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<h1>The Fairy Prince</h1> <h3>A Tale of Seven Sins</h3> [img['images/intro.jpg']] ''Alright, kiddo.'' Calm down. I see that look in your eyes. You’re thinking, //What the fuck? Is that a fucking fairy?// But before you go running downstairs to your mommy, let me explain. First off: Happy birthday, kiddo. Eighteen years old? God damn. I heard high school is a bitch. Especially if you’re a fairy. A //human fairy//, I mean. But now I’m getting ahead of myself. See, every //human fairy// gets a //real fairy// when they become an adult. You’re thinking again, //What the fuck? Is this thing calling me a fairy?// Yeah, you’re a fairy. A gay. A faggot. Whatever. So on your eighteenth birthday, I was born. Every faggot gets a fairy when they become a man. That’s the cosmic contract. It’s like that //Peter Pan// story, but reversed. Got it? Keep listening. This morning, eighteen years after you were born, to the precise hour and minute, I was born. Where? Inside your soul. That’s located in the prostate. Hahaha. Of course, I’m //joking//. Jeez. Two things you should know. One, I’m a reflection of your power. Two, I’m an agent of vices. //What does that mean?// Well, it means we’ve got work to do. Me and you, we’re a team now. Long time ago, a fairy once said, //Everything is about sex, except sex itself. Sex is about power.// So here’s the gist: We’ve got a long dossier. A list of targets to expose. Don’t get caught up in a moral quandary, alright? This is your sacred duty. Now let me introduce myself: ''I’m Rae.'' <h3>Any Questions?</h3> [[Why me?]] [[Who are the targets?]] [[No more questions.]]

<h1>Why me?</h1> Like I said, kid. Every faggot gets a fairy. So you’re //special//, but you’re not //that// special. Hahaha. Now you’re wondering, //Why hasn’t someone mentioned this?// Well, because that’s impossible. Go on. Try and say, //Hello world, I have a magical fairy!// You can’t. ''The cosmos won’t allow it.'' You’re stuck with me. And I’m stuck with you. So your name is Oliver, right? Here’s what I know. [img['images/spencer/4.webp']] Girls think you’re cute. Guys think you’re harmless. You’re a total virgin. You’re a closet case. Flamboyant? Not really. But you’re not exactly //macho//, either. You run track. You’re soft-spoken. Let’s see here. Anything else important? You’ve got one older brother. One best friend. A crush. All in all, you’re typical. Well, you’ve got a fucking huge sex drive, but that’s partially my fault. //What?// Don’t be ashamed of virility. God damn, you’ll //need// it for the days to come. Sound good? <h3>Any Questions?</h3> [[Who are the targets?]] [[No more questions.]]

<h1>Who are the targets?</h1> Oh, we’ve got one hell of a //potpourri//. Remember how I’m an agent of //vices//? That’s the score. Seven deadly sins. //Why?// Because your soul was groomed in Christian culture. Don’t blame //me//. Here’s how this shit works: ''Each target has a ''''//vice.//'' Our goal is to exploit and expose that vice. How does that balance the cosmos? Vice festers in the dark. Exposure brings light. Cool? You look confused. Fine, here’s the //video game-friendly// version. It’s a “recruitment campaign.” With a little help from my magic, you’re going to heal the darkest parts of immoral young men. //Ahem.// Now, if memory serves me correct, here are the targets: We’ve got your best friend, ''Colby.'' Then there’s the local college ''fraternity.'' A fellow member of your track team, ''Matt.'' Then we’ve got ''Peter.'' Yes, //that// Peter, your brother. Then there’s the ''family'' across the street. Your perfectionist cousin, ''Ethan.'' And lastly, your high school crush, the quarterback ''Spencer.'' That’s seven targets, all in all. Some of those targets represent groups of people. Got it? Good. Of course, I’m no //unprofessional.// If you need more information on any one target, ask away. <h3>Give me the details on...</h3> [[Colby, my best friend.]] [[Beta Pi, the frat house.]] [[Matt, the track team member.]] [[Peter, my older brother.]] [[The Johnsons, my neighbors.]] [[Ethan, my perfectionist cousin.]] [[Spencer, my crush.]] [[Why me?]] [[No more questions.]]

<h1>No more questions.</h1> You’re all caught up? Good. Now I’ll put the targets in a list, ranking them according to difficulty. You’re thinking, //Difficulty? What do you mean?// Don’t worry. I’m talking about the level of vices. Next to each target, I’ll warn you about what each mission might entail. That way you can build up courage. Also, ''all include coercive magic.'' <ol> <li>''Lust.'' Colby, your best friend. This will include cat-fishing and prostitution.</li> <li>''Gluttony.'' Beta Pi, the frat house. This will include non-consent and substance abuse.</li> <li>''Greed.'' Matt, the wellness guru. This will include manipulation and sacrilege.</li> <li>''Sloth.'' Peter, your brother. This will include gender transformation and incest.</li> <li>''Wrath.'' The Johnsons, your neighbors. This will include violence, non-consent, and incest.</li> <li>''Envy.'' Ethan, your cousin. This will include subjugation, non-consent, and incest.</li> <li>''Pride.'' Spencer, your crush. This will include captivity, subjugation, racism, and non-consent.</li> </ol> Now before you choose your target, let me clear my throat. //Ahem. Aaa-hem!// Is that any better? For the duration of your story, I’ll be using my ''narrative voice.'' That means I’ll reference //myself// in third-person. And because I am bound to your soul, I can narrate your thoughts and feelings. {{{Hi! Voir the Prince here. Thanks for reading and I hope you’ll stick around.}}} {{{Each story builds off the previous character(s); that said, feel free to play in whatever order.}}} {{{Finally, I don’t endorse or reject anything. These characters are fictitious. None of this depicts reality. Peace out!}}} <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Colby: Introduction]] [[Beta Pi: Introduction]] [[Matt: Introduction]] [[Peter: Introduction]] [[The Johnsons: Introduction]] [[Ethan: Introduction]] [[Spencer: Introduction]] [[Epilogue]]

<h1>Colby, my best friend.</h1> Alright, let’s talk about Colby. He’s your childhood best friend. Met in first grade, buddies since. Once you both got to high school, he went toward the wrestling team. You signed up for track. [img['images/colby/1.webp']] You’ve stayed close, though. You and Colby hang out every other weekend. Play video games. Talk about school, whatever. He loves to talk, and you love to listen. It’s a perfect bromance. Here’s the thing: Colby’s vice is ''Lust.'' That’s right. He loves to show off his body. His //full// body. Why do you think the guy likes wrestling? Your friend sends nudes to dozens of girls. //Daily.// As you know, Colby plans on attending college on a wrestling scholarship. But his need to be worshipped could haunt him. Your mission? Exploit Colby’s weakness so that you can heal him. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Who are the targets?]]

<h1>Beta Pi, the frat house.</h1> Beta Pi. The largest fraternity at the local university. Many young men have graduated from the house’s hallowed halls, moving on to become attorneys, doctors, actors, and sports celebrities. [img['images/betapi/27.webp']] But Beta Pi’s reputation has become soiled: sexual assaults, drug overdoses, brutal hazing. From the look of things, Beta Pi has a bad case of ''Gluttony.'' It hungers for more, more, //more.// You’ve considered going to the local college. Maybe getting a track scholarship. Joining Beta Pi. But you’ve heard the rumors. Girls crawling across the carpet, cum oozing out from every hole. And you’ve heard the legend of “Limp Jimmy.” A sophomore swimming champion. He lost a bet. The punishment? Masturbate one-hundred times in a single day. Or be evicted from Beta Pi. Well, Jimmy’s //stroking// caused a stroke. Passed out. When he woke up, he could not get //it// up. Your mission? Exploit Beta Pi’s hunger. Feed them to each other so that they might wise up. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Who are the targets?]]

<h1>Matt, the track team member.</h1> Matt is one of those “wellness” obsessives. He’s on the weight-lifting team, the track team, and serves as president of the school’s Future Nurse Association. Yeah, his passion is //well-known.// [img['images/matt/1.webp']] But Matt isn’t interested in becoming a doctor or nurse. No, he plans on becoming a //health guru.// And if he had infinite means, Matt would offer his //wellness// services for free. For the rest of his dutiful life. His brand is the full package: diet, exercise, mental and spiritual clarity, and most of all, //faith.// That’s right, Matt serves as the Men's Group Leader for his beloved church family. He believes it’s his God-given //mission// “to guide.” But Matt’s //do-it-all// can easily grow into ''Greed:'' the more devotees, the more he's fulfilled. Your mission: Exploit Matt’s wellness mission so that he might learn to develop boundaries. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Who are the targets?]]

<h1>Peter, my older brother.</h1> Your only sibling, Peter, moved out after he graduated high school. Despite being one hell of a basketball player, he never went to college. He works as a travel agent. But he never travels. [img['images/peter/1.webp']] Simply put, Peter is simple. He started dating his girlfriend in ninth grade. After graduation, Peter proposed to her. Now it’s been four years, and your brother still hasn’t gotten married. You were still discovering your sexuality when Peter lived at home. One time, you accidentally stumbled upon him jacking off in his bedroom. You couldn’t help but think Peter was //hung.// On school nights, years ago, you could hear him nailing his girlfriend for hours. Their moans slipped into your dreams, and you couldn’t stop imagining Peter spewing out cum like a hose. But Peter’s lack of ambition, coupled with his hesitancy to carry out the marriage, spells out a bad case of ''Sloth.'' Your mission? Exploit Peter’s passivity so that he may learn to take control. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Who are the targets?]]

<h1>The Johnsons, my neighbors.</h1> The Johnson brothers include 18-year-old Joel, 20-year-old Jesse, and 24-year-old Josh. Once known as a photogenic family of blond beauty, they’ve recently been shunned. //Why,// you ask? [img['images/thejohnsons/1.webp']] The first scandal. Joel Johnson, that gloomy blond twink, got caught fucking his math teacher in the women’s restroom. She was sent to prison. He was transferred to a different school district. The second scandal. Jesse Johnson, the charismatic middle brother, forced his girlfriend to get an abortion. His method? He shoved alcohol down her throat until the fetus drowned to death. And the final scandal: Josh Johnson, the macho construction worker, was exposed online for his “hit list” of women. Unlike Jesse, his mission //was// to breed women. He’s up to four babies. Undoubtedly, ''Wroth'' has poisoned the Johnsons. Your mission? Exploit their rage to cure them. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Who are the targets?]]

<h1>Ethan, my perfectionist cousin.</h1> All throughout childhood, you never stopped hearing it: “Oh, Ethan is //so// smart. He is //so// gifted.” The whole damn family seemed to agree: Ethan is the shining star of the entire bloodline. [img['images/ethan/1.webp']] Ethan graduated as valedictorian. Ethan led his school band to gold medals. He’s fit and sweet. He can speak French //and// Spanish. But most importantly, he makes your ruthless uncle happy. Ethan’s father is relentless with his demands. Ethan //must// practice his drumming until he’s sore. Ethan //must// have perfect grades. Ethan //must// be the best of the best. It’s evident: Ethan is the child-product of your uncle’s ''Envy.'' Your mission? Exploit their perfectionism to free them both. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Who are the targets?]]

<h1>Spencer, my crush.</h1> It’s Spencer. King of the school. Quarterback for the football team. The inevitable Prom King. You’ve shared classes, but you’ve never spoken to each other. Does he even know you exist? [img['images/spencer/1.webp']] Well, you’ve thought //a lot// about Spencer. Spotting him in the gym showers after track practice. Him and the football team soaping up. The guys play-fighting, smacking each other’s asses. He was undoubtedly part of your sexual awakening. When you didn’t want to watch porn, Spencer was there in the back of your mind. And he knows it. Well, not about you //specifically.// When a girl gets fucked by Spencer, //she// brags about it. He’s a sex symbol and he knows it. Thing is, that ''Pride'' could swallow him whole. Your mission? Exploit that pride to humble him. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Who are the targets?]]

<h1>Colby: Introduction</h1> Rae buzzes next to your ear. He watches you type out a text message for Colby: __“Uhh hi there. My friend gave me your number <3 Is this Colby? I’m Hanna”__ You’re using an app that fabricates a phone number. You and Rae already spent a few hours gathering a folder of hot girl selfies, nudes, and videos. All in preparation for this moment. “Oliver, you’re worrying too much,” Rae says, fluttering down next to your phone. “Just send the fuckin’ message and I’ll add some //fairy// magic to it. Y’know? Guy won’t be able to resist.” You nervously swallow spit. And nod. After you finally click //Send// on the message, Rae spins in a glittery circle and returns next to your ear. He whispers, “Now watch and learn, kiddo.” Within the minute, you get a response: __“Hey Hanna :) Have we met? Send a pic plz”__ “Bingo,” Rae says. “Now butter him up. Be a //bit// conservative, though. No tit pic yet. Just face. This Colby, he’s your best friend?” You nod. “Well, I have //stronger// magic. If you wanna speed—” “No. I still want Colby to be //himself.// We’re just, y’know, getting the ball rolling,” you say. Rae rolls his eyes. Then you receive a text message: __“Oh wow. You’re cute”__. He sends a face photo, too, and he’s cute. But you already knew that. Another text comes in: __“So who is your friend”__. //Shit.// You knew this was coming. But you go with your gut: //wrestling.// <h3>What do you say?</h3> [[Someone from his wrestling team.]]

<h1>Beta Pi: Introduction</h1> Rae buzzes next to your ear as you drive around the local college, searching for a parking spot. “Rae, //c’mon,//” you say, growing frustrated. “Please give me the //details.// I’m getting nervous now.” The fairy ignores you. He flutters over the dashboard and points toward a hill in the distance. “//Ah!// There we go,” he says, spinning in a glittery circle. “That’s our spot. The Beta Pi House.” You squint toward the hill. A four-story mansion rises atop, bolstered with white marble columns. The building itself is known as “The Kitchen,” a play on the word “pie” from the fraternity’s name. “These guys, they’ve got a pretty rough reputation,” you say, nervously biting on your bottom lip. Suddenly you discover an empty parking spot beneath a tree, so you quickly steer in and park. “Alright, kiddo,” Rae says, landing his tiny feet down on the steering wheel. “This is the gauntlet. The //proving// ground. The //ultimate fairy evaluation!// You get me, Oliver?” You shake your head. Rae sighs. He looks annoyed, says, “//Fine.// I’ll put it simply. That last mission? Colby? Easy shit.” You furrow your brows. //Easy? Easy for you, maybe. I was scared shitless I was gonna fuck up.// And because Rae can read your mind, he rolls his eyes. “That //fear// you’re referring to?” he says. Then he turns and points to the big mansion on the hill. “This mission isn’t only about helping //them.//” Rae gives a silly grin. You return a cold stare. “If I go in there,” you say, “one of two things are gonna happen. They’re gonna kick my fucking ass. Or they’re gonna //drug// me. So, uhm, no.” <h3>Mission is: Go.</h3> [[A spoonful of magic.]]

<h1>Matt: Introduction</h1> Every Tuesday and Thursday, during afterschool practice, your track team runs six miles across town. It's a small crew: nine girls and eight guys, with you and Matt being the only Senior boys. "So //that’s// Mr. Youth Pastor," Rae says, fluttering near your ear as you run along the forest path. Matt runs ahead of you. He’s topless, glistening with sweat, shoulder blades swaying to-and-fro. "//I still - don't - understand,//" you say between breaths. "//How Matt - ended up - on our list - of targets.//" You take a swig of water. Then you pour a little on your forehead to cool off. "Yeah, yeah," Rae yawns, resting down on your shoulder. Your fairy enjoys the ride while you pump your legs up and down. "He's //sweet.// He's //innocent.// Blah blah. Stick with the plan, kid." With Colby, you sorta understood him as a target. Your best friend is a //total// horndog. Honestly, pushing Colby’s sexual boundaries only made him even //happier.// And with those frat dudes? You hope it doesn't sound bleak, but they //deserved// a taste of their own medicine. But Matt? "You're doubting the process again," Rae says, reading your mind. "Oliver, when will you //trust// me? Vice exposed is virtue risen. And besides,” he says, pointing ahead of you. “You //so// want that.” <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Approach Matt.]]

<h1>Peter: Introduction</h1> You’re in the passenger seat of your brother Peter’s car, watching your hometown slip away. Destination? A resort hotel located on a beach one hour away. Attending? Just you and Peter. “It’s cool you thought of this, Oliver,” he says, staring at the road ahead through his sunglasses. “We’ve never had much big bro, little bro time.” He flicks a turn signal on and turns the wheel. //Well, yeah,// you think, //that’s because you’ve been up Charlotte’s cunt since you were fourteen.// Instead of saying that, you turn to him and smile. He turns up the rock music on the local radio. “The tension here, it’s a little //strong,//” Rae says in your mind. You roll your eyes and take out your phone. __Venmo Notification: Seth paid you $500 for “thx for keeping things between us”__. Now //that// brings a smile to your face. You transfer the money to your bank and revel in the wealth you’ve accrued from blackmailing Beta Pi guys. After all, it’s how you paid for the hotel. “Nothing like ashamed straight boys with access to daddy’s credit card,” Rae says in your head. Their money is how you convinced Peter to go on this “bro-cation.” You’re paying for //everything.// You look at Peter as he mouths along to the rock song. Tapping his fingers on the driving wheel. If there was a contest for the //straightest dude in town,// Peter might win. He’s just so, //so// hetero. But you remember the days when you were discovering you //weren’t// hetero. Walking in on Peter. Lesbian pornography on his laptop, his volume on mute. Stroking himself with a lotioned hand. <h3>Remembering...</h3> [[Those early days.]]

<h1>The Johnsons: Introduction</h1> Rae floats circles around your head, counting down from ten seconds. "//10 … 9 …//" Your fairy instructed you to wait behind your front door until he gives the word. Glitter falls from his feet. "//6 … 5 …//" he says, his tiny fairy voice rising in pitch. You sigh, looking down at your phone. //What's with the big show?// you think. Rae didn't clue you into the reasoning for his countdown. He rubs his hands together. "//3 … 2 … 1 …//" Rae flutters to your nose and bonks it with his hand. "//Zero! Happy birthday!//" He throws a confetti of fairy dust into the air. You stand there, unmoved. "Is it your birthday?" you ask, smacking on a piece of gum. Rae wags a finger, gyrating his hips. "//No,//" he says. "But as of //thirteen// seconds ago, Joel Johnson is officially //eighteen years old!//" You chew your gum. Inhale and sigh. Rae looks annoyed. "Look, kiddo," he says. "You always wait for adulthood. For many reasons. Moral. Legal. But also to be sure //they// don't get a fairy." "I could've told you that Joel wasn't getting a fairy," you say, flicking Rae away from your nose. "That kid started fucking older women at fifteen." You blow a bubble and pop it. "He's no fag." Rae flutters up onto your head, reclines. "Do you have a history with these Johnson brothers?" You shrug. "Not a //history,//" you say, "but I grew up across the road from them. Unfortunately." The three blond Johnson boys: Joel, Jesse, and Josh. A model trio of destructive masculinity. Chasing cats with baseball bats. Cocaine sex parties. Shouting //faggot// from across the road. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[The warning.]]

<h1>Ethan: Introduction</h1> You sit against the window on a crowded airplane. The fields unfold below, stretching out into a great green quilt. You look down at your phone: //Two hours until Boston. Then off to Cambridge.// “It’s nice of your cousin,” Rae says inside your mind. “That he’s picking you up from the airport.” You lift one hand and shake it. //I guess. Brace yourself, though. Ethan talks more than you do.// “Okay, //ouch!//” Rae says, pretending to take offense. “So I’m guessing you don’t like the guy?” You think about that for a moment. You lift your other hand and shake it. //He’s high-maintenance.// “Well, speaking of me //talking too much,//” Rae says. You roll your eyes. “This second-to-last mission will be much like your second mission.” You furrow your brows and try to understand. //Something about a college?// you think. But Rae sighs. “No, kid, I’ll be going incognito. //Poof. Gone.// Totally unavailable.” He gives a short pause. “Until Ethan signs his servile contract.” You watch the fat clouds roll past the window, thinking to Rae, //Is that another fairy magic thing?// Your fairy clears his throat. “As a matter of fact,” he says. “It’s your //final// lesson on fairy magic.” It takes you a moment to register Rae’s words. //Wait, so that’s it?// you think. //What about the seventh mission? And what if I almost die again? I thought you said each mission gets harder?// “There are worse things than //death,// Oliver-boy,” Rae says. You grip onto the armrest and breathe, while your fairy lightly chuckles to himself. He continues, “Now, let’s talk about your Uncle Elliot.” <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Mission briefing.]]

<h1>Spencer: Introduction</h1>// The lights dim. You’re sitting in a comfy red chair at the local concert hall, third row and center. Tonight’s performance: a ballet performance of //The Nutcracker,// also known as the //fairy ballet.// Although you’re surrounded by strangers, you came alone. Just as Rae asked. The seats to your left and right are empty. On the stage, a spotlight rises. A little girl smiles and does a plié. //So did you bring me here for the metaphor?// you ask Rae in your head. Somewhere beneath the stage, violins and cellos come to life. Then the ballerina pirouettes, lifting her face to the stars. “Maybe,” Rae responds. He’s hidden inside your mind, sounding more serious than ever before. “I need you somewhere controlled, before -” Rae sighs. “I just need you to remain calm today.” You roll your eyes. On the stage, dozens of dancers emerge from the wings, each of them leaping into long horizontals. They split their legs within the air. Like they are made of feathers. //Rae, I am calm,// you think. The low-pitched bass strings fill your chest with a warmth that tickles. //I don’t think I can be shocked anymore. After all we’ve done?// You shake your head. //Like, c’mon.// “Maybe, Rae says again. He sounds nervous. On the stage, a wooden nutcracker comes to life. He is shaped like a beautiful soldier. He looks out into the audience, stretching his arm forward. “Everything up to this point,” Rae says. “It was preparation, Oliver. The dreams. The frat. And all the close-calls. Physical, mental, emotional preparation. You understand? I need you to know.” <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Yeah, I get it.]]

<h1>Epilogue</h1> {{{Thank you for reading The Fairy Prince. I appreciate you.}}} {{{In this life, I hope you always choose the right side of the sword.}}} {{{Be proud. Do not be ashamed. And never forget that faggots are magical.}}} This epilogue summarizes Oliver’s life after the seventh mission. If you haven’t read the full story, please have patience and revisit this once you’re finished. I promise the wait will be worth it. At the end of each mission, there were two major decisions. Each epilogue story has two routes depending on that critical choice. You might need to refresh yourself on the decision you made. We will start with Colby, your childhood best friend, and then visit each subsequent character in the order they were presented: Colby, Tommy, Matt, Peter, The Johnsons, Ethan, and Spencer. Also, ''major spoilers'' incoming ... <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Epilogue: Colby]]

<h1>Epilogue: Colby</h1> When your best friend became a prostitute, did you ... //… encourage him to become wealthy?// (Colby, Ch. 26: “[[Go for the gold.]]”) //… encourage him to become a power bottom?// (Colby, Ch. 26: “[[Go for the girth.]]”) <h3>What was your decision?</h3> [[Wealthy.]] [[Power bottom.]]

<h1>Go for the gold.</h1> Colby followed your suggestion. He became an escort for the highest-paying male customers. You saw him less often, but when you did, he was //rolling// in cash. And smiling bright like the sun. Your friend shares //all// the details. Sucking a mayor’s cock. On speed dial for many millionaires. He certainly doesn’t need OnlyFans anymore. But he still loves to share his //expertise// with you. [img['images/colby/23.webp']] Colby becomes almost an exclusive bottom. It’s what he excels at. Riding, grinding, moaning. He describes how one client lifted him up and fucked his brains out against a hotel window. [img['images/colby/24.webp']] But one thing will never change: Colby and Oliver. Fuck buddies, best buddies. Until the end. <h3>Colby: Completed!</h3> [[Back to list of targets.|Who are the targets?]]

<h1>Go for the girth.</h1> Colby followed your suggestion. He becomes a “size bitch,” servicing only men with 8+ inches. You saw him less often, but when you did, he was //sore// from work. And smiling goofy and wide. Colby records //everything.// Slobbering on a redneck’s ten-incher. Internal organs getting bruised. He becomes a celebrity through OnlyFans. But he still loves to share his //expertise// with you. [img['images/colby/21.webp']] Colby becomes almost an exclusive bottom. It’s what he excels at. Riding, grinding, moaning. He describes how one client put a mattress in his front yard and bred Colby for driving passerby. [img['images/colby/22.webp']] But one thing will never change: Colby and Oliver. Fuck buddies, best buddies. Until the end. <h3>Colby: Completed!</h3> [[Back to list of targets.|Who are the targets?]]

<h1>Wealthy.</h1> Shortly after graduation, Colby moved away to live with one of his favorite clients: a millionaire real estate investor on the West Coast. And a few months later, Colby became “off-the-market.” Your best friend //assures// you he didn’t get married just because Nicholas is //super// fucking rich. “It’s also because he fucks like a Greek God,” Colby said. And you’ve seen the videos. It’s true. [img['images/end/1.webp']] You see the way Nicholas whips Colby’s ass when he’s fucking him. And how your best friend moans like a bitch in heat. Colby is having the time of his fucking //life.// And you’re happy for him. Of course, even though Colby might've changed his last name, he did it on one strong condition: that it would be an “open marriage.” If Colby wanted to go off and fuck someone else, so be it. That’s where you come in. Every few months, when Nicholas is away selling mansions to the wealthy elite, Colby flies back to his hometown. To visit his good old friend, Oliver. Well, to //visit.// [img['images/end/2.webp']] Colby’s ass was born for this. Each time you slide inside him, it’s like warm butter massaging your cock. You fuck him like a rag doll. You fuck him like a best friend. Colby and Oliver. Forever. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Epilogue: Tommy]]

<h1>Power bottom.</h1> Colby dropped out from school and became a full-time porn star. Now when you log on to any of the gay porn sites, no doubt you’ll find Colby’s videos somewhere in the “Most Viewed” section. He’s known as the “Black Hole” of the twinks. His specialty is fat, gargantuan cocks that can leave him limping for weeks. Sometimes he’ll fly to foreign countries, just for that //special// cock. [img['images/end/3.webp']] In the video that broke him into porn stardom, a Hungarian man with an eleven incher slid down into Colby’s throat and created a “second Adam’s apple” for your best friend. And it went viral. Since then you’ve seen videos of Colby getting triple-stuffed, anal prolapsed, fucked by machines with sixteen inch dildos. You’ve seen it all. And you know he’s on top of the world. One time he sent you a “private video” of him seducing Andrew’s dad. You remember Andrew from that night at Colby’s house, but you doubted your best friend for a moment. Andrew’s //dad?// [img['images/end/4.webp']] Sure enough, Colby succeeded in getting Andrew’s father to plow him with his monstrous cock. No doubt your friend could seduce any straight daddy. Because you know Colby is that talented. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Epilogue: Tommy]]

<h1>Epilogue: Tommy</h1> After the frat president apologized for raping you, did you ... //… spend the night with the baseball team?// (Beta Pi, Ch. 23: “[[Accept the offer.]]”) //… spend the night in Tommy’s room?// (Beta Pi, Ch. 23: “[[Reject the offer.]]”) <h3>What was your decision?</h3> [[Baseball team.]] [[Tommy.]]

<h1>Accept the offer</h1> Tommy sets you up with a room on the second floor. You share with a few of the baseball guys. While Tommy is around, the Sophomores are skittish and polite to you. They make you a drink. A few hours later, you’re feeling a little loopy. //I only had one drink, what the fuck is happening?// You feel like the room is starting to spin around. One of the guys slides his hand on your ass. The next moment you’re getting tongued, fingered, and pummeled wide open by the pitcher. The shortstop. The catcher. Hot cum still bubbling out when the next guy slides inside you. Just when you think it’s over, Tommy shows up. “Did you get the guy nice and slick for me?” Ever after countless cocks, Tommy’s monster stretches you open. You cry out with pleasure. Tommy leans to your ear, his cock pushing against the inside of your stomach. “You like that?” He bites your earlobe. “You want my babies, bitch?” You moan. You nod. He floods your guts. [img['images/betapi/26.webp']] The next morning you wake up with a horrible hangover. Cum dried along your thighs and legs. Your asshole stretched so wide from Tommy, they stuck a Solo cup in it and used it as a hoop. [img['images/betapi/27.webp']] <h3>Now the walk of shame:</h3> [[Where did I park my car?]]

<h1>Reject the offer.</h1> “No, I’m fine,” you say, exasperated. “I’ve met The Kitchen. //A lot// of them. I get the full picture.” Tommy studies your face. He puts a hand on your Adam’s apple and begins massaging it. “We all start this way,” he says, petting your throat. “Believe it or not, I went through an initiation. But it’s been a while since I paid dues.” He stands up and walks to his door. And turns the lock. “Take those pants off and stretch out,” he says with a snap. You hesitate and he snaps again. So you follow orders, shedding naked and reclining on his couch. Tommy goes to his knees. “I would never ask of my men something I wouldn’t do.” And then he gargles down your cock, swallowing it to the back of his throat. Lathering you with his hot saliva. Your body twitching. [img['images/betapi/24.webp']] Once you’re close to flooding his throat with hot cum, Tommy unplugs your cock from his mouth. “I was so //close,//” you beg. Tommy smiles, stands up and moves over to his bed. He flops down. “Now that you’re all wet,” he says, perking his ass up for you. “An apology should be earned.” Fuck the President of Beta Pi? You leap from the couch and align your cock with Tommy’s hole. When you slide inside him, Tommy’s hole feels hot and warm and gooey. “Oh, //fuck,//” he groans. His legs tremble, so you wrap your hands around Tommy’s thick ass. And then plunge into him. Tommy throws back his head, gasping, and you gush hot cum into his belly until you go limp. [img['images/betapi/25.webp']] <h3>Now the walk of victory:</h3> [[Where did I park my car?]] [[Special Ending: The Freshman.]]

<h1>Baseball team.</h1> Every once in a while you receive another invitation to hang out with the Beta Pi baseball boys. But you remember last time. They fucked you so wide they used your ass like a ping pong hoop. But when one guy isn’t enough. Or the sex has been lackluster. Or you’re feeling particularly stupid and horny and ready to get abused, you’ll accept the invitation. And go to the Kitchen. [img['images/end/5.webp']] They no longer need to slip something into your drink. Because now you’re //asking// for it. And when the boys get sufficiently drunk, they start gathering around you like a pack of feral wolves. You know the drill. The pitcher gets first fuck. Ivan always treats your ass right, fucking you silly with your tongue flopping around. Then they go in order by batting average. Thirty baseballers. “Oh //fuck,//” they howl, cheering each other on. They use you like a blow up doll, your asshole becoming a slip-n-slide of cum. You usually can’t speak with the cum bubbling in your throat. [img['images/end/6.webp']] Near the end of the night, your body becomes a canvas for their white paint. They call you //slut.// They call you their //whore.// And they’re right. The cum gushing from your asshole proves it true. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Epilogue: Matt]]

<h1>Tommy</h1> After Tommy graduated from the college, he left Beta Pi behind to become a man of the world. He snatched his Business degree and moved off to Chicago, where he now works in insurance. But while his Presidential duties are over, he still remembers the important things. Like that one special kid who snuck into the Kitchen one night. For some reason, he could never forget Oliver. [img['images/end/7.webp']] When you received the invitation to visit Tommy in Chicago, you hesitated. //What’s this about?// And when you got there, it seemed Tommy was a whole new man. Mature. Professional. Sweet. But one thing didn’t change. His incredible cock. After trailing through the city with Tommy, you went back to his penthouse and licked him like a popsicle, cherishing that beautiful gift he has. “Good boy,” he moaned, letting the sex unfold slowly. This was a //whole// new Tommy. Normally he would’ve already gagged you to a vomiting mess. But he wants this to last. He’s tender now. [img['images/end/8.webp']] Until he got his cock inside you. Then he fucked you like a machine gun, like a rabid bunny, his balls smacking your ass, your eyes bouncing around in your head. //There’s the Tommy I know.// <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Epilogue: Matt]]

<h1>Epilogue: Matt</h1> After you raced against the boy on your track team, did you ... //... let him fuck you?// (Matt, Ch. 38: “[[Matt wins the race.]]”) //... take his anal virginity?// (Matt, Ch. 38: “[[Matt loses the race.]]”) <h3>What was your decision?</h3> [[He fucked me.]] [[I fucked him.]]

<h1>Matt wins the race.</h1> Later that night, Matt celebrates not once. Not twice. But //three// times inside of your asshole. Your guts become a playground for his cock, getting knocked around and bloated with his cum. “Oh, God,” he moans, kissing up your chest and back and face. “Say my name, Oliver. Say it.” “//Matt,//” you moan, his hips smashing against your asschecks. “Oh, //Matt.// Don’t stop. //Don’t stop.//” [img['images/matt/28.webp']] You promised Rae it’d be the last fuck from Matt. So that you could move on to other missions. But after that last night, Rae granted you some leniency: //Once every few weeks, I guess, is fine.// [img['images/matt/29.webp']] So you delete the home video. And every few weeks, Matt comes over to make you his practice future wife again. And after he’s done flooding your guts, kissing you and swallowing your cum, it’s always hard to say goodbye. But you know that you’ve got bigger plans and bigger glands. <h3>Matt: Completed!</h3> [[Back to list of targets.|Who are the targets?]]

<h1>Matt loses the race.</h1> Later that night, you celebrate inside Matt’s poor asshole not once. Not twice. But //three// times. You spend hours rearranging his virgin guts, filling his belly with cum and bruising his insides. “You like that, Matt?” you say, smacking his bubble ass. He moans, biting into the pillow. “//Oliver,//” he moans, hips revolving and dipping down on your cock. “Oh, Oliver. Don’t stop. //Don’t stop.//” [img['images/matt/30.webp']] You promised Rae it’d be the last fuck from Matt. So that you could move on to other missions. But after that last night, Rae granted you some leniency: //Once every few weeks, I guess, is fine.// [img['images/matt/31.webp']] Even after uploading your home video for the world. Even after fucking him a new inside. Matt comes crawling back for more practice as your //future wife.// And you oblige. And everytime he leaves with cum oozing down his legs, you know that you’ve got bigger plans and bigger glands. <h3>Matt: Completed!</h3> [[Special Ending: Home Video.]] [[Back to list of targets.|Who are the targets?]]

<h1>He fucked me.</h1> Weekends belong to Matt. It’s “Matt time.” You never expected the good ol’ Christian boy on your track team to turn into something special. But he did. Matt became a big part of your life. You’ve since dispensed with the “baby-making” narrative. As well as that whole “future wife” nonsense. It seems Matt wants to stop veiling what’s going on here. Something akin to love. [img['images/end/9.webp']] Every Friday, after a week of school, Matt invites you over. He cooks dinner for you. You watch some movies together. It’s wholly innocent. It’s like two good friends. And then you go upstairs. He has that classic phrase: //my man.// But the meaning changed. It’s no longer a pet name for a friend. It’s more. Pulling your shirt off, leaning in to kiss you, then whispering, “here, //my// man.” You can’t help but feel something strange around him. When his lips press into yours, his body perpetually warm, you feel //right.// Like even without all this magic stuff behind you, Matt is //right.// [img['images/end/10.webp']] And when Matt fucks you, it’s slow. It’s methodical. You embrace him completely, inviting his entire body inside of you. And he kisses you. And he fills you with his cum. And it feels right. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Epilogue: Peter]]

<h1>I fucked him.</h1> After Matt lost the marathon, he turned into your absolute total bitch boy. The goody-goody Christian had fantasies of love and commitment. But you’re eighteen. You’ll wait for all that shit. Instead, you practiced “making babies” with Matt so much that it became his priority. Not //really// getting pregnant, of course. But filling his gut with your cum until it swelled. His cosmic //duty.// [img['images/end/11.webp']] Sometimes you called him. Sometimes he showed up at your house, flowers in hand, smelling like a fresh shower. Whatever the case, you dragged his dutiful puppy-dog ass up to your room. “Do I look good, baby?” he loves to ask, spreading his muscular legs wide, presenting his hole for your mouth and cock. And you can’t resist it. Matt’s virtuous heart and yet his sinful body. When you tongue his balls, Matt loves to wrap his legs around your head and bring you deeper, encouraging your mouth down to his hole. You lather him for the pounding, for a crippling fuck. [img['images/end/12.webp']] Matt’s learned to love it rough. Not that you gave him much of an option. You fuck his insides until he’s trembling with boyish moans, cum gushing out onto the carpet, breeding your bitch. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Epilogue: Peter]]

<h1>Epilogue: Peter</h1> When you roleplayed with your older brother, did you ... //... play as his slave?// (Peter, Ch. 66: “[[A royal king, Pt. 1.]]”) //... play as his owner?// (Peter, Ch. 66: “[[A loyal robot, Pt. 1.]]”) <h3>What was your decision?</h3> [[His slave.]] [[His master.]]

<h1>A royal king, Pt. 1.</h1> You step into Peter’s bedroom. He’s sat on the edge of his bed, back straightened, staring out the window into the night sky. “You called for me, sir?” you ask, using a soft, shaky voice. Peter wears a long blue bathrobe, while you wear a pair of pajamas and a comfy white t-shirt. “Come here, slave,” he says, not deigning to look at you. You quietly step before King Peter and fall down onto both knees. He turns to you, chin turned high. He looks at you with disgust. “I know what you did,” he says, trying to hold back a smile. “//Fucking// my precious only daughter.” You look up with your best puppy dog look. “Please do not execute me, my lord,” you beg him. “Now she is pregnant,” he says, turning away in disgust. “With a slave’s child.” You bow down. You kiss Peter’s feet, small pecks on the sole of each foot. Then look up at him. He slaps you. “//Fuck,//” he whispers. “I’m so -” You shake your head, //No.// You both discussed this ahead of time. A reasonable amount of violence was necessary to make this work. You whisper, “//Keep going.//” He clears his throat. “You’ll pay for what you did,” he says, slapping you across the face again. You whip your head to the left, gasping out. Then he clenches your face between his fingers. “Slave,” he says. “I’m going to break your back tonight. Understand me?” You nod, scared. “When I’m done with you,” Peter continues, “you’ll be stuffed like a knight’s training dummy.” <h3>What's next?</h3> [[A royal king, Pt. 2.]]

