gray Eyes could probably have arm-wrestled a fucking elephant. And now that was being applied to splay apart Louis' thighs, jerk a huge tormented warble from his lips. Tears rose up, the only pride Louis' body could summon now. Because his cock leered down at him while his body was just twisted, pivoted with a boneless ease, knees cranked closer and closer to his pathetic little non-tits that still flared with breath's huge long swallow.

"I- I'm really afraid-"

"Don't be. It'll bewonderful." A treacherous little pearl bubbled up from his cock's head. It just stood there, trembled a bit, refused to move. Reeked of exactly the same pungent hunger that'd smeared him. "Your ass is just sobeautiful." Gray Eyes' lips pursed. "I'm sorry.

"That wasn't very polite. I just... Ilikethe word. Ass. Or butt. Which do you like more? It looks like the sweetest softest white peach I've ever seen." There were no words, were there? Louis' asswassublime.

Taut, steeply cloven, and still with that succulent cool feminine roundness wreathing the well-sculpted muscle; broad with junoesque hips. Long long legs slack but for Gray Eyes' ferocious hands biting into his ankles. And then they weren't. Still almost doubled over onto himself, but with Gray Eyes' fingertips sliding smoothly down each leg, from the calf to the knee and even deeper still.

Slipping to his thighs.

"Please, this's- don't do this-"

"You're so adorable, Princess Alice. Just soinsecure." That wasn't the word. "All little girls must be afraid their first time being seen likethis. You were wearing your panties for most of last night. Mmm... Look at this. This smooth skin." His lips.

Jesus. That wasn't fucking possible. It was all impossible. Louis let his eyes swivel up to the ceiling. Or what should've been if it hadn't been for the drooping indigo canopy distorting his perspective on everything. It either rose or fell; it was risingandfalling.

And Gray Eyes' lips were just falling.

"A girl's butt is always socool, isn't it? I noticed that the first time I was with a woman. So cool and smooth andsoft." His lips. A kiss justclappedon Louis' ass. First the left cheek, and then the right, and... And now a hand settled on his belly, long thick arm rasping against that treacherous meat that flared up from Louis' hips.

An outsized and maybe cartoonishly huge clit and still adorable. Everything about it was justcute. The languor in the head's beveled sleek darkness; the haft's arc; the wag back and forth and back and forth, sawing against Gray Eyes' shirt's crisp fabric, slapped along the furrows and plateaus.

"Please, please, I just want you to stop! I'm cured; I'm all right!" Louis was whining, trilling and pathetic while breath spilled through his lungs, poisoned him with his body's own scents, with his sweat, with the cum-pearl beading on his cock.

"That's whateveryonesays. But youreallyneed to learn. Let me show youjusthow sweet you really are, Alice. Princess Alice. What's your name now, honey? Tell me. Tell me.Tellme." Brooding. Dangerous. Absolutely fucking evil. And then Gray Eyes let his tongueflickat the silky pouch slung from his adorable oversized clit.

A squeal answered him.

"Stop it-"

"Tell me." Another quick stab of the tongue. But not just there. Slipping down just a quarter-inch. And then another. Louis' spine convulsed; fragile muscle seaming his abdomen cinched, clenched, struggled to introduce his hips to his face and then sagged again, hair rasping at the mattress.

"Tell me, Alice. Tell me."

He wouldn't.

Couldn't.

And then Gray Eyes' tongue hitthat. That delicious pucker rich with some fruity soap's clean and sweet invitation. And something even deeper.

So Louis screamed. It would've just been so perfect if it'd been horror, revulsion, the words' harvest bubbling up between his ears and dying inglorious deaths. But it wasn't. It was just a scream. Simpleminded and stupid and capering out on the tongue that stabbed out of lips that suddenly grew perfectly slack. Everything was just still the second that heat hit him.

Louis still hoped there were words.

But what about Alice?

Felt it. That downy misty nothing settling like fresh tee-vee winter wonderland snow behind his eyes. Feathery and impossible and it jellied his knees and turned his mind to mulch, 'cause it wasn't just Gray Eyes' tongue.

The guy's hand slid back down his belly, fastened around that tumid throbbing meat's base. Shit, this was something obscene. It shouldn't be happening. It- Rachel had done it. Once or twice.

Oh, yeah, sure. You're gonna turn gay just 'cause I wanna lick your cute butt. Come off it. Hey! Better yet, why doncha get off it? Geddit? Geddit?

He hadhers. Delectable; sweet; invited a few lines ofBrown Sugar.

"You don't just look soft, you know, Princess Alice. This is averyregal rump." Who the fuck saidrump? Right. The guy with his mouth cradling Louis' ass. The guy whose lips scalded those soft cheeks, swirled his tongue in a slow patient meander around those exotic shapes.

Rachel hadn't gone at him likethis. This was fucking diseased. It wasn't just a few licks and flickers; not just a soft little giggle that he'd felt bleeding through the fragile skin but really seriouslystabbinga tongue that was goddamn humongous in him.

"S-stop... Ngn..." What thehellwas this? Someone was mewling the words. Not even with Louis' voice. A girl's voice. Or at least a seriouslygirlishone. And the massive bastard definitely noticed.

A hand on Louis' right thigh and then another clutching his cock's base. Notlittle. It would've been even more adorable if it'd been tiny, wouldn't it? Maybe that was the thought throbbing somewhere through Gray Eyes' impenetrable mind. Louis' eyes couldn't force themselves away from the muddled shadowy figure between his thighs.

Darkness and light. Alabaster skin and Gray Eyes' thick dark hair tousled rakishly over his forehead. His tongue. Wet. Sputtering. Absolutely fucking drenched.

"You sound so sweet, you know, Princess Alice. I think you're alreadyreallystarting to love this, aren't you?" He wasn't. Hecouldn't. It was just... Just nerves. Theylikedbeing stroked, after all. They just naturally rejoiced at it, right? It was like the hand on his cock. His was a fuckingcock. "You know, you have averypretty little clitoris-"

"It's- it's not... Not a goddamn... It's- it's acock-"

"Well, I guess you could call it that. What's the difference?" Jesus! Gray Eyes reared up, let his tongue slap at its root. "It tastes like a woman. You have the sweetest skin. Your little pearl-"

"It's- it's a fuckin' cock. It's abigcock-"

"Well, if youmustinsist on that." This asshole's every word was a satiny scalpel ground at him. Every nerve was getting carved apart. "I don't mind humoring you. But does it look very large in my hand?" In all fairness, even an artillery shell would've felt a little insecure in Gray Eyes' hand. Wasn't that the point?

Felt it dwarfing him. Squeezed. Lightning poured out from it. Rushed through him; curled toes and strained fragile feet sagging closer and closer to Gray Eyes' mountainous shoulders. And now the guy's fingers rose up, wringing a pathetic little sob from lips that'd begun to grow as red as every other inch.

A simple truth. It felt fuckingincredible. That was the day's most hideous epiphany. The guy's tongue was incredible, twisting and flitting and flickering justaroundthat soft crimp in his skin. Teasing him. It was a tease. That alone was just another nightmare. How could anyone be teased unless they were just begging for more of it?

His body was.

Didn't that meanhewas?

Fuck you. Fuckyou. That was the answer. To everything and everyone. To his own treacherous meat. Why don't you just fuck off and die? Everything. Why couldn't he just die? It was something almost beautiful while something started to slacken in that black place that'd started to grow behind his eyes.

A venomous whisper.It feelsreallygood. It feels fuckin'amazing. So...

Sonothing.

