What's this? Two updates in 48 hours? No you're not dreaming. And no, I'm not on crack either. Pass me the pipe *cough, cough*
-x-x-x-
A real Bummer
I returned to the hotel at about 2 am that night. I was a little disappointed nobody had made the effort to go look for me. Only Dad and Wyatt had even bothered to stay up. Part of me wished they hadn't, because I did not want to talk to either of them. Bryce was the only one I wasn't currently mad at, and he was all snuggled up in bed with Enrique. I envied his blissful ignorance.
I'm being naive, I told myself. There was a good chance he had known. What loyalty did he have to me? I shouldn't be trusting people this easily. That's how I had gotten myself into this mess in the first place.
Wyatt tried to embrace me, but I shook my head. He dropped his arms, shoulders slouched making him look very small and sad. Hard to believe that only a few hours ago, I had been balls-deep in his mouth and begging him to take my virginity. What a fool I had been.
Today had been emotionally draining. Despite my anger, I wasn't going to make him share a bed with my old man since that would be a little molesty. Not that I worried my father would try anything, but I sure as hell did not trust Wyatt, who took a rather loose definition to fidelity. So, I spent the night lying ass to ass next to my snoring dad, while Enrique got to live out my wet dream, sandwiched between the twins. That bastard!
Come to think of it, he had made out with both of them! Bastard!
Actually, so had I. But he had gone to third base with them! Sly, cockhungry bastard!
-x-x-x-
I woke up feeling refreshed the next day. As though I could tackle whatever was thrown at me. Then I remembered the events of the night before, and consequently curled my body up into fetal position and groaned.
Wyatt, who had been sitting at my bedside, staring at me attentively, carefully laid his hand on my shoulder, then quickly pulled it away as though he was petting a rabid dog.
"How are you feeling? I brought you some croissants."
I turned my back to him.
"Ham and Cheese. From the Migros. Best ones." He continued.
"You have such an unrefined pallet." Enrique remarked.
"Ricky, will you shut the fuck up." Wyatt hissed at him.
Good enough.
I propped myself up and reached out my hand, accepting his peace treaty.
"The Molly does a number on you. I should have warned you. The day after is torture. Not that you aren't fully justified to be mad at me, but the down does make one more argumentative. I probably wouldn't have gone off at my parents the way I did, had it not been for it." Wyatt explained timidly, fully anticipating me to yell at him again.
Oh true, his parents. I had forgotten he had gotten himself disowned for my sake. And here I was being salty with him and accusing him of cheating. He was technically guilty, but I wasn't sure if I was justified in being mad at him or not. This seemed like a question for my dad.
My dad. Goddammit.
That was a whole other can of worms. I was nowhere near ready to forgive him.
"Where is my father?"
"Said he was going to meet someone."
"My mother." I mumbled, clutching the sheets. I could feel the anger flooding back.
I was not going to let him get away with it that easily. Last night, while I had been parading Lausanne's most sketchy alleys, I had conceived a plan. I was going to look through Bryce's folder of Who was Who in high society, eliminating the candidates one by one. After all, I was not entirely clueless, I knew she had to be someone who had attended my father's school around the same time he had, and that she had made contact with me at the party. And surely there had to be some familiar resemblance.
How elusive that I had met and spoken to my mother yesterday, without even knowing the significance.
"Hey." Wyatt said in that tone people used when they were about to ask you a favour. "Bryce asked me to accompany him to our little sister's birthday party. Would it be okay if I go?"
"You don't have to ask my permission for everything you do. Only when you are about to kiss other guys."
He shamefully bit his lip. "I won't stay for long. I will just say hi to my parents and pack my bags. We left in a hurry yesterday, there are some things I want to bring along. My passport would be handy to have."
"You don't have to rush. It's not your little sister's fault you messed up."
"You're being so dramatic, Hiwatari." Enrique said aloofly. "Nothing happened. He didn't even kiss me back. If anything, you should thank him for his loyalty."
"My bar for fidelity is slightly higher than yours." I barked at him.
"Keep getting all worked up like that and you will die of a heart attack at 50."
I ignored him.
"I thought your parents were busy today. Your father said he could not make it."
"Suddenly he can. His two sons turning out gay might have made him reconsider Gogo as an heir."
"Don't call her Gogo. It's lewd." Bryce reprimanded him.