<h1>A loyal robot, Pt. 1.</h1> You step into your own bedroom. Standing at the edge of the bed, wrapped in a bathrobe, stood perfectly straight with his eyes shut, is Peter. He holds his posture like an un-posed mannequin. You wear a “just-got-home-from-work” outfit: a pair of black slacks with a white button-up shirt. “Finally, my //Robo-Pete// came in the mail,” you say, slowly walking up to his body. He doesn’t move. You lift your hands to his chiseled jaw and stroke it, feeling his skin from ear to chin. “I paid good money for this thing,” you say, trying to hold back a laugh. “My last one got broken.” Your hands wander down Robo-Pete’s chest. “Probably because I fucked it so hard, it //snapped.//” “But the company //assured// me,” you say, pulling the bathrobe from his body. It falls to the floor. “This one can withstand anything.” You reach down to //Robo-Pete//’s gargantuan cock and grip it. Peter’s eyes pop open. “There’s the power button,” you say. “Hello Robo-Pete. I’m your master.” Peter turns his eyes down at you and then smiles. “Hello, master. How can I serve you today?” You slide your hand down Peter’s growing erection, gripping it tightly. He then yelps out in pain. “//Fuck,//” you whisper. “I’m so -” He shakes his head, //No.// You both discussed this ahead of time. A reasonable amount of violence was necessary to make this work. He whispers, “//Keep going.//” You nod. You reach down further, cupping Robo-Pete’s balls inside your hands. Then squeeze. Peter yelps again, flinching. “Robo-Pete. I want you to be a good //robo-boy// and bend over.” <h3>What's next?</h3> [[A loyal robot, Pt. 2.]]

<h1>His slave.</h1> Peter went through his next few girlfriends like candy. This one was slutty. This one too dumb. Whatever the case, he always came home and crashed on the couch, declaring //Fuck women!// Of course, there was always one constant. Someone who understood Peter better than anyone else in the world. And even when he was in a relationship, he made sure to make time for Oliver. [img['images/end/13.webp']] It’s as Peter once said: Your gifts were born for each other. Your thick ass. Your brother’s giant cock. And each time Peter takes you to his bedroom, you consider no one could love you better. Peter knows your body. His tongue knows how to massage your hole wide, how to roll your balls inside his mouth and make your legs twitch for mercy. And Peter knows exactly how to fuck you. On those special nights, when your brother needs you, he puts his anaconda cock somewhere deep inside your body. It shifts the organs in your stomach, settling into its own special nest. [img['images/end/14.webp']] “I love you, Oliver,” he whispers each time he cums. No orgasm is without a confession of love. And you return that love. You welcome Peter inside your belly. You kiss him. And it’s perfect. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Epilogue: The Johnsons]]

<h1>His master.</h1> As expected, Peter continued to fall in and out of alcoholism. One week he’ll come home perfectly sober, clear-minded and pleasant. And the next week? Drunk. Horny. And ferocious. Peter grew accustomed to his baby brother servicing him when he’s drunk. It started with sloppy skull-fucks in the bathroom. Breeding you in his bedroom. And then it turned much more rough. [img['images/end/15.webp']] When Peter was drunk, you allowed yourself to become his plaything. His sexual punching bag, fisting your asshole until he could lift you like a puppet. But you loved being the little bitch bro. One time you remember doing homework at your computer desk. Then Peter kicked your door open, grabbed you beneath the shoulders and threw you onto the bed. Bred you three times. Although you wish you could heal his addiction, you know that recovery is a long process. And your small part in the process, being Peter’s at-home whore, is something you don’t mind at all. [img['images/end/16.webp']] “You like this fucking cock?” Peter loves to gasp. And you always bite your lip, letting him bruise your guts until he’s finished flooding you, then falling asleep with his monster lodged inside you. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Epilogue: The Johnsons]]

<h1>Epilogue: The Johnsons</h1> When you punished the eldest neighbor brother, did you ... //... force the officer to fuck him?// (The Johnsons, Ch. 42: “[[Cruz fucks Josh.]]”) //... force him to fuck the officer?// (The Johnsons, Ch. 42: “[[Josh fucks Cruz.]]”) <h3>What was your decision?</h3> [[The officer fucked him.]] [[He fucked the officer.]]

<h1>Cruz fucks Josh.</h1> Maybe it’s the rage. Maybe it’s the practice. But your spinnerets skill has improved manifold, allowing you to control both Officer Crutz and Josh. “Look at you go, kid,” Rae whispers to you. You force Josh to choke down Cruz’s cock. No warm-up. No tonguing. You get Cruz to spread his legs out and force Josh’s head straight down. Josh gags, saliva and muck getting spat out. Then you move Cruz’s hands onto Josh’s head. “What if you die this way, Joshy-boy?” you ask. You force the officer to keep Josh’s head held down. Losing his breath. Choking, coughing up. [img['images/thejohnsons/23.webp']] You take out your phone and turn on the camera. First you record Jesse and Joel in the corner, both of them crying tears down into their duct-taped mouths. Then you turn it toward Josh. “Good boy,” you say. “Serve the officer like the good bitch you are.” Tears drip from Josh’s eyes, his mouth frothing with saliva and Cruz’s precum. Then you raise your hand up into the air. Josh flips off the bed onto his back. You force Cruz to the side of the bed, aiming his cock toward Josh’s virgin asshole. The older brother’s eyes widen. “Please,” he finally begs you. “Please?” you mock him. You step closer to Josh, putting a finger on his bare foot and tickling. “//Please?//” you say one more time. Then you flash your eyes. Cruz rams himself inside Josh. [img['images/thejohnsons/24.webp']] The pain and pleasure immediately washes over Josh’s face. He gasps out a deep groan, while his younger brothers watch horrified. Cruz’s legs shake, trembling, spilling out his hot puddles. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Three little doggies.]]

<h1>Josh fucks Cruz.</h1> Maybe it’s the rage. Maybe it’s the practice. But your spinnerets skill has improved manifold, allowing you to control both Officer Crutz and Josh. “Look at you go, kid,” Rae whispers to you. You force Josh to crawl on top of Cruz. No lubricant on his cock, aside from your saliva and ass from earlier. You force Cruz to peel his legs open, offering his virgin asshole for Josh’s monster. Then you throw Josh’s arms around Cruz’s neck, stomach pressed against the officer’s back. “Cruz, I’ll let you know now,” you say. “I had some lubricant, but even //then// it was, well, a //bit -//” And then you shove Josh’s dry cock straight into Cruz’s asshole. The officer howls out in pain, his legs shaking, his face going pale with sickness. Josh’s eyes roll back with sudden ecstasy. [img['images/thejohnsons/25.webp']] You take out your phone and turn on the camera. First you record Jesse and Joel in the corner, both of them crying tears down into their duct-taped mouths. Then you turn it toward Josh. Josh pulls out. And then you slam him back in. The harsh //slap// echoes around the room, and Cruz screams in agony. Josh can’t help but quiver at the tightness of Cruz’s wet tight tunnel. Then you get a //little// carried away. Pulling Josh out. Slamming him back in. Faster, faster, //faster,// until the officer can’t cry out anymore and he goes limp, allowing Josh to use him like a corpse. [img['images/thejohnsons/26.webp']] When Josh’s hips start trembling, you whip his cock out and force him to spray a firework show of cum across Cruz’s back. //“Fuu-uu-uuck,”// he groans deep and long, that pure male pleasure. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Three little doggies.]]

<h1>The officer fucked him.</h1> After your influence on the Johnsons, the three brothers really //expanded their horizons,// so to say. First: the two youngest brothers, Joel and Jesse, proudly declared themselves as lovers. The town reeled from the news. //Incestuous brothers?// But Joel and Jesse couldn’t care less. And when you decided to peep across the street to check in on Joel, you saw their act of love. [img['images/end/17.webp']] On the back porch, Jesse railing his pretty young brother with his fat cock. Joel moaning with boyish ecstasy, jerking his cock furiously and begging his brother to go //faster, harder, faster!// And then there’s Josh Johnson: the oldest of the trio. It seemed the Thor-like blond brother decided to switch his problematic behavior onto himself: now //he// had an impulse to get bred. Instead of a hit list to get multiple women pregnant, he challenged himself to get fucked as many times as possible. Boys, girls, didn’t matter. It seemed you gave him a sexual awakening. [img['images/end/18.webp']] Of course, running around with your legs spread like that, something is bound to hit the web. And Josh Johnson went viral. Getting his ass pounded by a garbage man. Begging for more. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Epilogue: Ethan]]

<h1>He fucked the officer.</h1> Under your supervision, the Johnsons brothers continued their regular threesomes. Not that you needed to be there. None of the beautiful blond brothers needed spineretts to fuck each other. But you enjoyed seeing their brotherly relationships blossom. The Thor-like eldest brother, Josh, training the younger two to take his monster cock. And Joel teaching them how to ride like a pro. [img['images/end/19.webp']] With the threat of being exposed as incestuous freaks, the brothers remained at your whims. Not that they had any idea about you and Peter. Regardless, they were useful entertainment. Over time they began to develop their “roles” for each other. Joel played the bottom bitch, letting his brothers breed him at their beck and call. And Jesse played the wildcard, flip-flopping for all. But of course, Josh Johnson played the pussy-destroyer. For boy pussy, of course. Putting his brothers in prostate-induced comas. And sometimes, when you’re feeling up to it, even yourself. [img['images/end/20.webp']] Josh knows how to bend his boys into pretzels. Fuck their pussies into a sloppy mess of oozing cum. And when he dumps his hot load inside you, it splashes around as he keeps fucking you. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Epilogue: Ethan]]

<h1>Epilogue: Ethan</h1> After your cousin signed his servile contract, did you ... //... enslave him to your uncle?// (Ethan, Ch. 72: “[[Uncle Elliot.]]”) //... seize him for yourself?// (Ethan, Ch. 72: “[[Me.]]”) <h3>What was your decision?</h3> [[Your uncle's slave.]] [[Your slave.]]

<h1>Uncle Elliot.</h1> Your cousin Ethan becomes his father’s servant. His permanent sex slave. His obedient boy toy. Because of the obligations, your cousin drops out from Harvard University. He remains at home. Each morning before work, Uncle Elliot’s routine is to fuck his son against the bathroom counter. And the neighbors often hear Elliot’s grunts and Ethan’s boyish moans carrying down the road. [img['images/ethan/38.webp']] Your cousin sends CCTV recordings once a week. This includes the “Best Of” sessions, highlighting the most jaw-dropping orgasms that his daddy pummeled out from his twinky body. As the weeks go on, Ethan becomes a young sex god. He masters the blowjob and learns how to serve his father in hundreds of ways. His asshole becomes a permanent breeding ground. Eventually Uncle Elliot fires Lorelei. He prefers to watch his bare-assed Ethan clean the floors, wash the dishes, cook the meals. And your mindless cousin enjoys every cum-filled moment. Elliot brought his boy toy to //Cheek House// so that Ethan could study stripper moves. Now your cousin can bend into hundreds of shapes as his father fills his belly with hot rivers of cum. Once every few days, your uncle will bring Ethan to work and position him beneath the desk for day-long blowjobs. After being edged for nearly eight hours, Elliot paints his son’s entire face. [img['images/ethan/35.webp']] But your cousin’s primary place is the master bedroom. Handcuffed to the bedpost. Waiting for his father to come home. To fill his gut with Elliot’s bubbling spawn. To serve, to love, to receive. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Sky back.]]

<h1>Me.</h1> You imagined Ethan’s future beneath Uncle Elliot’s dominating sex drive. His ceaseless libido. Your cousin would become a mere cocksleeve. His academic future would utterly disintegrate. So you decided on a compromise. Rae agreed, //All that I care about is that a contract is signed,// he said. //That’s the mission requirements.// For the eternal giver, you spoke out your own name. Now Ethan belongs to you. And because he belongs to //you,// you permit him the freedoms he possessed before. Harvard. Living in Cambridge with Elliot. You changed as little as possible. But every few weeks, your cousin calls you from the Harvard dorms. “//Please// come visit me,” he begs. And you oblige. His sex drive has become bound to your fulfilling seed. Ethan //needs// you. [img['images/ethan/39.webp']] Nowadays, things are less //war// and more //love.// After Ethan sends his roommates out the room, you explore his body and fill his needs. It’s become a chemical necessity for your dear cousin. Sometimes you fuck him. Sometimes Ethan fucks you. Regardless, your cousin collapses into your arms, his lips pressed against yours, gasping and panting. “//I love you. I love you so much.//” Your cock has memorized Ethan’s boyish insides. It knows his gushy, warm depths intimately. Every time you slide inside your cousin, your legs tremble. And Ethan bites his lip and moans. [img['images/ethan/40.webp']] And when Ethan lifts you into his arms, pressing you into the bunk bed, fucking your prostate, his mouth against yours, his cock and cum claiming your guts. It feels right. His //eternal giver.// <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Sky back.]]

<h1>Your uncle's slave.</h1> When you visited Uncle Elliot and Ethan after graduation, you were impressed with how well your uncle had whipped your cousin into his dutiful slave. Cooking. Cleaning. Sexual chores. While Ethan’s abrasive personality had been struck away at the signing of the contract, his taut body and boyish face remained. All for his father’s use. Over and over. Until the end of his days. [img['images/end/21.webp']] During the night, while staying in the guest bedroom, you could hear poor Ethan getting his ass pummeled into smithereens. Your cousin howling with pleasure and pain. Your uncle grunting. And when Elliot had to go to work, he left Ethan under your charge. And you did not squander it. You ordered the slave to suck you until your balls were depleted to nothing but a dry receptacle. And Ethan provided. His smooth lips treasured your cock for the whole work day, swallowing your cum over and over again, his teeth and gums turning into a factory of your white goo. [img['images/end/22.webp']] But when his daddy came home, it was back to his station. Getting his guts rearranged by the man that made him. Never a moment without cum gushing out of one of Ethan’s many holes. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Epilogue: Spencer]]

<h1>Your slave.</h1> Because you protected Ethan from his spartanic father, your cousin was able to continue his education at Harvard. Of course, this was only under your permission. His master comes first. At your beck and call, Ethan takes the first flight down and visits you whenever you wish for him. Utter the words “I miss you” on the phone, and your cousin shows up at the door soon after. [img['images/end/23.webp']] “Am I making you happy?” he loves to ask, while his cock is lodged inside you, your eyes rolled back into your head. And when you moan in agreement, Ethan knows that his master satisfied. Because it’s his great duty, your cousin learns the mechanics of your body. The sensitive spots, how long to edge you for a perfect orgasm, and where to push his cock against your prostate. And every so often, to take a break from the hometown, you’ll visit Ethan at his college dorms. He’ll quickly clear the guys out. Then he’ll service you in whichever ways you dream for him. [img['images/end/24.webp']] When you fuck your cousin’s smooth hole, he moans with fulfillment. You give him his purpose. And when your cum bubbles from his asshole, he fingers it into his mouth and smiles with glee. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Epilogue: Spencer]]

<h1>Epilogue: Spencer</h1> After your high school crush renounced his powers, did you ... //... allow him another chance?// (Spencer, Ch. 85: “[[Take me up.]]”) //... contract him to the warden?// (Spencer, Ch. 85: “[[Cast me away.]]”) <h3>What was your decision?</h3> [[A chance.]] [[The warden's slave.]]

<h1>Home alone.</h1> As promised, in the following days you approached Spencer at school. At first he was confused. //Why is this track-runner talking to me?// But you explained what you know. How you’re the same. He’s hesitant at first. Even a little aggressive. But you ask him if he remembers anything about //Excalibur,// and something deep inside him, something untraceable, causes him to listen to you. You don’t tell Spencer about his time as a “magical boy.” But you get to know him. You learn that he wants to play guitar. He works two part-time jobs to live in his own place. He loves oranges. [img['images/spencer/54.webp']] For the first time in his life, Spencer has sex with a man. //Well, as far as he knows.// You teach him. He’s nervous. But when you gave him a blowjob, he couldn’t help but moan, //Oh fuck, Oliver//. [img['images/spencer/55.webp']] It was nice feeling Spencer’s cock again. Even if you had to lead the initiative. Bouncing up and down on the quarterback’s monster, letting him revel in the feeling of a boy’s smooth asshole. Of course, once he had a taste of you, Spencer couldn’t stop. At first you met in secret. Then he started talking with you in the middle of the hallways. //You wanna meet up tonight. For, y’know?// [img['images/spencer/56.webp']] You started having some of the best sex of your life with Spencer. His cock pounded you within an inch of your life, like he was fucking with //purpose.// And that’s true. Spencer found himself. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Excelsior!]]

<h1>"Cast me away"</h1> As promised, the following day you contracted Spencer. He seemed very confused, waking up inside a prison cell. But when you summarized the past few months, he signed the contract. You knew that it mattered little who the quarterback was contracted to. He wanted to be free of his shame, so you handed him to someone you knew could use him well: the prison warden. [img['images/spencer/57.webp']] Infinite sex without shame. The warden brought Spencer home with him as his personal boy toy, and Spencer thus dropped out of high school so he could focus on becoming a good cocksleeve. [img['images/spencer/58.webp']] In the regular email updates from the warden, you hear how Spencer has become a God-like bottom bitch. Taking cock a dozen times a day. Singing like a bird each time he gets fucked. And when the warden decided to run for State Senator, he passed Spencer around like a whore to all his campaign donors, letting the oil executives and tech investors fill his bitch boy’s belly. [img['images/spencer/59.webp']] And when the warden’s not home, his two sons keep Spencer busy by double-stuffing his ass wherever they please. Filling his guts until the quarterback has cum spewing out his asshole. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Excelsior!]]

<h1>A chance.</h1> Spencer deserved the chance. Even if he wouldn’t give it to himself. And you proved yourself right, tasking yourself with convincing the quarterback to be less ashamed. To be a proud fag. Of course, that called forth an //experimentation// phase for Spencer. Because he couldn’t recall the guys he fucked during his “magical boy” days. Thankfully, you offered your services to him. [img['images/end/25.webp']] It started innocently. Like two guys discovering themselves with each other. You with this jock you crushed on for years. And him with this track runner that opened his eyes to a new world. Holding hands became cuddling. Cuddles became kisses. Kisses became blowjobs and then the snowball kept rolling. Spencer fucked a man “for the first time.” And then got plowed himself. You were his keeper. You guided Spencer toward self-love as he learned the magic and power of two boys fucking. With his giant cock inside you, the quarterback felt more and more himself. [img['images/end/26.webp']] It was nice taking things slow. And for the first time in a long time, you didn’t use a single drop of magic. It was just you and Spencer. Two guys fucking. //Where will we go from here?// Let’s see. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Curtain call]]

<h1>The warden's slave</h1> The things you saw in Spencer. The torture and the degredation he wrought on his teammates. The way he dangled your friends’ lives and brother’s life over your head. You couldn’t forgive it. No doubt his potential for hatred came from self-hatred. And you offered Spencer a chance. But he squandered it. He wanted the easy way: no more pain. So you contracted him off. A slave. [img['images/end/27.webp']] When the prison warden successfully ran for State Senate, he no longer could risk keeping a whore-slave. So he auctioned Spencer off on a market. And the quarterback got traded around. Spencer eventually landed in the home of a music producer. A man who would use Spencer’s body like a rag doll, fucking his throat and hole dry until they both swelled up from the suffering. But it’s what Spencer wanted. To be a faggot without feeling the shame. His body offering itself over and over again, spreading wider for his master’s huge black cock, taking gallons of cum. [img['images/end/28.webp']] The quarterback became a centerpiece for the producer’s studio. Anyone can come fuck the boy until he passes out, and then just keep filling him. Keep going until cum drips from his nose. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Curtain call]]

<h1>Curtain Call</h1> Somewhere else, hundreds of miles away from Oliver, a boy takes a shower. He rubs shampoo in his hair, lathering it around smoothly. The warm water drips down his shoulders, down his legs. [img['images/end/29.webp']] “Kiddo.” The guy stands in the shower, completely still. //Did I hear something?// He looks behind him, then pulls back the curtain. He sees nothing. He shrugs his shoulder and continues to - “Don’t scream,” the voice says. “I’m inside your head.” The boy stares at the shower wall, his eyes widened with fear. //Oh shit. I’ve gone crazy. I’ve lost my mind, haven’t I?// He inhales to - “I //said// don’t scream, Micah.” The boy named Micah blinks. He shakes his head. Blinks again. Then he opens his mouth and whispers. “How do you know my name?” And the voice laughs. Right before his eyes, a little fairy pops into the air. It’s sparkly, translucent, with tiny feet and round wings fluttering. “Oh, I see that look in your eyes,” Rae says. //“Is that a fucking fairy?”// Micah swallows nervous spit and follows Rae’s movements as he spins in a circle, floats above the water and points his little fairy hand down at the kid. “Before you go running, let me explain.” Then the fairy nosedives and spins a circle around Micah’s narrow hips. He floats up the boy’s body and hovers right at the top of his nose. “First off, happy birthday, kiddo. Eighteen, huh?” {{{FIN.}}} <h3>Thanks for playing!</h3> [[Back to list of targets|Who are the targets?]]

<h1>Someone from his wrestling team.</h1> __“He’s someone on ur wrestling team :) wants to stay anonymous tho. Is that OK?”__ You wait for a while. It feels like he’s taking //forever.// You look to Rae for comfort, but he’s busy flitting around your bedroom. Then your phone vibrates. It’s a text message from him to //you.// __“Hey bro. you know a Hanna?”__ “//Shit.// Rae!” Your fairy buzzes over and looks at the phone. A little grin grows across his face. “This is //perfect.// He came to you for validation,” he says. Rae rubs his tiny fairy hands together. “Let’s see here. I’ll drop some fairy magic on this one. Say whatever you want. It’ll work.” You think for a moment. Then send: __“Uh ya. She dated someone on ur team. I forget which guy”__. Rae claps. “I hardly even //need// to sprinkle magic on that, it’s so good. But just to be careful.” Rae spins in a glittery circle. After a few moments, “Hanna” receives a response from Colby. __“Cool. Hopefully he told u I’m the best ;)”__ “Now go for the gold,” your fairy says. “I know an opportunity when I smell one. Start small.” What do you ask for? A view of Colby in his wrestling outfit? Or a view of Colby shirtless? <h3>What do you ask for?</h3> [[The wrestling outfit.]] [[A shirtless view.]]

<h1>The wrestling outfit.</h1> __“well I really love those wrestling outfits. They’re super cute <3”__ After a few moments, Colby sends a short video of him in his singlet. __“oh u mean this?”__ he says. What a fucking //tease.// [img['images/colby/1.webp']] He grinds across the floor, showcasing his muscled thighs. And an imprint of his cock and balls. For a moment, you imagine Colby grinding on your crotch. “Holy shit,” you gasp. Rae chuckles. You’ve seen him in the singlet before. But not //this// close. The way the material wraps around Colby’s ass, inviting you deeper. Now you’ve got to pursue his vice further: Lust. Body worship. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Push the envelope.]]

<h1>A shirtless view.</h1> __“well I bet wrestling gives you great muscles ;)”__ After a few moments, Colby sends a short video of him in tights. __“you can be the judge ;)”__ he says. What a fucking //tease.// [img['images/colby/2.webp']] He spins in front of the camera, showcasing his back arch and muscled abs. And his thick ass. For a brief moment, you glimpse an imprint of Colby’s cock and balls beneath his black tights. You’ve seen him in tight underwear before. But not like //this.// The way the material wraps around Colby’s ass, inviting you deeper. Now you’ve got to pursue his vice further: Lust. Body worship. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Push the envelope.]]

<h1>Push the envelope.</h1> You comb through your hot girl folder and find a short video of a girl in red lingerie. She pushes her breasts together and gazes into the camera. You know Colby. He’s a tit man. It should work. “That should work. But remember,” Rae says, “you need to exploit his need to be //worshipped.//” You think on that. The fairy has a point. Colby might be //less// interested in “Hanna” specifically, and more interested in any pair of eyes worshipping him. Which can be stretched out further. You type: __“wow you’re confident. That’s super hot”__ Then you send the red lingerie video. You add with the video: __“here’s me at my most confident :’)”__ You release a long-held breath. Rae flutters down to your jeans and knocks at the boner pressing up against the fabric. “Hello, anyone home?” he says, then laughs to himself. Colby doesn’t respond. And doesn’t respond. Longer and longer. And then you think aloud: “I wonder if that bastard is jacking off to the video?” You quickly type up a message: __“if ur doing what I think ur doing … i want evidence <3”__ Rae reads the text message and slaps his fairy knee. “God //damn,// Oliver. You’re good at this.” <h3>Incoming message:</h3> [[Colby's evidence.]]

<h1>Colby's evidence.</h1> You’ve never seen Colby’s cock //in flagrante.// You’ve glimpsed the outline beneath his boxers, but all these years you’ve dreamed of actually seeing it. And then a video message comes in. [img['images/colby/3.webp']] It’s everything you hoped for. Colby’s long, thick cock, oozing with cum. His tight belly rising and falling with masturbatory exhaustion. You want so bad to lean into the video and suck him clean. “Rae, could you, uhm,” you say, reaching down to your zipper. Your boner is about to explode. Rae shrugs, lifting one arm and snapping, then vanishing from thin air. And you get to work. After you spurt ropes and ropes of cum, you send Colby a text message: __“omg. It’s huge”__. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Egg him on.]]

<h1>Egg him on.</h1> __“u like what u see?”__ Colby texts back. After you clean yourself up, Rae pops back into existence. He reads Colby’s message. “Oh, this twink //demands// attention,” Rae says. “Can’t you tell? He //wants// to be challenged.” Even though you literally just had an orgasm, the idea of drawing more out of Colby inspires another partial boner. You think. //Challenge// him? That means Hanna needs to get more daring. You text: __“i mean it’s pretty good”__. “There you go, kiddo,” Rae says. “Fuck with his ego a bit. He’ll come crawling back.” Colby responds: __“pretty good? :(“__. You feel awful. Colby has been your best friend since childhood. These manipulation tactics could really fuck with his self-esteem, if you’re not careful. But you’re already in the thick of it. “Should I—” As if reading your thoughts, probably because he //did,// Rae says, “Ask for something specific.” You know a couple things you could ask for: more of Colby’s face, or some of his bare ass. <h3>What do you ask for?</h3> [[More of his face.]] [[Some of his ass.]]

<h1>More of his face.</h1> __“is there a face to that huge cock? ;)”__ You send the message, and a few moments later, a response comes in: [img['images/colby/4.webp']] __“is that better babe?”__ Colby texts. In the video he bites his lip and releases yet another orgasm, staring straight into the camera. You imagine your best friend drenching your face with his cum. Now you’ve got another full-grown boner. And Rae is clapping and //whooping// at your phone. “One more challenge,” he says, “and then I think we can make things a bit more //personal.//” <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Encourage a risk.]]

<h1>Some of his ass.</h1> __“you have an amazing butt for a guy ;) from what i could tell”__ You send the message, and a few moments later, a response comes in: [img['images/colby/5.webp']] __“can you tell better now?”__ Colby texts. In the video he slides his boxers down from his hips, revealing his beautiful bubble ass. You imagine stuffing yourself deep inside your best friend. Now you’ve got another full-grown boner. And Rae is clapping and //whooping// at your phone. “One more challenge,” he says, “and then I think we can make things a bit more //personal.//” <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Encourage a risk.]]

<h1>Encourage a risk.</h1> “What sort of challenge?” you ask Rae. “I feel like we’re pushing the limit here.” Rae yawns and waves off that suggestion. “The limit? What //limit?// I’m a fucking //fairy!//” You contemplate next steps. A sex tape? No, no. Besides, you don’t want to give Colby //away.// Maybe public masturbation? Or even, something anal? Maybe that’ll scare him away, though. “Look, I can hear your thoughts, kiddo,” Rae says, fluttering down onto your knee. “You had two good ideas. Something public. Something anal. As long as it’s solo, this guy seems eager.” You knew Colby was always a horndog. He admitted to regularly jacking off four times a day. But is he //ready?// Well, you know one thing: If you don’t take this next step, you’ll never get him. “Alright,” you say, sighing out the anxiety. “How should I go about this?” “Something public would confirm his sluttiness,” Rae says. “That he just wants to be //seen.//” You consider, what’s the worst that could happen? Colby could say //no,// then block Hanna. “And the anal thing? Simple. Colby has a sister, right?” You nod. Rae snaps. “Then a dildo.” You stare at the ceiling for a long, long time. Eventually, Colby texts Hanna: __“hello? u there?”__. Quickly, a decision: suggest that Colby publicly masturbate, or break himself in with a dildo? <h3>What do you suggest?</h3> [[Use a dildo.]] [[Public masturbation.]]

<h1>Use a dildo.</h1> __“ur honestly so confident. It’s sexy”__. You send Colby the message. Rae nods in agreement, then says, “Good. Gotta butter the twink up. Now hit him with that //but,//” he says. “It’ll rock his fuckin’ world.” You type up the next message: __“maybe TMI. but have u ever had a prostate orgasm? :o”__. __“uh no”__, Colby sends back. You’re starting to get nervous. Rae notices and //shhh//’s your thoughts. __“oh sry”__ You send back, then add: __“my bf used to do it. It was the sexiest thing i’ve ever seen”__ Without even asking, Rae sprints in a glittery circle. //Fairy magic.// And you cross your fingers. After ten minutes of waiting, you get a video message from Colby: __“holy fuck this is incredible”__ He’s on his living room couch, massaging a dildo deep inside his asshole, his toes curling up. [img['images/colby/6.webp']] <h3>Moving forward:</h3> [[The weekend.]]

<h1>Public masturbation.</h1> __“ur honestly so confident. It’s sexy”__ You send Colby the message. Rae nods in agreement, then says, “Good. Gotta butter the twink up. Now hit him with that //but,//” he says. “It’ll rock his fuckin’ world.” You type up the next message: __“maybe TMI. but have u ever done public masturbation? :o”__ __“uh no”__ Colby sends back. You’re starting to get nervous. Rae notices and //shhh’//s your thoughts. __“oh sry”__ You send back, then add: __“my bf used to do it. It was the sexiest thing i’ve ever seen”__ Without even asking, Rae sprints in a glittery circle. //Fairy magic.// And you cross your fingers. After ten minutes of waiting, you get a video message from Colby: __“holy fuck this was insane”__ He’s in the back seat of an Uber car, spewing cum onto his bare chest, gasping for breath. [img['images/colby/7.webp']] <h3>What's next?</h3> [[The weekend.]]

<h1>The weekend.</h1> The rest of the week was painful. Going to school, seeing Colby, pretending you had //no// idea what his thick ass and huge cock looked like. Waiting for the weekend. Jerking to his videos. But then the weekend came. //Finally.// After school ended on Friday, you ran home and packed your bags for a stay at Colby’s house. All week long Rae kept reminding you, “Get //ready,// kid.” But what did the //fairy// know that you didn’t? Colby has been your best friend since, well, always. When you arrive at Colby’s house, you find him and his wrestling mate, Andrew, playing video games on the living room couch. //Fuck,// you think to yourself. //Andrew fucked it all up. There’s no way I can push this further now. Why didn’t Colby tell me this other dude was coming over?// Since Rae can hear your thoughts, he responds inside your head, invisible to all: //“Trust me.”// You drop your bags and join Colby and Andrew on the couch. Every few minutes, Colby checks his phone. From across the couch, you can see he’s getting frustrated. //No new notifications.// Waiting for Hanna. Inside your head, Rae says: “Good. It makes him easier. More desperate.” Hours pass. Colby hasn’t heard from “Hanna” all week long, and he’s obviously frustrated. Eventually he gets distracted with the game. And that’s when Rae gives the sign: “Bingo, kiddo.” When Colby isn’t looking, you get on your phone and text him: __“any videos of u getting sucked?”__. After the game finishes, Colby picks up his phone, reads the message, and smiles big and wide. <h3>Colby has an idea:</h3> [[Another game of sorts.]]

<h1>Another game of sorts.</h1> “Hey, don’t freak out,” Colby says, leaning back on the couch. “But I’ve sorta got an idea.” Andrew raises an eyebrow and you pretend to be confused. Colby points to the TV screen. “So we’ve all gotten pretty fucking good at this game,” he says. He rubs his jeans nervously. “But I feel like there’s no stakes anymore. It’s getting kinda boring, you know what I mean?” You immediately nod. Andrew hesitantly nods. Colby stands up and starts pacing around. “So let’s say this. Whoever wins the next game can ask //anything// from //anyone// in the room.” Andrew looks at you, then looks at Colby. “Uh. I’m not gonna split my lip or anything, dude.” Colby waves his hands in dismissal. “Nothing like that, man. No. Like, I dunno. Something else.” You shrug and give a thumbs up. Colby winks at you. As you and your best friend watch Andrew mull over the idea, you see Rae pop into the air and spin fairy glitter over Andrew’s head. “Alright, whatever,” Andrew says. “Sounds chill. I guess the game //is// getting kinda boring.” //“No take backs,”// Colby demands, then starts up another match of the video game. Colby leans forward, intent on winning the next match. And he does. He absolutely destroys the both of you. When the match is over, he leans back on his couch and pretends to think up his reward. <h3>The reward:</h3> [[Let the sucking commence.]]

<h1>Let the sucking commence.</h1> Colby stands up authoritatively. He marches to the TV stand, sets his phone down, and turns. “Andrew, you stay there. Oliver? On your knees.” Colby then walks back to the couch and sits. You slide off the couch obediently. Colby then leans forward and looks into your eyes. “You lost.” You nod. You feel like a puppy dog getting scolded. And your boner is growing thicker. “I want you to, uhm, //suck// me,” he whispers, swallowing nervousness. “As my prize. Okay?” You pretend to hesitate. Then you slowly nod. Your heart beats against your chest. //Is this real? Can this really be happening?// Colby leans back and starts another game. Then pats his crotch. You slide closer to him. His eyes are on the screen. You slowly unzip Colby’s jeans and his dick falls out. You’ve wanted this for so long. Finally, you lean in and wrap your lips around his cock. [img['images/colby/8.webp']] <h3>Uh-oh:</h3> [[He pushes you away.]]

<h1>He pushes you away.</h1> “I fucking //knew// it,” Colby says. He puts his hand on your head and pushes you off his cock. Immediately, you feel like vomiting. You feel like running out of there. //This is it. I’m so fucked.// “You think you’re so fucking //clever?//” he says, standing up and walking over to his phone, cock flopping around in the open. Colby pauses a recording and brings his phone to your face. “You slipped up, Oliver,” he says. It’s the last message you sent Colby. The “__getting sucked__” text. But instead of sending it as “Hanna,” you accidentally sent it from //yourself. I’m so dead.// In your brain, Rae //shhh//’s you. He whispers in your thoughts, “Have some faith in me, kiddo.” “I //knew// Hanna was fishy as fuck,” Colby said. “That’s why I brought Andrew over. For back-up.” //Back-up? For what?// As soon as you think that, Colby answers: “In case you try to run away.” Your best friend puts his hand on your chest and shoves you onto the couch. Then he sits down, showing you his phone. It’s his OnlyFans account, with all the videos he’s sent to Hanna. “My account subscribers went //way// up after that last request that ‘Hanna’ sent,” he says. “Maybe I should thank ‘her’. She really //broadened// my horizons, y’know?” Colby then pets your cheek. “But I somehow knew it was you,” he says. “That ‘Hanna’ knew all the right buttons to press. Now //I’ve// got a request for the //real// ‘Hanna’.” Colby stands up, cock dangling in front of your face. “Does //he// want to beg for my forgiveness? Or does //he// want to press //his// luck one more time?” <h3>What do you do?</h3> [[Beg for forgiveness.]] [[Press your luck.]]

<h1>Beg for forgiveness.</h1> It’s all a blur. One moment you’re teary-eyed, apologizing to Colby. And the //next// moment? He spreads lubricant on his cock and fucks your guts out of order. All on video, //of course.// Colby’s bed frame squeaks beneath the ravaging. Skin slapping skin. Boyish moans of ecstasy. [img['images/colby/9.webp']] “That’s right, Oliver,” Colby grunts into your ear. “Moan like a fuckin’ porn star. Moan for me, baby.” When he cums inside you, he slides his cock down to your deepest insides and fills you whole. [img['images/colby/10.webp']] <h3>After hours and hours, you pass out.</h3> [[The following morning.]]

<h1>Press your luck.</h1> It’s all a blur. One moment you’re unflinching, refusing to react to Colby. And the //next// moment? Andrew pins you down as Colby strips your clothes. Colby lathers up in lubricant for your ass, Andrew at your mouth. All on video, //of course.// Skin slapping skin. Boyish moans of ecstasy. [img['images/colby/11.webp']] “You’re so fucking tight, Oliver,” Colby grunts, burrowing his cock to your guts. “Moan for me, baby.” After Colby cums deep inside you, he flips you around and lets Andrew breed you like a bitch. [img['images/colby/12.webp']] <h3>After hours and hours, you pass out.</h3> [[The following morning.]]

<h1>The following morning.</h1> You wake up in Colby’s bed, wrapped in his blankets and sunlight pouring through the window. For a moment, you consider that everything that happened the night before was a long dream. You sit up and scratch at your eyes. Andrew’s overnight bags are gone. He must’ve headed off. As you come to your senses, you hear clanking outside Colby’s bedroom. Maybe the kitchen. You zombie-walk to Colby’s bedroom door and open it. There, in the kitchen, is your best friend. He’s got a spoon in his mouth, a bowl full of cereal, and he’s bopping his head to some music. Suddenly it’s sinking in. The soreness. Your asshole feels like it got punched a thousand times. That’s when Colby turns, notices you, and gives you a goofy smile: “Morning, sleepy head!” Inside your mind, Rae chuckles. “I //told// you to trust me. The fairy is //always// right, kiddo.” Colby comes over and wraps his arms around you. “No hard feelings about last night, right?” You’re pretty sure a lot of Colby is //still// inside you, considering the buckets of cum he unloaded. “No,” you say, shaking your head. “Not at all.” Colby pinches your nipple and winks at you. “Good. ‘Cause you got me a //shit ton// of followers. Like, the //first// time I fucked you, I forgot to fuckin’ hit record. But I got //all// of the second time.” Colby swipes on his phone and then turns the screen toward you. <h3>Smile! You're on camera!</h3> [[Watch the recordings.]]