Mewling now. Someone's lips were quivering; they'd become not just wet with spit butdewyfrom hot breath pouring out of them. How long had it been while Gray Eyes just let his tongue wander peripatetic up and down and drifting even to Louis' thigh? The guy was justslobberingover him. Fingers bit into his thighs, carved graceful little dimples into the fabric drawn tight across porcelain skin.

Everything grew hotter, and hotter, and hotter with it. Even pulled Louis' knee against the boy-slut's belly and brushed his lips across toes that were legitimately dainty. Rained kisses over them and was rewarded with giggles that were just another layer of tarnish on what felt more like pretension than truth.

He was a fuckin' boy. He wasn't achick. Not that he fucking cared about anyone else, but he... He... He wasn't just some homo. 'cause he didn'tlikemen at all! Hated 'em, goddammit. Would rather have shoved his knuckling old man into some species of industrial press that could've stamped him into a mancake. And all the ball-chucking faggots and the pillow-biting phys-ed teachers that made a point of forcinghiminto the sweaty crushes and bellowing redfaced at him aboutnot doin' enough pooosh-upppps! Who goddamn cared?

He was still a boy. Chicks thoughthewas delicious. He'd heard it more than once from Rachel; not even with a glint of jealousy but just,Hey, that chick was seriously lookin' at your ass. I think she wants some.

Yes. Fuck,yes!

This wasn't how he'd wantedanyoneto want some. Not... Not with this diabolical handsome fuckface tearing some impossible and irresistible quiver down his spine when his sole brushed the guy's cheek. Gray Eyeswashandsome. That... That chiseled powerful look that was justelegant.

Even the suit.

"S-s-stop it, please. Please."

"I wish you had a mirror over the bed, as, well,indelicateas it would be." Gray Eyes' voice had grown thick, heavy. Hot. It stabbed a serrated rusty dagger into Louis' cum-clotted gut and twisted it 'til everything just swirled around its axis. There was no order anymore. "I wish you could see just howhappyyou look to have a man's attention.

"You love, don't you? HowbeautifulI think you are, Alice?" Shut up. Shutup. Shut your fucking hypocritical faggot mouth. Shuddit!

The words curdled in Louis' chest. Something awful and brilliant shone through them, throughhim.

"You want a kiss there, right?" Gray Eyes' lips were sopping with spit; Louis' ass, also. It'd started to slacken, loosen, fall open. It sure as hell hadn't been like that with Rachel. She'd been playful, just flicking that lush slender pink stripe at it, again and again and again. Superficial. Just a little tingle while she'd skimmed his cock with her sleek fingers.

And this? This was just fuckin'eatinghim.

"You're so sweet. Tell me what you want. Won't you? Do you want me to kiss your soft little sissy-clit?" It wasn'tlittle. It wasn't little. Gray Eyes' mouth was just too fucking close to it. His breath rolled hot across the dripping peak. A shiny little pearl gathered at the head, slumped down the shaft, and rejuvenated itself.

Again.

Again.

'til its belly was lambent with it.

"Tell me. Won't you?" Louis didn't want it. Hedidn't. Buttoned together his lips and even seriously thought he could churn his arms and legs into resistance. But his elbows were slack and his fingers trembled and his body had wilted into the mattress that just felt so luxurious. Everything was. The air was hot with fragrant sweat. With his perfume. A woman's perfume, almost, as rich and cloying as Rachel's.

"Oh, you're just sosweet, aren't you, Alice. All right. If you're that shy, I'll be nice." So Gray Eyes justkissedit. Fuck, it was the kisses Louis had rained on Rachel's pussy; the lips' quick flickers and flits and his tongue flashing out to brush over sodden skin. And now it was Gray Eyes'.

"O-ooh! Oh!" Hideous. All of this was just hideous. Tears were pricking at Louis' eyes. This wasn't fucking fair. A tortured little groan from his throat. This was horrible. Horrible. Heat wreathed him.

Felt his spine arching without evenaskinghim, struggling to cram more and more and more of that pleading raw flesh into the wet warmth that cradled him, the tongue that swept itself down from the swollen head and then just... Just wasstopped.

"You know, you're beingverydemanding for a Princess. Be as decorous as the pretty little sissy you are." Thisasshole. "You have a clit; not a cock. Can you really push a clitoris into someone's mouth?"

"I have a goddamn caaw..." Words died. Died because Gray Eyes' tongue was dipping down just to flash across it.

"What was that? I'mverytired of hearing blasphemy from you, you know. It's not very nice. It showsverylittle respect for me. I'm a firm believer in God. In God's dignity." Louis barely even heard it. Because Gray Eyes' tongue was twisting his adorable trembling cock into exactly what he couldn't ever admit it was.

"It's so sweet. Even these juices are incredibly feminine. Don't you understand it, honey?" This was disgusting. Fucking repellent. So why did Gray Eyes need to plant a huge sinewy palm on Louis' slender smooth belly to pin him back down onto the mattress? Everything betrayed him. Everything.

Treason in his hips. Clenching. Everything ground down to thatonepoint.

"Do you want me to lick and kiss you here?" No. No.No. He did not. Louis did not.

"It's- it's just- it's-" Babbling. Nothing but inane and vacuous babbling from Louis' slack flapping lips.

"Like aproperPrincess. Tell me, all right, Princess Alice? I wantyou, Princess Alice, to tellme, your humble servant, just what it is you want." He fuckingwouldn't.

"S-screw you-"

"Oh, in that case, well..." He was standing. Fuck, was that it? Was that enough? Just insult the guy enough, disappoint his obsession with that batshitdecorumor whatever, and it'd be done? 'cause Gray Eyes was just stock upright now.

Staring down at Louis with eyes that were even cooler now.

"It'sverydisappointing to hear that. You know, you might be the prettiest little sissy-boy I've needed to introduce to Professor Koch's therapy, but you're not the most willful. I don't know if you think you're going to be able to make me stop because you've offended me.

"I know thatotherlovely little sissies have tried, too. But it's not going to work."

Louis just stared.

"You look sobratty, you know." And he did. Lips twisted out in a petulant pout, cheeks reddened, hair tousled and smeared in inky streaks over creamy cheeks. Even without the makeup, there was something fetishistic in the stark contrasts, in the darkness and light.

Bones high and regal. Arrogant. The eyes aspired to burning and only sparked with a heat like the average televangelist's cogitation.

"I'd be lying if I said it wasn't rewarding to punish brats like you. I really rather like it. So I'm going to punish you now, Alice." Gray Eyes' voice had fallen to a depth, a softness, that could only be unreal. It was felt more than heard, pouring down Louis' ears.

Knotted his belly.

"I'm going to show you why it'smuchnicer to be rewarded than punished. I thought I'd make you up again. You looked so happy to see just how pretty you can be. Not only a sissy but a legitimategirl. Because that's really what you are, isn't it?" Gut lathering. He hadn't eaten.

Nothing but the jizz whose slimy strings still trembled on his throat. It didn't matter if it'd been washed away ages ago. He stillfeltit.

Gray Eyes' huge fingers were pulling at his belt. Oh, shit. Oh, shit.

Unfastening his slacks. The zipper traced a too-long rattling passage down, down.

"P-please, please, I-"

"It'smuchtoo late now. You hurt my feelings, you know, Alice. Afterallthe time I invested in making you feel good, you didn't say anything at all to me." Because you're a fucking rapist! That was the only real answer, wasn't it? So why couldn't Louis just force out the words?

"I-I-I'm sorry. I'm really, really sorry-"

"Too late. " Jesus, nothing was ever too late. Weren't there songs and shit about that? "Youreallylook just like a fallen woman, even without makeup. It's my duty to make you feel godly alone. Spare the rod-"

"Oh, god, I'm so sorry-"

"Spoil the child." Beltwhippedout of its loops with a quick pull.