He had just stepped into the room from the balcony, phone in hand. "The driver is gonna be here in 10 minutes."
"Margot is so posh sounding." Wyatt protested. "Even Go doesn't like her own name."
"I still remember when you rejected your "yuppie name" and used to go by Y-Smitty." His brother teased him.
"And I remember when you tried to go by Bryson, but nobody called you that because it's lame."
Bryce jabbed him in the side.
"Ouch, that hurt, bro." Wyatt howled.
"It's Bryson from now on."
"I'm not calling you that." Enrique interjected.
"Only Wyatt has to, because I hate him." He said and put Wyatt in a headlock.
"Bryce, stop it!"
He punched him again.
"What did you just call me, 'Lil Smitty?"
"Why 'Lil?"
"Because I'm Big Smitty, duh."
"I thought you wanted me to call you Bryson?"
"I do, but this is what I want Ricky to call me." He said flirtatiously, then licked his lips in a cringy manner he probably thought looked sexy.
"Bro, you're trying too hard."
"Bryson, you're trying too hard." He corrected him. "Say it."
"Never!"
They continued their horseplay which soon turned into them wrestling, Bryce had surprisingly good moves and soon had his brother tackled to the floor and was sitting on him, gripping his wrists with both hands.
"Kai, help me." Wyatt cried out.
I shook my head. This was too hot. The brief look I exchanged with Enrique told me he felt the same way.
"You're cruel. You are both cruel. I will sue you for domestic violence."
The two of them kept rolling on the floor until one of the hotel employees buzzed us to remind us there was a cab waiting.
-x-x-x-
"Are you heading out soon?" I urged Enrique.
Every time I thought I could warm up to him he let me down.
"Don't worry, I'll be out of your hair soon. I'll book my own hotel room if I must."
"Don't you have family staying in the area? I met your grandfather."
"We don't have a good relationship. My aunt is the only family member who isn't on lithium."
I nodded. No need to elaborate.
Upon second thought, yes, there was.
"Wait! Is your aunt Wyatt's mother?"
"I thought you knew."
It should not shock me at this point. The rich were more of a tribe than a community. Someone getting with their second-degree cousin might as well be considered an interracial marriage by their standards.
"As long as you don't make a move on Wyatt, I don't mind you staying here. But if I'm expected to be cool with you two sharing a bed you need to stop hitting on him."
"Nah, it's a bit tight here, no offense. It's not your fault that your family is not well off." He said in the most condescending way possible.
Hn. At least I was not inbred. Or so I hoped.
"You talk big for a beggar."
He crinkled his nose. "You gotta admit this place is a dump. When you said your dad is staying in Lausanne, I thought you meant at the Beau-Rivage Palace."
"Go there then."
"They are fully booked. But I can get a suite at this place. Not sure I trust it, though. It's a bit shabby."
If he was trying to flex his wealth at me, I wasn't having it.
"You are 18 years old and have not worked a day in your life. You did not earn any of that money you're throwing around."
He pouted.
"Anyway, I'm going to ask Bryce to stay with me. It seems you and Wyatt need some time to discuss your marital problems."
That's what it was all about. He wanted to impress him.
"Why are you smirking like that?" He asked me.
He knew the answer, he was blushing red.
"Nothing." Enjoy your time in the honeymoon suite. With your cousin.
"We are not like that. He's just a friend."
I nodded. That just got him more riled up.
"I know he likes me. But I don't feel that way about him. I can't keep leading him on."
"Why you not make a move on him, instead of hitting on Wyatt? Who you only became interested in once you couldn't have him."
"Just because they look alike does not mean they are not the same person. That's so disrespectful."
He had a point.
Enrique pulled out a carton of cigarettes and tapped it on the back of his hand, like I had seen my dad do. "Want a smoke?"
"I'll have a drag."
He held the pack under my nose. "Just take one, we're not at the Salvation Army here."
He started lighting his own, but I gestured for him to go out on the balcony, I did not want my dad to get fined.
Actually, I did. To hell with him. That traitor!
Too late for that, Enrique was already outside, waiting for me. It would be awkward to ask him to come back inside so I joined him instead.
He did have to light my cigarette for me as I could not get the lighter to work, but I was getting better at smoking, I did not cough nearly as much as I did in the start. It barely even counted as a fit.