<h1>Watch the recordings.</h1> “So this first video is now my //most// favorited. Me fucking you. You’re a //celebrity,// Oliver,” he says. “Well, I cropped your face out. ‘Cause privacy, and all. But still. Listen to those fuckin’ //moans.//” [img['images/colby/13.webp']] You moaning and begging. Colby grunting and groaning. “We’re like animals, bro,” he laughs. “And this morning I saw my numbers //soaring,// and I was like, //holy shit.// I gotta keep this up.” Colby then swipes to the next video. It’s Andrew jacking off and giving Colby a sloppy facial. [img['images/colby/14.webp']] <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Next level Colby.]]

<h1>Next level Colby.</h1> “Well, I’ve been thinking,” he says. Colby flops down on the living room couch, so you join him. “These OnlyFans people //eat// up this gay shit. And I’m like, whatever. A hole is a hole, y’know?” You slowly nod. Rae chuckles inside your mind, proud of his effects on Colby’s progression. “Like, do I prefer tits? For sure,” he says. “You //know// I’m a tits guy. But that’s something for //me,// y’know? These people are emptying their banks accounts to watch me fuck with my bros.” For a moment, Colby gets distracted by his phone. He types up a message and sends it off. “Like right now,” he says, “I’m getting all sorts of fuckin’ requests. Like //commissions,// Oliver.” He turns the phone to you. The first message reads, __“Will you take a cock yourself?”__, The next, __“That facial was gorgeous. Wish you would’ve sucked on that rod.”__ Colby pulls his phone back. “I guess what I’m saying is, thanks for pushing me to open up,” he says, then gives you a wink. Inside your mind, Rae speaks up: “You’re job isn’t done yet, kiddo. Remember, the //mission?// Colby’s lust needs to be //utterly// corrupted. Just ‘cause you got the dick, doesn’t mean it’s over!” You watch Colby across the couch. He types away. Then his eyes meet yours, glistening. “Hey, before I head home,” you say. The words tumble from your mouth, almost auto-piloted. But Colby cuts you short. “//Yes,// bro. I need the content momentum. Now, suck me or suck you?” <h3>Pick your position:</h3> [[I'll suck Colby.]] [[Colby sucks me.]]

<h1>I'll suck Colby.</h1> “You’re alright showing your face to the world?” he asks. You’re already watering at the mouth. You nod. Colby stands up and unbuckles his jeans, his cock flopping out. He taps it twice. “Make it real romantic and shit,” he says, flopping down on the couch and gripping his boner. “Like, I got a sloppy facial this morning. So let’s give some slow passion, Oliver. Sounds good?” That’s an //easy// request. You slide off the couch onto your knees. Colby’s cock stands proud. Thick and veiny. Still glistening from last night. You crawl between his knees and grip onto it. Colby presses the record button on his phone. He moves one hand to the back of your head. “Come on, baby. Show them how you’re good to me,” he says, putting on a show for the fans. [img['images/colby/15.webp']] You bathe his cock with your tongue. Slobbering on him. Colby pants and pleads for more. When he cums, you lick him clean. “God,” Colby moans. “I love your fuckin’ mouth so much.” <h3>Wrapping up the weekend:</h3> [[A sort of limbo.]]

<h1>Colby sucks me.</h1> “You’re alright with that?” you ask him. “You’ve only, y’know, //given// so far.” But he ignores you. Colby slides down to his knees and crawls over between your legs. Already, your cock’s hard. “I’m gonna make this real romantic and shit,” he says, sliding his hands up your pants legs. “Like, I got a sloppy facial this morning. So let’s give some slow passion, Oliver. Sounds good?” That’s an //easy// request. Colby unzips your jeans and pulls your pants down. Your cock springs to attention. Glistening with pre-cum. You know you’ve got //a lot// of cum built up since last night. Colby presses the record button on his phone. He then hands you the phone to record him. “Can I suck you dry, baby?” he says, putting on a show for the fans. He then licks his lips. [img['images/colby/16.webp']] Colby starts with slowly massaging your penis with his tongue. When he slides your cock inside, he pushes it down his throat and hums. And when you cum, he sucks until you beg for mercy. <h3>Wrapping up the weekend:</h3> [[A sort of limbo.]]

<h1>A sort of limbo.</h1> You spend the rest of the weekend trying to catch up on homework but still thinking about Colby. Every couple hours he sends an update on his subscriber count: “Bro, hit another thousand!” As you lie in bed on Sunday night, you scroll on Colby’s OnlyFans and watch you and him fuck. The way sweat drips down his body, his arms holding you down and mouth shaped like an //O.// “Doing alright, kiddo?” Rae asks, appearing out of nowhere. He flutters around next to your ear. You nod silently, scrolling to the next video. It’s a solo video of Colby shooting ropes of cum. For some reason you feel a little vacant. Not like you’re //in love,// or anything. But a little dizzy. Watching Colby so happy, so //alive// in his videos. You’ve known this guy since you were babies. “Look, Oliver,” Rae says, landing down on your chest. He points a finger at your face. “I get it. You’re disoriented. It all feels a little surreal. And your brain is struggling to catch up, right?” You nod. And sigh. “There’s a simple explanation,” your fairy says, spinning into the air. “The mission isn’t complete. And until it is, //everything// will feel like it’s in some sorta strange limbo. You. Colby. Capeesh?” //Then what now?// you think to yourself. And because he //can// read your mind, Rae answers. “We finish the job,” he says. “Colby’s lust is almost at its climax. Just a few final pushes.” <h3>Let's get rolling then.</h3> [[Back to school.]]

<h1>Back to school.</h1> It’s lunchtime at school. You grab your paper sack from your locker and head into the cafeteria. In the far corner of the room, as always, Colby sits with his legs kicked up on the lunch table. “Bro, I’ve got a question for you,” he says, sliding over and patting the empty chair next to him. “But don’t laugh at me. I’m getting all sorts of messages on OnlyFans and //a lot// use this word.” You sit down and lean in to see Colby’s phone screen. He opens up his messages and points. Even though he politely asked, you can’t help but laugh. Inside your mind, //Rae// even laughs. “They’re calling you a //twink,//” you say, swallowing your laughter. “It’s a, uhm. Like a cute guy.” Colby nods in understanding. He looks around the cafeteria for a moment, thinking to himself. Then he says, “Alright. So how can I play into that role? You know, like a sorta method actor?” You unwrap your sandwich from its plastic and think about that. Playing a role? As an actor? “Well, here’s the thing,” you say, feeling an opportunity coming. You bite into your sandwich. “Twinks are typically, y’know, //bottoms.// They take instead of give. And since you’re straight—” “I’m //over// that,” Colby says, waving the straight away. “I hope this isn’t really weird to say, bro. But after our last video. Me and you. That was some //cloud nine// shit. Like, I’m feeling ready.” Colby gives you big puppy dog eyes. You can tell he’s eager. There’s a deep hunger inside him. While he’s vulnerable, do you toss him to the wolves? Or do you lead Colby gently to pasture? <h3>Where do you send Colby?</h3> [[To the wolves (Pt. 1).]] [[To pasture (Pt. 1).]]

<h1>To the wolves (Pt. 1).</h1> “There’s an app called Grindr,” you say. “Make an account there and accept the //first// offer.” Colby obediently follows your instructions. He downloads the app and you write his bio for him: __“Hungry to bottom for the first time. Looking for someone big and thick. I’m looking to be sore.”__ When he reads the bio you wrote, Colby swallows down nervousness. Then gives a thumbs up. You upload several seductive images of him, and within minutes, Colby gets a Grindr message. Later that night, your best friend meets up at //Tassskmaster69//’s apartment for a rendezvous. You spend hours wondering how things went. //Did I make the wrong choice? Is Colby in danger?// Around midnight, a video finally gets uploaded to Colby’s OnlyFans, titled __“A nervous twink.”__ He’s spread wide for the man’s cock, massaging it between his asscheeks but not receiving it. In the video’s description: __“sry I tried bottoming for the first time but I wasn’t ready :’( love y’all”__. [img['images/colby/17.webp']] <h3>But the video continues:</h3> [[To the wolves (Pt. 2).]]

<h1>To pasture (Pt. 1).</h1> “It’s not easy,” you warn Colby. “I mean, there’s a lot you gotta learn and prepare for and—” Colby glances around the cafeteria. When the coast is clear, he slides a hand beneath the table. His fingers press against your bulge, massaging your cock. He turns and looks into your eyes. “Bro, I wanna do this with someone I trust,” he says. “After seeing that one __‘Will you take a cock’__ comment, I did some research. I’ve been, y’know, stretching. With my fingers. I’m at four now.” With his free hand, Colby holds up four fingers. He puts them together and forms a claw-shape. His other hand continues to massage your bulge. Your cock grows thicker and longer, straining. You nod. Colby scopes out the cafeteria, then gestures toward the nearby men’s bathroom. In the stall, Colby sets up his phone and then licks his fingers. He lubricates his asshole for you. “I want all of you, baby,” he whispers, then slides down onto your throbbing cock. He trembles. [img['images/colby/19.webp']] <h3>Let's take this elsewhere</h3> [[To pasture (Pt. 2).]]

<h1>To the wolves (Pt. 2).</h1> The video description continues: “but i did learn to deepthroat tonight <3” [img['images/colby/18.webp']] In the video, Colby gags and gargles down the man’s thick cock. Your friend chokes and moans softly as the cock plunges further down his throat, saliva pooling down around the man’s balls. “Swallow it, fuckin’ //bitch,//” the man says, grabbing Colby’s head and forcing him down to the hilt. Colby’s eyes bulge as the man coats his throat with hot cum. Colby chokes, coughing, gasping. When he finally comes up for air, Colby wipes his glistening mouth and looks into his camera. He gives a big goofy grin, smiling with webs of cum between his teeth. Then he gives a wink. <h3>Time for a montage:</h3> [[Happy-go-Colby.]]

<h1>Happy-go-Colby.</h1> The next few weeks are bliss. Colby’s OnlyFans reaches the top 100 subscribed for gay men. On weekends, and sometimes even during school, you and Colby record more videos together. It seems that Colby’s lust gradually becomes insatiable. //I told you so, //Rae always seems to say. And that vacancy you felt before—that weird sense of limbo—completely evaporated over time. Colby is happier than ever. Your best friend has learned to ride and suck cock like a champion. The same guy who used to be a “tits man” now calls himself a “size bitch.” He likes them //thick.// One weekend at Colby’s, you both invited Andrew to come back over and “play some games.” Somehow you convinced him to fuck the both of you. By the end of the weekend, your holes were gaping wide and sore. Even Andrew himself said his dick was exhausted from smashing. Last week Colby started using Grindr to recruit different “actors” for his OnlyFans recordings. But he promises that you, Oliver, are the only person //I’ll ever fuck with the camera turned off.// And it seems true. After Colby won his last wrestling tournament, his energy was hyperactive. That night he celebrated by dumping his cum deep inside your throat and belly. For //hours.// On that same night, lying together in your bed, he turned to you and asked, “I have a question.” You nodded. He seemed a bit nervous. Colby cleared his throat and put his hand on your chest. “If I were to become a call boy,” he says, grinning. “Should I go for big //money,// or big //cock?//” <h3>Grant him guidance:</h3> [[Go for the gold.]] [[Go for the girth.]]

<h1>To pasture (Pt. 2).</h1> The school bell rang too soon. Neither of you even got to climax. Later that night, however, Colby asks you to come over to shoot another video. To //finish the job.// Of course, you accept. [img['images/colby/20.webp']] You start by bathing his asshole with your tongue. Colby’s still stretched for you, gaping wide. When you slide deep inside him, your friend throws his head back and moans. “Oh, //fuck.//” His guts feel like velvet around your cock. You fuck him hard and wide, smashing his prostate. Colby’s eyes roll back into his head. It’s not like you’re recording anymore. It’s just good fucking. Your friend cums first, spewing all over his bare stomach. And then you breed his belly full. <h3>Time for a montage:</h3> [[Happy-go-Colby.]]

<h1>A spoonful of magic.</h1> It’s a Saturday night. Even from inside your car, you hear music and hollers from the frat house. Rae convinces you to let him twist “a little fairy nerve pill” over your wrists. It calms you a bit. “Let’s walk and talk, kid,” Rae says, and you oblige. You step out the car and trail the sidewalk. As you slowly approach The Kitchen, the rap beats grow louder. The four-story house looms. “So what we’ve got here,” the fairy says, waving toward the mansion, “is a sort of beasts’ den.” You think to yourself, //Is that supposed to calm me?// But Rae //shhh//’s you and continues talking. “The missions from here forward are going to require //gut.// And //risk.// Colby? He was just //training,//” Rae says. “And yet you depended on me to quell your fears. Like I’m some sorta babysitter.” Between a pair of curtains, you watch a frat brother chug beer from two aluminum cans at once. “So what? You’re gonna spin some magic. Send me in there to get //raped?// To build //courage?//” Rae shrugs. “I wouldn’t put it like //that,//” he says. “But you’re right. I will be //sending you in there.// Alone. //No Rae.// And your mission?” He points to a room on the top floor. “Reach that bedroom.” You look up, ask, “And what’s so special about //that// room?” But Rae cheekily shrugs, as usual. So you pose a different question. “I’m //so// gonna get murdered. A ton of drunken straight jocks?” “Oh, //c’mon,// Oliver,” he says. “You should know me better. I put a little, um, //spice// in The Kitchen.” And with that, Rae blips from existence. And you’re alone. Trembling up to the frat’s front door. <h3>Who goes there?</h3> [[The first floor.]]

<h1>The first floor.</h1> You knock on the towering white door. And wait. And //wait.// Behind the door, music thumps. Glass shatters. Men holler and beat on tables in unison. And eventually, the doorknob turns. “Oh hey, man,” the guy says. He’s a six-foot stack of lean, tan swimmer’s body, with a buzzcut. The whites of his eyes are shot with lightning bolts of red. He’s high as //fuck,// teetering around. “Uhm, hey,” you say, peering around him into the massive wooden-floored foyer. “Sorry I’m late.” The guy scans you up and down. You can’t tell if he’s trying to assess you, or just really stoned. “No prob, my guy. But uh,” he says, pointing his thumb behind him, “the party is Beta Pi only.” //Fuck,// you think to yourself. //Now what? God damn it, Rae.// The guy leans in and squints at you. Then he falls straight toward you. You quickly side-step and watch him plummet to the ground. Then he lies there, massaging his fingers on the concrete, mumbling to himself about “pillows.” With the front door open and unguarded, you slip inside. //Okay,// you think. //Top floor. Bedroom.// You already know there are four floors to the mansion. So you start searching for the staircase. First you come across a massive dining room, where frat guys play beer pong with Solo cups. One dude tosses the plastic white ball into the air and smacks it. It soars directly toward you. The ball //thwacks// against your chest. Then everyone turns toward you, their eyebrows raising. Quickly, not wanting to get caught as an intruder, you slip away and flee into the first bedroom. <h3>Um, ocupado?</h3> [[The Freshman.]]

<h1>The Freshman.</h1> The room is completely dark. You shut the door behind you and lock it. Catching your breath. Then you hear a voice from across the room. “God, this fucking //sucks,//” the young guy says. [img['images/betapi/1.webp']] Through a door that links to another room, you see a guy stroking his cock beneath a lamplight. He hasn’t seemed to notice you. But he looks like a younger guy, probably nicer. He might help. You tip-toe toward the connecting door and knock gently on the doorframe. But he keeps going. “It won’t //stooop,//” he moans, arching his back with pleasure. “How many times do I gotta //cum?//” He reaches over to his bedside table for the bottle of lotion. And notices you standing there. Hovering in the doorway. His eyes scan you up and down. And then he keeps stroking his cock. “Tommy said,” the guy moans, rubbing lotion around his shaft. “Freshman don’t get help.” <h3>Pardonne-moi?</h3> [[Who is Tommy?]]

<h1>Who is Tommy?</h1> “What do you mean?” the guy asks, spinning his palm around the head of his cock, biting his lip. “Tommy is //prez.// He leads Beta Pi.” His eyes lower to your hips. “Please, dude. Just stay there.” You reluctantly remain, watching the guy pleasure himself. Every stroke makes him gasp a little. His eyes focus on your crotch, watching your crotch bulge grow into a long outline of hard cock. “Oh, //fuck,//” he whispers. “I so wish I could help, man. I //so// wish. But Tommy said Freshman—” “What do you mean?” you ask, resisting the temptation to run over and give the guy your cock. Already you imagine shoving it deep down his hot throat. “Why can’t the Freshman ‘get help’?” Now the guy is double-fisting his cock, raising his hips and fucking his cock through his palms. “Dunno,” he moans, lips quivering. “This is the Freshman floor. Tommy said we can’t get help.” Now you’re starting to understand The Kitchen’s floor plan. Each floor must represent a level: first for Freshman, second for Sophomores, and so on. And you need to get to the fourth floor. Suddenly the guy curls his toes, rolls his eyes back, and spews cum. “Oh, //fuck.// Oh, //fucking//—” [img['images/betapi/2.webp']] <h3>Geronimo!</h3> [[An uncommon room.]]

<h1>An uncommon room.</h1> You get the hell out of there. After that guy bathed himself in his cum, he started right back up. And he looked even //hungrier.// Like he might’ve pinned you down and made you his cocksleeve. But you’re on a mission. Is it //resisting temptation?// The gauntlet that Rae is putting you through? Already the boner beneath your jeans feels painful. It presses against your waistband, begging. You tip-toe past the dining room, avoiding the flock of rowdy drunk dudes, and wander around. //Where is that fuckin’ staircase? And why is this place built like a labyrinth?// You spin in circles. At the end of the hallway is a large opening, leading into some common room. It seems empty. You notice a black upright piano in one corner. You think to yourself, //Well, that’s unexpected.// Then you turn and get a //truly// unexpected sight. A twink on a couch, silently staring at his cock. Does he even notice you? He looks like he’s in a trance. You refrain from any quick movements. [img['images/betapi/3.webp']] <h3>Hello?</h3> [[Waiting for Big.]]

<h1>Waiting for Big.</h1> "I’m waiting for my Big,” the guy mumbles. He doesn’t look away from his swaying hard-on. “Okay,” you say slowly and calmly, trying to keep things cool. You then ask, “What is your Big?” The guy seems like he’s been hypnotized. And his cock looks painfully hard. You want to //help.// “My Big is Seth,” he says. “I’m his Little. I’m his little Freshman. He told me to sit here and wait. I’m his Little so I’m listening. Seth said he’ll reward. He said ‘watch your cock while I’m gone.’” The guy licks his lips. He doesn’t look away from his penis. Maybe this //Seth// guy can help you? If he’s an upperclassmen in the fraternity, then he surely knows the full layout of The Kitchen. Right on cue, some tall muscular guy shows up in the common room doorway. Butt ass naked. His cock dangling between his legs. He completely ignores you, says, “Good, Little.” And snaps. The twink immediately tears off his clothes and flips on the couch. The //Seth// guy slides behind, lining up his girth with the guy’s hole. Then he rams it inside, shoving his hand in Little’s mouth. [img['images/betapi/4.webp']] <h3>Anyone? Help?</h3> [[Up the staircase.]]

<h1>Up the staircase.</h1> It took some time to get any information from Seth. You asked him for help finding the staircase, but he was too involved with his Little’s asshole. The younger guy looked like he was suffering. “//Please// touch me,” the Little begged. But Seth refused to jack the other guy off, saying //No help.// The Little wasn’t even allowed to jack himself off. You repeated your question at least five times. “Middle of the hall,” Seth said, ramming his cock against his Little’s prostate. “Door on the left.” Then Seth spewed. He slipped his condom off and forced Little to suck the cum out like yogurt. You left when the younger guy started gargling on Seth’s cum. Down the hallway, to the middle. //Finally, a fucking staircase.// You shuffle up the stairs and push through a door into another hall. “I hope you’re satisfied,” you whisper aloud to Rae. But no response. You //know// he’s listening. Before moving any farther down the hall, you listen for sounds. This should be the Sophomores. On the left side of the hallway you hear a one-sided conversation. Maybe he’s on a phone call? The voice is low and deep, so you can’t really understand what he’s saying. Just //yeah, mmm.// On the right side of the hall you hear a group of guys giggling about something. About what? The voices blend together, you can’t make out what they’re saying, except the phrase “I win.” There are doors all along each side of the hallway. Any one of them could lead to the staircase. But any of them could land you in another suspicious room. Where do you go: left or right? <h3>Left or right?</h3> [[To the left, Pt. 1.]] [[To the right, Pt. 1.]]

<h1>To the left, Pt. 1.</h1> You push open the door. Judging by the trophies along his wall, a hockey player’s bedroom. He’s kicked back on his bed talking into the phone. “You know I miss you, baby. You’re my girl.” But at his chest, kissing and nibbling at the hockey player’s neck, another guy. His roommate? Across the room you spot another bed. That side of the room is decorated with tennis trophies. “I know, I know,” the hockey guy says, stifling a moan. “Yeah, I’ve been so faithful. I promise.” The tennis guy rubs his hands up and down the hockey player’s body, massaging his bulge. [img['images/betapi/5.webp']] “I love you, too,” the guy says into the phone, and then, “I’m headed straight to bed. I promise.” As soon as he ends the call, he looks down into the tennis player’s eyes with a twisted smile. “You keep doing that, I’m gonna fuck you while I’m on the phone with that bitch,” he whispers. //Hello? Do they even see me?// You linger in the doorway, waving for attention. But to no avail. “Call her up,” the tennis player says. “Put her on speaker. I want her to know that I’m //better.//” <h3>Better?</h3> [[To the left, Pt. 2.]]

<h1>To the right, Pt. 1.</h1> You push open the door. Three small beds, three guys playing a round of rock-paper-scissors. They must be teammates. All along the walls, photos of rowing team victories and gold medals. “Okay, winner gets caboose,” one guy says, smiling eagerly, and then they rock-paper-scissors. The smallest of the guys, probably a few inches shorter than you, wins. “Finally!” he fist-pumps. The other two guys look at each other and laugh. But the short one doesn’t get what’s funny. //“What?// I //never// get caboose! Just because I’m short doesn’t mean—” but then he’s interrupted. The two guys throw the short one onto a bed and start stripping him down. They look hungry. The short one tosses and turns, complaining about how //it isn’t fair! I won fair and square, y’all!// “Alright, alright,” one of the bigger guys says. “I’ll let you be //middle// then. But only this one time.” The other taller guy looks offended. He asks, “Then who plays //front// of the train? 'Cause I wanna fuck—” The first taller guy strips down and throws himself on the bed, lifting his legs in the air, smiling. “For my brothers, I’ll take the hit this time.” The other two guys, short and tall, share a high-five. [img['images/betapi/7.webp']] <h3>Gotta love teamwork:</h3> [[To the right, Pt. 2.]]

<h3>To the left, Pt. 2</h3> “Steven?” the girl asks on speaker phone. “Did you butt dial me? Or do you //already// miss me?” She waits for his answer. But Steven’s mouth is full, lapping at his roommate’s sphincter. The hockey player tests the other guy’s asshole with two fingers, then three, and then nods. “Remember how you like it real, //real// slow, baby?” Steven asks toward the speaker phone. “Yeah,” his girlfriend says. “I can’t take you fast. But I know you like it slow, anyways, baby.” Steven chuckles, aims his cock toward the tennis player’s asshole, grips onto the guy’s cheeks. “You don’t know me at all, bitch,” he says, then punctures his roommate’s body with a thrust. The tennis player yelps in pain and pleasure. Instantly the girlfriend panics, starts screaming. But the guys aren’t listening. Steven fucks his roommate //hard,// their skin slapping and echoing.The hockey player mumbles to his roommate, “I’m not gonna fuck you once. Not //twice.//” The tennis player gives a long boyish moan. “Fuck me three times, Steven,” he begs. “Or more.” Considering they’re gonna be at it for a while, you opt to go search for the staircase elsewhere. [img['images/betapi/6.webp']] <h3>Getting difficult:</h3> [[Stumbling for stairs.]]

<h1>Stumbling for stairs.</h1> //Holy fuck,// you think to yourself, stumbling down the second floor hallway in search for stairs. //This boner is going to fucking kill me.// You curse Rae. You’re walking through a goddamn //harem.// Instead of slipping right into each room, you bend down and press your ears against the doors. Seven rooms in a row, you hear boyish moans or men grunting or begging or wet skin slapping. It seems your fairy has turned Beta Pi’s legacy against itself. It’s reputation for giving girls drugs. Then bringing those girls back to The Kitchen. Passing her around like a rag doll. Filling her up. Now each room is like a private porno. Guys pleasuring each other. Dominating each other. And you’re so //tempted.// You want to witness each one. You want to leap into each bed forever. But you’re unsure of Rae’s test. Is it //resistance?// What if you’re supposed to fuck //every guy?// Your poor cock and asshole would collapse. But your boner right now is fucking //unbearable.// Finally you discover the staircase behind a quiet door. This time it’s located at the hallway’s end. //Who designs shit like this?// you think, and you swear you hear Rae chuckling off in the distance. You walk up the stairs. Almost limping. Exhausted. //Needing.// You can’t hold back much longer. When you push open the door to the third floor, where the Juniors are located, you breathe in. To no surprise: long mysterious hallway. Doors on the left and right. But //everything// is quiet. <h3>Where to, Prince?</h3> [[Risk the left, Pt. 1.]] [[Risk the right, Pt. 1.]]

<h1>To the right, Pt. 2.</h1> The short guy saddles up to the edge of the bed, cock stiff. “You won’t regret this,” he promises. The tall guy on the bed, his ass ready to receive, smooches a kiss toward his two teammates. “Last time we had a //bitch// between us,” the guy at caboose says to the roommate on the bed. //Hello? Do they even see me?// You linger in the doorway, waving for attention. But to no avail. “Well, he’s still a //bitch,//” the guy on the bed says about the twink. The shorter guy frowns, then rams his girthy cock into the “front” of the train’s asshole. The guy spread on the bed gasps out. Defending his brother, the other tall guy bends down behind the twink and slides up inside him. But he must have a monstrous cock, because the twink in center goes cross-eyed and limp. “Holy //fuck,// Christian,” the twink cries out. “I think your dick is pressing up against my stomach.” The big-dicked rower puts his hands on the twink’s belly and rubs like he’s his pregnant wife. The next half-hour consists of the trio of rowers see-sawing deep into each other’s assholes. When you finally decide to slip out, they’re spread out on the bed in a triangle of masturbation. [img['images/betapi/8.webp']] <h3>Getting difficult:</h3> [[Stumbling for stairs.]]

<h1>Risk the left, Pt. 1.</h1> As soon as the door swings open, you’re cursed again. A guy on his knees, sucking his buddy. “Curtis, //oh,// Curtis,” the guy getting sucked groans. “You’re the best. Fucking. Team manager.” Along the walls are baseball trophies and pendants. Sharpied on a photo of Curtis: //HEALSLUT.// “Bro, please make that sound you did with Jaime earlier tonight,” the guy begs, his toes curling. Curtis looks up and pushes the guy’s cock down his throat, giving a sloppy guttural sucking. “Fuck yes, bitch. Fuck //yes,//” the guy shouts. Then he cums into Curtis’s throat, thrusting forward. [img['images/betapi/9.webp']] When Curtis finishes draining his buddy, the guy //pops// his dick out and pat-pats Curtis’s head. “Such a good boy,” the man says. “How much of the team do you have in you now? Eight?” Curtis holds up nine fingers. The guy pat-pats Curtis’s cheek and leaves, walking right past you. Now you’re alone with Curtis the baseball team’s manager. He’s panting for breath on his knees. Curtis leans over to a bedside counter and grabs a bottle of water, then chugs the whole thing. “Alright, you,” he says, eyeing you from head to toe. “Think I can’t take more? Think I’m //weak?// Just ‘cause I’m //team manager?// Because I couldn’t make the //team?//” He looks really determined. <h3>Curtis proves himself:</h3> [[Risk the left, Pt. 2.]]

<h1>Risk the right, Pt. 1.</h1> As soon as the door swings open, you’re cursed again. A guy on his bed, naked with a hard on. He’s got his earbuds in listening to some thrashing music. Above his bed, a huge poster of him. Apparently he’s an Olympic-qualifying diver. And //Zach Attack// must be his sports nickname. Zach doesn’t notice you. He’s got his eyes closed, jamming out, playing with his long erection. The way he’s sprawled out, you can’t help but imagine this diver has a fat ass. You’re fiending. //What the fuck do I do now?// you ask. Your body literally feels like it //cannot// simply walk away. [img['images/betapi/12.webp']] From across the hall you hear some poor twink getting railed into smithereens. It doesn’t help. You imagine crawling atop Zach and pounding his bubble ass until he’s swimming in your cum. Suddenly, because the universe is //cruel,// Zach decides to flip onto his belly. Ass up in the air. Back bending into an arch. You’re about to leap out from your skin. You move an inch closer. He still doesn’t notice you. He wiggles into a comfortable position and gives out a soft moan. <h3>Give me strength:</h3> [[Risk the right, Pt. 2.]]

<h1>Risk the left, Pt. 2</h1> One moment you’re getting grabbed by Curtis. The next, your cock is out, pants on the floor. Curtis kneels obediently at your feet, suctioning your cock to the back of his cum-slick throat. You grip onto the team manager’s neck and push him down. Curtis gargles, groans, and hums. His tongue reaches the base of your cock and tongues at your balls. You can hardly breathe. [img['images/betapi/10.webp']] When Curtis does his signature sloppy sucking, you can’t hold. The build-up has been too long. You gasp out a moan. Curtis pops off your cock and allows you to paint his face with hot semen. [img['images/betapi/11.webp']] <h3>I will survive:</h3> [[The final staircase.]]

<h1>The final staircase.</h1> You’re drained. Utterly fucking drained. Like your spirit has been summoned out from your cock. And now you’re a specter haunting the halls of Beta Pi. Crawling along. Finishing this mission. You search around the third floor for the staircase. Failing at first. Opening to more surprises. Golf team double-stuffing their state champ. Defensive linemen passing around the waterboy. But you managed to escape temptation. Only because you’ve been so thoroughly drained. Eventually you discover the final staircase, so you shamble up the steps. //Okay. Final bedroom.// Of course, nothing comes easy. The fourth floor has a different layout than the others. A square. The hallway runs left to right, turning into two other hallways that lead to some unknown //others.// “Rae,” you whisper out loud. “If I failed this mission because my dick got drained, then //oh well.//” Everybody //else// was. Why should Oliver have to roam like a hapless pilgrim, surveying the scene? While you stand around having a silent argument with yourself, you make out a couple sounds. Toward the left side of the hall, it sounds like some guy scolding someone. He sounds pissed. The other side of the hall, toward the right, it sounds like a couple of guys laughing together. <h3>Where to, pilgrim?</h3> [[The final left, Pt. 1.]] [[The final right, Pt. 1.]]

<h1>Risk the right, Pt. 2.</h1> You close your eyes. You imagine an ocean crashing. Birds diving in formation. Anything else. When you think you’ve found some zen, some composure to leave, you open your eyes again. Zach has his hands on his ass cheeks, massaging it. Still turned away from you, eyes closed. You move a few inches closer. A bit closer. His fat ass rises and jiggles in the air. You reach out. [img['images/betapi/13.webp']] You massage Zach’s ass cheeks. Gently at first. Then you pick up the pace. He doesn’t react. //Does he have any fucking idea?// He keeps listening to his music. But then, he curls a smile. You drop your pants. Precum makes your cock slick for entry, so you lift his waist and plunge. Zach gasps out with pleasure, throwing his head back, his earbuds flinging out from his ears. //“Fuu-uu-uu-uuck,”// he moans out. You’re sure the whole floor can hear him. //Good,// you think. When you’ve sufficiently fucked Zach a new rectum, you unload a pool of cum into his guts. [img['images/betapi/14.webp']] <h3>I will survive:</h3> [[The final staircase.]]

<h1>The final left, Pt. 1.</h1> The door is cracked. You crouch close to it, listening in on the conversation happening inside. “How could you do this to //me?//” the angry guy says. “I was supposed to be your //best bro,// bro.” The guy sounds like he’s been crying. The other guy softly apologizes, saying, “I’m so, so sorry.” You peer between the small crack of the doorway. The two guys are sat at the edge of a bed. “Sorry won’t cut it,” the angry guy says. “You //fucked// my girl. How many times, Dean? Tell me.” Deafening silence then follows. It could cut right through you. You feel like getting the hell away. But then the angry guy says, “You two got a good thing going, huh? Must have made a //routine.//” Dean looks confused, so the other guy elaborates. “Like when y’all fucked behind my back, //bro,// how did she get things started? She jiggled your balls? What’s up, //bro?// Fucking tell me, //bro.//” Dean takes a deep breath in, then says, “She uhm, gets me hard.” The other guy simply nods. Then he unzips his jeans. He looks at Dean with a menacing gaze. “You’re her. I’m you. Got it?” Dean flinches. He now knows his punishment. He reaches over to begin asking for forgiveness. [img['images/betapi/15.webp']] <h3>Poor, poor Dean:</h3> [[The final left, Pt. 2.]]

<h1>The final right, Pt. 1.</h1> The door is cracked. You crouch close to it, listening in on the conversation happening inside. “She was next //level// bad,” one guy says, passing a joint to his bud. “But I was //mad// desperate.” You peer between the small crack of the doorway. The two guys are sat at the edge of a bed. “Isn’t it kinda weird, Evan,” the first guy says. “We fucked the same girl. On the same night?” Suddenly they both burst into laughter. They’re //really// stoned. The guy named Evan exhales, then asks, “Wait, was I first or you first?” They think about that. And then start laughing again. “Like, what I mean is,” Evan says, coughing weed from his throat. “Did your cum slick her up? Because I’m so thankful. She might’ve been ugly, but that ass was //smoo-oo-ooth// as butter.” “You did anal, //too?//” the other guy asks. “Damn. Well did her ass taste good?” Evan nods. “Must’ve been me first, then,” his friend decides. “Cause I got some delicious //pineapple// cum.” “Ahh, no wonder she gets game,” Evan says. “My ass tasted like a fruit? I’d throw it around.” They laugh. The other guy finishes the joint, then says, “What’ve you got? Cherry-flavored?” “For now. Unless you wanna toss some pineapple on that shit,” Evan says. His friend shrugs. Next thing, Evan’s thrown on the bed, pants ripped off, his asshole getting tongued by his friend. [img['images/betapi/18.webp']] <h3>Hey, it's a fruit cock-tail:</h3> [[The final right, Pt. 2.]]

<h1>The final left, Pt. 2</h1> You can’t look away. Just moments ago you thought you were finally //free// from this torture show. But then Dean describes, step by step, how he used to fuck his friend’s girlfriend. And enacts it. After getting his friend hard, Dean had to give his bro head until the guy was almost cumming. “Well I already know her favorite position,” the angry guy says, “so let’s get things fucking //riding.//” The friend sits down in a chair and spreads his legs. Dean sits down on his lap like he’s Santa. “Did you two fuckin' kiss?” the friend asks, already knowing the answer. Then Dean slides on the cock. [img['images/betapi/16.webp']] “//Moan// for me, Dean,” his friend demands. “Moan like she moaned for you. Say you //love// me.” Dean takes his friends cock deep, and each time it smacks his prostate, he moans, //“I love you.//” Before breeding Dean, the guy asks how he usually cums inside her. Dean //thought// it was over. But when he confesses to usually cumming after getting deepthroated, Dean gets flipped over. [img['images/betapi/17.webp']] “Say it now, Dean,” the guy says, but cum froths out from Dean’s throat as he gags down cock. <h3>The end?</h3> [[The long walk.]]

<h1>The long walk.</h1> You’re straining again. Boner pressed up against the waistband of your jeans as you wander. Down the hallways. //Am I going in circles? Where is that fucking room?// And then you see it. Above a door painted bright red, the name of the man that Rae has sent you here for: “Tommy.” The President of the Beta Pi fraternity. The man himself. And then here’s you: horny, exhausted. “Please, //please,// Rae,” you whisper, slowly walking toward your probable execution. “Go easy. //Please// let Tommy be a nice guy.” You think on that. “//Fuck.// There’s no way he’s gonna be nice.” You stride up to the door. When you press your ear against it, you hear nothing. Total silence. Check your cock? Still horny. So fucking horny. What if the final challenge is to //resist// Tommy? Again you hear what seems to be Rae laughing, somewhere far away. “//Fuck you,//” you whisper. You pat your ass. You pat your cock. You pat your throat. No idea what’s about to get violated. And then you knock. You swallow down nervousness. “Yeah, come in,” a deep voice demands. <h3>A boss battle:</h3> [[The last room.]]

<h1>The final right, Pt. 2.</h1> You can’t look away. Just moments ago you thought you were finally free from this torture show. But then Evan’s getting his ass fingered wide by his friend, clawing at the bedsheets, moaning. “Holy //fu-//” Evan gasps. “I knew you fucked her, man. That’s why I wanted her. I wanted, //uhhh-//” Evan interrupts himself with a moan. His friend tongues him like a dog lapping from a dog bowl. Evan’s friend crawls on the bed and rubs his cock against Evan’s hole. “I know you wanted me,” his friend says. “All this time, I’ve loved fuckin’ with you. But now I’m really gonna fuck you.” [img['images/betapi/19.webp']] Evan’s friend slowly pushes his cock into the man’s entrance, his asshole glistening with saliva. “Oh my god,” Evan gasps out. “We shouldn’t have waited. Oh, //fuck.// You feel. You feel so //fu—//” Evan’s eyes roll back into his head as his friend goes deeper, Evan’s insides spreading wide. Then his friend start fucking him like a rabbit, and Evan cries out with boyish moans of ecstasy. When Evan’s friend is about to cum, he pulls out and spews “pineapple” all over Evan’s body. [img['images/betapi/20.webp']] <h3>The end?</h3> [[The long walk.]]