"I really am-"

"That's what's so remarkable. People apologizeafterthey've done things they shouldn't have. What's that they say? It's easier to beg forgiveness-"

"I really,reallyam sorry. Really. Please. Please." Horror thrilled down Louis' body. Because it wasn't just his dad's belt brandished one of those few times that had even his meek and mousy mom raising her voice and announcing,You arenotwhipping our son, Larry! We're not savages!

He had. Once or twice without his mom to intervene with her soft hands and slender arms. But not like this. Larry wasnotas fuckin' huge as Gray Eyes'. Beer-gutted and doughier rather than justbuilt.

Louis' shoulders hunched. Tears started to prick at his eyes again. And not those conflicted and tormented tears but justterrified. This was real horror. Pain's anticipation was always worse than the reality, right? Anyone who ever said that had never been lashed with a fucking belt.

"Oh,goddammit!" It wasn't a scream so much as just a wheeze when Gray Eyes' arm swept itself back like a preening anaconda and thenhammeredthe stout leather seam down across Louis' belly, less a belting and more a horse-whipping. Louis voice died; there weren't evenscreams.

Hands on his skin now while Louis started weeping. The tears were huge, greasy in his eyes, rough fingers wrenching him with a weightless ease onto his belly. His ass reared up, graceful plump shapes straining into a waggling relief.

Terrified.

"Stand still. You wouldn't want me to hit your back, would you?" Gray Eyes' voice came distant, mealy in his ears. Louis should've been struggling. Should've scrambled away. His knees had died, and his legs, and fucking everything.

Quivering when Gray Eyes' body traced a huge lunging stoke and slashed the belt's tip with an expertise that didn't only say he'd mastered this but roared agreatdeal of pleasure and expertise and patient cultivation in it. Louis' voice rose to an octave that should've exposed just how many dogs were in the immediate few miles.

Hot ruby smeared his ass' left cheek, sharp definition against the pale skin like strawberry juice dribbled over cream.

"Jesus-"

"Youreallyaren't listening, are you?" And another stroke.

"Please! It hurts!" Louis had plunged his face into the bedding, a fragile trembling little leaf of a bitch-boy, toes curling, legs straining out with violent urgent spasms, blood freezing in his veins with every new brutal snap.

They should've bled together into one unbroken haze.

They didn't. There was no plateau at all. It just rose, higher and higher and higher. Felt his voice breaking and then hisskin. Blood prickled in fine rivulets down his ass. The flesh hadn't justshattered. Discreetly and delicately broken, and it was even worse.

Breath didn't die in his lungs; the leather's alchemy twisted it into napalm, set it ablaze, charred every morsel of air that just fed the fire even hotter, even higher. Screaming was impossible. Louis could only wheeze into the mattress. The pillows, cushions, everything had vanished.

Sweat streaked his face, matted hair to a spine thrashing through immense lurching arches, a standing-wave elegance like a slim garden bridge snatched up in a giant's hand and twisted up and down and up and down.

His ass waggled. Soft skin trembled. Every new blow was another vast distending ripple like a palm cracked down on firm gelatin.

And he was still hard.

Still fucking iron-hard. It was hideous. Every new scream just invited another blow. Another. Another.

"Well, Princess Alice?" And then Gray Eyes stopped. Suddenly. Jarringly. Not winded; not wearying or anything but just perfectly serene. Leather creaked under the man's large fingers, knotted around the belt kissed with an inkling of the little bitch-boy's blood.

Hot. Sweet.

"Alice, are you listening to me?" Louis was a little busy wailing with a voice that didn't only break but splintered into ragged throat-ripping sonic shards. They poured through the mattress, muffled with its lavish softness. "I'm sorry that I needed to do that."

Gray Eyes' contrition was a little suspect, his cock brandished, huge and bloated and obscene. Not huger than yesterday's. Just gargantuan by any means. He'd stepped out of his pants, puddled beside him. Even his socks.

There was nothing more ridiculous, was there, than a man wearing only socks? At least his shirt, a bit clammy with sweat stirring in the still heat, still cradled his shoulders. A finger bit into the tie's knot, split it open with a sibilance of fabric on fabric.

"I really am. Do you believe me?"

Louis' eyes were glazed, deadened. There wasnothingbut the misery pounding out in humongous crashing waves from his ass. There'dneverbeen that much pain. Never that huge. Never that fuckinganything. Shivered through him. And he shivered throughit.

"Alice!" Christ, that guy's voice didn't just fill the room; it could've filled an auditorium. A stadium. So the lovely little bitch-boy's tear-smeared face, mussed and tormented, eyes scarlet-ringed and raw and tortured, finally twisted itself with his neck's willful strain back at the humongous figure behind him.

It was worse than ominous. Gray Eyes' cock didn't hang.Stabbedout, thick bulk struggling to crank up with an obvious strength to his chiseled belly and still too fucking heavy to obey.

"P-please, I'm so sorry-"

"Are you really sorry, Alice?" Closer now. Gray Eyes' feet a quiet little rasp on the carpet. The mattress sagged with his knees' slow creep over it.

"I really am! I really am!"

"Show me, then, honey. Show me how sorry you are." What did that evenmean?

"I don't understand!" Every word came as a sob now.

"Yes, you do. Youmustknow how to show a man how much you appreciate him." Christ, why were they doing this? But Louis still felt his every muscle ripple, even while they'd slackened to rubber.

Even Gray Eyes felt his breath hitch a bit with the lissome beauty's slow trembling pivot, hands on the mattress, knotting in the sheets. Forlorn gray wrinkled around long creamy fingers, quavering with every heaving gasp. Knees twisted; long long legs swept across the bedding with a spine-melting languor.

Somethingroaredat Louis. An awareness that none of this made any sense at all. What the fuck was he doing?

"Is that how you show a man your appreciation?" Was it? Was it? Face dipping toward that colossal steely thing. Its scent, animal and a little coarse, settled on Louis' nostrils. But it wasn't only Louis now, was he? "Show me, Alice. Show me. Show mejusthow you do it."

He wouldn't.

So... So Louis just froze. So fucking close to a scent that absolutely intoxicated him.

That wasn't exactly a brilliant decision. But, well, hadanyof his been?

"I- I'm notAlice."

"You still haven't learned? But that was just so beautiful. You can understand how pretty you are, can't you? Is it because I haven't made you up properly today? Oh, was that it?" It was epiphany for Gray Eyes, which meant either his mind throbbed to a deep telepathic rhythm or he was fucking bonkers.

Maybe both.

"N-no, it wasn't! You beat the shit out of me-"

"Only because you wouldn't stop suchnaughtylanguage, little Alice. And that's the problem. You're a beautiful young girl. A lovely little sissy. You shouldn't act like a stevedore. Please. Whoareyou trying to mislead-"

"I'm a boy. I'm aman, all right?!"

"That's so sweet." A palm that probably could've ground concrete into dust settled on Louis' cheek. The truth was that he'd felt onlyoneperfect will like an acupuncture needle stabbing into his thoughts.

Suck it. Suck on it.

And now, there was some demented vulpine wish to nuzzle the bastard's colossal hand.

"I'm not a fucking sissy." From the beauty whose cheeks shone with tears, whose hair had grown brilliant with the sweat plastering its pin-straight hugeness to his shoulders, defined his spine like a second layer of skin.

"Yes, you are. You really are. I'mdefinitelygoing to need to correct this behavior of yours. And thislanguage. Profanity can be a lovely addition to the bedroom, but it's so tacky for a beautiful girl to just say for the heck of it."Heck. "So let me show you therightway, all right?"

"Fuck.You."