Enrique leaned against the frail looking decorative railing and ashed his cigarette into the garden below.
"Bryce is a great guy. He has always had my back, even if he is being super judgemental about it. I always feel safe doing drugs around him. He watches out for muggers, keeps me hydrated after I throw up, and makes sure I get home. He once carried me on his back. I love him, but as a friend. He is the parent I never had, but with Wyatt I can have fun. Does that make sense? I don't have to tell you what makes Wyatt special, do I?"
"No. Why did you sleep with him then? Aside from the fact that he's your cousin and your people seem to be into that."
"He told you that?" He asked surprised. He took a deep drag and exhaled a stream of smoke. "I guess that makes sense. You two have been getting on awfully well. If you must know, I was trying to square a circle. I was genuinely hoping it would work between us. But it wasn't meant to be. I did not feel a spark. And I respect him too much to keep him on the hook. He deserves to be someone's number one, not my sloppy seconds."
My heart broke for Bryce. I should give him a heads up before he gathered his courage and confessed his feelings to Enrique. To think I had spurred him on. While I understood what Enrique was getting at, and I could not blame him for feeling the way he did, I wished I could will him to love him. They made such a good match and cared for each other deeply, how could they not be compatible?
But humans were not logical creatures. Sometimes good people got hurt. It was easier to paint the other party as the villain than to accept that they weren't.
"The heart wants what the heart wants." I concluded.
"Yeah, it's wretched sometimes. He's gonna be so disappointed. I hope I can make him understand without crushing his confidence."
I could tell by the tremor in his voice that he truly was sorry. This heartbreak hurt him as much as it would Bryce.
I should change the topic. I could only think of one.
"How was it to have sex for the first time?" I asked, then realised that he had probably slept with plenty of girls, I should specify. "With a man. You were the one who was receiving it, right?"
"Are you seriously asking me if I took it up the ass?"
"Yeah." I admitted. "I don't have anyone else I can ask."
"Dude, just look it up online."
I had tried but that was not so easy. My boarding school did not have Wi-Fi so I had to use the computer lab, where anyone could walk in on me. Even when I did get lucky to have the room for myself, I could not get past the parental control blocker. All my knowledge about the gay lifestyle came from those trashy gossip sites.
I could however stream TV channels on my laptop using cable. All the porn channels were blocked but when I stayed up late enough, I could catch the adverts for the phone sex hotlines. Once in a blue moon there would be a scantily clad man amongst the ladies.
I had saved the number to my phone, but not dared calling it. Not sure, if that constituted as cheating or not. Wyatt and I had yet to discuss the terms of our relationship.
"Could you just tell me the basics? Like do I have to shave my crack?"
"Yeah man, if you want him to eat your ass you should."
"I'm not sure I'd be into that. I don't think we are that kinky. Is it normal? Did you and Bryce eat each other out?"
"Totally. All gays do. If you don't want it tasting foul, you gotta bleach it." He advised.
"Bleaching it has an effect on the taste?" I asked sceptically.
"Of course, it does, it kills the bacteria. Are you failing out of science class, or what?"
"No."
I held a proud C- average.
"How do I do it? Can I buy skin bleaching creme at the store?" I inquired.
"Nah man, you gotta go to the salon for that?" He said confidently.
"What kind of salon?"
"An anal bleaching salon, obviously."
"There are places that specialise in that?"
He cackled. "Duh."
"I've never seen one."
"Well, of course they don't advertise it. You need to call them and ask for a "Happy Ending"."
How humiliating. I was not sure I had the guts to do that. It was bad enough talking to strangers without asking them to beautify my be-hymen.
"I don't know about this. It seems a little extreme."
"Dude, your butt is going to be rank. You do you, but don't tell me I did not warn you."
"Is there no alternative?"
"You could powder it. Like a wig. But most wig powder has lead in it so I would advise against it."
I nodded and thanked him. I was infinitely grateful that he openly shared his expertise with me, without taking the piss. We had to support each other, being a minority and all. Looks like Enrique and I were on the best road to bury the hatchet and work together. I could even see us jive as teammates.
About that...
"We should contact our teammates for a meet up."
"Why?" he asked perplexed.
"To train." Obviously.
"Oh yeah, I keep forgetting that you have a regular sized bitbeast. Your fire-farting chicken would need daily work outs. It's cute, though. Has it reached maturity or is it still expected to grow?"