//The last room// “So you made it,” Tommy says. He’s sat on a couch, phone in one hand, cock in his other hand. Apparently he’s recording himself. “Oh,” he explains. “I’ve got cameras throughout the place.” [img['images/betapi/21.webp']] He pats the cushion next to him. You hesitantly step over, sitting down. He turns the phone. Tommy filters through the camera options: Freshman floor, Sophomore floor, so on and so forth. “Saw you earlier tonight,” Tommy says, taking his phone back. “Gotta admit. You’re impressive. You snuck your whole way up here.” He puts his phone down and claps, his dick swaying along. You try to say something, but nothing comes out. And you try to ignore Tommy’s monster cock, but it’s flopping around in his lap. “You’re no Beta Pi,” he says. “I remember every single face.” //Oh fuck,// you’re thinking. You’re starting to sweat. //Rae. Rae, please.// “But as for tonight, kid? Well, I’ll definitely remember your face after tonight.” He snaps. “Spread out on the couch.” <h3>That's an order:</h3> [[Yes, Mr. President.]]

<h1>Yes, Mr. President.</h1> “Don’t gag,” he demands, lining up his cock with your mouth. It’s shimmering. It’s //massive.// There’s //no// fucking way you won’t gag on Tommy. “Don’t you dare gag, or I’ll make you vomit.” Then he plunges into your throat. Immediately you gag. So he starts fucking your mouth harder. And you gag again. So Tommy picks up the pace. He starts ramming the back of your throat. [img['images/betapi/22.webp']] “Say my name, //bitch boy,//” he demands. You gargle. Spit comes out. You nearly choke on it. “Maybe I’ll push my cock down to your stomach,” he says. “Feel what you ate for breakfast.” Tears are streaming from your face. And now your ears are ringing. Slurping on Tommy’s cock. Tommy’s balls slapping your forehead. Hip smashing against your chin. He pinches your nose. “Can’t breathe, huh?” You shake your head, eyes bulging. You’re starting to suffocate on him. “Learn to breathe around my cock,” he says. “Because my cock is your //fucking// oxygen now.” [img['images/betapi/23.webp']] <h3>I see the light:</h3> [[End of the labyrinth.]]

<h1>End of the labyrinth.</h1> When Tommy finally cums inside you, he doesn’t unplug his cock from your throat immediately. He waits for every single drop of sperm, every piece of Tommy DNA, to flood down to your belly. Then when he pops his dick out, you gasp for breath. Some cum shoots out from your throat. Tommy leans back against the couch, satisfied with himself. He watches you until you’re done. “So how was it?” he asks. You sit up and collapse against the back of Tommy’s couch, gasping. He wraps his arm around you and brings you in. “There’s a good boy. Wipe those tears away.” You oblige. Then Tommy leans his head on your shoulder. "Well, you passed the orientation, kid." It takes you a moment to react, because you’re so disoriented. But then you ask, “Orientation?” Tommy raises his brow. “Yeah, aren’t you here to join Beta Pi?” He looks genuinely concerned. You scan his face to make sure he’s not fucking with you. And then you shake your head, //No.// “Oh,” he says. “Well, then.” He looks around the bedroom, trying to find the right words to say. “Usually one of my underlings initiates the Freshman. So, at least you got some rare Tommy.” He taps his dick. You sigh. //What the fuck is happening? Did I just get throatfucked for nothing?// “Look, kid. I’ll make it up to you,” he says, pulling you in close to his chest. “Beta Pi for a night? How about that? You’ll get The Kitchen experience. My boys oughta treat you right and warm.” <h3>What do you do?</h3> [[Accept the offer.]] [[Reject the offer.]]

<h1>Where did I park my car?</h1> You’re sore. It’s morning. The bastard birds are chirping. You’re limping around the campus. //Where the fuck did I park that fucking car?// You remember a tree. Somewhere beneath a tree. Finally you see your car. You cross the road, unlock it, and collapse into the driver’s seat. Nothing sweeter than sweet, //sweet// isolation. You need //actual// sleep. And a long, hot shower. “Hey, cumdumpster!” You turn to the passenger seat and discover Rae there. That little fucker. Spinning in his little fairy circles. “Well, tell me //all// about it. Did you make any friends at school?” You turn away, staring straight forward. Ignore him. That’ll make him go away. Just ignore him. Rae blips next to your ear, whispers, “Remember I can read your thoughts?” You swat at him. The fairy lands on the driving wheel and puts his fists on his hips. “Oh, now //calm down,// Oliver. Someday you’ll //thank// me. For this. And for Colby. Remember Colby? Oh, he //rearranged// you real good.” You start the car and pull out from the parking spot. Driving out from campus, into downtown. Rae flutters next to your ear. “C’mon, now. //C’moo-oon.// You gotta admit Beta Pi was awesome.” “No,” you say, focusing on the road. And then you wait. You breathe out. “Okay, maybe a little.” Rae flutters with excitement. He lounges across the dashboard. “Only a little? Really, Oliver?” For a moment, you think you feel cum bubbling around in your stomach. Oozing in your throat. You flick on the turn signal and smile. “Alright, Rae,” you confess. “It was pretty awesome.” <h3>Beta Pi: Completed!</h3> [[Back to list of targets.|Who are the targets?]]

<h1>Special Ending: The Freshman.</h1> Special Ending: The Freshman Just as you're about to leave Tommy’s room in the morning, you pause in the doorway and turn. “By the way,” you say. “This guy on the first floor kept saying to me, ‘Freshman can’t get help.’” “Yeah,” he says. Then he yawns. “Did you help him? Because for //his //sake, I hope you didn’t.” You mull over that question. The way that kid eye-fucked you. You shrug and say, “I guess so.” Tommy raises an eyebrow. So you elaborate. “Well, he told me to stand still while he jacked off.” With that, Mr. President gives a sinister smile. “Well, //well,//” he says. “We’re goin’ //fishing// today.” Tommy hops out the bed, sends out a few text messages, and then marches out into the hall. You follow Tommy down to the first floor. He stands outside the Freshman’s dorm room, along with a dozen other upperclassmen. Within minutes, like experts, they capture and drag him out. [img['images/bonus/1.webp']] “Please, //please,//” the guy begs, flailing against a table. Tommy and his goons stripped the guy naked and strapped him to a table. And the twink kept pleading for mercy. “I’m //sorry,// Tommy!” But there was no saving him. Each of the upperclassmen took turns railing the Freshman’s hole, filling him with hot bubbling cum. Tommy declared, “We won’t stop until we reach //one-hundred!//” [img['images/bonus/2.webp']] Cum gushed out from the Freshman’s gaping asshole and pooled around his feet. When it was finally your turn, the twink had already been annihilated thirty times. “More, //more!//” he begged. And so you obliged. With the upperclassmen’s cum as lubricant, you fucked his poor brains out. <h3>Now the walk of victory:</h3> [[Where did I park my car?]]

<h1>Approach Matt.</h1> "Hey, my man," Matt says, giving a warm smile. Sweat glistens down his cheeks to his throat, sticking to his silver crucifix necklace. He pushes wet hair from his forehead. "Good run, huh?" "So good," you say. You already feel bad. Matt is famously a sweetheart. Just a good Christian boy obsessed with health, church, and volunteering. What could Rae possibly want with him? "Hey um," you continue, “so I've been thinking of starting a, like, a sort of //wellness// routine." Matt raises his eyebrows. "Really, Oliver?" He slaps your back. "Well, you came to the right soldier." You have his number from the roster, so Matt tells you to call him for a "consultation.” "Make sure you have a notepad ready," he says, waving goodbye, then adds, "and don't forget to bring your A-game, my guy!" Matt climbs into his SUV and drives off. As he disappears, you notice his yellow bumper sticker: "God gave me the will so that I will." You can’t help but cringe. On your walk toward your own car, Rae buzzes along, "You're right. Sweet kid." And then Rae shrugs, //too bad.// You're pretty sure Matt has been saving himself for marriage. Poor, sweet Matt. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Ring, ring.]]

<h1>Ring, ring.</h1> When you're home, you give Matt a call. Your heart thumps against your chest. //Is this a fucking crush, or something?// He answers. Then hangs up. A few seconds later, he calls back on video. "Sorry, my guy," he says, shirtless after his post-practice shower. "This alright? I like to think video gives stronger communication." You nod, trying to not study Matt’s stacks of muscles. [img['images/matt/1.webp']] "So for me," he says, "I think health is number one. And if you're not healing, then you're probably destroying. Okay?" You nod. It’s clear that he’s passionate about all of this. Matt smiles through the whole one-sided conversation. And you nod. And you nod. You go bobble-headed. "We'll put you on a diet," he says. As Matt talks, you trace his chest with your eyes. "Not that I'm talking about weight. You're all fine, my guy. I could lift you up easily." You think, //I wouldn't mind that.// Rae laughs in your head. Then Matt continues, "And also routines for exercise and prayer." You nod. You nod. //Wait.// You stop nodding. //Prayer?// That seems odd. Maybe a bit over the line? But before you can interrogate Matt on that, Rae stops you short: //Shut up and carry on, Oliver.// </h3>What's next?</h3> [[Carrying on.]]

<h1>Carrying on.</h1> The following week, Matt has you call him daily, as if he's your sponsor for some recovery program. //Always// checking in. Not like you’re bothered seeing Matt’s face and body on the daily. "How's the body? How's the brain?" he likes to ask, smiling wide, and then, "How's the spirit?" At first you thought he was being playful, but he seems dead-serious: //the spirit is essential.// “Will you pray with me, Oliver?" Matt now asks over video. It’s the end of the first week, and this is the first time he’s asked this. You freeze. For a moment, he thinks that the connection dropped. "Oh, yeah," you say, snapping out of it. "That's cool. //Praying?// Totally." Matt then folds his hands and you follow, bowing your heads together. You think to yourself, //But I’m literally his demon.// "Lord," he says, "I thank you for connecting Oliver with me. You have answered my prayers, that I might help someone reach for //wellness.// I have ran before and behind Oliver for many years, but now our paths finally cross. And we run together. I cherish this gift of brotherhood. Amen." When Matt concludes the prayer, he raises his head and breathes out. Rae pops into your brain, "Kid, I think he trusts you now." Your gut gnaws on itself. You feel guilty already. And you inhale. "Hey, Matt," you exhale. He smiles. "So I've been following these routines. Working out and everything. But I've been having this one problem. It’s kinda specific. I hope you don’t mind." <h3>Where's the problem?</h3> [[With my lower back.]] [[With my lower abdomen.]]

<h1>With my lower back.</h1> "Well, I've been following your push-up routine," you say. “I totally think that it's helping my back. Like I feel my posture straightening out already. But I've been feeling a bit, well, I guess, //unwell.//" Matt's eyes widen. Oh no, his greatest fear: //unwellness.// And you feel so guilty. All the guy wants in life is to make people feel well. And yet here’s Matt: tilting his head like a concerned puppy. "Well, I found this wellness blog online," you say, lying to him. "Because, you know, I'm trying to get confident with my body. And it //said,//" you stop to swallow down the nervousness. "It said I should work out totally nude, you know? For confidence. That it’d help me with my self-esteem." Matt thinks on that. It seems like he has a brief moral debate inside his head. Then he shrugs. "Wellness has many shapes, my man," he says. “And you’ve gotta do what you’ve gotta do.” You breathe out. "Okay, great. Well, so I've been doing //that.// But I've been feeling like my lower back. Like my uhm, butt? Like it's really sore. I’m sorta worried that I’m doing something wrong." "Yep," he nods, not fazed at all. “Total body wellness will make you sore from head to toes." But you press on with Rae's direction. "Well, I was wondering, uhm. Could I see your build? Like, how the push-ups have helped your wellness? You know, just to ease the, uh, worries?" <h3>What's next?</h3> [[He stretches out.]]

<h1>With my lower abdomen.</h1> "Well, I've been following your crunch routine," you say. “I totally think that it's helping my abs. Like I feel my stomach tightening up already. But I've been feeling a bit, well, I guess, //unwell.//" Matt's eyes widen. Oh no, his greatest fear: //unwellness.// And you feel so guilty. All the guy wants in life is to make people feel //well.// And yet here’s Matt: tilting his head like a concerned puppy. "Well, I found this wellness blog online," you say, lying to him. "Because, you know, I'm trying to get confident with my body. And it //said,//" you stop to swallow down the nervousness. "It said I should work out totally nude, you know? For confidence. That it’d help me with my self-esteem." Matt thinks on that. It seems like he has a brief moral debate inside his head. Then he shrugs. "Wellness has many shapes, my man," he says. “And you’ve gotta do what you’ve gotta do.” You breathe out. "Okay, great. Well, so I've been doing //that.// But I've been feeling like my waist area. Like my uhm, crotch? Like it's sore. I’m sorta worried that I’m doing something wrong." "Yep," he nods, not phased at all. “Total body wellness will make you sore from head to toes." But you press on with Rae's direction. "Well, I was wondering, uhm. Could I see your build? Like, how the crunches have helped your wellness? You know, just to ease the, uh, worries?" <h3>What's next?</h3> [[He pulls down.]]

<h1>He stretches out.</h1> "I guess we'll treat this like a physical," Matt says, setting his phone down on a table. As he strips down off camera, he continues talking. "We are God's image. Both you and me. So I think man helping man is God's will." Rae laughs in your head, says, "In that case, Oliver is a saint." When Matt comes back into frame, he kneels down on the couch and then flattens down onto his belly. His toned ass perks into the air. Your eyes trail down his shoulders, back, ass, legs. [img['images/matt/2.webp']] "Notice how I've aligned my shoulders with my hips," he says, but you're in a daze. "Some guys struggle with push-ups because -" Matt fades out. You’re imagining yourself underneath him. "Does that make sense?" You suddenly click back into reality. Matt walks off camera to put his clothes back on. //Damn it.// "You might have more questions later," Rae whispers in your mind. "Yeah, thanks," you say to Matt. "But I might have some questions later, if that’s alright?" <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Getting closer.]]

<h1>Getting closer.</h1> When Rae said you needed to become a Yes-man, you didn’t expect to attend church service with Matt and his whole fuckin’ family. But like Rae said, //It’s a small sacrifice for what’s to come.// Matt picked you up bright and early on Sunday. The church service was two hours long and bored you to absolute tears, but you felt special sitting next to the untouchable Virgin Matt. Now you’ve found yourself eating lunch at Matt’s house with his mother, father, and two younger sisters. You’re not good with these sorta situations: proper, good manners, smiling too much. “You were always Matt’s biggest competition,” his dad says, shoving a green bean into his mouth. You found that hilarious, considering you’ve never once defeated Matt in any race, ever. “I’m just glad you two have gotten close before graduation,” his mom says. “That high school is just //filled// with,” and she waves her hand in the air, disgusted. “So many rough types. //Brutes.//” You slowly nod. Matt’s younger sisters, the twins, stare at your every movement. They creep you out. You try to eat your mashed potatoes perfectly, quietly, nodding and smiling too much. When everyone finishes eating, Matt’s father excuses everyone. You expect to //finally// be freed, but Matt invites you to his room to //show you something.// “It’s about our wellness initiative.” <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Matt's room.]]

<h1>Matt's room.</h1> When you enter his bedroom, you’re met with a pristine bed. A wall filled with inspirational Bible verses, hand-carved crosses, and a few of Matt’s sports trophies. He locks the door behind you. “For my annoying sisters,” he says, rolling his eyes. He then walks into his closet. When Matt steps out completely naked, your eyes reflexively shut tight. He then laughs and whispers. “It’s alright, my man.” You slowly peel your eyes open and find him on the ground, clutching some weights in push-up position. He’s straightening his back. His ass clenches, legs tense up. [img['images/matt/4.webp']] “I wanted to show you that I’ve adopted that method,” he says, pushing down and lifting up. Pushing down and lifting up. Again. Again. “Nude exercise. I think it //does// help with wellness.” You can’t help but notice Matt’s growing erection slapping against the floor. But he isn’t fazed. He does a few more push-ups and then disappears to dress up. //Am I losing my goddamn mind?// “Let me know what else you learn, my man,” he says from the closet. “Always looking for tips.” <h3>What's next?</h3> [[A different kind of tip.]]

<h1>He pulls down.</h1> "I guess we'll treat this like a physical," Matt says, standing in front of a bathroom mirror. //Is he at church right now? This guy is too dedicated.// "We are God's image. Both you and me. So I think man helping man is God's will." Rae laughs in your head, says, "In that case, Oliver is a saint." Matt holds his phone with one hand and grabs his waistband with the other. When he pulls his pants down, his cock and balls tumble out. Your brain goes completely static. He’s semi-erect. [img['images/matt/3.webp']] "Notice how I keep my male parts loose," he says. "You don't want constricting underwear, because blood flow must -” Matt fades out. You're imagining yourself gagging down his full cock. "Does that make sense?" You suddenly click back into reality. Matt pulls his waistband back up and leaves the bathroom. //Damn.// "You might have more questions later," Rae whispers to you. "Yeah, thanks," you say to Matt. "But I might have some questions later, if that’s alright?" <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Getting closer.]]

<h1>A different kind of tip.</h1> You and Rae spend the next few days brainstorming. After seeing Matt naked on his bedroom floor, you’ve been ready to get absolutely plowed by him. But your fairy wants to take it slow. “If there’s anything to learn from this mission,” he says, “it’s patience.” You let out a huge groan. You flop down on the bed and rest your phone down on your chest. Rae flutters onto your nose. “Look, Oliver, you //had// the Beta Pi guys,” he says. “That was non-stop instant gratification. But Matt takes work. Believe it or not, fairy magic has a few rules. We have to work alongside //character.//” “But Matt is like, the local fuckin’ Jesus Christ,” you whine, swatting Rae away. “I bet this dude doesn’t even jack off.” Rae floats into the air, does a little nosedive, and then gently lands. “You’re joking, kid,” he says. “Good Christian boys? They’ve gotta wait until marriage. You know what that means?” You shake your head. Rae sighs. “It means they’re experts with the hand.” You can’t even picture it. The Divine and Holy Matt, rubbing one out at nighttime? Does he whip himself afterward to apologize to Christ? Rae taps his foot against your phone screen, smiling. “I think I know the next //wellness// step,” he says. “But it’s gotta be under that umbrella: //wellness.// Humans today are //all// about masturbation being so healthy. So natural. Well, let’s //lean// into that.” “Okay,” you say, eyebrow raised. “So what do I text him? ‘Hey bro. Uh, I dunno how to jack off’?” <h3>What's next?</h3> [[The morning call.]]

<h1>The morning call.</h1> It’s never that easy. There’s always some level of discomfort that comes with //The Next Step.// At least when Rae is in control. This time, he has you give Matt a call at fuckin’ six in the morning. “Hello?” Matt’s voice is rough, deeper. You feel like you’ve committed a deadly sin, interrupting the angel during his beauty rest. But Rae wanted you to call during the //morning wood// hours. “Matt? I’m so sorry,” you say, the words tumbling from your mouth. “I had a question. But, uhm, I probably could’ve waited until tomorrow.” You say all the right words, the ones Rae told you to. “Oliver?” he asks, slowly coming to consciousness. “You okay?” And right there, your heart melts. Rae flutters next to your other ear and whispers, “Don’t get sappy on me now. Finish the job!” “I’m okay, Matt,” you whisper. “I had a wellness question. It’s kinda personal. But I feel like I can trust you now.” You inhale and try to settle your shaky voice. “It’s about, uhm, self-pleasuring.” There’s a long silence. Rae crosses his fingers and winks, and you feel like you’re about to piss yourself. What if Matt catches on? That you’ve been dragging him along this fake-//wellness// shit? “Okay, my man,” he says. You hear his bedsheets rustle around. “I’ve had this talk with guys in my church men’s group. It’s totally natural as long as you don’t, uh, get too carried away with it.” “Yeah, totally,” you say, face getting hot. “Well, you know how you’ve shown me, like, form and stuff? I’ve been having some aches with my, y’know, self-pleasure techniques. Is it my form?” <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Give him the details.]]

<h1>Give him the details.</h1> You detail your masturbation technique to Matt, who seems utterly confused as to why you’d be feeling any pains. “It sounds harmless to me,” he says, wandering off into //wellness// thoughts. “Are you squeezing too hard? Or are your nails too long?” Matt continues with a series of innocent, reasonable questions that only further frustrate you, while Rae laughs himself to tears. “Maybe there’s something I’m missing,” he says. “Remember how I showed you my form the other day? When you had that question? Maybe do that for me so I can try and see what’s up.” Your eyes pop open. You look at Rae and he shrugs. //This isn’t what I expected. The roles are supposed to be reversed here, goddamn it.// The other side of the phone waits in silence. “Oh, um, okay,” you say. “You want me to just, like, hang up and send you a, um, video call?” “Sounds good,” Matt says, still stirring out from his sleep. He doesn’t sound nervous or fazed, as if this whole situation is innocent and totally reasonable. You hang up the phone and breathe. “Rae,” you say. “Am I about to do a private show? Am I about to jack off for this fuckin’ guy?” “No, //of course// not,” Rae says in a sarcastic tone. “Simply a //medical examination,// Oliver. Get your //little head// out of the gutter.” Then your phone starts buzzing. A video call request from Matt. //Shit.// You need questions to ask. To make this legit. So what technique are you “asking” about? <h3>What technique?</h3> [[Single-handed, ball-fondle.]] [[Double-fisting it.]]

<h1>Single-handed, ball-fondle.</h1> “Hey,” you say, greeting Matt with a wave. His hair is tousled, eyes half-open. He smiles back. Morning light pours through his bedroom windows, bathing his bare muscles in golden light. “Hey, my man,” he says, scratchy-voiced. “Last time I saw you this early, it was our marathon.” You laugh a little, he laughs a little, and the boner beneath your sheets begs for attention. “Now go ahead and show me what’s going on,” Matt says, leaning back into his pillow. You nod. Before you answered his video call, Rae spun a little fairy magic over your wrists. For nerves. You place your phone behind your head, angled toward your crotch. Then you move into view. “So it goes like this,” you say. One hand wraps around your penis and the other at your balls. [img['images/matt/6.webp']] “Looks good,” Matt says, but he doesn’t tell you to stop. So you keep going. And keep going. Massaging up and down your cock, fondling your balls, until you can’t help but spew cum. “Oh,” you say, snapping to your senses. “Oh my god. I’m so sorry.” You grab the phone and turn it to your face. Matt lies there against his pillow, giving you a thumbs up. “No apologies needed.” <h3>What's next?</h3> [[The following day.]]

<h1>Double-fisting it.</h1> “Hey,” you say, greeting Matt with a wave. His hair is tousled, eyes half-open. He smiles back. Morning light pours through his bedroom windows, bathing his bare muscles in golden light. “Hey, my man,” he says, scratchy-voiced. “Last time I saw you this early, it was our marathon.” You laugh a little, he laughs a little, and the boner beneath your sheets begs for attention. “Now go ahead and show me what’s going on,” Matt says, leaning back into his pillow. You nod. Before you answered his video call, Rae spun a little fairy magic over your wrists. For nerves. You place your phone beside your bed, angled toward your crotch. Then you move into view. “So it goes like this,” you say. Both hands wrap around your cock and you slowly pump away. [img['images/matt/7.webp']] “Looks good,” Matt says, but he doesn’t tell you to stop. So you keep going. And keep going. Massaging up and down your cock, fucking into your palms, until you can’t help but spew cum. “Oh,” you say, snapping to your senses. “Oh my god. I’m so sorry.” You grab the phone and turn it to your face. Matt lies there against his pillow, giving you a thumbs up. “No apologies needed.” <h3>What's next?</h3> [[The following day.]]

<h1>The following day.</h1> At track practice the following day, Matt runs alongside you throughout the entire course. He goes on and on about YouTube wellness gurus, how they are only interested in the money. “Like, my motto is, //If it’s a need, it’s a need fulfilled,//” he says, “but they’re like, //If you need advice, that’ll cost five hundred bucks.// It’s absurd, my man.” You nod along. And nod along. Nothing has seemed different since Matt watched you jack off. He doesn’t seem phased at all. Usually you figure that’s because of Rae’s fairy influence, but this has been mostly //natural.// In your head, Rae whispers, “Next step, remember?” //Oh, shit. Yeah.// You and Matt finish running through the forested path and come out on a bridge across the city’s lake. You turn to him. “So that blog I was talking about,” you say, taking a swig from your water bottle. “I found another weird wellness tip that’s been helping me //a lot.// Like, my energy is soaring through the roof.” Matt turns to you, eyebrows raised. “Really? Hit me up, my man. The student teaches //teacher.//” Sweat glistens down his throat, glistening over the cross necklace. You want to suck on it. “So like, remember that thing I showed you yesterday?” He nods. “Well like, the last part? That //stuff?// Y’know? Instead of wasting it, I learned that if you, like, //drink// it, it has healing properties.” Matt continues running alongside you. He looks up in thought, scrunching his brows together. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[An evening call.]]

<h1>An evening call.</h1> “Sort of like this?” Matt asks, lifting a hand to his mouth. //That’s// how he begins the video call? Why couldn’t he have called during the //jacking off?// Rae pops in your brain, “Be grateful!” [img['images/matt/5.webp']] Matt is obviously still nude after a workout, sitting down and licking the cum from his hand. Instantly your cock goes from flaccid to rock solid, pushing and begging against your jeans. “Exactly,” you say, trying to seem nonchalant. //Did he workout and then immediately jack off?// This dude is serious about this wellness shit. “It said the more, the better. It’s a cleanser.” “Well, I don’t want it to get too crazy,” he says. “Gotta keep my hand a //healthy// option, y’know?” And then he punches a hole through your heart: “Just until I meet my special woman.” You nod. When Matt hangs up, you press your face into the pillow and scream. Rae laughs and laughs. “What did you //think?//” he asks. “We’re going after a clueless straight boy, Oliver. //Remember?//” <h3>What's next?</h3> [[No more Mr. Nice Guy.]]

<h1>No more Mr. Nice Guy</h1> “Okay, he’s pulling out the //future wife// card?” you say, pacing around your bedroom. “Then we’ll spin that into play. Oh, yeah. I’m sure there’s a wellness angle to that, too. One for //everything.//” Rae watches you walk around, his eyes growing wider. “Oliver, I’ve never seen you so //passionate.//” You throw your hands up. “Matt watches me bust a fucking nut on his phone, at //sunrise//, and then goes, 'Anyways, I can’t wait for my //perfect nuclear family.//' Like, are you kidding with me?” Rae poofs out of existence and emerges on your shoulder. “I //like// this fire, kiddo. I like it a lot!” “We’re spinning this,” you say, finally sitting down on the edge of your bed. “He wants a wife? Me, too. Oh, me, too. And he’s gonna help me with that. This //wellness campaign// doesn’t stop.” “Usually I can read your mind, but -” Rae starts to talk, but you interrupt with an answer. “Matt wants to turn me into his prodigy, right?” you ask Rae. The fairy nods. “He wants to prepare me to be his little wellness lad. So he //will.// He’ll teach me all the right fuckin’ moves.” You take out your phone and write up a text to Matt: __hey, u mind staying over sometime this weekend? Got a lotta Qs__ After you send the message, you turn the phone screen to Rae. He pretends to dab proud tears from his little fairy eyes. “They grow up so fast,” Rae says. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Let the games begin.]]

<h1>Let the games begin</h1> After school on Friday, Matt drives over to your house. He drops his backpack on your bedroom floor and compliments the cleanliness of the place: “Cleanliness is Godliness, as they say.” You quickly lead Matt into a workout you supposedly //learned from the blog.// It’s extreme squats. And while you’re both busy exercising, Rae dutifully spins a little fairy dust over Matt’s head. “Do you think we can do the thing,” you ask. “That the blog said?” Matt looks confused, but then he realizes. “//Oh.// Sure, my man,” and then he starts to shimmy out from his workout pants. His muscular Adonis legs. A tan running down to his waist from running around outside. His pale round ass. His dangling - //Don’t think about it. Don’t. Or you’ll pop a boner right next to him.// You and Matt proceed to squat next to each other, completely naked, while you try not to beg him to fuck you. After fifty squats, you can’t do anymore. You plop down on the edge of the bed. Matt agrees, says, “My legs are starting to shake so bad.” He slides down the wall to the floor. Matt brings a water bottle to his lips and gulps down. You collect your breath, waiting for the right moment to signal the next step. You’re both naked in your bedroom. //Totally normal.// “I feel like my legs need a good massage,” you say. “Everything feels like, so tense. //Too// tense.” Matt nods to himself. Then he struggles on a thought. He mulls it over. Then he decides on it. “Spread out, my man,” he says, standing up. “On your stomach. Let me get out that tension.” <h3>What's next?</h3> [[The massage.]]

<h1>The massage.</h1> Matt starts at your lower thighs, pressing into them with his thumbs and then rubbing circles with his palms. It’s the practical runner’s massage. But you know you’ll be leading him further on. “So I’ve got a big question,” you say, Matt’s hands sliding up to the middle of your inner thighs. “About women. Maybe you know the answer, since you lead the men’s group at church, and all.” Thank //God// you’re pressed on your stomach. Because your boner is already loud and proud. Matt applies pressure to one thigh, gently massaging the skin into a sort of fuzzy numbness. “Ask away,” he says, lost in his own physical repetition. But you interrupt yourself with, “Oh, a little bit higher, if you can. That’s where the tension is.” And Matt moves to your upper thigh. As he slides dangerously close to your balls, you continue. “So I’ve never pleased a woman. Someday I will, though. And I’ve always been nervous. Like, will I be //ready?// Will I know //how?//” Matt //mhmms,// sliding his fingers inches away from your balls, applying pressure nearer to your asshole. That’s when you say, “Almost there. A little higher, actually. I think we’re almost good.” [img['images/matt/8.webp']] He slides his hands up, rubbing them onto your cheeks, and then proceeds to massage them. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[The temptation.]]

<h1>The temptation</h1> Matt has your ass cheeks fully cupped with his hands, massaging them gently, listening to you. As usual, he doesn’t seem fazed at all. He’s either fully invested or completely ignorant. “Well, I guess you’ll find out then,” Matt says, squeezing your cheeks together. “The right woman will have patience and understanding for you. And she’ll appreciate that you waited.” “Maybe,” you say. “But I’m so nervous. I feel like I’m eighteen years old and I’m so left behind. Like, what does //eating out// mean? I’ve been tempted to figure out myself, watch pornography -” “//No,//” Matt says, stopping his massage. “Not that. I’ve seen too many guys in my church group lose themselves to that. Just, um,” he waits, and thinks, “just have patience and faith, Oliver.” “Could you describe it for me, Matt?” you ask. He continues rubbing your cheeks together. There’s a momentary silence. You know it. You know that you have him in the perfect trap. “It’s like, um,” his fingers kneed deeply into your ass, like it’s his dough. “It’s when a man prepares a woman’s parts for penetration. So he uses his mouth to lubricate it, I guess.” “Oh, okay,” you say. “And how do you know about all this? You seem so, like, experienced.” “No, not experienced. I’ve just heard stories,” Matt says. His fingers gently brush by your hole. “Sometimes it’s not for penetration. Sometimes it’s just to make her feel good, I guess.” <h3>What's next?</h3> [[The closer massage.]]

<h1>The closer massage.</h1> You //accidentally// buck your hips up into the air. This causes Matt’s fingers to slide across your hole again, but this time they linger there. He never moves away from massaging your cheeks. “Oh,” you say, adding a bit more breath to it, an almost imperceptible moan. “Well, I bet you’ll be good at it, Matt. You’ve taken so good care of yourself. No doubt you’ll take care of your girl.” This time you don’t cause anything. His pointer fingers rub over your hole, gently massaging it. Then all of his fingers are rubbing between your ass cheeks, gliding across your entryway. “You too, my man,” he mumbles, almost a whisper. Slowly, very slowly, you push your hips into the air, and you whisper back, adding a little crackle to your moan, “Thanks, Matt.” And then. He leans into you. //Finally.// His tongue meets your asshole and you gasp out. Matt keeps his hands wrapped around your ass as he laps at you, tasting you and massaging you all the while. [img['images/matt/9.webp']] You expect it to be a fluke. For Matt to pull back, apologize, and run away. But he keeps going. Lapping at you like a dog. You push back into his face and he welcomes it, licking and licking. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[A part of the process.]]

<h1>A part of the process.</h1> When Matt finally pulls away from your hole, his saliva has pooled down onto your bedsheets. You turn your head behind you and watch him staring at your ass, lips glistening with wetness. “It’s the pornography thing,” Matt says, staring in a total daze. “Not good. My pastor said that.” He looks shocked with himself. Like he’s just now learning what he’s fully capable of doing. “I’m glad you taught me, Matt,” you say. “I’ll know what to do in the future. Y’know, with a girl.” Matt wipes his mouth with his wrist and nods. He looks up at your face and scans it all over. “Did I hurt you?” he asks. “When I was down there?” His eyes sparkle with a hint of wetness. Matt must’ve been in a total trance, lapping away like some feral dog. You slide toward him. “Not at all,” you say. You sit up and bring him in for a hug. He leans in and smells your shoulder. “God sent me on a mission,” Matt says, looking up into your face. “You’re a part of it, Oliver. I’ve been praying for you every night. Do you think -” he stops. He’s frightened about something. “I am closer to God because of you,” you tell Matt, rubbing his back. He nods to himself, smiles. Then you grab him by his waist and pull him for a kiss. No doubt his first kiss. Claimed by you. [img['images/matt/10.webp']] <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Falling asleep that night.]]

Falling asleep that night It’s clear that Matt’s brain has become stir-fried after everything. So you let him collect himself. Something prevents you from telling Rae to just dunk a load of fairy magic on him, like Colby. As you and Matt rest for the night, both of you sacked up in your twin bed together, naked, but not going any further, Rae pops up in your mind: “Kiddo, I’m surprised by your fuckin’ patience.” //Trust me, Rae. If I thought it was for the best, I’d get him rupturing my guts right here and now.// But Matt’s moving along almost naturally. And besides. Rae said this test was about patience. “Hey, Matt,” you whisper, his bare shoulder pressed up against yours. He turns to face you. “Maybe we can help each other,” you continue. “I’ll let you prepare for, y’know, your future girl.” “How’s that?” he asks, turning back to face the ceiling. He’s seemed a bit out-of-body for the past few hours. Probably because his whole life of innocence has been exploded in this room. “Well, there are a lot of things I wanna know,” you say. “But I don’t wanna be unwell with porn. So maybe when I have a question, we can figure it out ourselves. Y’know, //God’s own image?//” Matt reaches up to his silver cross necklace and pinches it between his fingers. He spins it around. Then he turns to you and gives a small smile. “Yeah. I think that can work, my man.” Now he initiates. Matt leans closer and brings his lips against yours. It’s an awkward kiss, but you’ll have plenty of time to learn. Besides, you’ve got a whole weekend to get the ball rolling. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[A morning jog.]]

<h1>A morning jog.</h1> On Saturday morning you and Matt go for a jog around the neighborhood. He looks much more at-peace, glowing in the sunlight. When you run through the forested area, he holds your hand. “I feel like I would do this,” he says, smiling. “With my future wife. Hold her hand when running.” “Well, hopefully she can keep up with you,” you say, squeezing his hand. “Like I can.” Inside your head, Rae makes fake vomit noises. He whispers in your mind, “Look, kiddo. I’m letting you take the wheel on this one. But that doesn’t mean I’ve gotta sit through //this// shit.” When you finish the jog around the neighborhood, you sit down on the grass in your front yard. Matt plops down next to you. You look up into the trees and watch a group of birds burst free. “I think I want to try something,” you say. Matt turns to you and raises an eyebrow. “Something I’ve always wanted to learn about,” you continue. “Instead of porn. I’ll learn it with you, y’know?” Matt thinks about it. He looks around the neighborhood as if someone is closely eavesdropping. “Yeah. Yeah, I think we can do that,” he says. “But can I get clean first? I feel like a dirty dog.” <h3>What's next?</h3> [[No, let's do it now.]] [[Yes, let me join you.]]

<h1>No, let's do it now.</h1> You lead Matt to the downstairs laundry room and lower to your knees. By the look on his face, he knows exactly where this is going. His Adam’s apple drops low, gulping with nervousness. “You don’t have to do this, Oliver,” Matt says. “I can learn another way. This is too much from you.” You lean into his pants and bite at the drawstring, slowly pulling it back. He watches you, wide-eyed, his cock hardening beneath the fabric. Then his pants fall down to his ankles. [img['images/matt/13.webp']] Matt’s cock falls in front of your face. When you raise your hands onto his legs, eager for him, he stumbles back against a laundry counter and sits down on it. You crawl closer, feeling him. “Just relax,” you say, sliding your hands up his inner-thighs. He’s shaking. “We’re God’s image.” And then you take Matt’s cock into your mouth. He throws his head back and gasps, “Oliver.” [img['images/matt/14.webp']] <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Just another Sunday.]]

<h1>Yes, let me join you.</h1> You lead Matt to the upstairs bathroom and start the bathwater. While the steam fogs the room, you strip down completely. And then Matt. His Adam’s apple drops, gulping with nervousness. “Now what would you do?” you ask him, reaching out to his chest. “If I were your future wife?” Matt hesitates. Then he nervously reaches out to your hips, turns you around, and then brings you against him. He leans into your neck and begins to kiss you slowly, rubbing up your waist. [img['images/matt/11.webp']] His cock grows hard between your legs, and when the bathwater is finally filled, you lower Matt into the water and situate yourself between his legs. You run your hands up his inner-thighs. “Just relax,” you say, wrapping your hand around his cock. He’s shaking. “We’re God’s image.” And then you take Matt’s dick into your mouth. He throws his head back and gasps, “Oliver.” [img['images/matt/12.webp']] <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Just another Sunday.]]