"Yes. I thought so, too." What? Fuck! That hand that'd been fondling his cheek like some beloved puppy tore into his cheeks now. Another clapped on his scalp, taking firm hold of his hair in its pillowy abundance and just tearing the little boy-whore against the cock that stood up with an commanding attention. "You're going to show me just how grateful you are for this little lesson."

"No. No." Louis wasn't quite so far-gone that he'd let his mouth open. The words strained from his nostrils, reedy and brittle.

"Oh, yes, you are. I think youreallyneed a firm hand to correct you." So Gray Eyes gave him one. Arms so fucking huge, solong, he could just fling out one to clap on an ass that was still stained with a hot cherry hue.

Louis' jaw shuddered open. Gray Eyes' enormous hand back again, pushing the slut-boy's mouth-pussy down with a quick elegant ease.

"Don't bite me, honey. That would be averypoor idea. I haveverytough skin, and you have a very fragile jaw." What thefuck? What the fuck? Louis' world was suddenly just his own trembling lashes and misty tears deforming Gray Eyes' cock in its massive length, letting it bleed into his own lips twisted out to cradle it.

His tongue slid slowly, effortlessly down it, cradled the head. Not even in surrender. Just muscle memory.

"There. What a lovely little girl you are." Gray Eyes' words were hollow, tinny like a distant radio. "I don't need to punish you anymore, do I? Show me you've learned to be whateverysissy should be for her masters. A dignified young lady and still a whore in bed.

"Aren't you? Show me what you've learned." Fingers still fisted in his hair, the hand that'd seized his cheek rising up, coiling around his nape. Accentuatingthatwith a firm pressure. And Louis could do nothing at all.

Felt that swollen bitch-clit being ground against the sweat-stained sheets.

Titanic intruder cramming itself deeper and deeper. Slipping over his tongue and stabbing into his throat. It opened.

"That's... Oh, that's so wonderful. Let me show youjusthow much I love your throat. Or do you like it when boys are rougher with you? You really seemed to comealivelast night when they were being so indelicate. Should I be? With your throat-pussy?" The word was a bare wire on his skin.

A sudden shove; a wet watery gasp and Louis was gagging, tortured racking coughs sputtering greasy spit around the invasion, and it didn't matter. Shoved down, more and more and more. Both palms on his head now, and Louis could struggle withhishands and stupidly fall completely down into Gray Eyes' lap or just admit this. So he did. Shoulders rose and his head dipped down, hair some modest dignity 'til it was dragged away again.

Stroked and savored and petted.

"I think youdolike it, don't you, Alice? Your throat-pussy; your mouth-pussy. You know, thatisthe best for a sissy. To know that their entire body's been given away to the most depraved pleasure. You're just an animal. A set of holes to be filled." Jesus,no. That wasn't fucking true.

He was...

"You love it, too. That justproveshow much you need the therapy. Without us, you'd just open up your thighs and fuckanyonewho came along and offered you that pleasure. But in a controlled... Ah." Gray Eyes' voice in its slow rhythmic deliberation hitched.

Those ferocious eyes straining closed when that wicked plunging fuck-meat finally just bottomed out in Louis' throat. Packed his mouth and distorted his neck. Louis felt it; knew the skin and muscle starting to twist open.

"I wish you could feel whatIdo. That's my cock. Myverybig cock inside your throat-pussy. Filling you." Gray Eyes' every word wasn't just selfish babble but a calculated and deliberate swipe at him; not a club but a scalpel.

Something throbbed with every murmur.

Somethingbled. Tears welled up, and not only with the hot misty sting from the cock crushing open the little slut-boy's esophagus.

"Isn't it delicious? Here. I'll letyoufeel it." Fuck, no! But where was the resistance when a hand laced like a handcuff around Louis' slender wrist and pulled up his fingers to his own neck. Eyes flared open.

It was there. Could feel Gray Eyes' slow regular pulse in an artistic counterpoint to his own.

"Isn't it lovely, little Alice? That's a man'scockin your throat. When I was younger, I always thought it was such acrudeword. But what's better? A prick? A dick?" Jesus, just shut up!

He was gonna suffocate on it. Dense juices were already welling up; every muscle worked, struggling to shove out the intrusion. It wasn't working. Wasn't working. And suddenly those fingers on his nape wrenched him up, forced it out on a massive nauseating column of heavy deepthroat spit. It became a crazed deep hacking cough like a ten-pack-a-day addict jerking out of a fever dream.

"F-fuck-"

"That's right. Iwasfucking your throat. But I'm going to fuck it even more. Come here, Alice. You need to learn how to make a man feelwonderfulin the bedroom. Being passive like that is just thefirstlesson." Fuck, no. No.

Gray Eyes' hand became a fist in his hair.Yankingthe pathetic wriggling whore across his belly, legs barely kicking, arms not struggling, resignation becoming reconciliation and cooperation. Not just pulled along but guided like a bitch led along by its lead to the mattress' edge. Saw it.

Marveled at it.

What the fuck did he evenwant?

"Lie down on your back." Fuck that. Fuck that.

"N-no way-"

"Lie down on your back." On hisass? What the fuck did- Jesus! A hand swung out with a quick and nonchalant ease. A wet crack on his cheek. And then another. "I told you to lie down on your back. Or would you rather I get the belt again?

"This is aboutobedience." And it was. Fingers tangled in his hair, pulling up his eyes to meet Gray Eyes'. "Are you going to be obedient?"

"It hurts so much-"

"If you hadn't been so mouthy before, would it be? That's something to think about. I just wish you were wearing the shoes you had yesterday. You have suchbeautifullegs. Such pretty feet. I noticed that you don't take very good care of them when I was giving you a pedicure yesterday." Who was the faggot, huh?

But...

"Are you going to listen?"

Yes. Yes, Louis was. Twisting onto his spine, hoping, pleading,prayingthat he could adjust himself so

"JesusChrist, that hurts!" Never mind. Sheets that'd been satin luxury were acid-slathered sandpaper now against his ass. That wasn't the worst. He lay at the edge, fine, but thatclearlywasn't what Gray Eyes had wanted.

Another tug sent electricity splattering off from his scalp, his head suddenly profoundly heavy, dangling precariously from the mattress. Hair slithered down his cheeks, slipped over his brow, a lush twinkling skein plunging to the floor and puddling under him. Exactly where the blood was pouring, also.

Jesus.

He'dseenthis one.

He'ddonethis one.

Was this Rachel's vantage onhim? Well, 'cept that the figure hulking over the little bitch-boy's hawked French nose and trembling tear-stained eyes was a chiseled Herculean terror, muscle flexing through carved-marble skin and enormous hands already reaching out to take hold of his chin.

Fuck.

Slipping through the little boy-slut's hair; a silky grace, pleading to be stroked, adored. Just to betouched. Massive fingers on his nape, pouring through the soft layered warmth, dimpling the sleek tight flesh. Helpless.

Fuck, Louis was totallyhelpless. Lying there, his ass smeared with napalm and carbolic acid and mischievously licked with a blowtorch and now,now, there was this jumbo-sized bastard rearing over him and his sight just narrowed further and further and further until there was absolutely nothing but that colossal figure, sinuous shapes flaring out to a peak like some fascist helmet. It wasonlyfascist. Everything.

Blood and iron. A plush and silky pouch swung from beneath it, less balls and more boulders sagging through the skin, jerking up with a thoughtless little spasm. This was fucking impossible. This reallycouldn'tbe happening, right?

Right?

Louis' mouth cranked open. Couldn'tcloseit. Did hewantto close it? Lips slumped away from their partner, still frosted with that gelid glossy spit. His tongue poured out, rich and dark. Blood had already started not just settling but throwing up skyscrapers in his head. Lily-white skin was mottled with fuchsia like a camellia.