One of these days, I would wring his neck.
-x-x-x-
The rest of the Majestics were semi-thrilled at my suggestion to meet up. By that I mean Oliver and Johnny were keen on having a practise match against me, while Robert joined Enrique in the notion that he was too bourgeois to be training like a mere mortal.
"I will come watch." He decided. "Just to make sure you're doing it right."
Even if he talked big, I knew no blader would resist the chance to spar with a talented opponent. We agreed to meet up in the afternoon, which would give me plenty of time to get my asshole bleached. I had originally planned on uncovering my mother's identity, but there were more pressing matters.
I had called up a few salons and asked for a happy ending, most had outright refused and called me a pervert, but I finally found one that offered the procedure. Unfortunately, they refused to book me in when I revealed I was only 16.
I had to do this on my own. How hard could it be? I had been bleaching my hair since I was 10, surely those skills would translate well enough. I went down to the convenience store and bought some box dye and a hand mirror.
I placed the mirror so that I could look at myself as I was applying the pungent, thick paste onto my rosette. It started tingling right away. A little pain was to be expected. The instructions mentioned to not apply the peroxide to the roots until the last 15-20 minutes of the process, so I guesstimated that it would be safe enough to leave it on down south for that same duration of time. I was still left with a lot of product, so I put the rest into my bangs. Wyatt was right, I looked too homely with plain brown hair.
Hm, my ass was starting to burn up. I literally felt the heat rising. Only five minutes had passed though, I should hold on for at least ten more. Knowing Enrique had sat through this process gave me the strength to push through. There was no way I was going to admit defeat to that guy. I fantasised about Wyatt gushing to Enrique about my milky butt skin, and declaring he had no interest in the snobby Casanova's inferior brown hole.
15 minutes passed. My ass felt like two hours after eating some extra spicy ramen noodles. I had removed some of the paste and was disappointed to see the skin colour had hardly changed. If anything, it looked darker, from all the blood rushing to it. My bangs were turning an ugly orange colour and felt crisp. A texture that reminded me of my trusty cum sock, when I had discovered it jammed between the mattress and the wall a couple weeks/months after losing it.
Since I did not see any changes, it should be safe to leave the peroxide on for a bit longer, right?
Update: 20 minutes in. I could confidently say I was in agony. But Enrique had knocked on the door urging me to finish up so he could pee, and I was determined to make him suffer. My mission had turned into an endurance competition. This was a battle of wills; may the weaker man be disgraced forever.
30 minutes in. Fuck, fuck, fuck! I tried to rinse the peroxide off but it my skin would not stop burning. Couldn't get the darn French bidet to work so I stepped into the shower. Shower head was bolted to the ceiling, so I had to wash my hair out just as the colour spectrum reached peak yellow. Currently on all fours with butt raised in the air, trying to position it so the beam of water could hit it spot on. Gave myself a bleach enema. Enrique won't stop knocking.
35 minutes in. Absolute disaster. Enrique tore the door out of its anchoring. Unfortunately, this was not due to my decisive victory over him but him hearing me cry like a baby and feeling compelled to rescue me. I have failed. Never have I been so utterly humiliated in my life.
-x-x-x-
"Fuck! it's cold." I squeaked.
"Well yeah, it's frozen."
I had anticipated it to be chilly, but this felt as though he pressed an icicle against my bare skin.
"Did you unwrap it?" I inquired
"Yes?" Enrique replied, his voice had that tone little kids took on when they realised, they screwed up.
"Why would you do that? That is so weird. Everybody knows you're supposed to keep an icepack in a towel to prevent tissue damage."
"You're not exactly the pinnacle of human evolution yourself, mate. I was messing with you. Didn't think you would be stupid enough to try it."
"I might be foolish, but I'm not a weirdo."
Enrique snorted.
"So what if I waste a popsicle? Nobody's going to want to eat it afterwards. Not even Wyatt is that deranged."
"Yeah, obviously nobody should be eating it. That doesn't mean I want fruit juice in my ass! An infection is the last thing I need."
"Says the guy who rubs ointment on his tramp stamp after each training session."
"Yeah, to prevent an infection." I replied smugly.