<h1>Just another Sunday.</h1> Some things don’t change. Come Sunday morning, Matt asks you to join him for another church service. And because his first-blowjob-cum is still in your throat, you’d feel bad denying him this. When you run into his family, you give them warm smiles and wave to his younger sisters. But in your head, Rae is mocking you, “Hey, tell those fuckers you’re about to take their son’s v-card.” Matt’s family invites you over for another Sunday lunch, and because Matt is too fucking loyal, you oblige. But you decide to have a little fun. Especially because Matt sits right next to you. While his father is discussing a choir concert for the twin girls, you lower your hand to Matt’s shorts and slide up them. He goes absolutely frozen. He drops his metal fork onto the table. “Uh-oh, something wrong, sweetheart?” his mother asks from across the way. Matt shakes his head. But your hand is inching up closer to his balls. “Just a slip,” he says, picking up his fork. “Do you boys happen to know when the next marathon is?” Matt’s father asks. Now your hand has his hardened cock gripped, and you’re slowly pumping it. You smile at his dad and shrug. When lunch is finally over, Matt invites you upstairs. He //urges// you upstairs. He looks frantic. “You can’t //do// that, Oliver,” he says, his eyes wide. “That was beyond what we’re doing. That was -” You kiss him. You lock the door behind him and then sit on Matt’s bed, lowering your pants. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[The call to action.]]

The call to action Matt stares face-to-face with your throbbing cock. He stutters for something to respond with. “But - but we //learned// about this one,” he says, looking up at you, desperate. “You taught me about it. Just yesterday.” You can see the stiff outline beneath his pants. You have an idea. “You teach me how I taught you,” you say, “and I’ll do what I did yesterday. But five times better.” Matt looks down at his feet. You know his erection is giving him grief. He slowly lowers down. “Oliver, I thought you were supposed to help me, um, prepare for my future wife,” he says. Your girthy cock sways in front of his face. “But this is the opposite side of things. I just, I //dunno.//” “You aren’t gonna help //me?//” you ask, reaching down to stroke his head. “For //my// future wife?” Matt recognizes the onesided-ness of himself. He nods. He scoots closer between your knees and stares down at the head of your cock. He gulps. Then he slowly grips around the base of it. “I’ll try my best,” Matt says. He wets his lips and then lowers down around your cock. He starts with popping it in and out of his mouth. But he soon learns to use his tongue, licking at it slowly. [img['images/matt/15.webp']] <h3>What's next?</h3> [[His first swallow.]]

<h1>His first swallow.</h1> With the help of your hands on the back of his head, Matt quickly learns. He refrains from teeth, using the bed of his tongue to salivate your cock from tip to base. The guy has infinite saliva. Once Matt falls into a cocksucking groove, you let him play with your dick against his inner-cheeks and tempting the back of his throat. His nerves eventually wash away completely. His specialty is giving head. With his hand clutched around your base, Matt places his lips around the tip of your cock and tilts his head left and right, massaging your sensitive glands. “Oh, god,” you quietly moan. “Matt, I’m going - I’m gonna -” You surprise him with a massive blast to the back of his throat. But because you know he’d rear back with shock, you hold on to the back of his head. Reflexive tears roll down Matt’s cheeks. When he’s done swallowing you down, Matt unplugs your cock from his mouth and gasps out. “//Do you - think that -//” he says between breaths, “//it’s healthy - if it comes from - other people?//” You’re confused for a moment. But then you realize Matt is talking about the “restorative properties” of cum. You give him a thumbs up. He smiles, some of your cum in his teeth. Now how will you reward Matt? Will you make him work for it, or let him kick back and enjoy? <h3>How will you reward him?</h3> [[Let him enjoy it.]] [[Make him work for it.]]

<h1>Let him enjoy it</h1> You pat a spot on the bed for Matt. He eagerly hops over, his penis desperate for attention. When he pulls his pants down, his cock pops up like a happy dog. And you dutifully serve him. He didn’t expect your expertise. You swallow him down to the base, causing Matt to involuntarily gasp with ecstasy. Your chin meets his balls and cock-head slammed to the back of your throat. [img['images/matt/16.webp']] The noises he makes are beautiful. Covering his own mouth to muffle his desperate moans, his ass squirming against the bedsheets as you gargle his every inch. Matt saying your name, “Oliver.” When he’s about to cum his thighs start shaking, so you shove him down into your throat and allow him to shoot straight down to your guts. He lets out an exasperated, toe-curled moan. [img['images/matt/18.webp']] When he’s done emptying into you, you sit up and bring him to your mouth. Matt accepts, licking and sucking his cum from your lips and teeth. “You like that?” you ask, and he moans, //mmmm.// <h3>What's next?</h3> [[The week between.]]

<h1>Make him work for it.</h1> You stretch out on your back across Matt’s bed. At first he’s confused, so you direct him to stand at your head. When he drops his pants, his cock pops up like a happy dog. And you open wide. You didn’t expect his intensity. Matt clumsily shoves himself to the back of your throat, causing him to gasp out with ecstasy. His balls meet your chin as you become his loyal cocksleeve. [img['images/matt/17.webp']] The noises he forces you to make are incredible. The slobbering guttural acceptance of his girth to the depths of your throat. Coughing and drooling spit when he unplugs from your dutiful face. Matt doesn’t warn you when he’s about to cum. He merely buckles his knees and rams himself into your throat, shooting straight into your belly. He lets out an exasperated, toe-curled moan. [img['images/matt/18.webp']] When he’s done emptying into you, you sit up and bring him to your mouth. Matt accepts, licking and sucking his cum from your lips and teeth. “You like that?” you ask, and he moans, //mmmm.// <h3>What's next?</h3> [[The week between.]]

<h1>The week between.</h1> After that last weekend, things between you and Matt are irreversible. Even the coach for your track team has noticed that you’ve //developed a stronger team bond// over the past few weeks. Always the narcissist, however, Rae pops up in your head at school, saying, “This whole Matt thing better not cause you to stop the missions. He’s supposed to be a target, not a //husband.//” But you roll your eyes. You know where you and Matt stand. Right? He’s just another target. That said, after school one day, Matt pops up at your locker with a card inside an envelope. “Would you open it?” he asks. You nervously look around, then take the letter from him. The letter has a cute puppy dog on the front, and inside it reads: “//Oliver, Sorry I was selfish with some certain stuff. I’m gonna make it up to you. Would you go on a date with me tonight?//” “Matt, you’re totally fine,” you say, handing the card back. “You weren’t being selfish, or any -” “We’re supposed to be practicing future wife stuff, right?” Matt asks under his breath. He pushes the card against your chest, demanding you accept it. “I would do this, under these conditions.” You sigh. You take the card and slide it into your backpack. “Okay,” you say. “What’s the date?” <h3>What's next?</h3> [[The date.]]

<h1>The date.</h1> Matt takes you back to his place. His parents are gone with the girls for a choir performance, so as soon as you’re up in his bedroom, he’s shedding his clothes and then pulling at your clothes. When you’re both naked, Matt invites you to “recreate the first time,” when he ate your ass out. He spreads out on the bed and he waves you to sit on his face. And you happily follow orders. [img['images/matt/19.webp']] He’s becoming a master with his tongue. Dancing at your hole, pushing inside and exploring, spreading your cheeks apart with his hands. You feel like royalty spinning on Matt’s face. When your hole is dripping with his saliva, he flips you onto your stomach and continues recreating your first night: massaging your ass, except this time, sucking you off as well. [img['images/matt/20.webp']] The sensation is incredible. Your asshole lubricated, ass cheeks massaged, cock served with Matt’s endless saliva. When you’re about to cum, he begs you to hold on and pick a position. <h3>Which position do you choose?</h3> [[Across his back.]] [[Across his face.]]

<h1>Across his back.</h1> “There are a couple ways you can make sure your future wife doesn’t get pregnant,” Matt says. He crawls onto the bed and arches his back, accepting your batch of cum. “This is one way.” [img['images/matt/21.webp']] You clutch onto Matt’s ass and squirt down his back arch, spewing up to his hair. When you’re done painting his body, you decide to reciprocate. He protests, saying, “This is my apology gift!” [img['images/matt/23.webp']] But that doesn’t stop you. You take Matt’s balls into your mouth and suck on them while he jacks off, pinching his nipples and moaning. When he erupts, he sprays all across his face and chest. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Track practice, after school.]]

<h1>Across his face.</h1> “There are a couple ways you can make sure your future wife doesn’t get pregnant,” Matt says. He lowers to the floor and opens his mouth wide, ready for a messy facial. “This is one way.” [img['images/matt/22.webp']] You kneel on Matt’s chest and shoot into his mouth, spraying across his chin. When you’re done painting his face, you decide to reciprocate. He protests, saying, “This is my apology gift!” [img['images/matt/23.webp']] But that doesn’t stop you. You take Matt’s balls into your mouth and suck on them while he jacks off, pinching his nipples and moaning. When he erupts, he sprays all across his face and chest. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Track practice, after school.]]

<h1>Track practice, after school.</h1> “Marathon came up fast,” Coach tells your team. “This weekend. Get your training in and make sure you take care of yourselves. Lots of water. Lots of exercise and rest. Got it? Now //go.//” You and Matt take off together, making the run around town. After staying at his house, you both decided to switch running shorts to see if anyone would notice. So far, no one’s said anything. “//I’ve gotta - say,//” Matt says between breaths. “//I’ve been feeling - so good. So much - energy. Tension - completely gone.//” He reaches over and touches your hand for a brief moment. “//Me - too. So much - energy,//” you say. You notice Matt’s cross necklace bouncing up and down. You remember a few weeks ago, wanting to suck on it. At the time, it seemed utterly impossible. “//To be - completely honest,//” Matt says. “//I’ve been - not so great - holding back - on the self. The self pleasuring.//” He turns to you and gives a wink. “//Keep thinking - about stuff. You know?//” You turn onto the forested path and run across dirt. Matt is beside you, often rubbing shoulders. “//We keep - practicing - against pregnancy,//” you say. “//But what - what if I - was your wife - and I - you know - wanted - a baby.//” He looks at you, eyebrow raised. “//Your baby - Matt. You know?//” He starts slowing down. You start slowing down. You both stop in the middle of the city park. Matt’s house is about a fifteen minute jog away. When you look down, his cock is already hard. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Making babies.]]

<h1>Making babies.</h1> Matt practically throws you onto his bed. You both strip down to underwear and he crawls atop you, kissing at your neck and chest. When he reaches your lips, he goes higher for your nose. [img['images/matt/24.webp']] “What was that?” you ask, smiling. Matt laughs, says, “No idea. I just always wanted to do that.” Matt rips off your underwear, then his underwear, and proceeds to bathe your asshole with his saliva. When it’s properly dripping with wetness, he leans up and looks straight into your eyes. “Are you sure about this?” Matt asks, his cock lined up with your asshole. You bite your lip, nod. Matt pushes into you and you reflexively moan. You kick your legs back and wrap them around him, forcing him to slide inside deeper. He starts off slowly, kissing at your mouth and chest. [img['images/matt/25.webp']] “Oh my God, Oliver,” he moans, biting at your neck. You take Matt’s cross necklace into your mouth and suck on it. Then Matt pushes deep against your guts, dumping his cum inside of you. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[In Matt's bed again.]]

<h1>In Matt's bed again.</h1> Last time you were shoulder-to-shoulder. This time you’re playing little spoon, with Matt’s nose pressed against your neck, breathing heat down your spine. He plants tiny kisses everywhere. “Do you think you’d be pregnant?” he whispers into your ear, biting at the lobe and pulling down. You nod, sliding your left leg between both of his and leaning back into his arms. He’s warmth. “Good,” he groans. His hand slides up your body and rests on your chest, massaging a nipple. “And if you don’t get pregnant this time,” he kisses your neck, “then we’ll try again and again.” In your mind, right on cue, Rae pops up with, “What the //hell// have you gotten yourself into, kid?” You ignore Rae. “Hey,” you say to Matt, turning toward him. “Remember how you said you’re doing a lot of self-pleasuring. Thinking about a lot of stuff?” He nods, stroking your hair back. “Maybe we can make a little home movie,” you say. “Just for me and you. Nobody else to see. That way when I’m not here, you don’t have to just //think// of me. But you can really //have// me.” Matt thinks about it. He turns over and faces the ceiling. “Is that a little pornographic, you think?” “Not if it’s just you and me,” you say, turning over and resting your head on his chest. He puts his hand on your cheek and pats it. “Okay,” he says. “I think I like the sound of that. Let’s do it.” “We’ll use my phone,” you say, and immediately, Rae pops up again. “Oh, //kid.// I see where you're going.” <h3>What's next?</h3> [[The special video.]]

<h1>The special video.</h1> You start the video in Matt’s bed, off-camera, just to test the quality. Matt’s looking into the lens so you grab onto his cock with both hands and squeeze it. He lets out a little involuntary moan. [img['images/matt/26.webp']] “Are you ready?” you ask, and he nods toward you like an obedient puppy. You crawl onto the bed on all-fours and dip down, inviting Matt inside you. He eagerly sallies up to your asshole. “This will be our special video,” you say. “So make it count.” Matt spits down onto your hole and starts rubbing his cock against it, massaging the saliva inside. “Don’t worry about that,” he says. When he pushes inside you, it feels like your body is finally whole again. Matt fills your insides to its deepest parts, flaring his penis deep inside you, splitting your ass open with his manhood. “Oh, Matt,” you moan. He grips onto your ass and then smacks it. He pulls his hips back and starts fucking you back and forth, flexing his muscles and groaning. “Oh, Matt, it’s so thick.” [img['images/matt/27.webp']] “You want my babies?” he asks, slapping your ass. You moan and nod. Then you feel Matt’s hot cum oozing down your legs, him still fucking you, pushing his seed deeper and deeper into you. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[The final showdown.]]

<h1>The final showdown.</h1> It’s the day of the marathon. You and Matt are representing your high school against other schools, but beyond that, you’re also racing against each other. And Matt has always won. “Remember our deal?” you ask Matt at the starting line. He winks and gives you a thumbs up. //Whoever wins gets to make babies inside the other.// Matt always wins, so he’s not worried. Inside your head, Rae pops in, asks, “Not to be rude, kid, but isn’t this a losing game for you?” You stretch your left leg back, then your right leg. You look over to Matt and he’s confidently swiping his hair behind his ear. His silver cross necklace shining on his chest beneath the sun. //It’s more than that,// you think back to Rae. //If he wins, he fucks me one last time. And then I delete the video we made. That’s the complete bargain. He doesn’t know beyond the fucking.// Rae thinks to you, “Ah, I see. I knew you were planning something with that damn video.” //Well,// you think. //I only have these powers because of you. And while I’ve had a good time with Matt, falling in love isn’t my mission. So the other side of the coin is dedicated to you, Rae.// Rae thinks to you, “If you could see me kid, you’d see me blushing. Alright, so what’s the flip?” //If I win the race, then I fuck Matt. That’s all he knows. What he doesn’t know is that it’ll be our last time, and that I’ll then upload our video for the whole world to see. How d’ya like that?// <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Matt wins the race.]] [[Matt loses the race.]]

<h1>Special Ending: Home Video.</h1> You wake up in the middle of the night to a phone call. You pick up the phone. It’s //Colby?// “Hey, bro,” he says, already giggling. “So I saw your upload on the Hub. You fucked //Matt?// From the fucking //track team?// Dude, //dude,//” he starts giggling again. “His family is gonna go bonkers.” “Yeah, yeah,” you say, rubbing sleep from your eyes. “What’s the view count at now? [img['images/matt/27.webp']] “Like 130,000 views, bro,” Colby says, the sounds from the video playing in the background. “C’mon, Oliver, why the //fuck// didn’t you put out like that for me? It’s unfair. Matt looks too happy.” “Probably because you fuck like a wildebeest, and he’s like, at least a little more gentle,” you say. But Colby ignores you. He starts giggling again, almost completely speechless. “Bro, okay, so you really //fucked// Matt,” Colby says. Matt moans loudly in the background. “Yeah,” you say, smiling to yourself. “I don’t think he knows I uploaded that one, yet.” [img['images/matt/30.webp']] “Holy //shit,//” Colby says, “I gotta go jack off. This is //hot.// Matt getting //fucked?// See ya, bro!” <h3>Matt: Completed!</h3> [[Back to list of targets.|Who are the targets?]]

<h1>Those early days.</h1> He didn’t notice you standing in his doorway. Peter was glued to the laptop, his mind elsewhere, hand playing with his gigantic cock. You’d seen porn. You knew Peter’s dick was big for his age. [img['images/peter/1.webp']] When you shuffled back to your room, you felt ashamed. Ashamed for the boner in your pants. Ashamed for standing there, watching for nearly a minute. Ashamed for imagining Peter more. For the next few years, until Peter moved out, Charlotte would come over every other weekend. And Peter would smash her pussy into paste. She had to muffle her moans beneath his pillows. In your bed down the hall, listening to Peter’s hips slap against her ass, you remained ashamed. Ashamed for lotioning your own cock. Trying to imagine another man fucking you. //Not Peter.// But every night, right before you splattered cum across your chest, the final vision in your mind: big brother Peter. His monster cock pushed up into your stomach, his balls unleashing gallons. Now it’s many years later. No doubt Peter’s cock has grown larger. And he’s been fucking the same pussy for eight years, so you know he’s learned //some// techniques to keep things fresh. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[At the hotel.]]

<h1>At the hotel.</h1> You walk into the hotel room and Peter stops at the entryway. He stares ahead, slowly removing his sunglasses. //Fuck,// you think to yourself. //I told Rae the single bed was a stupid idea. Damn it.// “One bed,” Peter says. He turns his head, looking back at you. “You a kicker?” It takes a second to process that question as anything not erotic. You shake your head. Peter nods and walks in. “Back when you were little, you hated thunderstorms,” he says, lifting his luggage onto the bed. “Remember? You’d tip-toe down the hall and climb into bed with me. Must’ve been eight, nine.” Now that he mentions it, you do remember those days. Peter was always really annoyed, but he’d let you sleep beside him anyways. “Well,” he says, “you used to kick the shit out of me.” You laugh involuntarily. He nods along, smiling. “I’d have bruises on my stomach, legs, face.” “Your //face?//” you ask. He throws his hands up. “Look, Oliver, you were a little fuckin’ acrobat. Every time thunder came down you’d jerk around, and there was //no// telling where you’d kick.” Peter lovingly swats you on the back. He then unzips his luggage and grabs some fresh clothes. “I’m taking a shower before the bar,” he says. “Won’t be down there long. Just gonna get loose.” Already you’re disappointed. As he walks into the bathroom, you sit on the bed’s edge and sigh. “Kid, this is where the fairy magic goes //next level,//” Rae says in your mind. “You gotta be ready.” <h3>Ready?</h3> [[Ready for what?]]

<h1>Ready for what?</h1> “A fucking //girl?//” you say out loud, pacing the hotel room. “But - but that doesn’t add up, Rae. You’re supposed to be my fairy. Remember our first conversation? Me, a faggot? A //gay boy?//” Rae pops into the air and flutters before your nose. He points a little finger between your eyes. “I’ll have you know, fairies have provided all sorts of tricks for human fairies since the //first fag.//” You look out the hotel window at the tourists below, the families filtering in and out of the pool. “And I’ll be in some sorta //deep sleep,//” you say, trying to understand Rae’s //body-hopping// magic. “Yes, exactly,” Rae says, landing on the bed. “You’ll go somewhat unconscious. And then I’ll transfer you into the body of someone else. But only for a small window of time. //Just enough.//” You run your hands through your hair. For some reason, after all of Rae’s magic, this one’s a lot. “What’s the point of //me// doing this mission if I’m just gonna borrow someone’s pussy for it?” “//Agents,//” Rae says, slapping one hand against another. “The word is //agents.// You need //agents.// Especially for this mission, Oliver. Besides, you’ll only be inside her body for a small little window.” You linger on Rae’s words. //Fairy magic must cooperate with character,// you recall him saying. //Maybe this is necessary, you think. It’s not like Peter’s gonna start plowing guys after one night.// You nod. Rae snaps his fingers, and says, “Good, Oliver. Then let’s proceed with our little script.” <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Peter steps out.]]

<h1>Peter steps out.</h1> The bathroom door opens. Steam and heat flow into the room. You’re beneath the bed sheets, changed into a pair of comfortable pajamas. Something good for a //few days// rest, Rae said. “Oliver, you see towels out there?” Peter says from the bathroom. “They forgot to stock up in here.” When you don’t answer, Peter comes marching out and around. He’s butt-naked and dripping. You pretend to cough and rub a headache, all while trying to ignore Peter’s dangling monster. He’s flinging it around like a loose weapon. //Holy god.// Your asshole sucks inward already. “Sorry, sorry,” he says, pulling open drawers and searching. You cough a few more times. Finally Peter comes over to check on you. His cock is shining with shower water, bouncing. [img['images/peter/2.webp']] “You doing alright?” he asks. You try to not look at it. //Don’t look. Don’t look.// But it’s so beautiful. You nod your head, say, “Yeah. Just a little under the weather. But I can probably sleep it off.” “Oh, okay,” he says. “Well, I’ll be back in a little while. Shoot me a text if you need anything.” <h3>What's next?</h3> [[No rest for the wicked.]]

<h1>No rest for the wicked.</h1> As soon as the door shuts, you rise from the bed. Your heart is slamming against your chest. “Rae,” you say. “That things will destroy me. That’s bigger than //Tommy// from the frat house.” Rae flutters into view and twirls his little fairy hips. “Well, luckily for you, Oliver-boy,” he sing-says, “you’ll get experience with it before this particular body -” Rae pats your face - “has to take it.” You shake confusion out from your head. “Okay, I - I don’t even know what to do right now. What’s the next step?” Rae nods, waves you over to the window looking out on the hotel pool. “What’s your brother’s type?” the fairy says, wrapping his hands around his eyes like binoculars. “Does he like blondes? Big tits? Is Peter an ass fella? Or maybe he likes moms? What about -” “He likes Charlotte,” you say, striding over to the window. “That’s it. My brother is very boring. Same girl since fourteen. Same job since eighteen. Same old, same old. So, yeah. //Charlotte.//” Rae winces at the venom in your voice. “She sounds like a //charmer,//” he says. “Well, we’ll need something //close.//” You look out at the overcrowded pool and squint over each of the women. “Um, alright,” you say, thinking hard. “We’re looking for thin. She’s a white girl. Long brown hair. Cute face, I guess. She’s on the shorter side. My brother’s tall so I think he likes shorter girls.” Rae clears his throat. You look at him and then follow his finger, pointing down toward a hot tub. There, squeezing her hair next to a martini. “Go lie down, kid,” Rae says. “And buckle up.” <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Rise and shine.]]

<h1>Rise and shine.</h1> “Oh my god,” you say to yourself. //Holy f’ing shit,// you think, realizing your voice sounds different. Your legs are in the hot tub. Hairless legs. Your chest feels heavy. //I - I have fucking - these are -// “Tits,” Rae answers in your head. “Boobs. Breasts. They fed you at one point, so be grateful.” You look around the pool. //Does anyone know? Who was this woman with? I’m gonna pass out.// “Breathe,” Rae says in your thoughts. “Check her wallet. It’s near the martini.” You look over. When you peel it open, you grab her ID: //Catherine. 21 years old.// “We’ll go with Cat,” Rae says. You stand up with shaky legs. When one leg crosses another, you feel the absence of balls. //Rae. Please, please, please tell me you know, for a goddamn fact, that I can switch back to -// “Shut up, Oliver,” he says in your head. “I love you, kiddo. But it’s almost //offensive// that you can’t trust thousands of years of fairies. If we got Alexander the Great some ass, then you’ll be //fine.//” You nod. //Breathe. Breathe.// You look around for a towel and find it hanging from a beach chair. //Like, I don’t even know how to dry this girl’s hair. I am so fucking gay. And so, so fucking male.// “Yeah, yeah,” Rae says. “If your brother is like all the other straight guys, then he’ll like wet hair.” You pull water from Cat’s hair and shake your head within the towel. It helps. Sort of. Kind of. “Now. In her wallet, grab her room key,” your fairy orders. You oblige. “Now let’s get dressed.” <h3>What's next?</h3> [[To the bar.]]

<h1>To the bar.</h1> When you walk into the hotel bar, you know you look fucking hot. Because it took //an hour// for you to choose the right outfit. Watch the right makeup tutorial videos. //Dry her fucking hair.// “Hopefully he hasn’t //left// already,” Rae complains. He nagged you the whole time you were getting ready, saying //Peter is a man. He won’t care.// But you know that his standard is //Charlotte.// “He’s a struggling alcoholic,” you think to Rae. “There’s no chance he left.” And right on cue: There, at the corner of the long bar, spinning his whisky around in a glass, your brother Peter. You wobble in heels as you pass by a dozen hungry businessmen. Some pretend not to look, while others blatantly turn and ogle at your hint of cleavage, or the curves of your black dress. “Mind if I sit here?” you ask, repeating a line from a movie you once saw. Peter shakes his head. //This is so fucking bizarre, man,// you think. //I feel like at any moment he’ll know it’s me inside her.// “Lots of weird dudes,” you say, motioning toward the businessmen. “But you seem trustworthy.” Peter gives a slight grin and sips on his whisky. Then he looks up at the television for sports. “Play into his character,” Rae whispers in your head. “Use what you already know about him.” You think on that. //What do I know about Peter?// You follow your brother’s gaze toward the TV. “Damn, I miss my ball days,” you say. You look at the beverage menu and act nonchalant. Peter finishes a sip of his whisky and turns to you. “For real?" Then he sets his whisky down. "Former power forward.” <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Twenty minutes later.]]

<h1>Twenty minutes later.</h1> Peter orders more whiskey. Tells stories about his basketball days. “Killer handle,” he says. “Flawless handle. I knew it, everyone knew it. And an impeccable jumper. Do I sound cocky?” You shake your head, smiling. You ordered whatever beer because you’re technically eighteen, so you have //no// idea how a bar menu works. But Cat is twenty-one, so you’re playing along. “Sounds like you really came alive out there,” you say. You think back to what Peter used to say, and continue. “And the sign of a good player, is you knew when to create opportunity for others.” Peter slaps the bar and nods. “Right, //right,//” he says. “God, I haven’t talked ball in, uh, //years.//” “Why not?” you ask, knowing it roughs him up. “You said you almost went to college for it?” Peter clicks his tongue and leans back in the chair. “My girlfriend,” he says, then corrects that, “my //fiancée.// Charlotte. We’re middle school sweethearts. Well, she didn’t want me doing that.” You nod sympathetically. But in your head, you think, //I hate that stupid bitch.// You lean over. When your hand rests on Peter’s hand, he pops his head up. His eyes flicker. He’s //wasted.// “I’m here because my boyfriend cheated on me,” you say, lying. “I caught him with my friend. And when I asked, //Why? Why Todd? What did I do?// He said it was because I’ve gotten ugly.” Peter’s eyes widen. “Is he insane?” He squeezes your hand. “But you’re fucking gorgeous.” <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Back to Cat's room.]]

<h1>Back to Cat's room.</h1> As soon as Cat’s door shuts behind him, Peter pushes you against the wall and bites your neck. He smells like whisky and dark cologne. His hand slides beneath her dress and roams her legs. “Is it alright in here?” he asks, kissing up Cat’s neck, licking your jawline. “My brother, he’s in -” “Don’t worry,” you say, letting his other hand press the small of your back. “We’re good here.” Peter kisses across her cheek, then looks into your eyes. //Her eyes?// And he leans forward. When his lips meet Cat’s, you taste alcohol. You taste Peter. His hand massages over her hips and you feel like howling. You reach her hand down, rubbing down his toned torso, lower, lower. His tongue meets her tongue. You dance with him, wet tongues curling around each other. When your hand meets his crotch, you feel a python stretching out. You follow its length. “Oh my //god,//” you gasp. He chuckles into her hair, biting onto an earlobe and tugging gently. Peter stumbles backward, drunk off his ass, pressing his back against the entryway wall. “I don’t know if -” he hiccups. “If I can undress myself.” His eyes roll left, then right, then left. You’d be more annoyed if you weren’t so fucking //horny.// If you had a cock, it’d be raging hard. “Allow me,” you say, sauntering up to Peter. He cranes his head back, letting you unbutton and unbuckle him. You push him toward the bed while shedding off his clothing, then your own. <h3>Where should he go?</h3> [[Toward Cat's face.]] [[Toward Cat's cunt.]]

<h1>Toward Cat's face.</h1> While you’re spread out on the bed, naked down to Cat’s thin panties, Peter crawls over you. He kisses up her bare stomach, then reaches her breasts, suctioning his lips to them and nibbling. “Oh, //fuck,//” you say, grinding your hips up. His massive cock grazes against your body, striking fear and lust at the same time. //What if she can’t take him?// you wonder. Then he sucks harder. You dig your claws into Peter’s back and moan. He unlatches from Cat’s tit and crawls higher, reaching your mouth. “I like that sound you make,” he whispers, lowering down to bite your lip. Your heart beats. Cat’s cunt has its own heartbeat. And it beats. //You’re welcome, bitch,// you say, wondering if Cat is somewhere deep inside, watching as a spectator. Peter leans into her ear. “Let’s get you ready,” he says, then leans up onto his knees. His cock swings through the air. Peter lowers himself onto your face, letting his girthy penis rub against Cat’s lips and cheeks. [img['images/peter/3.webp']] “You smell that?” he asks, stroking himself up and down. You nod, inhaling your brother’s scent. He smells like warm manhood. “Give it to me, Peter,” you beg him, and he pauses for a second. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[A frantic interlude.]]

<h1>Toward Cat's cunt.</h1> While you’re spread out on the bed, naked down to Cat’s thin panties, Peter crawls over you. He kisses up her bare stomach, then reaches her breasts, suctioning his lips to them and nibbling. “Oh, //fuck,//” you say, grinding your hips up. His massive cock grazes against your body, striking fear and lust at the same time. //What if she can’t take him?// you wonder. Then he sucks harder. You dig your claws into Peter’s back and moan. He unlatches from Cat’s tit and crawls higher, reaching your mouth. “I like that sound you make,” he whispers, lowering down to bite your lip. Your heart beats. Cat’s cunt has its own heartbeat. And it beats. //You’re welcome, bitch,// you say, wondering if Cat is somewhere deep inside, watching as a spectator. Peter leans into her ear. “Let’s get you ready,” he says, then lowers to Cat’s waist. Peter pulls the panties taught against your pussy, then rubs his hand against your vulva, massaging the pussy lips in gentle circles. [img['images/peter/4.webp']] “You like that?” he asks, putting gentle pressure on your entrance. You tremble at the feeling, like someone brushing your penis glands. “Give it to me, Peter,” you beg him, and he pauses. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[A frantic interlude.]]

<h1>A frantic interlude.</h1> Peter blinks once, twice. Then leaps off the bed. “Sorry, I’ll be right back,” he says, pulling his pants on. “Your voice, the way you said that, I -” he tugs his shirt on. “I need to check on him.” You sit up, heart about to blow out through your throat. “What? I don’t - maybe you should -” “It’ll be just one minute,” he says, sliding into his shoes, stumbling. “I need to, before we start.” Then he flies out Cat’s door. Immediately, Rae pops into your head, “//Red alert! Red alert!//” “What? What do I do?” you ask, sitting up in the bed. “I’m gonna be completely out of it, and -” “Put her somewhere, //god damn// it,” Rae says, popping into the air before your face. “Go into the bathtub, or something. We need to switch you back for just a few minutes, but she’ll wake and -” “//No, no way,//” you say out loud, standing up. “If Cat wakes up she’s gonna think she was drug -” “Too late!” Rae says, snapping his fingers. The feeling begins to flow out from her feet, legs, then up to her hips. You can’t move her mouth. She falls backward onto the bed, still naked. As your control of Cat’s body begins to slip away, you think inside her head, //You fucking idiot. Rae, when she wakes up, she’s going to lose her goddamn mind. Peter will be in huge shit.// “Then you better act fast,” Rae says, floating over Cat’s motionless body. “Ready? Set -” <h3>What's next?</h3> [[A check-in.]]

<h1>A check-in.</h1> “- wanted to check on you, buddy,” Peter says, rubbing your shoulder. Your real shoulder. Oliver’s shoulder. You can smell the alcohol on him. Your heart is punching holes through your chest. “Just need rest,” you grumble, hoping he’ll leave you alone. He continues rubbing your shoulder. //Goddamn it, Peter. You’ve never shown me affection and now, of all times, you do this shit.// “I’m gonna crash in another room tonight, if that’s alright with you,” he asks, slurring his words. You nod, //mhmm.// Then you slowly pull the covers up over your head, signaling, //Go away.// Peter gives a gentle one-two tap on your shoulder, then rises from the bed. He steps away. When the door creaks shut, you fling the covers off your body. “Go, Rae! Go, //go, go!//” you order. Rae pops up in front of your face and snaps. Slowly, the sensation floods out of your body. Collapsing back onto the pillow. Legs going numb. Frantic heartbeats fading into a calm nothing. “When you get there, kiddo,” Rae says. “You might need to act fast. Alright? There’s no telling -” //Don’t lecture me,// you think to Rae. //I tried to - I was trying - I was -// and your brain slips away. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Crisis control.]]

<h1>Crisis control.</h1> “- an emergency?” Cat’s ear is pressed against the hotel phone. The voice waits for a response. You clear your throat. //Cat’s throat.// “I’m sorry?” you say, eyeing the room door for Peter’s return. “Ma’am, did you mean to dial nine-one-one?” You nearly fall over. You put your hand on your chest and breathe, //breathe, breathe.// You fake a laugh. “Oh, god. I’m so sorry.” “Ma’am, are you safe?” the voice responds. It’s deadly serious. You’re shaking, holding yourself. “Yes, absolutely,” you say, in Cat’s soothing voice. “I was fidgeting with the hotel phone. //Sorry.//” Then you slam the phone on the receiver. //Fuck,// you think. //Fucking fuck. She thought she was -// The door opens and Peter saunters back in. You instinctively lounge back on the bed, stroking Cat’s hair. You turn to him and smile. “Everything alright?” you say, sliding back on the sheets. Peter wobbles left, then right. He gives a nod. “He’s just a little sick,” he says. “My baby brother.” He walks toward the bed, unbuttoning his shirt again. You slide over and help with his pants. “I don’t have, um,” Peter says, putting a hand on your head as you pull his belt from his waist. “The thing. I don’t have a condom.” You unbutton his pants and let them fall down to his ankles. As you stare at his monstrous cock, moving your eyes up Peter’s toned body to his easy smile, you bite your lip and wrap your hands around his waist. “It’s okay,” you say. “I prefer it bare.” <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Taking Peter.]]

<h1>Taking Peter.</h1> You start with taking Peter between Cat’s lips. No matter how you stretch her jaw, he fills every inch and corner of her mouth. It takes pain and patience to ensure her teeth don’t scratch him. “There you go,” Peter says, one hand atop her head and the other wrapped around Cat’s throat. “You can do it, baby.” He gently squeezes your throat, creating a sort of suctioning for his cock. Once you’ve got him to the back of your throat, you begin sliding back and forth. Drool falls from Cat’s lips as she gargles on Peter. The mascara you applied grows wet, trails down her cheek. “You’re beautiful,” he says, still clenching and unclenching your throat. You make small choking noises as he tunnels into the back of Cat’s throat, brushing against her gag-zone over and over. “I’m good and wet,” Peter says, unplugging himself from your throat. He then sits on the bed. When you turn to him, he’s looking up and down Cat’s body. He gives you a drunken little smile. “Come see me,” he says, patting his lap. You swallow down nervousness. And walk toward him. Peter latches onto Cat’s waist and turns you around. He angles himself and slowly pulls you in. [img['images/peter/5.webp']] As Peter slowly slides inside Cat’s pussy, your mouth falls open and a loud moan spills out. He chuckles, easing himself deeper into her womb. When you hit the bottom, you feel dizzy. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Show goes on.]]

<h1>Show goes on</h1> Peter lets you get used to him inside you. //Inside Cat.// His hands cupping your asscheeks, gently steering you like his fuckable tugboat. Every inch of Peter’s dick causes waist-shaking ecstasy. Once you’ve spent some time with him inside you, he picks up the pace. Pushing Cat’s guts further up inside her body. You can’t control the moaning. He fucks it up and out your lungs. “//Oh - my - oh - fuck,//” you gasp between hip-to-waist thrusts, riding him like Santa’s little bitch. Cat’s pussy drips with moisture, begging Peter to go deeper inside. Then he punches her cervix. You feel like you might vomit. Your eyes pop open, a chest-rupturing gasp escapes you, and he wraps his hands around Cat’s breasts and squeezes them together. He wiggles his dick deep. “Are you my baby?” he asks, kissing your back as he gyrates his hips, his cock spinning circles and sloshing Cat’s poor intestines around. Your eyes roll back. You can’t even answer him. Peter picks you up and rests you on your side, keeping his cock wedged inside the whole time. “Let me cum in you?” he asks sweetly, boyishly, planting a kiss on your shoulder. You nod. [img['images/peter/6.webp']] He pushes up inside you, his cock punching against parts of Cat that must’ve never been felt. Then he gasps out, going breathless, cum gushing out from Peter as he moans deep and long. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[A sore morning.]]

<h1>A sore morning.</h1> You wake up to sunlight streaming through the hotel window. Still in Cat’s room. //In Cat’s body.// When you turn over, there’s no one there. Your heart sinks for a moment, but then you hear him. Out on the hotel balcony, crying to himself: your brother Peter. You pull the white sheets around Cat’s body and step out onto the patio, resting your hand on Peter’s shoulder. He keeps crying. “Sorry,” he says, wiping his eyes. He sniffs up some tears and clears his throat. “Good morning.” //Classic// Peter, trying to show zero emotion. You bend down and rest your head against his arm. “What’s up?” you ask as Cat. But you feel like it’s you, Oliver, checking on your sad older brother. Peter sighs out and shakes his head. “Nothing, it’s just,” he rubs his chin. “I’ve never cheated.” You stare off into the rising sun. A bird lands on the balcony railing, then soars off above you. You place your hand on the back of Peter’s neck and rub. He leans back into it, eyes closed. “You said you’ve been together since junior high?” you ask. He nods. His skin is warm, rough. You use Cat’s nails against Peter’s shoulders, gently massaging him with circular patterns. “Been bound since boyhood,” you say. He turns to you with an eyebrow raised, then leans back. //It’s what mom says. It’s what I always say, you think. Maybe a stranger will make him realize it.// Peter changes the subject. “Checked on my brother,” he says, stretching his long arms high. “He’s still snoozing. Out like a stone.” He turns to you and smiles. “Oliver. Cute little guy.” <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Breakfast with a twist.]]