Everything'd grown hot. Even the anguish in his delicious ass dragged those demented poisonous threads through him. Too fucking hot. Even in the fragrant haze swaddling them, it was too fucking hot. Unnaturally. Everything came with exaggerated awareness. Gray Eyes' tremendous murky silhouette rearing up from the puffed-up and arrogant cock that slouched down at him.

Supremely sharp. The skin. Even the scent. Pungent and still clean with soap. Louis' mouth wouldn't close. It was futile, anyway, wasn't it?

Gray Eyes' hands urging him up even further.

"You're so beautiful, you know, Princess Alice. You're really almost my ideal woman. Of course, you're not a womanyet." Wasn't a fuckin' woman at all, goddammit! Was heblind?! But... "I know it sounds tacky, but big breasts areverynice. Even still, you have the most incredible legs. It's silly, isn't it?

"But I'd be willing to trade big breasts for a pair of legs like yours." So buy a pair of bolt-ons and then swap 'em, you degenerate faggot asshole pillow-biting shitheel-guh.

Everything melted. Died. Every thought. Every bit of defiance. Heshouldsnap off this motherfucker's cock. It wasn't steel. Soft and slick with the viscous spit that'd been dragged up from his own throat; briny and tanged with it, a scent that spoke of something sweet and vital and natural and still with the gut's harshness.

Pressed against his lips.

Jesus, this guy was filling his universe.

"I know this doesn't feel very delicate. But, well, remember what I said? There's nothing undignified aboutthisif it's kept private, after all. Ah... Oh, your pretty lips are just sosoft. So sweet, Alice." This fucking degenerate! It was more than huge. Was it bigger than yesterday? What? Couldn't quite gin it up with the other clammy-handed mutants and...

And what did it matter? It was there. Nudging open his lips and dropping further, further. Some misty and meaningless thought that this guy must've done ashitloadof heavyweight squats to sink that easily down and why not just ask him about his supplement regimen, you fucking submoron?!

Sweet. Sweet with Louis' own mouth. With that strange flavor misting it. The hellwasit, anyway? His toothpaste. Oh, and let's contemplate the meaning of lycra while this motherfucker just... Just pushes it further, further.

"Don't bite down, all right? Alittlepressure is fine, but, well, I guess a pretty little sissy-boy like youwouldknow. You did very well last night. I don't think I've seen anything that beautiful for averylong time." This fucking asshole. And the wilting tear-painted little bitch-boy still folded generous lips around his immaculate teeth that still traced an adorable inkling of an overbite that only threw his feminine jaw into finer detail.

Let his tongue drape itself along the intruder whose pulse carried itself along Louis' jaw.

Fingers tangled through Louis' hair, patient in their embrace around his nape, balancing him thereperfectlyfor an invasion that absolutely fucking nothing could stop. How Teutonic. Gray Eyes' muscles rippled.Hefelt what wasn't just quiescence. Enthusiasm in the wet mouth cradling him, the heavy velvet heat while cheeks slowly sucked themselves around his cock's immensity.

It was huge. A little daunting. But, well, hadn't Alice felt her throat-pussy being hollowed out with something even huger yesterday? So there wasn't exactly regret. Or restraint. Just a simple tutorial. Sinking deep enough now that the little bitch-whore's, not, of course, that Gray Eyes would've ever been soindecorousto say it aloud, but her firmparisiennenoise brushed between what felt like unshelled walnuts swaddled in oiled calfskin.

Dragged in a long breath scented with musk and sweat; masculine. Nothing that'd ever wafted from Alice's body. Gray Eyes indulged himself with a breath of it. She was naturally perfumed, wasn't she? A perfected sissy. Everything about Alice justdeniedthe name Louis. Feminine as Louis was.

And Louis' throat finally had begun to taste the steeply flared peak a little more deeply. The boy-whore's neck had already been loosened, hadn't it? It wasn't much of an ordeal. Anything his muddled cock-drunk brain could've deluded itself was a gag-reflex had been subdued if not outright extinguished like a campfire introduced to a few million gallons of frigid seawater.

So Gray Eyes was comfortable pushing. Shoving it through that delicious slick heat that just invited more, and more, and more. It wasn'tquiteas delicious as a pussy, but that wasn't exactly a realistic expectation, was it? It was sure as helldeeper. Falling farther, farther, farther, 'til that pouch was being ground against his crotch with the slut's mouth.

"Oh, that's... That's soverylovely, Alice. What a good little sissy boy are. This is what I'd wanted to show you. How pleasurable that sort of decadence is in the bedroom. This is how the therapy starts." Gray Eyes' toes clutched at the high pile, legs adjusting themselves a bit with an ease that was a collision of a dancer's and a weightlifter's.

His cock shouldering away every bit of resistance. Pushing lower and lower into the little whore's neck. That rarefied deepthroat spit had already started to wick itself up around that straining fuck-meat. It just grow even huger now, gravity obviously blood's friend. Gray Eyes had grown less gentle now, also.

A hand still cradled Louis' neck. Less cradling and moreclenching. Another sinking into his hair and taking up a thick luxuriant fistful and justpulling. Yanking up the slut's mouth around his flesh, daggering himself deeper, deeper, savoring firmly pursed lips' softness around its base, again and again.

Driving himself lower and then just ripping it out 'til the little whore's soft trembling lips almost creased the peak and thundering down again.

Louis felt it. Or maybe it was Alice. Alice. The name had started to chisel itself overLouis. There was no competition at all. Just vandalism. His world a confusion of movement. Skin. That swollen sweat-dappled pouch settling back onto his eyes, blinding him, almost cramming itself into his mouth with a cock that was just too fucking huge and his hollowed-out throat still didn't just grudgingly admit it butdrankevery inch. Again, again, the peak rippling down his neck.

"Don't you love it, Alice? Such asubmissiveposition, inviting a man to... Oh, oh, to fuck your throat-pussy. You reallydohave a harlot's body, don't you?" Louis could only agree. Or at least, Gray Eyes' yanking his head along his cock, fucking his throat like the well-greased inviting hole it was, suggested that.

"Oh... Oh, I really could comerightnow, Alice. But that'd... That'd be so unceremonious."Please. Please.

Just- just to get it over with.

Wasn't that it?

Louis felt it. Swelling up, even fuckingfatterin his neck, dilating it even more. Wheezing with the breath that barely wriggled through nostrils packed with spittle that'd been whipped to a creamy lather that hardly even needed Gray Eyes' jism to be profoundly indecent in its wash over his face. Louis was stained, hair enameled on reddened cheeks, eyes half-closed with its massive quavering threads.

And there was still more. A vast lucent smear binding his shamefully enthusiastic lips and lurid lashing tongue to his haughty nose and even slopping across his brows and pouring over his forehead when Gray Eyesreallyunsheathed its full length, indulged himself with a firm slap at Louis' chin and wove a gossamer web that became a sagging bubble with breath that swelled the slut's non-tits into a lunging flare.

Each new stab tore out a tortured racking cough that was absolutely beautiful in its thick guttural ugliness. More and more and more violent and Louis' thoughts didn't just melt down. They were already slag pouring from his ears and competing with the spit streaming out of his clotted nostrils and quivering hungry lips.

Louis didn't even feel it. Gray Eyes did. That soft-fleshed quean's mouthcinchingaround his cock. It was incredible. The suction gathering. Tongue a quick rippling rhythm like a hummingbird's heartbeat along him.

So sosoclose.

Even Louis would've understood it. Swelling up. Almost bursting through its skin. He reallyshouldn'tbe so indelicate, should he? It would be a terrible act of crudeness; a horrible example to a slatternly sissy just starting to learn righteousness' boundaries.