In response, Enrique pressed the popsicle against my clenched sphincter. If it hadn't been so swollen, he could have taken my virginity with how much force he was using.
I flinched, barely supressing a scream. And my tears.
"I'm sorry, I barely touched it."
I grunted into the pillow.
"I'm not sure icing it is supposed to work on chemical burns anyway." Enrique said defensively.
"Urgh, just shut up and rub my ass. Gently."
The door clicked and my dad entered the room at that very moment.
He took one at us, me spread out nude across the bed, whimpering, while Enrique was probing my overly sensitised butthole with a frozen treat.
His eyes widened in shock, jaw dropped. Then his open mouth formed a cheeky grin.
"I'm gonna leave you guys to it." He said and backtracked towards the door.
"No. Please stay!" I called out after him.
He observed my pleading expression, then let his eyes wander back to my bare ass cheeks.
"I'd rather not." He concluded.
"Don't go."
"You can relax. I won't tell Wyatt. I'm not one to talk, I don't have the best track record in that department either."
So, he was a cheater! Another point to add to my growing list of reasons why I could not trust him. I had seen him flirt with a girl even though he appeared to be dating Judy, but I could not be sure he would have slept with her had I not caught him.
"Shame on you but let's discuss that later. I need your help, idiot."
"Is he forcing you to do something you don't want?" Dad asked, suddenly alarmed and glaring at Enrique accusingly.
"He asked me to!" Enrique insisted. His voice was shrill. "If anything, he forced me into it."
"I did." I admitted.
"Then what the hell is going on?"
"I, uh." I looked up at Enrique, hoping he would help me out. Even for a smooth talker like him it would be impossible to charm me out of this predicament. At this point, I would settle for him announcing it in my place. But the bastard kept grinning at me, taking enjoyment out of watching me squirm. Was he really going to make a bro admit this to his own father?
Would Dad even understand? Sure, he was kinky, but this was a gay thing.
"I was bleaching my hair when my finger slipped and some of the peroxide ended up on my bum." I explained, hoping I could at least humour him.
He snorted.
"That's a lot more innocent than what I was expecting."
Did he actually believe my sarcastic excuse? He was dumber than I had anticipated.
"I was trying to bleach my asshole." I reiterated for clarity.
Then mentally slapped myself for not accepting the manna from heaven.
"Yes son, I had the misfortune of cracking the code."
"Can you take a look? I think my butthole is ruined."
He sighed. "That's the responsible parent thing to do, isn't it?"
I nodded.
"Fine. Let me see the rosebud."
I dragged myself across the bed, flopping around on my stomach, trying not clench my anus too much, probably looking very pitiful, but possibly cute, like a baby seal. Hopefully, appealing to my father's paternal instinct more than his disgust.
"Do you want me to cancel the training session?" Enrique suggested.
"No, I can make it." I insisted.
"Cancel it. Blame me if you have to." My father said with an air of maturity.
"Don't cancel it. Just because I can't make it doesn't mean the rest of you are excused." I protested.
No way I would let them weasel their way out of it. Our team might have the strongest bitbeasts but the problem with the Majestics was a general lack of motivation. My teammates had grown up in excess with the luxury to pick up a brand-new hobby whenever they hit a wall.
Enrique rolled his eyes.
"They will taunt you until you fess up."
"Then I will lie."
"You've got such a stick up your ass, Hiwatari."
"No, a popsicle. That you put there, mind you."
His eyes widened in horror.
I nodded at him. Yes, that was right, we were in this together. If he would snitch, I would snitch. Enrique understood. He too nodded, rather hesitantly. It was an unspoken agreement. Generations from now, our descendants would still guard the secret and adhere to our sacred pact.
"Is this blood?" Dad interrupted my reverie. Was I daydreaming or slipping in and out of consciousness?
My heart was beating rapidly, blood rushing through my body and pulsating in my veins. What if I had done irreparable damage? I had gotten the sense that Wyatt liked leading the way and made my peace with it when we started dating. If I ruined my rear end, would he be willing to take a submissive role?
"Nah, it's fruit juice." Enrique remarked expertly.
What a relief. I let out a breath that I had been holding in.
"It doesn't look that bad, but I'll call for the nurse to take a look. You should clean yourself up in the meantime."
Naturally, the upmarket hotel we stayed at had a resident nurse. At this point, nothing about Switzerland's superfluous opulence could surprise or impress me.