<h1>Breakfast with a twist.</h1> “Can I confess something?” Peter asks, biting into a piece of toast dipped in egg yolk. As his brother, you know it’s his favorite breakfast. He looks over the moon chewing on it. You nod. He leans over the hotel dining table, whispering to you. “I get really, //really// horny when I drink.” Then he pulls back and bites into his toast. “Probably why I acted out so much last night.” Now //that// is something you weren’t aware of. You knew Peter started drinking at age sixteen, and since then, it’s been sort of a problem. But you had no idea it had a link to his libido. “Guess I’ll need to get you plastered again,” you say, the words coming out of Cat’s mouth. Peter winks at you and sips his orange juice. In your head, Rae pops up and scares you. “Kiddo, remember. You’re using Cat as an //agent,//” he says. “Just to push Peter’s boundaries a little bit. And then once we’re in a good spot, we’ll swap out.” You nod along to Rae’s lecture. “Maybe,” Peter says. For a moment you think he somehow overheard Rae, or your thoughts. “Maybe I already drank a little this morning,” he says, shrugging. “To get rid of the hangover.” You nod slowly, swallowing an orange slice. //Already? Cat’s pussy is still sore as all fucking hell. Poor woman. She’s gonna reclaim her body and find that her womb looks like an assault victim.// “But I feel like shit cheating,” he says sheepishly. “When we’re //going,// can I, um, use her name?” You nearly scream. But instead, an opportunity. “Well,” you say. “If you’ll do something for me.” <h3>Choose your role:</h3> [[Submissive character.]] [[Dominant character.]]

<h1>Submissive character.</h1> You’re sitting at the hotel desk, pretending to put makeup on. The television flickers the news. Suddenly the bathroom door bursts open. Peter emerges in a robe, hands formed like two guns. “Get on the bed, //bitch,//” he says, hesitating to use the word //bitch//. You throw your hands up high. “Please don’t hurt me,” you beg, standing up and slowly walking toward the bed in Cat’s robe. “Take that robe off,” Peter demands, stepping closer. He tries to stop a small smile creeping up. “And don’t you dare scream unless it’s because I’m //fucking// you.” And then he drops his robe. You gasp, and the gasp is somewhat real. Peter’s cock is never not breathtaking. You disrobe and seat yourself at the edge of the bed. He steps closer, his dick growing and hardening. “You’re my little slut tonight,” he says, pushing you down onto the bed. He crawls on top of you. “Is that understood?” Peter’s nose presses against Cat’s, and you nod. Then he spits on you. “Oh, I’m so sorry,” he says, reacting to your flinch. But you wave him off, licking up his spit. “What are you going to do to me, sir?” you ask, biting your lip. Your hands move up Cat’s tits. Peter gives you a dark, lusty look. Then he grabs you by Cat’s hair, flips you over, and angles his cock against your pussy. When he rams it inside, he covers your mouth so you can’t scream. [img['images/peter/7.webp']] “This is what a //man// feels like,” he growls into your ear. Then he says, “You like that, //Charlotte?//” <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Peter-pumpkin-eater.]]

<h1>Dominant character</h1> Peter is sitting at the edge of the bed in his white button-up shirt and underwear. When you walk out from the bathroom, you have his belt in your hands. He looks at you nervously, eyes wide. “You’re failing my class, Peter,” you say, slowly approaching him. You wear a white robe around Cat’s naked body. “What are we going to do with you?” You slap the leather belt into your palm. Peter jumps at the sound. As you step in front of him, he looks up at you with puppy-dog eyes. “Please teacher,” he says, almost laughing. “My parents can’t find out. Or they’ll kick me out.” You put Cat’s long fingernail against Peter’s forehead and slide it down his nose to his lips. “Maybe we can //arrange// something,” you say. “Take those clothes off, you //wretched// boy.” Peter plucks open his shirt, then he slides his underwear down, letting his gigantic cock flop out. “Hiding this from me?” you say. “//Bend over.//” Peter nervously obeys, going on all-fours atop the bed. His fine athletic ass rises in the air. You lift the belt high up. //Smack. Smack.// Peter yelps. “Now that your ass is sore,” you say, going down doggystyle. “It’s time to make //my// ass sore.” Peter giddily stands up behind you and spits down onto Cat’s asshole. He massages it wide. [img['images/peter/8.webp']] When he first pushes against your guts, your vision goes blurred. You claw at the bed, moaning. “Am I big enough for you, teacher?” he asks, splitting you open. Then, “You like that, //Charlotte?//” <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Peter-pumpkin-eater.]]

<h1>Peter-pumpkin-eater.</h1> You’re on the hotel floor with Peter, his cum oozing out from Cat’s body. He’s got his mouth on one nipple, hand pinching the other, other hand reaching down and fingering his cum out. “//I can’t - I can’t - Peter - I -//” you say, begging him to relent the pleasure. But he looks up at Cat’s face and scrunches his face into a boyish smile, continuing to suckle at her tit and finger-fuck. Instinctively you put your hands on his head and push Peter lower. He looks confused, unlatching from the tit. “Cat, I’ve never -” he says, but you //shhh// him, pushing him lower. He stares into your leaking cumhole, a product of his gigantic manhood. Peter looks up at you. You wrap your legs around him and pull him down. He obeys, sticking his tongue inside you. “Get it //all// out,” you say. Your brother laps and sucks at your hole, trying to vacuum up every last drop of his own DNA. With your hands on his head, you push Peter deeper into your orifice. When he comes up for air, he’s gasping. His lips spread apart with webs of cum between them. You wag your finger for him to come closer, and then you lick the cum from his heaving mouth. “I’ve never done, um,” he says, shaking his head. “So many things I’ve done with you, Cat.” Peter rests his head between your tits and collects his breath. You trace a finger around his ear. “Tonight we’ll try something new,” you say. Peter looks up at you, curious. You smile. “I’ll need to check on my baby brother first,” he says. “It’s supposed to be our vacation, but he’s pretty sick.” <h3>What's next?</h3> [[While Peter is gone.]]

<h1>While Peter is gone.</h1> Peter stepped out. To check on you, the //real you.// But you-inside-Cat is still on the hotel floor. There’s a moment of blissful silence. You can almost hear Peter’s cum bubbling inside of Cat. Then Rae pops into the air. “Well, kiddo,” he says, hands on his hips. “You’ve had a fun ride with her. But I think it’s time we kick this ol’ vehicle to the road.” He taps his hand on Cat’s knees. “//What?//” you ask. “Now that I’m actually pushing Peter’s sexual boundaries further, you want -” “Yes, but you’re getting lost in this,” Rae says matter-of-factly. He gestures to Cat’s naked body. “You want Peter to come to you, //Oliver.// Not the you permanently stuck inside some random -” “//Permanently stuck?//” you ask, sitting up. Immediately you feel the bruises that Peter punched into Cat’s internal organs. You slowly navigate onto the bedside and take some deep breaths. “I dunno,” Rae says, shrugging. “It could happen. But I’m telling you //this.// Your next little Cat adventure will be your last,” he says, snapping his fingers. “So make it worthwhile, kiddo.” Right now, Peter should be up in the hotel room, learning that you’re still “catching up on sleep.” And you also know that once you’re back in your //true// body, you’re going to need lots of //agents//. “Fine, Rae,” you say, standing up on Cat’s feet. “Time to send those texts I was talking about.” <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Later at the bar.]]

<h1>Later at the bar.</h1> While Peter was gone, you made arrangements for the post-Cat mission. Found her credit card. Bought $400 worth of expensive whisky. Organized where you’d leave her //body,// to use unflattering terms. Now you’re down in the bar, plying your older brother with whisky. And he’s an unfillable hole. After his fifth glass, he’s swaying left and right. “I’ve got something to say,” he slurs, smiling. You reach over with Cat’s hand and touch his arm. Peter hiccups, his eyes scanning your face. “I miss Charlotte,” he says, and then looks down ashamed. “But she’s not very, um, nice to me.” Immediately your heart drops. You feel an urge to reveal it’s you, Oliver, and //you’re// here for him. “What do you mean?” you ask. You take a sip of martini and try to swallow your budding rage. “She’s fine, most times,” he says, leaning down onto his fist. “But when we fight, she says stuff. Like I’m boring. Or I’m only good for sex.” He sighs, holding back tears. “She’s always said that.” “//Always?//” you say, the words flying out of Cat’s mouth. Right on cue, Rae pops up in your head, saying, “Kiddo, I know this is a sensitive moment. But you’ve //gotta// compose yourself. Alright?” “Anyways,” Peter says, waving the thoughts away. “I wanna say, um, thanks. With you, I’ve felt sorta different. Like I’m //not// boring.” He smiles a little. “And someone //else// is leading the sex.” You notice a young guy at the bar checking you out. He gives you a small nod. You wink at him. “Speaking of that,” you whisper to Peter, turning to him. “I have a //not boring// idea for us tonight.” <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Three's company.]]

<h1>Three's company.</h1> You’re sitting at the edge of Cat’s bed with Peter on your left and the young guy from the bar, Ryan, on your right. Peter’s leaned in smelling your hair, while Ryan nervously waits for orders. “He’s //super// drunk,” you whisper to Ryan, and he smiles. “You’re down to play around a bit?” Ryan nods, shedding off his sportcoat and tossing it aside. Peter reaches beneath your shirt. “Peter,” you say, rubbing his head like a puppy. “Ryan’s going to play with us tonight, alright?” He leans into your neck and nibbles at it. “Is that a //yes?//” you ask, but Peter’s preoccupied. You allow your brother to push you down onto the bed, his warm hands unbuttoning Cat’s shirt. Ryan plays his assistant, pulling off your heels and sliding Cat’s tights from around her legs. “You’re gonna let me lead tonight, Peter?” you ask, his hands clasping around Cat’s breasts. Your brother looks up, gives a boyish nod. Peter’s //so// used to doing all the work with Charlotte. You wink at him, then push his head down to your moist cunt. Ryan slides beside you and takes Peter’s former position, teasing your nipples. You lean in for Ryan’s mouth and slowly kiss him. A moan crawls out from your mouth. Peter’s tongue slides circles around Cat’s pussy, his hands sliding up and down her thighs. Everyone’s hands are preoccupied. But Ryan looks so lonely. “Peter,” you gasp, “I want you to do something for Ryan.” He continues salivating Cat’s vulva. “You say you want me to lead. Prove that you’re not boring. Why don’t you help Ryan out?” <h3>What's next?</h3> [[A slight new horizon.]]

<h1>A slight new horizon.</h1> Peter hesitates for a moment, his hot tongue lingering at the crest of Cat’s glistening pussy. Then he slides his hand up your leg, slowly reaching toward Ryan. And Ryan keeps kissing you. When Peter, drunken to oblivion, wraps his hand around Ryan’s long hard-on, you almost gasp. //I feel like I just climbed Mount Everest,// you think, watching mega-hetero Peter go //slightly// bi. [img['images/peter/10.webp']] Ryan grins, squeezing your nipples hard between his fingernails, making you spit out a moan. “//Fuck,// you two,” you say, running your fingers through Peter’s hair, him slobbering obediently. Peter then shoves his mouth deep into Cat’s pussy and growls, causing your hips to vibrate. “//Peter,// oh my god,” you moan. When he pulls back, he grabs your hips and slides you closer. “Sorry, man,” Peter says, flipping onto his back and spinning you atop him. “You can watch me.” And you can’t stop him. It’s in his nature, for Peter to take back control. He aims his hard cock. [img['images/peter/9.webp'] Ryan watches as Peter slides inside your moist cunt, tunneling your sticky walls apart. You can’t breathe. Your stomach bulges with Peter’s monster cock. No, not your stomach. //Cat’s// stomach. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Not in Kansas anymore.]]

<h1>Not in Kansas anymore.</h1> You wake up. //You.// Oliver. Your body feels stiff. Like a new mannequin straight from the packaging. //“Uhhhh,”// you groan, stretching your legs and arms out. The sun on your face feels nice, warm. Then you panic. //Where did we put Cat? When did Rae body-swap me back? Oh, fuck. Oh, shit. What if she calls the police again? What if -// Rae pops in front of your face, hand on his hips. “It worked,” Rae says. “Stop panicking.” You hesitate. Then sigh out. So glad to be a boy again. But you wish you could feel Cat’s soreness. Her full body memory of Peter’s hands and cock. “Where’s my brother?” you ask, rubbing your eyes. When you sit up you discover a gift basket filled with chips, candies, and bottles of soda. //Call me when you’re up,// a note says. //Love, Peter.// You throw your legs off the side of the bed. Then you bend down, checking under the mattress. //Holy shit, we did it.// Four bottles of whisky. Cat’s phone and wallet. Everything according to plan. “Did I get her to the hospital steps?” you ask Rae. Your fairy flutters in a circle, does a little plié. “Sure did,” he says, sunlight shimmering through his translucent wings. “Drunk off her ass, too.” “Good,” you say, shaking out the last of your nerves. “She went on a //drunken bender,// is all.” Rae gives a thumbs up. Then you take out Cat’s phone and send a final message to Peter. __Hi Peter. Sorry to disappear. Something urgent came up. See you in the next life!__ You hit //Send// on the text. Then you walk out on the balcony, put her phone on the ground, and smash it apart. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Reunited.]]

<h1>Reunited.</h1> “Look at that face,” Peter says, the room door shutting behind him. He opens his arms wide. “C’mere, Oliver.” He wraps you into a deep brotherly bear hug. And he smells slightly like whisky. //This is the weirdest sensation,// you think, resting your head on Peter’s shoulder. Not long ago your brother was smashing your hip bone to shards. Well, not //you.// But the memory stands. “You smell good,” he says, rubbing your wet hair. “Did you borrow my shampoo, or something?” He looks into your face, eyes rolling around a little. You nod. He brings you in for another sniff. “Good choice,” he says, tapping your chest away from his hug. “I was gonna see if you wanted to go hot tubbing, but if you’re already soaped up -” Peter says, turning away and shrugging. “I’m game,” you say. Peter turns back to you and gives a cute grin. Then he notices the table. Next to the basket of treats he left for you: the four bottles of whisky. He squints toward them. “Oh, yeah,” you say, pretending to remember something. “Some girl came by and left these. She said her name was, like, //Catherine?// Her exact words were, ‘Stay //not// boring, Peter.’” Peter stares at them, little tears forming in his eyes. He wipes them away and grins at you. “Cool,” he says, shaking it off. “A friend of mine. She helped me a lot. I didn’t even realize it.” You unzip your luggage and hunt down your swimming trunks. Peter grabs a couple of towels. “Actually, Oliver,” he says. “Cat sorta reminded me of you. Like, her speaking patterns. I dunno.” <h3>What's next?</h3> [[In the hot tub.]]

<h1>In the hot tub.</h1> You and Peter snuck a bottle of whisky down to the hot tub. Even though he won’t let you drink. Because he needs to be a //good older brother.// Meanwhile, he’s three sheets to the fuckin’ wind. “We //own// this tub,” Peter says, stretching his arms around the tub’s edge. It’s just you and him. Three A.M. in the hotel hot tub. You on one side of the bubbling water, Peter on the other side. He leans his head back and lets the warm water soothe him. You study his body, his toned chest down to his hardened abs. You wish you could swim over and kiss down his wet neck. “Don’t tell Charlotte,” he says, head still leaned back. “I mean, I trust you. So um, that Cat girl?” You notice a smile creep across Peter’s face. “She had this vagina grip that was just, it was -” He laughs to himself. “Sorry, I’m //so// drunk,” he says. “But whatever. We’re brothers. I can share.” Peter leans up and looks into your eyes. You watch him attentively. Trying not to grow a boner. “So you know how you got the gift of ass?” he asks, pointing at you, totally nonchalant. “Well, your brother got the other side. And not many girls can handle it. But this girl, she just oozed -” “I’m sorry,” you say, waving for his attention. “The gift? My ass? What are you talking about?” Peter rolls his eyes, as if you’re being dramatic. He stands up in the hot tub and grabs his pants. “Like this,” he says, flashing you his cock. His gigantic penis. It slaps against the hot tub water. “Mom used to always say, ‘Oliver got his butt from me,’” he says. “Well, I got gifted the other side.” <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Drunken thoughts, sober truths.]]

<h1>Drunken thoughts, sober truths.</h1> “Maybe I’m just being stupid,” Peter says, bringing the whisky bottle to his lips and chugging. “But Charlotte always says, ‘I want something to //hold.//’ But she can’t because I’m just flat there.” You raise your eyebrows, breathing steadily. //Is this conversation really, actually happening?// “Well, there’s a difference between flat and toned,” you say, trying to lift Peter’s drunken spirits. Peter shrugs. “Maybe it works out,” he says. “I’m going for girls and you’re going for dudes.” You’re trying to process. //Did I ever come out to Peter?// “You know what I mean though, right?” “I - I think so,” you say, staring down into the bubbles. “We each got some sort of gift. You got -” “Like, am I being crazy?” he says, slinging his whisky down onto the ledge. “Stand up, Oliver. Lemme see. I showed you //mine// now show me //yours,//” he says, putting on a playful voice. You slowly stand up. You grab the waistband to your swimming trunks and ease them down, letting your ass fall out and jiggle into place. Then you turn around in a slow, hesitant circle. “See? What the //fuck,//” Peter says, throwing his hands up. “You’ve got like, a //porn star’s// ass.” Then he takes a swig of whisky. “We should do porn. Like, not //together.// But we’d make cash.” You pull your pants back up and listen. “One brother dominates the straight industry, another dominates the gay industry.” He chuckles to himself. “Shit. When I’m drunk, I only think about -” When you push across the water toward Peter, he stops talking. You only wanted to sit closer. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[To be not boring.]]

<h1>To be not boring.</h1> But it’s not //you// who makes the next move. Peter pulls you in his grasp, looking up your body. His hands wrap around your bubble ass. “Are you drunk, too?” he asks, giving a cute smile. Then he leans into your mouth and kisses you. He’s //so// drunk. His hands slide up your back and rub your shoulders, his tongue curling around yours. When he pulls back, he huffs out a breath. [img['images/peter/11.webp']] “I don’t even know -” he says, then hiccups. “Whatever.” His hands slide down around your ass. “These things are insane.” He jiggles them in his big hands. He scrunches his nose with a grin. With your legs wrapped around his torso, you can feel Peter’s drunken boner pressing into you. He leans his head back and stares into your chest, raising his gaze to your mouth and hair. “Brothers are supposed to do this shit when they’re //younger,//” he says. “Experiment and shit.” Peter slowly lowers you down into the water. He lifts a big hand to your cheek and tap-taps. “Let’s head to the room. I’m too drunk, baby bro.” He steps out of the hot tub and grabs a towel. “No more teasing me, alright? Your older brother is stupid. But he loves you. Understood?” <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Resistance is futile.]]

<h1>Resistance is futile.</h1> Peter collapses onto the hotel couch. He stretches out, watches you strut around the room. “Y’know,” he says, slurring his words. “This is gonna sound so weird. But you walk like her, too.” You freeze in place. //There’s no way he could make the connection, right?// You smile at Peter. “That’s interesting,” you say, brushing the hot tub water from your hair. His eyes still on you. In your head, Rae pops up, asking, “Should I spin some fairy magic on him? Now seems like -” You interrupt him with a thought. //No, not on Peter. He’s vulnerable right now, let’s just wait out.// “We’ve never really talked about dude stuff,” Peter says, crossing his arms beneath his head. “Probably because I didn’t wanna rush you. But you’re eighteen now, so maybe. Y’know?” You sit down on the edge of the bed. Both you and Peter are still shirtless in swimming trunks. He rolls his eyes to the ceiling, thinking some drunken thoughts. Then he turns back to you. “When did you lose your virginity?” he asks. You hesitate. You say the words slowly, nervously. “Um, not too long ago,” you say. “You remember Colby?” He nods, smiles. “Yeah. With him.” Peter nods, gives a thumbs up, says, “Well, I hope he treated you right.” You laugh a little. “Yeah, I think so. I’m still pretty sore.” Peter bursts out a laugh. He waves you over to him. “Well, he’s a lucky guy,” he says, inviting you into a hug. You fall into Peter’s arms on the couch. Then he slowly massages your back, tracing your spine with his fingers, says, “Man, I’m drunk.” <h3>What's next?</h3> [[On the couch.]]

<h1>On the couch.</h1> “Maybe we should get you in bed,” you say. A few inches of Peter’s cock rises out from his swimming trunk waistband, the hard muscle pressing against your leg. He pets your back. “Maybe,” he says. His two big hands slide down to your swimming trunks, then creep into them. “Sometimes I wish we could switch gifts,” he says. His hands cup your bare cheeks and pinch. “Charlotte would love this,” he says, jiggling your ass and smiling at you. “A lot to hold onto.” Peter’s breath smells like pure whisky. He huffs against your throat, drunk eyes rolling around. Then he slides your swimming trunks down and fondles your underwear. His warm hands pet your ass and squeeze them, playing with them like dough. Peter shuts his eyes and enjoys it. [img['images/peter/12.webp']] “Do you ever just grab your own cheeks and jiggle them?” he asks. Then he shakes his head. “Man, I’m saying some stupid shit. Like, I’m talking about your ass like they're a pair of tits.” He laughs at himself. Then sighs. His hands push your cheeks together and release them, letting them bounce. He taps a little drum beat on your ass. “Okay, no more teasing me, Oliver.” Peter pushes you off his body. “Look, I’m dumb, drunk and horny. Lemme take care of this.” <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Taking care of things.]]

<h1>Taking care of things.</h1> Peter dismisses you. He pulls out his phone and sits up, reclining his other arm across the back of the couch. He swipes his thumb across the phone screen, his drunken eyes flickering around. “I wish that Cat woman was still around,” he says, lowering his free hand down to his trunks. Peter massages his bulge, rubbing his wrist up against the exposed few inches of his cock. “She got me doing some bizarre shit,” he says, smiling at his phone. “Believe it or not, baby bro, this guy right here had a little //bisexual// experience.” He looks up at you and wiggles his brows. Then he settles on a video on his phone. He taps it and reaches down for his swimming trunks. But then he pauses. “You wanna go take a shower, or something? I can’t really move right now.” You hesitate. Then nod, standing up from the couch and walking to your luggage, looking for dry clothes. Peter turns the volume up on his phone, inviting the ecstatic moans of two women. “Yeah, I could do porn,” he says, massaging his slightly-concealed boner. “Could you do porn?” You throw a towel over your shoulder. You turn to him with a little smile, say, “Already have.” Peter stops his video. He looks up. He silently watches as you saunter toward the bathroom. But right as you pass him, Peter reaches out and grabs your wrist. “What do you mean, Oliver?” “Well, I’m on the internet,” you shrug. You pull away from his wrist but Peter grabs you again. “How? With //who?//” He looks so startled. You look down at his phone and reach out for it. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[A bonding experience.]]

<h1>A bonding experience.</h1> You search up Colby’s OnlyFans account and pull up the first sex video he recorded with you. Then you turn the phone to Peter and slap it into his palm. He looks at you, worried, then turns. [img['images/colby/13.webp']] When he presses play, he’s met with your long boyish moans beneath Colby’s vulgar fucking. His drunken eyes widen. He watches his baby brother get fucked wide open by another guy. You stand there, heart thumping into your chest, while Peter leans back and watches. As if he’s watching a lecture. In the video, Colby pulls out from your guts and his cum gushes out of you. “Holy shit,” Peter says, pointing at the screen. “What did I say? A porn star’s ass. I’m so valid.” You reach over to grab the phone but Peter presses //Next// to see Colby’s next OnlyFans video. [img['images/colby/19.webp']] Peter whips his head up. “Wait, that’s //your// dick?” In the video, Colby eases down your cock. You give Peter a thumbs up. Peter shakes his head, looks at his phone. “My baby brother.” <h3>What's next?</h3> [[After the shower.]]

<h1>After the shower.</h1> After finishing the second video, Peter dismisses you again. He goes completely silent, flicking away on his phone, lowering his hand onto his mountainous bulge. So you go take your shower. As the showerhead runs water over you, Rae pops up into the air, landing on a shampoo bottle. “Well, I can tell you one thing,” the fairy says. “The body-swap effects //certainly// carried over.” You scrub soap into your arms, raising an eyebrow at Rae. “What do you mean?” you whisper. Rae points toward the door, signalling to Peter //out there.// “He remembers you through Cat.” You pause. Your heart sinks a little. But Rae waves that away, reading your mind. “No, he doesn’t //know,//” Rae assures you. “But it’s like Peter said. The way Cat talked. How she walked.” “Is that why he’s acting so flirty?” you ask, rinsing soap down your arms and legs. Rae nods. “Yes, kiddo,” he says. “It’s not that he sees //Cat// in you. It’s that he saw //you// within Cat, and -” “And he’s just now recognizing it,” you say, stopping the shower water. Rae pops out of the air and emerges in your thoughts. “Exactly,” your fairy says. “It’s a bit psychologically screwy.” //He’s also just pathetically drunk,// you think, rubbing a towel over your hair and body. Rae laughs. “That’s true,” your fairy says. “He made our job a lot easier with all that drunken horniness.” //And we’ll keep using that to our advantage,// you think. //Tomorrow. When our next agent arrives.// <h1>What's next?</h1> [[Blue morning.]]

<h1>Blue morning.</h1> When you wake up in the hotel bed, you feel the weightlessness beside you. //Where’s Peter?// You listen for the bathroom. Then you peer out onto the balcony. There he is, in a lounge chair. You slide the glass door open and step into the sun. Peter has his shades on, eyes concealed. “Hey, Pete,” you say, calling him his old basketball nickname. He raised a glass of orange juice. You sit down in the other lounge chair and listen to the seagulls whoop and caw. Peter’s quiet. He sips from his orange juice and leans back. He has a white robe wrapped around his body. “You feeling alright?” you ask. Your brother slowly turns his head, his expression completely flat. “Trying to stop drinking,” he grumbles. Then he returns his head to its original relaxed position. //Fuck,// you think. //Normally I’d be thrilled for Peter. But this isn’t the fucking time for a cleanser.// “Okay,” you say, shielding your eyes from the sun. “Well, let me know if I can get you anything.” When you stand up to leave, Peter clears his throat. You freeze. He leans forward in his chair. “Last night,” he says, lowering his head, “I did and said some things I’m not proud of, Oliver.” //How much does he even remember?// you think, but instead you say, “I don’t think anything -” “It was not right,” he interrupts you, sipping on his juice. “I’m your older brother. I should be taking care of you, not taking advantage.” He shakes his head at himself. Then leans back. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[In the pool.]]

<h1>In the pool.</h1> The next few hours are mildly excruciating. Peter sulks in the bed, wearing his shades indoors. He keeps his hands crossed over his chest, communicating only with slight //mmm//s or //hmm//s. “I’m going down to the pool,” you say, towel draped over a shoulder. “Hopefully see you later.” Before you leave the hotel room, you make sure to take the cap off one of the whisky bottles. When you’re out in the hall, Rae pops up. “You think that was enough to lure him, kid?” he asks. You enter the elevator and press 1 for ground floor, saying, “You must not know any alcoholics.” As you step out of the elevator, your phone vibrates: __Venmo Notification: Zach paid you $500 for “keep me your best kept secret”__ Another of the Beta Pi boys. Where does that put your bank at? You check your bank app: //$26,704.// “A faggot with power,” Rae whispers. “A dangerous thing.” Instead of immediately walking toward the pool area, you approach one of the hotel attendants. “What would it cost to rent out the pool for the night?” you ask him. He turns his head at you. “Sir, this is a luxury resort,” he says slowly, like you’re stupid. “That’s an impossibility, I’m afraid.” “Interesting,” you say, nodding. Rae appears above the attendant’s head, spinning fairy dust. “Maybe //five thousand// will work?” you say, staring into his eyes. “Direct to your bank account?” The man stares blank at you. A smile creeps along his face. “Yes, that might work for the hotel.” He brings a whistle to his lips and faces the pool. He blows. “All guests must clear out now.” <h3>What's next?</h3> [[An hour goes by.]]

<h1>An hour goes by.</h1> You lounge in a chair beneath the sun. Waiting. //Waiting.// Waiting for your brother, waiting for your next agent to finally arrive. You keep checking your phone. //Where the fuck are they?// “Now //that’s// a big bathtub.” You hear his gruff voice and turn toward the opposite end of the pool. Your brother Peter, standing at the edge of the diving board, preparing to launch. Then jumping. His cannonball sends water onto you. Rae popped from existence just before getting soaked. When Peter rises from the water, he shakes his head like a wet dog. And he grins. //So drunk.// “Looks like your method worked,” Rae says in your head. Your gut twists a bit. You feel guilty. Peter has tried over and over again to get clean. It’s been his life’s greatest struggle. And yet. “Did somebody shit in the pool, or something?” Peter asks, hollering from the center of the pool. You shake your head //no.// “The attendant said everyone was at the karaoke bar,” you lie to him. Peter shrugs, then backstrokes toward you. He stops at the ledge and waves you to join him. “C’mon, little Oliver,” he says, making a childish voice. “Remember? When I taught you to swim?” You roll your eyes, stand up, and sprint toward him. You leap over him and make a cannonball. When you emerge, Peter is still at the pool’s ledge, somehow with a half-empty bottle of whisky. He takes a sip. “We should //never// go back home,” he says, lifting the bottle to give a //cheers.// Then you hear a familiar voice. From the far side of the pool. “Hey, my man. Got room for me?” <h3>A familiar face:</h3> [[The second agent.]]

<h1>The second agent.</h1> It didn’t take much convincing for dear, sweet Matt. After completing his mission, he’s been practically in love with you. In your head, Rae corrects you. “No, not //practically. Totally, actually.//” He slowly walks into the water, shirtless and glistening. His silver cross necklace winks sunlight. “Thanks for the invite, Oliver,” he says, giving a big smile. Then he turns to Peter. “Hi, I’m Matt.” Peter gives a //sup// nod, then raises his whisky. “Matt, you twenty-one?” Matt shakes his head. Your brother shrugs, then downs another sip. “More for me then.” You wave Matt closer to you. When your old flings arrives, you bring him in for a watery hug. “Hey, I missed you,” Matt says. Immediately, because he’s got a thing against Matt’s romantics, Rae thinks, “Ugh. Not //this// shit.” “I missed you, too,” you say, and Matt leans in for a kiss. You grant it. Matt keeps it short, sweet. When you break from the kiss, Matt whispers, “So I read your text. I’ll do whatever you need.” “What are you two //love-dogs// talking about?” Peter hollers, swimming closer to you and Matt. “Oliver, I thought you were boinking that Colby guy?” Your brother wobbles with drunkenness. “//No,//” you say, cutting Peter short from embarrassing you. “Well. I mean. Colby is a type of //friend.// Matt is, he’s a -” You stop to word things correctly. Matt gives you a soft puppy dog look. “He’s special to me.” Peter nods, gives a thumbs-up. “Like Cat was special to me,” he says. “Totally get it. No prob.” He wraps his arms around Matt and then playfully dunks him underwater, holding him under. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Skinny dipping.]]

<h1>Skinny dipping.</h1> After horsing around with Matt and Peter for a while, you move on with phase two for the night. While they’re wrestling in the water, trying to decide who’s more //fit//, you step out onto the ledge. “Whoops,” you holler, dropping your trunks onto the ground. The air chills your cock and balls. You make sure to turn around so the guys can catch your round smooth ass. You bend over. “//Woo-hoo!//” Matt cheers, reaching down into the water and shedding his own shorts. He throws them aside and floats onto his back, letting his bare muscled body face the sky. He sighs out. “Now you, Peter,” Matt encourages, flicking water onto your brother’s face. For a moment, Peter looks nervous. He swims over to the ledge, takes three swigs of his whisky, and then shrugs. “You asked for it, buddy,” Peter says, pointing at Matt. Then he shimmies out from his pants. Beneath the blue water, you can see your brother’s hardened goliath cock. Thick as a wrist. Matt turns to you nervously, the face of a man thinking, //You brought me here to get murdered?// You shake your head. You wouldn’t sic Peter on sweet Matt’s asshole. That’s for the //next// agent. However, Matt //will// be the bridge between Cat and the next step. Expanding Peter’s boundaries. If there’s anyone who could do it, it’s a seemingly straight boy with humble Christian intentions. Peter floats in the water, his eyes rolling left and right. Drunker and drunker. He reclines back. His cock flips into the air, slinging water across your face. You look at Matt and give the nod. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[The bridge.]]

<h1>The bridge.</h1> As Peter floats on his back, eyes closed, enjoying the cool water against his skin, you and Matt quietly swim closer to him. When you arrive at Peter’s long torso, you rub your hands across it. “//Shhh,//” you say. “Keep your eyes closed, Pete.” And your brother obliges. You massage him, and then Matt floats between Peter’s legs, rubbing his hands up your brother’s inner-thighs. Peter’s monster cock flops against his abdomen. Only a few inches from Matt’s face, who keeps looking down at it and then up to you. You soothe Matt with slow nods. Peter breaths in, out, in. With your hands on Peter’s firm wet body, rubbing around his pecs, you feel his chest expand. //God, I wish that was me between his legs,// you think. //But Peter took last night way too hard.// “Do you feel good?” you whisper to Peter, who nods and smiles. Your fingers circle his nipples. He wraps his hands behind his head, inviting all the body worship you and Matt can provide. That’s when you turn to Matt and wink. Your friend nods, looking down at Peter’s nine inches. And then leans in. You remember Matt’s saliva. He’s a saliva machine, an endless well of wet. [img['images/peter/16.webp']] When Matt takes Peter’s thick head into his mouth, your brother’s eyes pop open. “//Shhh,//” you whisper to Peter. “It’s just my friend. He wants to make you feel good. You deserve it, Pete.” <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Change of scenery.]]

<h1>Chance of scenery.</h1> Little gasps escape Peter’s mouth as Matt bathes your brother’s cock. Your friend keeps glancing up, looking for your approval, and you wink at him. Your hands slide to Peter’s neck. “Is he a good boy?” you ask Peter, petting his Adam’s apple. Your brother nods. Part of this is making Peter accept the word //boy. Guy. Dude. Man.// Building that bridge from heterosexuality. “Good boy,” Peter whispers, reaching down to scratch Matt’s head. But his head dips back, slipping under the water. He comes up spitting water, gasping for air. “//Fuck,// that was dumb.” The three of you laugh. Matt unplugs your brother’s cock from his mouth, spitting into the pool. “Sorry, sorry,” he begs. “There’s lots of chlorine. I’ve been trying to hold it.” He looks ashamed. Peter winks at Matt and brings him in for a hug. Then your brother turns to you. “Let’s take this back to the room,” he says, slurring his speech on alcohol. “So that one of us doesn’t drown.” You, Peter, and Matt slide your trunks on, hiding your boners, and sneak upstairs through the stairwell. When you’re in the room, Peter immediately sheds his pants and drops on the couch. “Alright, Oliver’s friend,” he says, patting his lap. “Come see me.” Matt gives a dimpled smile and drops to his knees. As he approaches your brother’s meat, you accompany him to his side. [img['images/peter/17.webp']] As Matt gags down Peter’s cock, only swallowing half of it, you grab your brother’s balls and gently massage them. “Is this okay?” you ask Peter. He rolls his eyes back with pleasure. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[The big splash.]]

<h1>The big splash.</h1> Peter reaches down and wraps his hands around Matt’s neck. //Oh shit, I remember this trick.// From Cat’s time. Peter squeezes Matt’s throat gently, opening and closing his air passageway. At first your friend gags, almost spitting up, but then he settles into Peter’s gentle massages. Your brother’s cock goes deeper, deeper, disappearing into Matt’s neck, sparkling with saliva. “That’s a good, good boy,” Peter says, pinching Matt’s hair between his fingers and rubbing, while you continue massaging Peter’s balls together. You wish you were Matt so bad right now. You can see Peter’s girth press a bulge against Matt’s neck, creating a second Adam’s apple. You reach over and stroke it. Matt makes delicious slurping sounds, drool pooling to his chin. That’s when you take your hand and place it on top of Matt’s head, crossing fingers with Peter. He grips onto you and squeezes, his legs beginning to tremble. //Oh shit. He’s about to blow.// Instinct kicks in. You grab Matt’s hair and unplug him from Peter’s long cock. Then you move in, placing yourself in front of your brother’s length, opening your mouth. He explodes with a moan. “Oliver?” he says, just as buckets of cum launch from him. It splatters against your face, up into your nose and between your teeth. Peter’s warm cum crawls down your cheeks, your eyelids. [img['images/peter/15.webp']] Your brother takes one long drunken look at your cum-painted face. And then he passes out. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[The drive home.]]

<h1>The drive home.</h1> //I fucked up. I fucked up. I fucked up.// You keep running the thought through your head. //I fucked - //And then Rae enters your thoughts. “Zero risk, zero reward, kiddo,” he says, utterly unfazed. You’re in the passenger seat of your brother Peter’s car, watching the hotel resort slip away. Destination? Home. Reason? Peter woke up this morning, disgusted with yesterday’s actions. Your brother woke you up at sunrise, whispering, “Let’s head home, bud.” It was two days early. You had your next agents scheduled for the weekend. But Peter’s guilt ruined //everything.// He hardly speaks. When Peter catches your eyes in the rear view mirror, he flinches with guilt. //Rae, this mission is fucking impossible. Unless we dunk fairy magic on him, Peter’s hopeless.// “Listen, Oliver,” your fairy says, speaking in your thoughts with a calm composure. “When it comes to men, shame is the key to one of two doors.” You let that sink in. “Absolution, or oblivion.” //So you think this is a good thing?// you ask. Rae lingers on the question, then answers. “Kiddo, you need to be willing to encourage your brother’s oblivion.” That’s all he says. But you get it. You sigh. You turn to face the clouds. //These missions are getting harder.// Colby felt like a lifetime ago. And when Beta Pi came up, you thought it was the ultimate gauntlet. Turns out it was hardly a warm-up. Then came Matt. Poor, sweet Matt. Once so innocent. Now a servant. //We’re about halfway through right?// you ask Rae. //Fourth out of seven?// He doesn’t answer that. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Home, sweet home.]]