But it couldn't really hurt, could it?

"Ah... Oh, your mouth is so soft, Alice. Alice. Princess Alice." Wrenching the little bitch's head along that ravenous fuck-meat with an unpretentious selfishness now. Could it really hurt the sissy's progress? The doxy hadn't even admitted that they'dreachedthe bottom. They'd need to be shown it.

Louis didn't notice. Or didn't care. Dragging in breath between every new ferocious intrusion. Wheezing and gagging around it and still shaking with something that rose up from his adorably manicured toes to the flesh that roared and screamed and robbed him of breath whenever an especially violent tug ground that raw skin against the mattress and through his belly and higher still. It colonized his brain, his mind; it'd started tobreaksomething.

Eyes were glassed with more than what'd drooled over them, had joined his fine feminine chin with his hair's root, a thick obsidian treeline starting to flood with it.

"You're so beautiful. Let me apologize for not giving you your makeup today, all right?" Gray Eyes' discipline was abittoo firm to admit the obscenities the little bitch-boy invited. Oh,fuck, the whore's throat had started tightening even more.

Louisknew, didn't he?

A whimper when it finally tore through that threshold. Louis' throat was so fuckingtightit dimpled him, stained that perfection with a kiss of hot electric strain that was even more incredible when finally the first heavy glob justthumpedout of Gray Eyes. It would've been lovely to linger there, to pour every drop down the slut's neck, but hedidhave responsibilities, didn't he?

To say itslippedout maybe would've exaggerated just how gentle Gray Eyes was. How controlled he was, anyway.

"Don't swallowanything. This is for you, all right, Alice? Alice. Ah. Ah. It's..." It wasn't justcoming. The first'd already come, deep in the cunt's throat-pussy and still leaking out with gravity, everything sloppy and twisted open and barely able even to close. The brittle little cum-strings slithering out were barely more obvious than the creamy frothed spit. Louis still felt them.

Something was rejoicing. Hardened him even further; it wasn't as ifhisadorable little bitch-clit had softened, anyway.

Quaking.

"Here. I'mverysorry for being so rude. I... Let me apologize." The second pulse justsprayed. The diabolic trembling thing flared huger than it shouldeverhave been. Suddenly spat a massive clot between Louis' eyes. The world was inverted. Drool hung from his cheeks, splashed over the hair puddling at Gray Eyes' feet. Gray Eyes had just let those soft spit-plastered strands slip from his hand, taking hold of that palpitating shaft's root and squeezing with a slow rhythmic grace.

It wasn't the thrashing porno psychosis Louis'd seen in another universe, another time, with Rachel. It was less theneedfor it, weary and enervated and indifferent and probably justfruitydudes in that industry needing to whack themselves to fulfillment, and more a bit of guidance.

"There. There." Hot. It was so fuckinghot, even through the jelly that hung in sheets like cataplasm over him. "You're so beautiful. I don't think there's anything prettier than a beautiful womancoveredwith a man's gratitude." Was that what it was?

That was...

Was a giggle, reedy and thin and high and brittle from Louis' lips.

The spray over his nose had been gigantic, splitting apart and congealing on huge beating lashes that suddenly stood open to stare ateverything.

"You're so polite. That's right. Don't close your eyes; don't try to move away." Not that Louis could've with Gray Eyes' hand still shackling him. But it was aboutpoliteness. "There. There." Another huge lunging streak swathed his chin, climbed over those delicate shapes to coil around Louis' neck and spill down again.

Gravity was its friend; thinner seams gathered again into humongous globs, quivering where they lay.

"A-ah... Oh, that's so beautiful. I know it's not as much as yesterday, but, well, not to betooself-satisfied, I think I've made you up rather well. Don't you think?" Fuck. Fuck. Why wasn't the heat wafting off?

"Do you have anything to say, Alice?" Gray Eyes' hand slackened. Louis' head abandoned toslumpdown, prodigious slimy tassels oozing down his cheeks. "Well?" Movement. Gray Eyes' hand excavating in his pocket, producing that compact mirror. Snapped open to grace Louis with...

With Louis. Or was it Alice?

Spit-swarmed and cum-splattered and obscene.

"It's wonderful, isn't it, to act like a whore for a manin private?" Louis' cock slapped at his belly, rose and fall with the words. "It's almost normal. Or it would be if you were a real woman. But you're just a pretty sissy-boy."

Fuck this.

Fuck this.

Gray Eyes' cock wasn't sagging at all.

"I don't have much of a refractory period. And you've heated me up so much that IknowI'm going to be ready to introduce you to what you weresupposedto have today." What the hell? "It's a progression, you understand.

"Freud may have been a decadent European atheist, but his stages of development give quite a sensible rubric for Professor Koch's own treatment." The words were eggs meeting a titanium wall.

Whuh?

Huh?

With crazed velvet heat whirling behind eyes that were half-blind with jizz, with spit, and still staring out with a sensual darkness that understood only that something was missing. Wanting. He fucking neededsomething. Something something something.

"You lookveryconfused. So adorable lying there. I think you're going to enjoy this, you know, Alice." Whuh? Louis' inky jizz-painted lashes traced a long bewildered stripe, distorting and finally breaking a huge creamy cum-strand that'd connected them to his brow. "Let me help you, all right?

"You look so messy. I think it's a wonderful look." The mattress dimpled under Gray Eyes, powerful hands settling around Louis' slim waist. The heat, thetouch, wrung a sudden pathetic whimper from his lips. The little slut's tongue flickered out, thrashed through the crude pearls garlanding his mouth.

Sweet. It was... It'd becomesweet. Impossibly. So fucking sweet. So Louis swallowed it. A dense mouth-filling heap of the spit and jism. Felt himself being eased up further along the bed, hair fanned around him, staring into the canopy's tangled shadow. Light minced along the tangled trenches rising up against gravity and the long ridges that felt so close it should've been possible to touch them.

Not that he could even summon the strength to raise a hand.

Everything swam. He was intoxicated. Breathless and jizz-addled and with everything falling through the huge voids that'd opened in his brain's moth-eaten fabric. Where even was he?Whowas he?

"Do you feel good, Alice? Don't you feel beautiful, made-up and lovely? Oh, look at you." A giant's coarse hand on his belly; an awareness of the juxtaposition, the creamy skin like oiled silk shimmering with sweat. Gray Eyes' complexion a few shades darker, that unplaceable probably Mediterranean or... Or whatever...

What did it matter?

Louis waslaughing. Laughing from nothing at all. Not a man's; not a boy's. A soft fragile trill.

"Don't you? Aren't you beautiful?" Something bellowed at him. The fuck does it matterhowpretty you are, you goddamn idiot?! You're lying in a puddle of cum and your own drool.

And another, well...

"I'm pretty?" That was what answered. Melodious, even with the jism and spit knotted in his throat.

"That's right. So pretty I can't really control myself anymore." So Gray Eyesdidn't. "You're already ready."

"R-ready for what?" Movement. Louis' world collapsed into itself. Thoughts and language became animal knowledge of color and light and sensation. Heard his heart's rhythmic pulse in his ears and the fantastical swimming quietude in the gothic silence pouring around them.

Gray Eyes' shirt and tie joined his clothing's pool on the floor. Hands took hold of Louis' lithe arching ankles. Louis felt his body moving again.

Craned up. Knees pushed back to his belly.

"W-what're you doing?" Or whatever the wordsreallywere straining from a mouth that'd become a swimming pool for a lost generation. "What're you-"

"Exactly what I promised I'd do. I'm showing you theprofounddecadence in this sort of lifestyle." The fuck didthatmean at all? "You're such a lovely, elegant young lady. So beautiful." The little pussyboy was.