"Rinse it out over the bidet, make sure all the bleach is washed off." My father suggested.
"I tried. I couldn't get it to work. It is much more complicated to use than those we have a home." I confessed.
Why did everything in Europe require a manual? Nothing could ever be idiot proof. I was starting to feel like I really was being left out of some secret society.
Dad was shaking his head, not even trying to supress his laughter.
"Fine, I'll teach you. It will be a bonding moment we will both want to forget."
-x-x-x-
Half an hour later I was laying on a bench, with my bum stuck in the air, while the nurse was applying balm onto my aching cornhole.
"He has a third-degree chemical burn. How did this happen?" She probed.
My father did his best to cover for me. He claimed I had confused toilet cleaner for soap. She raised her eyebrows, not buying it.
"We are from Japan." He insisted, a claim that made it all sound even more ludicrous, considering we were both whiter than the patrons of a country club. "Toilets there are overengineered. You might have seen them on the Discovery Channel."
She then asked how long I had the tattoo for. I was able to answer that question, thrilled to get a chance to flex my language skills.
"How old are you?" She pressed on.
"Sixteen." I answered proudly.
Another word I knew. Soon I would be able to speak like a native. That's how it would go, first Wyatt would have to speak for me and translate, then slowly but surely, I would pick up on more words and be able to get groceries all by myself. I would take my driver's license exam and no longer be tied to the town we lived in, able to go on long drives through the mountains and get lost there.
Unfortunately, I did not understand the next thing she said.
My Dad did and he swiftly explained that he had signed off on my tattoo and accompanied me. I did not need to be a fluent French speaker to tell that she was berating him for it.
"Can you ask her long I have to wait until I can have sex?" I begged him.
"Son, I'm not asking that." Then under his breath added. "She already wants to roast me on a spit."
"Your French is much better than mine." I protested.
"No way. Full disclosure, I think she has her monthly. She's pissed."
"And you have the audacity to claim you're the cool Dad." I pouted, hoping to guilt trip him into it.
"I'm delighted to say that I am not that cool."
Fine, I would just have to ask her myself.
"Pardon Madame, combien de temps dois-je attendre pour faire le sex?"
She looked back at me aghast.
"Le sex." I tried again. "Comme dans le Moulin Rouge. Bunga, bunga!"
"Oui, je comprends." She affirmed.
But she was not giving me a straight answer. Could be that she was confused as to why I would ask. I had to make her realise I wanted to be the one taking it.
"Je voudrais faire le sex dans le popo."
My Dad slapped a palm across his face.
"Jesus Christ, Kai."
She said something in French but the only words I could make out was "one hour" which did not sound bad at all. Frankly, it seemed a bit unrealistic since my asshole was still on fire, but since she was a medical professional, I should be able to trust her judgement. I'd be ready to go tonight. Perfect.
"Did she say an hour?" I asked my dad to confirm.
"Yes."
"Awesome."
"No. That's the amount of time she gives us to get out of here before calling the gendarmerie."
Oh. Oh shit.
"Non madam. Ça va bien!" I tried to defend him. "C'est mon papa."
"Stop it Son, you're making it worse."
He was right. No matter how many times I told her he was my daddy she kept shouting at him, gesturing towards the door, and occasionally hitting him. He had to cover his face to deflect her punches.
Great. This had been a complete and utter failure.
-x-x-x-
"Why did we have to move hotels?" Wyatt asked.
"Kai tried to stick something up his ass and got us kicked out." Enrique explained, earning him a kick from me.
"It better not have been your penis." Wyatt said harshly.
"No, he's bullshitting. I didn't stick anything in my bum!" I insisted. I wasn't technically lying.
"What did you do then?"
"Do I have to tell you?" I moaned, wanting to save myself the embarrassment.
"Anything that involves your butt I take a personal interest in." Wyatt said proudly.
"Fine, I tried to bleach it."
"Bleach it? Why?"
"Isn't that what people do?"
"Really?" He said, contemplating. "Do you want me to do it too?"
"No." I decided. "I don't need you to go through that pain for me."
"Well neither do you, silly. I love you and your discoloured bunghole. It's still sweet you tried to do it for me."
"Yeah, real romantic." Enrique remarked sarcastically. "You two give Romeo and Juliet a run for their money."