<h1>Home, sweet home.</h1> When you enter your house, you immediately head up to your room. Peter sits down on the living room couch and watches television. His old bedroom has since been turned into an office. You shut your bedroom door behind you. Then Rae pops up. “Doesn’t he have a //fiancée// to go home to?” he asks. You shrug. You drop your luggage on the ground and collapse on your bed. “Peter might go with the //absolution// path,” you sigh out, referencing Rae’s two doors of shame. “Confess to Charlotte. She’ll forgive him. Or break up with him.” You shrug. “Probably forgive.” Rae scratches his little fairy head. “So he’ll admit to fucking some random woman? I get that. But the threesome with a guy? And fondling his brother’s ass? Getting a blowjob from your -” “I don’t //know,// Rae,” you say, swatting him from your presence. “Charlotte knows he’s a stupid drunk. But I doubt she’ll leave.” You sigh. “I just wish he wouldn’t get so fucking //sad// about it.” “This is the only life he knows, kid,” Rae says. You think about that. Peter’s entire life. Charlotte. Drunkenness. That stupid travel agent job. It //used// to include basketball. He used to laugh a lot. “Fuck it,” you say, sitting up on your bed. “I’m going downstairs.” As you march toward the door, Rae flutters beside you, saying, “Oliver? You need some magic? What are you doing? What -” You swat Rae away. Bounding down the stairs. Entering the living room. Looking at Peter. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Let him know.]]

<h1>Let him know.</h1> “It made me happy,” you holler. Peter jumps at your voice. He turns to you then mutes the TV. “Everything that happened. It made me happy,” you say. “You can be sad about it. But I’m //not.//” Peter stares at you, eyes wide. He looks down at the ground and breathes. “Oliver, listen, I’m -” “No, you listen to //me.//” You put your hand on your chest. “We were //never// close, Peter. I never understood you. But for the first time I feel like I am. I don’t //care// if you were drunk. //I don’t care.//” Peter nods. He listens dutifully. You sigh, shaking nerves out from your chest. “Sorry,” you say. “That was a lot. But I mean it.” Then you turn to walk back upstairs. But Peter clears his throat. He taps the cushion beside him. //Sit here,// he signals. You obey. You sit on the couch near him. Peter wraps his arms around you and brings you against his warm body, holding you tightly. “I’m glad you’re happy,” he says. “I just want to mean the things I do, Oliver. Not a drunken Peter.” His gruff voice vibrates against your body. It’s warm. You sigh into him and he rubs your back. “So what did you mean, then?” you ask, head pressed against his chest. “From what you said?” He pulls back and scans your face. His eyes go somewhere else. A place of deeper thought. “I can’t remember what I said,” he says, eyes watering. “But I remember what I did. That’s what scares me.” You let him breathe out a shaky breath. “I feel like I keep manipulating everyone.” <h3>What's next?</h3> [[The test.]]

<h1>The test.</h1> “So when Cat approached you in the bar, by her own volition, you think you //made// that happen?” Peter furrows his brows. He looks around the room, says, “Did I tell you how I met Catherine?” You freeze. //Fuck. Fuck-y fuck.// “Yes,” you say on the spot. “When you were drunk. You probably, um, just don’t remember telling me. But you did. You told me everything with, um, great detail.” Peter makes a small smile. Then he snorts out a laugh. “Then I told you about the roleplay?” You nod, breaking into a smile. He covers his face with his hand, says, “Oh, //man.// That Cat.” “Pete,” you say, drawing his attention back. “You’re worried that you, like, coerced people? When you were drunk?” He nods. You take his hand. “Let me prove something to you, then.” As you guide your brother upstairs, Rae pops into your head. “The sign of a great human fairy,” he says, “is when they no longer rely on the magic.” You can’t help but feel a glow in your chest. You pull Peter into your room and sit him down on the bed’s edge. He looks around, confused. “Peter, we talked about our gifts,” you say. He thinks about that, then nods. “I’m telling you now. My own volition. //No coercion.// You sitting there, silently, just listening. That I want to explore it.” “Explore it?” he says, raising an eyebrow. “Oliver, I love you. To absolute pieces. But we’re bro -” “You choose, Peter,” you say, snapping. You hold up two fingers. “Choose my gift, or your gift.” <h3>Which does he choose?</h3> [[My gift.]] [[Peter's gift.]]

<h1>My gift.</h1> “Clothes off,” you say, and Peter opens his mouth. “No, let //me// lead.” Thankfully, from your time as Cat, you learned the things that your brother wants to hear. //Needs// to hear. So you use them. Peter strips down and his cock flops out, half-erect. Some alcohol would have him at full mast. But the point is to prove something to Peter //without// alcohol. You strip down and approach him. “The only way this can work,” you say, pointing to yourself, “is if you stay absolutely silent. Understood? That way you cannot, in no way, blame yourself later on. This is //my// show now.” Peter looks shocked at your authority. He gulps down and nods. You say, “Now lie down flat.” Your brother reclines onto your bed. His eyes drift down your body, landing on your fat ass. “Like you said,” you whisper, “brothers fool around at some point.” You crawl up his toned chest. When your waist hovers above his throat, you pet his nose. “We just started later than most.” Then you turn around and plant your ass against Peter’s face. Like a big hungry dog, your brother gets to work on your asshole. He wraps his arms around your legs and brings you in. [img['images/peter/14.webp']] “Oh, fuck,” you say, his long tongue playing the alphabet against your hole. He rubs up and down your legs, soothing you firmer against his chin. “Peter,” you moan. “Don’t stop, Pete.” <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Fine timing.]]

<h1>Peter's gift.</h1> “Clothes off,” you say, and Peter opens his mouth. “No, let //me// lead.” Thankfully, from your time as Cat, you learned the things that your brother wants to hear. //Needs// to hear. So you use them. Peter strips down and his cock flops out, half-erect. Some alcohol would have him at full mast. But the point is to prove something to Peter //without// alcohol. You strip down and approach him. “The only way this can work,” you say, pointing to yourself, “is if you stay absolutely silent. Understood? That way you cannot, in no way, blame yourself later on. This is //my// show now.” Peter looks shocked at your authority. He gulps down and nods. You say, “Now lie down flat.” Your brother reclines onto your bed. His eyes drift up your body, landing on your wet lips. “Like you said,” you whisper, “brothers fool around at some point.” You slide between his thighs. When you’re above his cock, you dribble down a line of drool. “We just started later than most.” Then you lean down and shove Peter’s cock into your mouth. Without hesitation, your brother grips your neck and does his squeezing technique, forcing all nine inches down your throat. [img['images/peter/13.webp']] “Oh, //fuck,//” he moans, penis glands flaring up and clogging your throat full. His fingers press your neck tightly, Peter’s precum oozing into your tummy. “Oliver,” he moans. “Don’t stop, please.” <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Fine timing.]]

<h1>Fine timing.</h1> The front door downstairs slams shut. Immediately you and Peter look to each other, then leap apart. You reach for your clothes as Peter follows, pulling underwear on, then jeans and shirt. Just as you’re tucking your boner within your waistband, the heels against the hallway floor stop, and your mother opens your bedroom door. “Oliver?” she says, entering to check on you. “//There’s// both my boys,” she says, smiling, purse wrapped around one arm. “I saw your car in the driveway, Peter. I thought you two were gone for the week?” You smile, shaking your head. “Oliver got pretty sick,” Peter says, somehow always avoiding lying to Mom. “We came home just in case.” He pats you on the back. Your mother gives a sympathetic look, then waves too-da-loo. When her heels disappear down the hall, Peter brings you in tight. “I love you, brother,” he says. You breathe his warm smell in. “I love you, Pete.” He kisses a small peck on top of your head. “Wait,” he says, thinking to himself. “When I was drunk, did we ever, you know?” He pinches his fingers together on both hands, then mimics kissing by bringing them together. You nod, giving a shy smile. Peter bonks his head with his wrist. Then he leans into your face. When his lips meet yours, finally, for the first time, it doesn’t taste like whisky. It tastes like Peter. His tongue breaks between your lips and runs across your teeth. Then he explores your tongue, the insides of both cheeks, before nibbling down on your bottom lip. His saliva tastes delicious. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[The life before this.]]

<h1>The life before this.</h1> After the kiss with Peter, he couldn’t hold his erection. But instead of letting you, his dutiful baby brother, take care of things, the logical solution arrived to him: “I miss Charlotte,” he sighed out. Heat rose to your face. In your head, Rae popped up, “Cool it, Oliver. Stay cool.” You nod, smiling. “I’m sure she misses you,” you said between your teeth. Peter rubbed your head and then left. That night you sulked around the house. Rae played the sympathetic friend, rubbing an inch of your shoulder with his tiny fairy hands. “He had a life before this,” he said, reminding you. You sulked into the shower, where you jacked off to thoughts of Peter’s cock. Then you sulked downstairs to the living room. You sulked back onto the couch, watching a corny reality show. And now, while flicking through the TV channels, still sulking, you hear a car door slam outside. Boot steps across the front porch. You sit up, curious. //But Mom’s in bed?// A key enters the door. “Hi, Oliver,” Peter says, stumbling through the door. You can smell him from across the room. Whiskey. His eyes roll left to right. You stand up and help your brother onto the couch. “Peter, did you //drive// like this?” you ask, nudging his shoulder. Your heart races with anxiety. Peter nods, looking at you with water in his eyes. He whispers to you, “I forgot to delete them.” You shake your head, confused. “What?” you say. He flops back into the couch. He shakes out a stream of tears. “The texts with Catherine. Charlotte went through my phone. She asked.” <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Acting on tragedy.]]

<h1>Acting on tragedy.</h1 Peter summarized: Charlotte peeped on his phone. Found the Catherine text saying goodbye. Apparently he responded at some point, probably while drunk: __thinking bout ur moan tonight__ And he confessed. Like you predicted, Peter went along with the //absolution// route. But when Charlotte interrogated him, Peter clapped back with //why.// Because she made him //miserable.// “You treat me like shit,” he recounted telling her, already two whiskeys deep. “I’m never good enough for you. Too boring. Only good for fucking you. But Catherine made me feel //special.//” You brought Peter in for a hug. When you asked him what Charlotte said in return, he told you. “She said it was true,” he said. “That I //am// lifeless. I’m a stupid drunk with a big useless dick.” In your head, Rae added a comment, laughing, “That dick is //not// useless.” You ignored him. “Peter, I’ve known you longer than her,” you said to your brother. “So trust me. You’re fantastic.” Peter nodded, smiling. “That wasn’t the worst part.” He hiccuped, more tears in his eyes. “Charlotte said she’d been fucking someone at her job,” he said, slowly breathing. “For //years.//” For a brief moment, you considered asking Rae to body-swap with Charlotte. Bring her body to the top of a tall bridge. Then jump. And right before she hit the ground, switch back to yourself. “If you learned anything these past few days,” you tell Peter, holding his chin to face you. “It’s that you aren’t boring. Not for a fucking second. You have so much life, Pete. You’re //alive.//” <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Forward march.]]

<h1>Forward march.</h1> Now you’re wiping tears from Peter’s face. He smiles. “You’re very good with words,” he says. The smell of whiskey lifts from his breath. You pull back for air and he notices. “Shit, I’m sorry.” “We’ll get you outta this,” you say, patting his shoulder. Then you look down. Peter’s wasted. That means he’s got a rock solid boner. You nod toward it. “You’ve had that all day long?” Your brother groans, throws his head back against the couch. “//Yes,// man. I went home hoping I’d get some ass. But Charlotte just started asking questions. Then went through my phone.” You both fall silent. Then Peter shrugs. “Me and porn are gonna be best friends for a while.” Your brother laughs, bumping his shoulder against yours. You smile at him. Then have an idea. “I think I can help,” you say. Peter scans your face, then turns and shakes his head. //He needs more whiskey to go far. I’ve gotta toe the line.// He whispers, “We’ve been pushing things, Oliver.” “No, not me,” you say, thinking to yourself, //Not yet.// “I have a friend. If you’re interested in, um, taking what we did earlier. To the next level.” You speak slowly, carefully. “He’s good for it.” Peter leans back and rolls his eyes across the ceiling. “I guess I’m a free man now,” he says. “Never had an exploration phase.” Then he turns to you and winks. “And a hole’s a hole.” “Exactly,” you say, taking out your phone. “He owes me a favor. So he’ll be here in no time.” <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Big and Little.]]

<h1>Big and Little.</h1> “My Big said I could come,” the guy says. You never figured out his name. He’s a Freshman in the Beta Pi frat. You only know his //Big// is named Seth, and that this kid can take a //huge// cock. “Okay,” Peter says, looking over at you. This guy is hella awkward. “What’s your name, man?” “I’m Little,” the guy says. “Seth is my Big. But Seth said you’re my Big tonight. I’m your Little.” The guy, //Little,// walks over and sits on the couch. He takes off his glasses and sets them aside. “Seth said you can’t cum inside me,” he says, looking down shyly. “That part’s only for Seth.” Peter looks back and forth between you and Little, then asks, “What happens if I cum inside?” Little looks up and smiles. “Then I’ll be in Big trouble.” Peter slowly nods his head and shrugs. “Well, I don’t pull out,” your brother says, pulling on his shirt. “So I guess we’ll use a condom.” For some reason, that makes Little excited. The guy stands up and starts to shimmy out from his pants. When Peter kicks his jeans off his legs, Little stares at your brother’s massive cock. “I’m ready for you,” Little says, his lean hairless body standing in the center of the living room. Peter approaches the guy and wraps his hand around Little’s waist, lowering him to the floor. [img['images/peter/22.webp']] It’s //technically// Peter’s first guy to fuck. So it starts off awkwardly. But once he’s in his groove, Little is blasting boyish moans as Peter mashes the poor kid’s guts around his little stomach. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Same team.]]

<h1>Same team.</h1> After Peter spewed into his mega-sized condom, Little pulled off your brother and slid the rubber off Peter’s cock. You and Peter watched as Little slurped your brother’s cum out like yogurt. “Thank you,” Little said, smiling, giving a series of cum-filled burps. “Seth will be very proud.” After the Freshman got dressed, the door shutting behind him, you and Peter burst into laughter. “What the //fuck// was that?” your brother now asks, collapsing onto the couch cushions. Still nude. His limp cock swinging around like a pendulum. Smelling like beer and cum and mannish sweat. “I’m //so// sorry,” you say, covering your face with shame. “I just knew he was a size bitch, so I -” “Oliver, it was fucking //hot,//” he says, nudging your shoulder. “Kid might be weird, but his ass was tight as a pussy. //Tighter.//” Peter stretches his arms out. “And I can’t believe I came that much.” “I still can’t believe he drank it all,” you say, holding back another laugh. Peter turns and winks. “All my life,” he says, “I’ve never had a girl drink my cum. But in one week, I’ve had //two// guys.” You think on that for a second. The second is //Little.// But the first? //Oh. That’s me. At the hotel.// Peter wraps his arm around you and brings you closer. Your shoulder next to his bare body. “Until my next crazy bitch girlfriend,” he says, “consider your big brother Pete //open season.//” You smile. You wonder if that //season// includes you. And you wonder, //Only when Peter’s drunk? Where does he stand now?// Peter pets your head. //One more agent,// you think. //Just one more.// <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Seat reversal.]]

<h1>Seat reversal</h1> This time, you’re behind the wheel. Peter’s in the passenger seat of your car. The destination? One agent, or another. You’ve got two options for the night. Attending? It’ll just be your brother. “I feel like I’m going to prom,” Peter says, sticking his hand out the open window. He whistles. “You sure you’ll be alright by yourself?” you ask. Your brother turns to you and rolls his eyes. “I’m no stranger to sex, Oliver,” he says. Then continues whistling. You nervously rub your jeans with one hand, steering with the other. You’ve received two confirmation texts from two guys. In your head, Rae starts teasing you. “Mighty noble of you, kiddo,” he says, “sending your brother off to fuck someone else. //Again.//” You hold back a series of expletives and just sigh. Peter stops whistling and leans his head back against the headrest. He turns his head to you and watches you drive. From the corner of your eyes, you notice him giving a small little grin. “What?” you ask, nervously smiling. “What did I do?” But he just shakes his head and turns. Peter leans forward and looks up into the night sky. He whispers, “I feel like a little kid again.” “//Sure,//” you say, sarcastically. “While I taxi you to your dick appointment.” Peter snorts a laugh. He puts his hand on your thigh and rubs, says, “You’re a good brother, Oliver. Don’t forget that.” Then you approach the intersection where you’ll need to turn left or right. Where will Peter go? You’ve got two options. Your best friend, Colby. Or the President of Beta Pi fraternity, Tommy. <h3>Where will you bring Peter?</h3> [[With Colby, Pt. 1.]] [[With Tommy, Pt. 1.]]

<h1>With Colby, Pt. 1.</h1> You turn left at the intersection and drive toward Colby’s house. The place you lost your virginity. After becoming a call boy, Colby has become a master. You trust your best friend with Peter. After the previous night with Little, which Peter //swears// was great, even though it was strange, you want to make sure that your brother gets the //best// possible ass. Colby is a professional. You told Colby the rules: 1) No alcohol. 2) It must be the best fucking sex Peter has ever had. Lastly, 3) You want evidence. Besides, you just watched Peter fuck Little. He shouldn’t mind. When you pull up into Colby’s driveway, Peter turns to you with a bright handsome smile. “Alright, baby brother,” he says, leaning toward you. He gently grabs your face and kisses you. His lips are soft, warm. You shut your eyes and let Peter’s hand pull your chin into his mouth. Then he pulls back. “I’ll say sorry in advance,” he says. “For what I’m about to do to your friend.” You stare at him, butterflies in your chest. You nod. Your brother opens the door and walks off. //God, I feel like he’s going off to war,// you think. Rae pops up in the car, landing on the gear shift. “Yeah,” he says. “Going to war on Colby’s asshole.” You give Rae a sharp glare and put the car in reverse. On the drive home, you count every one of your heartbeats. One. Ten. Twenty-nine. “Kid, what the hell are you doing in your brain?” he asks. You sigh. “I’m counting heartbeats. Trying to keep myself from imagining Peter and Colby.” In just a few hours, you’ll have a video. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[With Colby, Pt. 2.]]

<h1>With Tommy, Pt. 1.</h1> You turn right at the intersection and drive toward Beta Pi house. That great colosseum of cock. You know that the fraternity’s esteemed leader, Tommy, can offer Pete a roster of fat ass twinks. After the previous night with Little, which Peter //swears// was great, even though it was strange, you want to make sure that your brother gets the //best// possible ass. Beta Pi has infinite options. You told Tommy the rules: 1) No alcohol. 2) It must be the best fucking sex Peter has ever had. Lastly, 3) You want evidence. Besides, you just watched Peter fuck Little. He shouldn’t mind. When you pull up onto the college campus, Peter turns to you with a bright handsome smile. “Alright, baby brother,” he says, leaning toward you. He gently grabs your face and kisses you. His lips are soft, warm. You shut your eyes and let Peter’s hand pull your chin into his mouth. Then he pulls back. “I’ll say sorry in advance,” he says. “For what I’m about to do these guys.” You stare at him, butterflies in your chest. You nod. Your brother opens the door and walks off. //God, I feel like he’s going off to war,// you think. Rae pops up in the car, landing on the gear shift. “Yeah,” he says. “Going to war on some Freshman’s hole.” You give Rae a glare and put the car in reverse. On the drive home, you count every one of your heartbeats. One. Ten. Twenty-nine. “Kid, what the hell are you doing in your brain?” he asks. You sigh. “I’m counting heartbeats. Trying to keep myself from imagining Peter and some twink.” In a few hours, you’ll have a video. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[With Tommy, Pt. 2.]]

<h1>With Colby, Pt. 2.</h1> Sometime after midnight, you receive the text from Colby: __here u go <3 i’ll be sore for a week__ In the first video, Peter has Colby pressed down into the couch. Your brother holds him down, shoving his cock deep inside Colby’s ass. And little Colby rolls his eyes back, arms going limp. [img['images/peter/18.webp']] At one point in the video, Peter pulls all nine inches out and prepares to ram it back inside. Colby begs, “//Wait, please, wait!//” But Peter plunges back in, your friend shrieking out a moan. Every few moments you hear the squelching sound of Colby’s wet insides getting spread apart. “You like that, pretty boy?” Peter growls into your friend’s ear, but Colby couldn’t even speak. Halfway through the video, your brother lifts Colby into the air and begins slamming your friend down onto his cock. Drool starts to dribble out from Colby’s lips, while Peter grunts and huffs. [img['images/peter/19.webp']] “//You’re - drooling on - my stomach,//” Peter says between his upward thrusts. Colby trembles, moaning, “//Peter - I’m gonna -//” Colby spews out a prostate orgasm, cum spraying across their stomachs. Then your brother follows suit, punching his dick into Colby and flooding his guts. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[With Colby, Pt. 3.]]

<h1>With Colby, Pt. 3.</h1> You pull up outside Colby’s house. It’s the dead of night, sometime after 3AM. You honk twice. After a few minutes, Peter comes outside with a bag of popcorn. He strides up to the car with a confidence to his step, opens the door, and slings himself down into the passenger seat. “Hey, baby bro,” he says. He scrunches his face into a cute smile. Then he reaches into the popcorn bag and lifts a handful to your mouth. You shake your head, //No thanks.// He shrugs. “Well, how did it go?” you ask, pulling out from the driveway. Peter pulls on the seat lever and reclines back. A few pieces of popcorn fling down onto the car floor. He munches and munches. “How do I put this?” he says, turning to look out the window. He watches each streetlight pass, eyes shifting left to right. “I think I made him speak in tongues. Like the demon possession shit.” You snort a laugh. Out of the corner of your eyes, you see him proudly smile. He pinches more popcorn and tries to feed you. This time you relent, opening your mouth. He shoves it inside. “Buttery,” you say, swallowing down. Then Peter bursts into hysterical laughter. You turn to him. “//What?//” you say. “When you laugh like that, it’s //never// a good sign.” He tries to collect himself. “The butter is Colby’s jizz,” he says between laughter. You stop at a red light. Then turn to Peter. You give him the look of death. But he just keeps laughing and laughing. You reach over to the popcorn bag and grab another handful. “Well,” you say. “I’m glad you had a good time, Pete.” <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Movie night.]]

<h1>Movie night.</h1> You spend the weekend helping Peter move his furniture out of his old apartment with Charlotte. Once everything has been packed, transported, and unpacked back into his old room, you relax. It’s nighttime. You and Peter sit in the living room, flicking through the channels of reality shows. “I’m glad you were there,” your brother says, hand on the remote. “So I wasn’t alone with her.” “Of course,” you say. “You know I never liked that bitch.” The words fall out from your mouth. Peter turns to you with eyebrows raised. He clicks his tongue and turns back to the television. “Sorry,” you say, looking up to him for forgiveness. “That’s harsh.” Peter hesitates. Then shrugs. “Maybe she was a - a bitch,” he says, trying the word out. “I was with her for so long, it’s hard -” “You don’t have to explain anything,” you say. “Welcome home, Pete.” He turns, then smiles. After flipping through every channel known to man, Peter groans and turns off the television. “Who knew,” he says, “that in two weeks I’d go from Stuck-with-Charlotte, to Bisexual King.” You laugh at that. “King?” you say, rolling your eyes. “Maybe a //prince.//” Peter pretends to gasp. “No, a //prince// waits in line.” He lifts one finger. “The //line// waits for the King.” He points to himself. “//Ah, okay,//” you say in a sarcastic tone, smiling. “Then where’s that line at?” You look around. When you turn back to your brother, his finger is pointed at you. “You’re calling //me// a prince?” Peter shrugs. “Well, have you been waiting for me?” He looks at you. And you look at him. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Five minutes later.]]

<h1>With Tommy, Pt. 2.</h1> Sometime after midnight, you receive the text from Tommy: __OK, you only said no ALCOHOL ;)__ When you open the first video, your jaw hits the floor. Peter’s legs are spread over Tommy’s lap. He slides up and down the President’s thick cock, your brother’s eyes rolling back with ecstasy. [img['images/peter/20.webp']] “You like that, big boy?” Tommy asks, thrusting his rod against your brother’s virgin guts. Peter’s legs tremble as he speaks gibberish. “My stomach,” he moans. “So far up. I feel you. //Oh, man.//” No doubt Tommy slipped a drug into Peter’s water. Every few moments, you hear your brother’s ass make sticky wet sounds as Tommy pummels him. His gruff moans turn into boyish moans. Halfway through the video, the scene changes to a storage shed on Beta Pi’s property. One of the Seniors bends over a wooden bench. Peter licks his fingers and moistens the guy’s hole. [img['images/peter/21.webp']] When Peter ruts into the man’s body, the guy howls with pleasure and pain. “Come here, boy,” your brother says, smiling as he plunges down to his hips. Then cum oozes out around his cock. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[With Tommy, Pt. 3.]]

<h1>With Tommy, Pt. 3.</h1> You drive circles around campus. It’s the dead of night, sometime after 3AM. You honk twice. After a few minutes, you hear a distinct whistle. Peter waves you down from the sidewalk out front Beta Pi’s house. He wears a bright blue hat with some illegible inscription on the crown. “Hey, baby bro,” he says, slinging into the passenger seat. You lean over and squint at the cap. The text reads, //I got pied at Beta Pi.// Behind the text there’s a picture of a pie with white filling. You roll your eyes and start driving. “So,” you ask, a bit nervous. “What did Tommy give you?” Peter drums his fingers on the dashboard and plays coy. “A little blue hat,” he says, smiling. “Peter,” you say between your teeth. “Tell me what happened in there.” Your brother whistles. Then he shrugs. “I won a bet.” He rolls down the passenger window and puts his hand out. “What //bet?//” you ask, raising an eyebrow. “For that hat? Did you fuck some twink for that hat?” Peter rolls his eyes. “No,” he says. “Maybe I did some drugs for this hat.” Then he adds on, “And what’s a //twink?//” You groan. “What drugs?” you ask, but Peter just shrugs. “Tommy said it was a drug cocktail.” And then you nearly crash the car. “//A drug - A cocktail of -//” You can’t even finish your sentence. Peter clears his throat and smiles. He lifts one finger, as if to make an eloquent speech. “And then,” he says, “//Maybe// I got really, really high.” He waits a moment. “And //maybe// I got pied.” He waits two moments. “At Beta //Pi.//” Then he bursts into laughter. You sigh. “Well,” you say. “At least you had a good time, Pete.” <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Movie night.]]

<h1>Five minutes later.</h1> It’s just like Peter said. In two weeks he went from locked-and-chained to that bitch Charlotte, to //total bisexual open season//, or whatever. Similarly, within five minutes, your brother had you in his arms, his hands on your bubbly ass. “God, I missed these things,” he says, jiggling them in his warm palms. “My brother’s big gift.” You can feel each of his individual fingers pushing into your cheeks. You lean down into him. When your lips meet his, he raises one hand beneath your shirt and slowly traces down your spine. Peter bites onto your bottom lip and tugs a little. You give him a nervous puppy dog look. “Oh, //don’t,//” he says. “You used to do that when you wanted something. You’d open your eyes, then say, ‘//Give it to me, Peter.//’” His hands spread your ass apart. “Impossible to say no to that.” Both you and Peter are half-naked. You with your shirt still on. Your brother with his pants on. But his massive bulge rubs against your bare cock. You slowly press your forehead against his. “Hey, Peter,” you whisper, giving a devilish look. His eyes roll up your face, meeting your eyes. You raise both hands to his ears and trace them, sliding down to his shoulders. “//Give it to me.//” Peter gulps. He lifts your shirt over your head and throws it across the room. Then you reach down to his belt, unbuckling it and tossing it on the couch. He proceeds to shimmy his jeans off. Now it’s you and Peter. Both slid down on the floor. Naked with each other. His hot breath against your bare chest. His tongue kissing up your neck. His fingers pressing into you. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Get it.]]

<h1>Get it.</h1> Peter turns you around and lets your back rest against his hard chest. His cock flops against your own. He kisses your shoulders and rubs his hands up your body, pinching at your nipples. “You didn’t answer my question,” he whispers in your ear. As one hand clenches your throat, Peter’s other hand slides down your belly. He grips onto your balls. “Have you been waiting?” You nod, //mmhmm.// “Good boy,” he says, massaging your balls together. “Are you my prince?” he asks. His hand slides up your cock, fingers circling around your glands. You slowly nod. Peter kisses the back of your neck. “Good Oliver,” he says, then adds. “What does that make me?” You lean your head back across his shoulder, letting him gently bite into your neck flesh. “King,” you say. His hands reach down to your asscheeks and slowly lifts you. Peter’s hot breath travels down your back. //Oh god,// you think. //Here it comes. All these years. I might pass out.// “From now on,” he whispers, kissing at your jaw and cheeks. “When I say come, you come.” You nod. “And when I say stay, you stay.” You nod. “You’ve always been my special boy, Oliver.” [img['images/peter/25.webp']] The tip of his cock presses against your hole. “I love you,” he says. Your hole begins to spread. “I want to show you that,” he whispers again. Peter’s cock begins to push your inner-walls apart. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[As it always was.]]

<h1>As it always was.</h1> Thunder suddenly erupts around the house. Ever since childhood, it was your irrational fear. Your body freezes. It causes you to completely drop down Peter’s girth, slamming deep inside. “//Ah,//” you gasp, every ounce of breath escaping you. Your brother quickly wraps his arms around you. “Are you okay?” he asks, concerned. The pain settles in. Your body goes cold. And then you slowly warm. First came the numbness. Then came the sensation. Your older brother, his monster cock flaring deep against your organs. You put your hands on your tummy. “//I can - feel you - right here,//” you say, gathering your breath again. You put your fingers against your belly button and push inward. Peter chuckles. He pulls your face around and kisses you. “You know what you feel like?” he whispers. You shake your head. He rubs your stomach, gently pressing on it. “You feel like eggs. Yolky eggs. Smooth, warm, dripping around me.” Thunder strikes again. You freeze again. Going cold for a brief moment. “Scared of thunder. Just like always,” Peter whispers. He picks you up, cock lodged in your guts. He starts walking. “I - I can walk,” you say, him carrying you upstairs. With every step he takes, his dick sloshes around some deep part of you. You can’t help but boyishly moan each time. “//Fuck,// Peter.” “During thunderstorms,” he says, kissing your back, carrying you, “when you crawled into bed with me.” You decide he’s not going to give up, so you let Peter do whatever he wants with you. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Peter's room.]]

<h1>Peter's room.</h1> Peter gently toes the door shut, then lays you down on his bed, his cock never leaving your insides. He leans into your chest and sucks on your nipple. Your eyes roll back, gasping out. “I love you, too, Peter,” you whisper. He puts his nose against yours and wiggles them together. “You better,” he says. “Because we’re going to be doing this a lot.” He pushes down to his base. Your legs go limp. His hands reach down and wrap your fingers around his. Thunder erupts. Your body seizes around Peter’s cock, making your asshole tighter for him. He slides out. Then pushes in. You bite down onto your lip, thighs shaking. “So fucking - so big,” you moan. Peter chuckles. He wraps his hands around your round cheeks. “Our gifts were always a pair.” Your brother picks up the pace, sliding in and out of you. Your back arches, angelic moans escape your mouth. Peter grunts, splitting your asshole into a sloppy wet mess of muscle. He doesn’t tell you when he cums inside you. Peter simply keeps fucking you. Every half hour he’ll start shaking and gasp a cute moan, collapsing onto your sweaty body. And then repeat. [img['images/peter/23.webp']] By the time the sun rises, you start to feel cum building inside your gut. Peter fucking his cock into his build-up of white sludge. Cum oozing out around his cock, spilling out onto his sheets. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[After, at the diner.]]

<h1>After, at the diner.</h1> You sit across Peter at the local breakfast diner. He dips his toast down into the bright yellow yolk of his eggs, bursting it open. Then he spins it around, getting his bread nice and soggy. “Maybe I’ll go back to school,” he says, biting a huge chunk out of the toast, then speaking between chews. “I’ve always wanted to study meteorology. Maybe atmospheric sciences.” You sip on your orange juice, nodding emphatically. “I can see you as a weatherman,” you say. Peter clears his throat and raises one finger. “And here’s the local weather. Today, expect -” You snort out a laugh. People in the diner look over at you and Peter. He rolls his eyes at them. “I’m just //that// good of a performer. For a second there, they thought I was a real weatherman.” You wink and nod sarcastically. Peter takes a sip of his coffee and then has some brilliant idea. “Oh, //oh,//” he says, lowering his cup. “Speaking of performances. I want to try something out.” “Pete,” you say, taking a bite of pancakes and swallowing. “Don’t tell me you fucked a couple guys and now you’re getting into the theatre.” You stifle laughter. “Are you already //full fag?//” Peter bursts into laughter. The surrounding patrons //shhh// him and he covertly flips them off. “//Anyways,//” he says, leaning closer to you. “How would you feel about some, uh, //roleplay?//” You slowly chew on your pancake. You think about it. Back to him and Cat. Then you shrug. Peter gives a cute boyish smile, holding out two fingers. “Okay. //Me.// A royal king, or a robot?” <h3>What role will Peter play?</h3> [[A royal king, Pt. 1.]] [[A loyal robot, Pt. 1.]]

<h1>A royal king, Pt. 2.</h1> King Peter sits you on his lap and slides inside, pushing his cock against your lower intestines. “Do you feel that, slave?” he asks, slapping his hands onto your thighs. “That’s your master.” You moan, hips vibrating with pleasure. Peter slides up your thighs and clenches your balls. “These things filled my daughter with slave cum,” he says, squeezing them tightly together. You yelp in pain. Then Peter slams his hip against your ass, fucking against your prostate, causing you to collapse into his chest. Then again. And again. You choke on breathlessness. [img['images/peter/24.webp']] “Can’t breathe, slave?” he asks, continuing to shred your asshole apart. You shake your head. But he doesn’t relent. His balls slap up against your ass cheeks as King Peter ruts inside you. “//You - are - my - play - thing,//” he says, each word accompanying a thrust, each thrust causing you to yelp in pain and pleasure. On the final word, your cock spews cum down onto the floor. “//Oh,//” he says, seeing the mess you made. “Did the King make you cum?” he asks, squeezing your ass so hard that it begins to burn. You nod. “//Please,//” you beg him to release his hands. Then he pulls his hands back and slaps your ass. //Slap. Slap. Slap.// You howl in pain, pleading, begging, until Peter finally bucks his hips and unleashes a torrent of sticky white cum inside you. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Happy as a boy could be.]]

<h1>A loyal robot, Pt. 2.</h1> Robo-Pete bends over your bed as you groom his asshole with your saliva. You press one finger inside, then two. On the third finger, Robo-Pete gasps out breath. You swat his ass hard. “I don’t remember purchasing the //bitch// model,” you say, swatting him hard on the ass again. Peter’s cheeks grow red and raw. Once your third finger goes fully inside, you aim your cock. “I’m tired of doing all the work, Robo-Pete,” you say, smacking his chaffed ass again. His back arches down in pain. “Push back onto me, will you?” Peter hesitates. So you swat him again. He whimpers. “Yes, master,” he says in a monotone, robotic voice. Then he slowly leans back. As Peter’s asshole expands around your cock, you feel his warm, gushy insides welcome you. [img['images/peter/26.webp']] “Oh, Oliver,” he says, slipping up on the role. So you swat Peter’s ass again, harder than before. He collapses onto the bed in pain. You lift him up by the waist. “My name is //master,// Robo-Pete.” “I’m sorry, master,” he says, sliding your cock inside him further and further. You feel the moist depths of your brother, his tight ass massaging your glands with wet suction. He slightly moans. “You know what?” you say. “I think I’ll break this one, too.” Then you plunge deep into Peter, causing him to gasp a boyish long moan. Your cum splatters his into guts, gushing out on the floor. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Happy as a boy could be.]]

<h1>Happy as a boy could be.</h1> You’re at the local karaoke joint sat between Matt and Colby. And beside Colby, there’s Peter. For your brother’s sake, you try to avoid places that serve alcohol. He’s one month sober now. “Alright,” the karaoke host says. “Next up we have //Peter.// Do we have a Peter in the house?” Your brother slides out from the booth and pats you on the back. You give him a thumbs-up. When he steps on the stage, the lights fall on him gently. Your handsome older brother, Pete. That tall, chiseled guy. Bound since fourteen to Charlotte. But now she’s gone. Into the past. “Sweet,” Pete says into the microphone. “So this one goes out to Renée,” and he points to her. Right next to Matt, there’s Peter’s newest fling. Yeah, Renée came along faster than expected. She’s a sweet girl. Very pretty. Looks nothing like Charlotte. Renée sparkles a smile and waves to Peter. In your head, you think, //Make one mistake, woman, and I’ll body-swap you to hell.// The karaoke track starts and Peter clears his throat. You, the guys, and Renée lean in to listen. But of course, Rae pops into your thoughts right then. “Here we are, kiddo. What’s the mood?” Your eyes drift from Peter to Renée. You think, //What’s the mood?// You pause to think about that. Peter leans into the microphone and sings: “//If she only knew what she's doin' to me.//” He looks at Renée. //Well, there will always be thunderstorms,// you answer Rae. Then you lean back into the booth. And for the briefest flash of a moment, Peter’s eyes flicker to you. And he smiles. And he sings. <h3>Peter: Completed!</h3> [[Back to list of targets.|Who are the targets?]]

<h1>The warning.</h1> You walk across your front porch and stare across the street. The Johnson's driveway is empty. "So Rae," you say. "What's the mission? Like, spin some fairy dust on them until they fag out?" Your fairy pops from existence and enters your thoughts. "Oliver, you fail to remember," he says, "that each mission gets //harder.//" He gives a little laugh. "That's a very //second mission// mentality." You sigh. Blow a bubble and pop it. "Yeah, those first two missions were like, //let's break Oliver's asshole,//" you say, stepping onto your lawn. "Then the next two? //Let's break his fucking heart.//" Rae //hmms//. You walk to the edge of your lawn and squint toward the Johnson's front porch. Nothing. Not a light, not a sound. "In that case," Rae says, "this mission might break your spirit." He laughs. But you don't. You roll your eyes, ask, "So you said we're starting at their place?" You step up to the roadside, look both ways, and cross. "That's right," Rae says. "He's in there." "Which one?" you ask. "The birthday boy?" Rae //mhmms// in your thoughts. You steady yourself. "Better him than the others," you say, stepping onto their lawn grass. "The older, the scarier." "Oliver," your fairy says, sounding more serious than usual. "I want to warn you before everything. That this mission might be," he searches for the right words. "In fairy history, the fifth mission -" "Let's just get on with it," you say, walking up toward the Johnson's front door. And Rae sighs. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[The new skill.]]