Achingly. Not only figurative. Gray Eyes' cock pulsed with a slow regular plea. Making up the nasty little whore with theonlyappropriate foundation for such a filthy bitch wasn't enough. Being forced to tear it out of that paradisaical heat,thatcommanded discipline harder than granite.

Even more the long shapely legs that weren't only adorned but painted with gauzy damp obsidian. Muscle clenched and relaxed. Gray Eyes could only indulge his lips. Brushed a kiss on dainty toes. And then a lick, balancing them on his tongue; it slid patiently along those graceful shapes, pulling them into his mouth's heat.

It was... Unreal.

For Louis. This wasn't exactly something novel for Gray Eyes. Delicious,yes. Girlish sweat and the aromatic soap and clean fabric; a pedicure's beneficiary, already essentially absolutely perfect. Gray Eyes' philosophy was always to gild lilies, to embellish the transcendental.

Louis' feet were. Tremendous.

"O-oh... Oh... Oh..." Cooing; gurgling; a moronic delirium that was a perfect companion to the soft-focus lust-stained reality crushing down on him. Every sense vanished into it; a black hole swallowed him. Swallowed everything but his body that was suddenly immeasurably lesshis.

Fine and feminine.

"Oh, fuck, it's..."

"Suchlanguage." And such supreme elocution for Gray Eyes to summon the words with a stockinged foot about an inch from vanishing into his mouth. Louis' toes sucked down in an instant. Tiny enough that it was about as much an ordeal as a televangelist cashing a check. His tongue slewed nimbly down the nylon that'd grown silken with the boy-whore's fragrant heat 'til he couldn't press any further.

Louis quaked with it. The anguish in his ass had transmuted into something else in this crucible; there was still the pain. Still robbed the breath from his lungs, set everything on fire. And that was the problem. 'cause it licked at every nerve, melted down every tiny morsel of sense.

Something still screamed at him. Jesus, what's wrong with you, you fucking moron?! This is...

Something still screamed at him. Jesus, what's wrong with you, you fucking moron?! This is...

What?

What?

'cause it felt fuckingincredible. Teasing, lapping, tormenting the little slut's every neuron with that invidious torture. It should've been anguish, right? A perfectly upright straightboy. He wasn't. Oh, he wasn't, was he? Not with cum skating with gelid grace over his photogenic face denuded of anything not just masculine butmale.

Purified femininity. Not a woman; not quite a girl. That lovely teenage ambiguity, ripening and full and lush and justpleadingfor a touch. To feel skin dimpling under rough fingers. To lave, suck it down in huge gouts.

Louis' shoulders jerked in a wince that trailed up from his ass' tortured roundness, globular, irresistible. That was the only word.Generous. Full and flushed with the belt's lingering violence and still sticky with blood's few gelled drops. Hand-filling.

"W-what're you-"

"What do youthinkI'm doing, Princess Alice? Thisisthe sort of depravity that a sissy-boy like you craves, isn't it? I'm just giving you what you want." What thehelldid that even mean? Reality was a whorling textureless smear.

Louis' heart lurched against his ribs. Had ambitions of clawing itself out of his slender chest. 'cause Gray Eyes' fingers were drifting to where the soft-skinned little slut had felt the man's tongue. Prodding. Urgent. Stabbing through him.

That sloppy star still throbbed. Felt a craving that was enough to stitch tears into the cum-clotted firmament starry and effulgent across his eyes.

"N-no, no-"

"Mmm... You reallyarebeautiful, you know. I feel honored to be your first as Alice-"

"L-likehellyou're gonna be!" Now it was fear. Still not perfect. Crushed into a powder and kneaded into a paste with a freaky louchesomethingscintillating in his belly. Lips drawn into what wasn't a scowl or a smile. A bit of the cum spilled into his mouth, splashed on his tongue. "N-no, no, stop it. Stoppit-"

"It'll be all right. I'm sure you've already hadquitea lot of fun there before. It's..." Gray Eyes' voice dipped, grew hotter, softer. Protecting his delicate sensibilities. "It's alreadyincrediblysloppy there, you know. Loose enough for me just to work my tongue inside you.

"Didn't you hear how loudly you were moaning?"

"Like fuck, I was-"

"Exactly." Fingers there. And then the guy's hand reached out, settled on Alice's lips. "Open your mouth, honey. Open your mouth." No fucking way he was. No, no,no. "Well, there's really enough alreadyhere. I just want you to be comfortable our first time together."

"Godda-ghh." As if that hadn't been predictable.

"I'msurethat wasn't taking the Lord's name in vain. I'll give you the benefit of the doubt, honey." Honey. Honey. Darling. "Oh, you're such a sweet, pretty little sissy. So soft." He was. Profoundly. And Louis' mouth surrendered the cum and drool he'd let pool there in his slackening jaw. Gray Eyes' firm fingers stirred it, caressed his cheeks, finally pulled out a massive distendingglobfrom Louis' jizz-polished lips.

"So beautiful. There." And now it was just... Just fuckingdisappearingbetween Louis' thighs. The boy-whore's stomach strained; cranked himself up for a vantage onwhatwas happening. Terror. Something else. Tingled at him.

"N-no, no, you can't fuckin' do that-"

"Ineedto do that." ItwasLouis' first. Or at least, with that.One, maybe two, of Rachel's long delicate fingers sure as hell didn't compare with Gray Eyes' cock. One of the giant's hands had taken hold of the head, smoothed that gooey morass across it and then eased the verypeakagainst Louis' ass.

"Fuck, fuck-"

"You know, it'll beverylovely. Little sissies that've complained and kicked alotmore than you just couldn't get enough after awhile-"

"Fuck you, you giant maniac-"

"You're so sweet. You are." Gray Eyes' hips restrained, cock barely even kissing that cum-slathered hole. "Isn't it beautiful? You already know what this feels like-"

"LikehellI do! I've never done this before!" It should've been a scream. No. Should've been aroar. Bellowing and stone-firm and unequivocal. It was a whine. A whimper.

"I don't believe that. You really shouldn't lie to me." And nowpressure. Stabbing at that pucker.

"Jesus Christ, stop-"

"I really would likeyouto stop that. Some men must think it's sexy when you blaspheme in bed, but I-"

"Ithurts!" It did.

Sort of.

Gray Eyes' tongue reallyhadloosened him. That was worse than anything else. But Gray Eyes was definitely too fucking enormous for him. For anyone. Tears grew. Louis' fragile hands tensed. Didn't lash out; didn't struggle. Just grasped at the mattress. Wine-red fingernails tore into the bedding. A strangled breathless hiss frothed the mire that'd almost closed his throat.

It hurt. It hurt. It hurt. Gray Eyes still just sank deeper, deeper. The guy's face was... Was so profanely disgustinglyhandsome. Any chick would've been creaming herself, probably, looking up at the muscles' well-defined planes and the broad shoulders and the perfect face and those eyes peering down at her, and... And...

"P-please, please, please-"

"I'll be inside you in just a moment, Alice. You're all right. Oh, you feelincredible." And Louis did. "Don't you love your boypussy?" Jesus, what the fuck was wrong with him?! With all of them?! Just knotted around that elephantine head. No. Fuck that. Anelephantwould've been screaming.

"It's- it hurts-"

"Oh, I don't think so. You're so soft around me." It was. Profoundly. A sensitivity that sent antic spurts up and down every nerve. Gray Eyes' fingers bit into luscious thighs while his cock tunneled deeper, deeper, deeper.

The head finallypoppedthrough that boundary and now it was trivial, falling to the fullest length.

Louis answeredthatwith a wail, Gray Eyes' hips slammed against his raw tortured cheeks.

"Oh, it fuckinghurts!" And there was something else. At some point, that elegantly upturned shape had hitsomething. Something. It sparked at every inch. A black fire winked awake behind his eyes.

"Your moans are so pretty, you know, Alice? I can tell how much you love this. Justlookat your little clit." Goddammit. Goddamnthat. Goddamnthisgiant gorgeous freak, and... And everything. The tremors spilling out from the fingers on his thighs. Goddamn those slick walls he couldfeelinside himself pulsing around Gray Eyes.

"Doesn't it feelwonderful?"

"T-try pushingyourbig cock up your ass, you bastard-"

"Oh, nowthatsounds very playful." This motherfucker was totally implacable. And... And started to lean closer now. Cranking Louis' spine, raising up his ass higher, further away from the bedding. Sweat poured down the lovely boy's skin now, kissed him with a luster like oil's fine sheen.

It hurt.

It was more horrible than pain. It didn'tonlyhurt. 'specially when Gray Eyes finally started leaning away again, tugging out his cock.

"You'reveryclean there, darling. Don't worry. I made sure to clean you out when you arrived. You haven't eaten yet-"

"You fucking asshole!" What should've been a rabid wolf's howl was a squeak. Gray Eyesfoundthat point again.

"I think I just hit your pussy's special spot, didn't I? It's solovely, isn't it?" The fuck was this bastard doing? Just sawing his cock back and forth across it.

Louis was paralyzed. His jaw worked, and it accomplished nothing more than just sending his tongue flinging out. Slashed through the gelid cum and spit and even the tears that still spilled from his eyes, poured over his cheeks and settled on his lips.

"So beautiful." The words darkened his eyes. Gray Eyes' every touch, dimpling his thighs, biting at his ankles, whispering over his belly, summoned a light that was blacker than anything. Blinded him. Everything narrowed to just that sensation like a candle in him.

Stoked it.

Tortured him.

"S-stop it, stop, stop, stop!" The little bitch-boy couldn't wail now. Only sob with a piteous slow cadence, a pathetic syncopation with the hungry moans and groans and mewls lurching from a throat with enough sperm to open his own amateur fertility clinic. "God, it's..."

"Isn't itglorious? Oh, you're still sotight, even with how easily you took me in you, Alice. You reallymustbe experienced with this." Gray Eyes' body seesawed through Louis' half-closed eyes, seamed with long pale ropes of jizz and lambent spittle and his lashes' vast and luxurious spray. "You're sohot, honey.

"Yes. Yeah. Yeah. Oh. Oh. Andyou'refeeling it, aren't you? Don't you see? You only need to get in the right mood, and you'reclearlyalways in the right one. It's so indecent to see a sissy-boy like you with such a hungry clit." At full attention, whipped back and forth, flinging off tiny starlight motes of the thin greasy juices gathered at its pursed lips.

"F-fuck, fuck, you're- you need to stop!" Gray Eyes definitely needed to stop. Right fucking now. Fuck, he did. Something...

It was familiar.

And not.

Spice socloseto a meal that'd been savored again and again and again, a comfortable absolute, and suddenly not at all. Electricity had begun to build.

Heat in his hips.

"Please, please, you-"

"Don't be shy. I can feel it. I know you'reveryclose. Don't be ashamed. This is part of the therapy; part of understandingexactlythe decadence you're living. I won't blame you if you come sooner than I do. We don't have that much of a rapport yet-"

"Don't. Don't. Don't." Gasping out the words like a beached koi. Therewasno breath at all. Louis' lush pretty lips twisted, face contorted into anguish that was even more beautiful. That elegance, that femininity, had only grown.

And now Louis felt his body being teased, quirked, warped. Spine protesting fruitlessly; his slender belly creased, almost collapsed into itself. Folded over, Gray Eyes rearing over him, about as delicate as a fucking pile driver now.

That was the only thought. All he could fucking feel. Palms clamped on his thighs, his own knees driven into his shoulders, Louis' boy-clit waggling an inch or a half-inch or... Or wherever it was in his vision, reality distorted, that meat an eternity away and Gray Eyes' flushed face impossibly close. Their eyes met.

A nightmare. A fucking nightmare. The little whore's boypussy justgrindingat the broad-chested sinewy beast pummeling at that delicious point, that spongy pearl that rewarded Gray Eyes with impotent and miserable yelps and yips torn through the ostentatious sobs.

The bitch-boy's everyinchached with what was coming. Coming.

"Don't- don't-"

"I canfeelit. You're... I think Imightbe able to, Alice. Yes. Yes." Driving himself deeper, deeper. It didn't... Nothing fuckingmatteredanymore. Only that name. Alice. Alice. Pretty.

Aren't you pretty?

Isn't your face justadorablevarnished with lust? Burning a hue almost darker than the canopy draped over them; deeper than the gyrating shadows and lava-lamp light. Screaming. Screaming.

Gray Eyes' cock swelling more and more until it justfilledhim. Crushed itself at his throbbing bitch-hole and illustratedjustwhat he was.

A lush little Jezebel. The mostexquisitewhore. His body, or maybeherbody, who could imagine now, screamed and wailed and just implored more more more more more.

Fill me. Fill me.

The words weren't blasting out of his throat, but they were still there, delicately filigreed into those faraway tormented thoughts.

And it came. Louis' ass about as subtle as a neutron bomb. Crushing. Grinding. It'd become a pussy. Rich roiling lust spidering through it and now the last snap at that bead broke every barrier. Cumfountainedup; hours' upon hours' tormenting starvation, his body being warped and broken on Gray Eyes' will.

There was no resistance now. Louis felt it. His own flesh lurching up, rearing to embrace that intrusion, to suck down more and more and more of that sexual perfection.

Opaque glossy ribbons swarmed out from a cock that didn't need even a single fuckingtouch. Sprang up and down and threaded vast streaks through the graceful black-velvet sunburst fanned around him, splashed onto the mattress, and the bulk justslappedhis face, fine drops breaking off again.

He. Fucking.Came.

Wept through it, cringing, shivering, and he still fuckingcame. One of the hugest orgasms his body'd ever tasted just crushing through his blood, through his thoughts, bashing his brain against his skull.

"Oh. Oh. Oh,god." Rubbery lips and a subdued wavering sob. "It-"

"You're so beautiful. So beautiful. So... I'm- yes. Yes. Let me show youjusthow wonderful you are, Alice! Yes. I'm going to makesureyou know." Gray Eyeswasn'ttugging it out. Hips slapped more fiercely now.

And Louis came.

Again. Again. A girl's orgasm. Abitch's orgasm. Once. Again. Jism leaked from his cock, dribbled across his chin, even slid in sticky lines down his throat.

Painted himself.

And then he felt it. Could fucking see it. Gray Eyes' cum adorning his ass, that unseen pink place, with a pulsating gout that splashed against his bitch-clit, smeared him, tumbled into that eternity and just gelled around that brutal intruder and wouldn't fuckingstop.

Silence.

Louis couldn't speak. Couldn't muster a word when Gray Eyes finally swept his cock from Louis' ass. Still bent double and aware of the slack numb stockinged feet, his feet, that'd fallen beside his cheeks.

"You're so beautiful, Alice. Solovely." Cum burbled from him, a cock-churned mousse that ran down his ass' plush peach shapes, swamped his belly.

Something broke. Shuddering eyes found a purchase on it. On another man's jism pouring out of an ass he couldfeelthrob, pleading and hungering for more. Tears bled down his cheeks through his jizz and Gray Eyes' and that gelid spit.

Every breath was stained with that briny coppery scent.

A smile twisted across plump lips.

And then he flung himself onto the mattress, loosed a scream so huge and so long sight narrowed into black points like fine ink drops stippling cotton. And then popped.