<h1>The new skill.</h1> "You just gonna walk in there and fuck him?" your fairy asks. You're standing six inches from the front door, hand raised into a fist. Moments away from knocking. You shrug, say, "Why not?" "Oliver, you //just// said," Rae says in your head, sighing. "The Johnsons. Homophobic. Cruel boys." You nod, smacking gum. "They've made life hard for people," he says. "That's what they'll get." You obediently step back from the door. //So what's the plan?// you think. Rae pops into the air. "Follow me," he says, fluttering across the Johnson's porch. He disappears around the house. When you turn the corner, you find Rae peeping through a window. He waves you over to him. You crouch down and sneak over, raising your head to the glass. Inside, the blond twink himself. Joel Johnson. The youngest of the brothers. Smooth as butter. Short blond hair and tan skin. He's a pocket-sized piece of ass. If only he didn't have the nastiest personality in //all the land.// Joel must have skipped school for his birthday. He's home alone. Last year he was forcibly removed from the local school district, because he got caught fucking one of the teachers. "Fairy dust coerces the mind," Rae says, whispering. You both watch Joel, him spread out on the couch watching TV. "And I showed you body-swapping. But today, something //brand new.//" Rae lifts one tiny fairy hand into the air. Right then, Joel lifts his hand into the air. And the twink looks utterly confused. He looks at his hand, turning it, and slowly lowers it back onto the couch. "The power has many names," Rae says. "Puppetry. Tethers. But most fairies call it //spinnerets.//" <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Ice in the eyes.]]

<h1>Ice in the eyes.</h1> Rae continues to showcase the spinnerets power. When your fairy lifts his hand again, Joel's hand raises and mimics Rae's movements: scratching his cheek, rubbing his ears, clapping. The twink looks mildly horrified. Though you can't hear him, you see Joel mouth, //What the fuck?// "The mind stays untouched," Rae says. "But the body loses control." Joel slaps himself hard. "Do that again," you say, snorting a laugh. "He called me a //shitpacker// during Freshman year." Rae doesn't even move this time. Joel lifts his hand again and slaps himself right on the cheek. "The smaller the body, the easier they are," Rae says, controlling the blond twink with his eyes. "And now I'll bestow this to you," he adds. Rae pops from existence and enters your thoughts. "Focus on controlling Joel's muscles," your fairy whispers in your mind. You stare at Joel's hand. "He's small. Should be easy to spinneret. But if he puts up a fight, focus harder and clearer." You picture it. You imagine Joel in your mind's eye. And behind your eyeballs, an icy sensation. Slowly, Joel reaches for his shirt. "Good, Oliver," Rae says. Joel's eyes widen with a sudden horror. You force Joel to strip himself of his t-shirt. He then slowly slides a hand down his bare stomach. "Just so you know," Rae says. "I am holding him down right now. To prevent him from running." You nod. Joel slides his pajama pants off and tosses them aside. Then he removes his briefs. His mouth moves, obviously calling for help. But when he wiggles to move, he remains bound. "Focus on his flaccid penis," Rae says. "Harden it." The ice burns brighter behind your eyeballs. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Practicing the skill.]]

<h1>Practicing the skill.</h1> Although the Johnsons were not gifted with good personalities, they //did// inherit beautiful genes. As Joel's cock hardens, it grows longer than you expected. He stares at it, mouth gone slack. "Do they all look like male models?" Rae asks, while you move Joel's hand down to his dick. You wrap his fingers around it tight. "Pretty much," you say. Joel stomps his feet on the ground. You envision it clearly. And it comes to life. Joel pumps his small hand up his cock. Then down. Up and down. You make him go faster. You focus on his fingers and force his grip to tighten up. [img['images/thejohnsons/1.webp']] "You feel that burning in your eyes?" Rae asks. You nod. "That's resistance. In their muscles." You decide to experiment. You force Joel to arch his hips up, forcing his cock up into his hand. "//Good,// Oliver," your fairy says. "Now don't hate me for this," he says in your mind, speaking slowly. "But adrenaline increases your power." You raise an eyebrow. You blow a gum bubble and then. Joel launches from the couch. He screams loud enough for you to hear him through the window. "//Someone help me!//" Then Joel runs for his cell phone. It sits on the living room's coffee table. As he's reaching for it, your instincts kick in. Ice burns behind your eyes. You nearly howl in pain. Then Joel flies backward into the couch, arm still outstretched for his phone. "//Help! Help!//" "This would be fucked up," you say, popping your gum bubble. "If he wasn't a total piece of shit." <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Walk the dog.]]

<h1>Walk the dog.</h1> After holding Joel down on the couch for ten minutes, you feel more confident with spinnerets. At first he kept fidgeting. But you managed to lock down his arms, then head, down to his toes. Joel opens his mouth to scream and then you clamp it shut. Your eyes chill over with icy pain. "Now you've learned suppression," Rae whispers in your mind. "See if you can make him walk." Joel's left leg stiffens up. Then bends. His right leg bends. His arms contort, pushing himself up. You make him stand up. And because he deserves it, you make him slap himself again. //Hard.// Joel yelps out. He broke free from his mouth trap. "You must have //constant// focus," Rae says. "Don't get too distracted. One forgetful moment and that twink can cause some real damage." You nod, clamping Joel's mouth again. And then you begin walking his bare ass down the hall. "Peter used to play with the middle brother," you say. "I still remember the layout of this place." You zombie-walk Joel out of sight. Then you shuffle to the next window on the Johnson's house. Joel obediently opens his bedroom door and shuts it behind him. You force him to his computer. "What's the plan, Oliver?" Rae asks. You guide the twink's hands onto his keyboard and mouse. "Joel once said that all faggots burn in hell," you say. "He told me that when I was thirteen." You force his fingers to type at the keys. His other hand moving the mouse. Then he turns the volume up on his computer. Two men moaning loudly, the sound of skin slapping against skin. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[A little revenge.]]

<h1>A little revenge.</h1> "Diabolical," Rae says in your mind, laughing. You focus on Joel's eyelids, keeping them open. His head turned toward the monitor. His hand reaching to his cock, another down to his balls. The ice burns behind your eyes. //He's resisting with all his might.// Your fairy reads your thoughts. "Yes, but he has a small frame," Rae says. "This might be the limit of his physical resistance." You force Joel to play with himself, fast and hard. He strokes up and down, fondling his balls. You keep his eyes on the screen. Then you decide to let his mouth open for a brief moment. "//Fuck,//" he gasps out, boyish and long. Rae chuckles, "Are you preventing him from cumming?" You smile. In your mind's eye, you envision the cum building. Building. Bubbling. Begging for it. Then you release him. "//Ohhhh,//" Joel screams, exploding cum onto his tight body. He bathes himself with hot semen, up into his mouth and dripping down his chin. Then you hold his breath. [img['images/thejohnsons/2.webp']] Joel's eyes bulge. Rae asks, "What are you doing?" But you don't answer. You keep Joel's breath caught inside his chest. You prevent him from inhaling through his nose or mouth. "Oliver," your fairy asks again. "I said, //what are you doing?//" Tears roll down Joel's face. The clear liquid runs down his cheek, mixing with his bright white cum. It oozes, dripping from his chin. Then you release him. He gasps audibly, shaking in his chair. You blow a bubble. Then pop it. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Confronting the youngest.]]

<h1>Confronting the youngest.</h1> "You //really// hate this kid," Rae says as you walk around the Johnson's house toward the porch. "I hate all of them equally," you clarify, then add, "but you haven't met them yet. You don't //know.//" After you walk up to the front door, you stop to breathe. //Constant focus. And clear intentions.// You still have control on Joel's muscles. There's no need to even knock. You hear footsteps. When the lock on the door turns, you reach between your lips and remove your wad of gum. The door opens. Joel's body is a slave to your visions. But his eyes roam freely, for right now. You let him settle into it. His eyes widen. You keep his mouth shut. Then you let it slip open. "You motherfucker, I will -" You cut Joel short by shoving your used gum between his soft lips. //I guess I never asked,// you think to Rae. //What's the specific mission here?// Joel squints his eyes at you with hatred. Then he chews. He chews on your gum, your saliva. He blows up a bubble. "Oh, of course," Rae says. "It's repentance." You nod, give Joel a sinister little grin. //I thought so.// You look down at Joel's dangling cock, then spin him around, scanning over his smooth ass. You snap your fingers and walk the twink down the hall. Then you enter and shut the door behind. With each step Joel takes, his ass jiggles. Your eyes roll up his spine, his smooth skin. When you're both in his room, you shut the door behind you. Then you sit him down on his bed. "I'm going to let you speak," you say. "But you can only say the following words: //I'm a faggot.//" <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Opening up.]]

<h1>Opening up.</h1> Joel spits at you. It lands on your eye. "//Fuck you, fag,//" he says. You wipe away his hot spit. Then you slowly walk toward him. You lift his left arm and twist it behind his back. He yelps. "Remember when my dog got out," you say, leaning down into his face. "And you thought it would be a //funny prank.// To feed her rat poison?" You don't let him speak, trapping his mouth. Joel's eyes burn with hatred. You slowly glance down his smooth chest, it rising and falling. "Today you're going to say it," you say. "One way or another. You're a //faggot.//" You flip him over. Joel lands on his knees, his ass perked up into the air. It's hairless, smooth, round and inviting. For a moment, you unlock his lips. "My brothers will //kill -//" You shove his fingers into his mouth. Two fingers. You focus on his tongue, curling it around down to his knuckles. Swallowing down. Joel gags on his fingers. You raise your hand into the air. //Swat. Swat. Swat.// You slap his ass. His bare pink ass turns red. //Swat. Swat. Swat.// Then you unplug his fingers from his mouth. "Ready to say it, faggot?" He inhales deep. And then screams. "//Someone help me I'm being -//" You clamp his mouth. You gently rub his tomato-red ass cheeks. And then reach far back. //Swat.// You let him gain control for a brief moment. Joel collapses onto his bed, gasping out tears. Then you seize his body back under your power. You guide his salivated fingers toward his ass. [img['images/thejohnsons/3.webp']] You plug one of Joel's wet fingers into his ass. You control it, massaging him gently and slowly. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Happy birthday, Joel!]]

<h1>Happy birthday, Joel!</h1> After Joel's hole has been suitably opened, you get his second finger inside. You force him to lean back into it, spreading his asshole more and more vulnerable. Then you open his mouth. "Ready?" you ask. And instead of cursing you, he sobs out. His voice trembles, wet with tears. "Please, Oliver," he says. "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry," he repeats, broken. "I'm so sorry, Oliver," You force a third finger into his hole, spreading it wide in a triangle form. Joel involuntary moans. "I begged you //all my life,//" you say. You raise your hand high in the air and swat his hot cheek. "//Ahhh,//" Joel cries out, chest pumping with tears. "I'm so scared. I'm so scared. Please, //please.//" Now you have his fourth finger slip inside, spreading the twink's hole into a gaping black square. "Happy birthday, Joel," you say, slipping one of your own fingers inside. You massage around his smooth hot muscles. Your fingertip combs his wet insides, causing him to moan out and cry. "I'll say it," he begs. He sniffs up tears and snot. "I'll say it. Please, //God,// I'll say it." You smile. Then you reach into your pocket and take out your phone. You point it at Joel's wet, red face. "Then say it," you say. But once Joel realizes he's being recorded, he refuses to say anything. You shrug. "Fine." And then put your phone up. You move back behind Joel's ass and stroke it. "Kiddo," Rae pops up in your head. "He seems close to caving in. I don't think it'll take much." You consider that. You consider being merciful with him. But you also consider the lifetime of abuse. And your poor, dead dog. Will you now be merciful with Joel, or will you be merciless? <h3>How will you treat him?</h3> [[Merciful.]] [[Merciless.]]

<h1>Merciful.</h1> You sigh. With one quick glance, you flip Joel onto his back and lean down into his raw face. The twink looks into your eyes, pleading for forgiveness. You run your fingers across his lips. "Will you be good for me?" you whisper. Joel nods. "I'm going to be easy with you right now," you clarify. "But if you make one wrong move." You snap. "I'll break your back. Or your dick." You pull your pants down and let your cock flop out. He stares at it with wide eyes. Terrified. Spinnerets still has him pinned down from feet to neck, but you allow him a small freedom. "You'll drink every last drop," you say, lifting your cock with one finger. Joel gulps down his fear. Then you remove your finger from your cock, letting it slap Joel on the lips. He looks down at it. [img['images/thejohnsons/6.webp']] He starts slow, moving his tongue against the length of your cock. Your gum remains in his mouth, sliding behind his teeth as he dares more of your penis inside him. You pet his head. "Good Joel," you say. Then move your waist forward a bit more, sliding your cock head between his lips. He freezes for a moment. But then his tongue moves, curling around your cock flesh. "I'm gonna cum, Joel," you warn him. "Don't miss a drop, or I'll make you suffer." He nods, wincing with fear. His saliva sparkles across your cock, Joel's lips kissing around your girth. [img['images/thejohnsons/7.webp']] Cum oozes out from you, and Joel obediently laps it up like a thirsty puppy. "Keep going," you order him, as he slides his lips down to catch runaway cum. He slurps at you, cleaning you. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Bubble gum boy.]]

<h1>Merciless.</h1> You flash your eyes. In one swift movement, Joel flips onto his back. "You don't deserve mercy," you say. He stares up at you from the bed, his eyes wide and glistening with fearful tears. Your cock pushes against your waistband. Joel follows your hands as you unbuckle, unbutton, and free the beast above his head. He looks up at your bouncing cock, his gaze cross-eyed. "You will obey," you say. "Or I will squeeze your balls until they break." Then you provide an example, focusing on squeezing his testicles together. Joel inhales and yelps out in agony. White his mouth is wide open, you plug your long cock into his throat. His mouth makes a //clunking// sound as your dick hits the back of his throat. Joel gags on you. You wiggle deeper. "Pretend you're swallowing water," you command, and he obliges. As his throat muscles massage your glands, you curl Joel's hips to your mouth and bathe his gaping asshole. [img['images/thejohnsons/4.webp']] You tongue him, his hole tasting smooth and sweet. Joel moans around your cock as the tip of your tongue pets his inner-walls. Then you slide out from his mouth and toss him to the ground. When you line your cock up with his asshole, Joel tries to beg. But you clamp his mouth shut. As you slowly ease inside him, his hole smooth as butter, Joel's eyes roll back into his head. [img['images/thejohnsons/5.webp']] His cock flails as you penetrate his womb. Finally, you unlock his mouth and allow him to scream out boyish moans. As your cum gushes into the twink, you grab his cock and squeeze. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Bubble gum boy.]]

<h1>Bubble gum boy.</h1> Joel sits on the ground, his mouth glistening wetness. He looks up to you with big, worried eyes. You decide to release the spinnerets. Joel gasps out. He wipes saliva and tears from his face. "Thank you," he says, pressing his hands together in prayer formation. "Thank you for letting me live. Thank you," he crawls up to your feet and kisses them. "I'm so sorry, Oliver. I'm so, so sorry." You let him worship you for a moment. "Do you remember my condition?" Joel looks up at you. An obedient little twink. Your own little puppy dog. He nods at you, eyebrows arched in worry. You snap your fingers and point toward the door. "Go get cleaned up for me," you command. "When you're done, I want you to smell clean and feel smooth." He nods and scampers off. In your head, Rae pops up. "Kiddo, what's all this about?" You smile to yourself and try not to snort out laughter. "I dunno," you say. "I never imagined myself with this sort of power." A few minutes later Joel returns in a fresh set of pajamas. He smells like lavender bath soap. You wave him close to you, over into your lap. He sits down and you lean into his hair and sniff. "Good boy,' you say. You kiss the top of Joel's head, //peck peck.// "That's my good birthday boy." Then you slide your hand up his shirt, feeling around his boyish taut muscles. He tightens up. "Will you meet my condition?" you ask him, leaning into Joel's face. He blinks wetness away. Then he nods. You ask, "Do you still have my bubble gum?" He opens his mouth wide, //Ahhhh.// You push your tongue into his mouth and retrieve it. Chewing on it. "//Mmm,// tastes like Joel." <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Like a stuffed dog.]]

<h1>Like a stuffed dog.</h1> You set your phone on the living room coffee table. Then you press //Record.// When you snap, Joel obediently walks in front of the camera and sheds his pants. He turns around in a circle. "I'm a faggot," he says, softly. Then you approach him, already stripped bare, rubbing your hands up Joel's smooth golden body. His heart thumps against his chest. You reach down. You hook two fingers inside the twink's asshole and lift him. He yelps in pain, his cock springing to life and slapping against his flat tummy. Your fingers tickle Joel's buttery insides. He moans. "You like that?" you growl into his ear. He nods, whispers again, "I'm a faggot." You unhook your fingers from Joel and lower him down onto the couch, pushing his back down into a low curve. You lean down into his smooth ass and bathe him, lubricating Joel's entrance until he's dripping with your saliva. Your spit oozes down to his balls and coats them with a glistening layer. When you press your cock against his entrance, you experiment with the spinnerets again. Tightening Joel's asshole so that when you press inside him, he bursts into a deafening moan. [img['images/thejohnsons/8.webp']] His guts hug you tight, wrapping your cock with sticky snug boyhood. You use the new power to force his anal muscles to wobble, squelching around you and causing your waist to tremble. Joel hollers in pleasure and pain. As your cock punches against the twink's prostate, he cries, "I'm a faggot!" And you bring his hips against your waist, your cock plunged into his wet womb as you cum hot puddles. And then keep fucking him, cum oozing out from Joel's stuffed body. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Part deux.]]

<h1>Part deux.</h1> You sit behind the wheel of your car, sunglasses on, parked outside Jesse's apartment building. "One more time," Rae says, sitting on the rearview mirror. "Just so you have the details perfect." You pinch your sunglasses off and set them on the dashboard. "Okay," you say. "In ten minutes, Jesse comes home from work." You point toward the apartment building. "He lives in unit 1203." "Key?" your fairy asks. You pull the bronze key from your pocket and hold it up. Then Rae claps. "Who could've known that little blond twink would betray his family so //easily?//" he says, smiling. Then you continue with the mission details. "Joel said his brother's girlfriend arrives about an hour after Jesse," you say, watching the roads around you. "So we'll time things accordingly." Rae leaps from the mirror and flutters to the window. He rubs his tiny hands together nervously. “Remember Oliver,” he says, turning to you. “The more muscle, the harder it’ll be to spinneret.” You take the keys from the ignition. “I’m feeling confident,” you say. “And who doesn’t love a good challenge?” You step out from the car and slam the door shut. Rae dissolves from the air. “Every target is preparation for the next,” your fairy whispers in your head. “So unless I think you’re in //real trouble,//” he says, “I’ll stay out of your way.” You pocket your keys and say, “Good.” It’s a short walk to Jesse’s apartment door. You slide the key into the doorknob and unlock it. When you step inside, it’s completely silent. You look around, thinking out loud, “A hiding spot.” <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Confronting the middle.]]

<h1>Confronting the middle.</h1> The doorknob unlocks. Jesse walks inside, a phone pressed to his ear. He hasn’t changed a bit: an all-American boy, tall and blond and sun-kissed, blue-eyed, with gentle muscles on his arms. He bursts into laughter. “Yeah, bro,” he says into the phone. “So she went crying to HR about it, saying I cornered her in the bathroom.” Jesse drops his keys on a table and walks to his fridge. “So HR called me in and asked,” he says, grabbing a cold bottle of water and twisting it open. “Told them I didn’t //corner// anyone,” and then he laughs. “Said I didn’t even //know// that bitch.” Jesse gulps half the bottle. A stream of cold water runs down his mouth, trickling to his shirt. “Anyways, after I got off,” he says. “I caught her in the parking lot. Fucked her pussy bloody.” He bursts into laughter, along with the other voice on the phone. Then they say their farewells. Jesse finishes the water bottle and crushes the plastic in his hand. He takes a long, slow sigh. “Jesse Johnson,” you say, rising from behind a couch. He freezes. He slowly turns toward you. “You’ve got five seconds,” he says, “to get the //fuck// out of here. Before I //cut// your fucking //throat.//” You hold up five fingers. “Let me count down for you,” you say, and then lower your first finger. Jesse makes a small, sinister grin. And then he quickly grabs a knife from a kitchen counter. As soon as his first foot leaves the ground, your eyes frost over. It burns. A headache grows. Jesse’s face contorts into a deadly glower, his blue eyes cutting into your face. His hand rises. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[A game of force.]]

<h1>A game of force.</h1> Jesse manages to lift his arm and throw the knife toward you. You quickly drop to the ground. When you rise back up, the all-American boy is charging toward you, leaping high into the air. Your eyes burn. It feels like a thousand needles stab your face. And then you slam Jesse down. The apartment trembles around you. “//Fuck,//” he gasps out, a loud crack coming from his chest. “Focus,” Rae whispers in your mind. You breathe in and out slowly, deeply from your diaphragm. You manifest your vision: Jesse pinned down on the ground. Slowly lifting him up on his knees. You crawl over the couch and flop onto the couch cushion. Jesse watches you from a foot away. He breathes hot fury, eyes lowered and glaring. “You got me drugged or something?” he asks. “Why? Do you feel like you’re being //controlled,// Jesse?” you ask, leaning forward. “From what I’ve heard, you’re a //master.//” You smile. “Forcing your girlfriend’s abortion. Forcing coworkers.” Jesse reads your face, his blue eyes scanning left and right. “Wait,” he says, speaking slowly. “You’re -” He tries to put a name to it. “Peter’s brother?” You roll your eyes, lean back and sigh. He keeps running his mouth. “Yes,” he says, slowly smiling. “You’re that kid, the faggot across the street.” You wait. You let Jesse dig his grave. “Always asking to come play with us but you -” “Right,” you say, brushing off his words. “You always played with Peter. But not me.” You coolly examine your fingernails. “What was that little game you played? Superheroes versus villains?” <h3>What's next?</h3> [[The protégé.]]

<h1>The protégé.</h1> You slide your hands down to your crotch. You unbutton your jeans. “You always made Peter play the villain,” you say, pulling the zipper. “And you played the noble, beautiful superhero.” Jesse watches you. He comes to a realization. Then he thrashes around. Ice cuts into the back of your eyes. Tiny paper cuts. You wince, breath knocked out from your chest. But you hold on. “//Fuck you,//” he says, twisting his shoulders, kicking his legs only an inch off the ground. But you focus clearer, imagining Jesse coated within solid ice. Unmovable. And then he stops fidgeting. You slide your underwear down and pull your cock out. It flings into the air. Jesse’s eyes scroll up your length, moving up to your face. His eyebrows furrow. His nose scrunches with hatred. “You played the hero with super-strength,” you say. “And you made Peter play //Doctor Braino,// the brainwashing villain.” Then you force Jesse to slide one knee closer. And then the other. “But you never let //poor Peter// win,” you continue. Jesse’s hand flops onto your knee. You force him closer, pulling himself between your legs. With all his might, he tries to push away from you. You slowly smile. “You could say I’m Peter’s protégé,” you say. Jesse’s head inches closer, his mouth opening, his tongue being pulled out. His eyes flicker with seething disgust. He inhales. “Don’t try to scream,” you say, forcing the air back down his throat. His eyes bulge with surprise. “Your body is mine now.” Then you force his hand up around your cock, gripping onto it tenderly. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Apollo's tongue.]]

<h1>Apollo's tongue.</h1> You pull Jesse’s tongue against your cock. Then you slide him up and down. You feel the invisible tethers of spinnerette between your body and his every muscle. He’s powerless. [img['images/thejohnsons/9.webp']] Jesse’s tongue is still cold from his water. His saliva tickles your cock, massages your glands into a gentle numb ecstasy. “How does it taste, Jesse?” you ask. “Does it taste like little Joel?” His eyes widen. The fury on his face morphs into horror. And while he’s vulnerable, you lift him onto his feet and force Jesse to strip. He throws his shirt, jeans, underwear across the room. Jesse stands obediently before you. His lean body and dangling cock. He has the proportions of a marble sculpture of Apollo, toned arms and legs and rolling abs. You decide to experiment. Jesse’s takes one step toward you. Then another. You slowly spin him around and dip his ass toward your lap, allowing him to grind his cheeks across your cock. His hands stroke his body. While he twists his body left and right, serving you a leisurely lap dance, you slide your hands up Jesse’s firm back. You feel his every muscle. Years of exercise, hard work, and boyish play. Then you glide down to his firm ass, sliding over his cheeks and gliding around to his stomach. When you pet his hardened abs, Jesse’s head throws back and sighs out. You pinch his skin. “Twenty years to make this fine ass body,” you whisper into his back. “And now it’s //all// for me.” You reach for your shirt collar and pull it off. Then you shimmy from your jeans and turn him. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Cat and ball.]]

<h1>Cat and ball.</h1> Jesse lowers his face against your cock. You force his head to stroke himself up and down, petting your penis until it’s burning hard. Then you lift your phone and put the camera on record. “It can all be over,” you say, pointing the lens toward Jesse. “All you have to do is look into the phone and say the words,” and then you grin. “//‘I’m a faggot.’//” He turns his head toward you. His blue eyes stare into the camera. From the other side of the phone, you watch Jesse’s gaze penetrate deep through the screen. Murderous intent. You allow his mouth his move. “Faggot.” You slowly lower your phone. You lean into his face. “That wasn’t the condition,” you whisper, and then rear your hand high. //Slap.// The crack against Jesse’s face echoes around the room. “//Motherfuck -//” You cut Jesse short with a slap to the opposite side. Spit flies from his mouth. //Slap. Slap. Slap.// His head batters back and forth, like he’s a ball of yarn and you’re the cat. “Now that your face is hot,” you say, slapping his lips with your girthy cock. “Warm my dick up.” He stares down at your penis. He hesitates. So you force Jesse down to your balls. He gags. “//Ah - Ahggg - Ahhckk -//” Jesse makes guttural begging noises. Saliva oozes down your cock. You fuck your hips against the back of his throat. Then you feel a hot surge crawling up inside. [img['images/thejohnsons/10.webp']] You grab on to Jesse’s hair and pull him up. You force his hand around your throbbing cock and force him to extract the cum. “Drink it,” you command, spewing white juice all over his raw face. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Shower time.]]

<h1>Shower time.</h1> Jesse leans back on his knees, his arms stretched down onto the floor. He pants for breath, chest rising and falling, your cum dripping down his chin and rolling down his sweaty body. Flopping up against his abdomen, Jesse’s long precum-slick cock. You use your powers to tickle his penis glands, sending his body into a trembling fit. “//No, please,//” he begs, his voice shaking. “There we go,” you say, lounged back on his couch. “Finally some begging.” His long cock flares with desire. You stand up from the couch and loom over him, your spent cock swinging above. “Your girlfriend will be home soon,” you say. Jesse looks up to you, his Adam’s apple bobbing with a nervous swallow. “So let’s go get you cleaned up for her.” You force him up onto his feet. “Don’t do this,” he says, voice low and scratchy. But you ignore him. You shove him toward the bathroom and push him inside. The ice behind your eyes has settled. Jesse is learning to obey. You point toward the shower. “Rinse yourself clean,” you command, then lean against the wall. Jesse hesitates, his eyes scanning over your face. Then he nods. He turns on the faucet knobs. Steam slowly fills the bathroom. You watch as Jesse stands beneath the showerhead, water trickling down his long lean body. Your cum washes down his chest, down the hair on his legs. When you look up from his feet, Jesse is side-eyeing you. With a small little smile. Not sinister. He runs soap across his shoulders. “I remember your name now,” he says. “You’re little Oliver.” <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Razor sharp.]]

<h1>Razor sharp.</h1> You keep your guard up. Jesse’s hands smooth down each arm, massaging soap into his muscles. His short hair drips with wetness, sticking to his forehead. His eyelashes twinkle. “We’re pretty similar, I think,” he says, lifting one leg and combing down it with his fingers. “Powerful guys,” and then he smirks to himself. “Maybe you’re on a different level than me.” You don’t speak. You let him keep talking. He cups his balls with one hand and lathers soap around his cock, squeezing between his cheeks and massaging with slow, frothy circles. “If I had that power,” he says, leaning his head far back, water rinsing down his soapy body, “well, I couldn’t blame you.” He turns in a half-circle. He bends over, perking his ass up a little. “I’d use that power on everyone,” Jesse continues. “I’d make it a game. Rank every single fuck.” You clear your throat. “Sort of like your brother Josh?” you say. “Who has a //hit list// of women?” Jesse turns to you, his gentle smile falling away. But only for a second. Then he puts it back on. “Exactly,” he says, speaking slowly. “But I’d be generous. I’d be fair. Guys and girls. You see?” You tilt your head. You think on that for a second. “So you’re telling me, the only thing stopping you from being bisex -” But in the middle of your sentence, Jesse leaps out from the shower. His pins you against the wall. While he was talking, Jesse managed to remove a blade from his plastic razor. He thrusts the razor toward your bare neck. The tip of the blade pokes your flesh. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Breaking him down.]]

>h1>Breaking him down.</h1> Jesse lifts off the ground and flies into the mirror. His back //cracks//, echoing off the bathroom tile. “//Ahhh,//” he screams out in pain, collapsing down onto the sink. Glass shards fall onto the floor. You stand against the wall, blood gone cold. //What the fuck just happened?// you think to yourself. Rae pops up in your head. “Kiddo,” he whispers, “I told you I’d be here.” You sigh out. And then. You raise your hand. Jesse slides off the bathroom counter, a few tiny streams of blood running down his back. You turn him around and bend him over the counter. He begs, shouting, “//No!//” “//Shut the fuck -//” you say, slapping his ass. //Whack. Whack.// “//- up!//” He yelps out in pain, heaving. Then you lean into his back and pinch a few tiny shards of glass. You lick one of your fingers. “I’m trying to //help,//” you say, and add on, “you fucking idiot.” You press against each tiny wound with your finger. Jesse takes in a shaky breath, obviously rattled. He grips the counter’s edge. “Now get in the shower again,” you say. “Wash the blood. I want you smelling good for me.” Jesse looks into the mirror, his bright blue eyes meeting your own. Then he nods obediently. After washing himself clean with cinnamon-scented soap, Jesse dries his body. Your eyes feel less icy now, his muscles resisting your powers less and less. You guide him to his bedroom. “What’s your girlfriend’s name?” you ask. You both sit on the edge of Jesse’s queen-sized bed. He turns to you, flinching. “Melody,” he whispers. You nod. “Well, now she’s your //ex-//girlfriend.” <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Welcome home!]]

<h1>Welcome home!</h1> When Melody enters the apartment, she hears something strange. Like the floorboard creaking. She lifts her heel and presses down on the floor. But that wasn’t it. She sets her keys on a table. “Jesse?” she calls out. “Did you start defrosting the chicken?” She looks into the kitchen sink. But of course, Jesse didn’t do as she asked. //Again.// Now she’s looking around for her boyfriend. She walks into the hall and pushes the bathroom door open. “What the -” Melody looks down. Pieces of glass everywhere. Little webbings of blood dried on the bathroom counter. “//Jesse!?//” Melody backs up into the hallway and darts toward her bedroom. “Jesse? Jesse, are you here?” The floorboard creaking sound continues. She steps up to her bedroom and pushes the door. [img['images/thejohnsons/12.webp']] “What the //fuck!?//” she screams. Her purse falls to the ground. You’re bent over on all-fours, forcing Jesse to slide his long cock inside your asshole. Spinnerets keeps Jesse’s mouth shut. Tears fall down Melody’s face. Her mascara runs down to the corner of her lips. “Jesse, //what// is this? Who is - no, is that a //fucking// - are you //fucking// a -” She can’t even finish her sentence. You continue to clamp Jesse’s mouth shut. His long cock eases down to your prostate, spreading apart your sticky walls and then pulling back. When he slides in, your thighs tremble. “You’re so good, baby,” you say, arching your back so he can fuck you deeper. You force him deep down into your bowels, causing you to gasp out a moan. Melody slams the door shut. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Letting him.]]

<h1>Letting him.</h1> Once you hear the apartment front door slam, you ease off Jesse’s cock and turn around to him. Silent tears run down his face. He looks up to you like a beaten puppy dog, begging for mercy. “You want to say it now, don’t you?” you ask, petting his face. His blue eyes twinkle wetness. You allow Jesse the opportunity to nod. You run your fingers across his lips. “That’s a shame.” You flip over onto your back and raise your legs into the air. “I still need to forgive you,” you say, “for trying to cut my throat earlier.” You bite your lip and pull Jesse closer. He hovers over you. “Do you want another try?” you ask. He nods quickly. You let loose his mouth from spinnerets. “Please, Oliver,” he says, his eyes darting across your face. “I’ll say it. I’m a faggot. I’m a faggot.” You reach up and pinch one of Jesse’s nipples. “You’re cute when you’re desperate,” you say. “But I don’t have my camera out.” You sigh, looking down at his thick cock. “Maybe if you can -” Jesse understands. He lowers his hips and presses his cock up against your asshole. “Please,” he says. “Let me. //Let// me.” He pushes in slowly, by his own volition, wedging into your body. [img['images/thejohnsons/11.webp']] Your toes curl. Jesse grinds his cock in and out of you, his balls slapping up against your ass. “//Oh,//” you moan, wrapping your hands around his shoulder. He breathes down onto your chest. “I’m going t -” Jesse begins, but you nod. His eyes rapidly flicker, and then he grunts through his teeth, “//Fuu-uu-ck.//” He collapses onto your sweaty body, his hot cum flooding up your insides. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[En route.]]

<h1>En route.</h1> You drive from Jesse’s apartment back to your house. You’ve got the radio on and you’re whistling along. In the passenger seat, Jesse Johnson, hands obediently on his knees. “You were a good boy, Jesse,” you say, flicking on a turn signal. You turn and give him a smile. His blue eyes look sad, defeated. He nods. You reach a hand over and brush his shirt collar. “Where are we going?” he asks. His eyes look out the window, watching the cars zoom pass. You clear your throat, say, “You’re going to meet my condition.” He turns to you and sighs out. “This would’ve been easier,” you say, “if you hadn’t pulled that stunt.” You pull up at a red light. You turn to Jesse and pat his leg. “Joel had it much easier. The boy only rebelled a tiny bit.” Jesse’s hands clench on his knees. Then he releases. “What happened to him?” he whispers. You shrug. “He met my conditions.” That’s all you say to him. Then you reach for your phone. [img['images/joelfuck.webp']] You pull up the Joel video. You pummeling his fat ass into a cum-soaked cake, him screaming, “//I’m a faggot!//” Jesse glimpses at it, then turns away. Tears build in his eyes. You stop the video. “So you’re after my whole -” but he interrupts himself. A cop car pulls up at the red light. Jesse stares at it. You turn to Jesse, whispering to him, “Make one move and I’ll crush your bones.” Jesse gulps. His hands clench on his knees. After a deadly silence, the cop slowly peels away. “You’ll get a reward for that,” you say, patting his leg. “For being a good boy.” He inhales, nods. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Old pals.]]

<h1>Old pals.</h1> You knock on Peter’s bedroom door. The sound of a video game pauses. You turn around to Jesse who looks nervous, confused. You pat his face, //pat-pat.// “Be sweet to my big brother.” Peter opens his door. “Hey, what’s the favor?” he asks, referring to a text message you sent a few hours back. But then he leans over and notices Jesse standing behind you. “Is - is that?” “Jesse Johnson,” you say, taking Jesse’s hand and guiding him into your brother’s room. You point toward Peter’s bed and Jesse sits down. “Jesse is a //really// good friend of mine nowadays.” Peter scratches his head. “Really?” he asks, shutting his door. “Back in the day Jesse treated you like shit.” You turn to Jesse and nod, smiling. You answer, “Yes, well. People //can// change.” Peter crouches and looks between you and Jesse. “So what’s up?” he asks. “How can I help?” You wrap your arms around Jesse and bring him close to you. “Jesse here wants to //explore.//” Peter raises an eyebrow. He stares at Jesse’s face, waiting for the guy to speak up for himself. But you have spinnerets latched onto his mouth. You force Jesse to nod and give a thumbs-up. “Like, //‘explore’// explore?” Peter asks slowly. You nod, then add on, “Exactly, Pete. And it’s come to my attention that he wants to go //big// time.” You bump shoulders with Jesse. “//Big// exploration.” Peter throws his hands up. “Well, I don’t mind helping an old friend,” he says. He approaches Jesse and pats him on the shoulder. “Better get you ready, bud. Go ahead and spread out.” <h1>What's next?</h1> [[Looking tight.]]

<h1>Looking tight.</h1> You stand in the corner of Peter’s room, orchestrating Jesse’s movements. You strip Jesse down to his underwear, then have him spread himself out across Peter’s bed. Peter strips down. “Well, Jay,” your brother says, using Jesse’s childhood nickname. “Funny how our paths cross. I’ve recently started to ‘explore’, too.” You pull Jesse’s lips into a smile. Then force him to nod. When Peter pulls his pants down, his gargantuan cock falls out. Jesse’s eyes widen in horror. Peter notices and laughs. “Hey, I’ll be sweet on you,” he says. “Unless you really want it rough.” You force Jesse to smile. Peter crawls into bed next to Jesse until they’re shoulder-to-shoulder. Your brother turns to Jesse and winks. “Don’t be nervous,” he says, sliding his hand over. Peter’s hand smooths down Jesse’s shoulder, down to his left nipple, where Peter pinches it. “You were a couple years below me,” Peter says. “But I remember all the girls wanted you.” Jesse’s eyes flicker with nervousness. Peter uses his other hand to travel across Jesse’s waist. “And you rammed about half the damn cheerleading team,” Peter says, laughing to himself. Your brother gently pulls down Jesse’s underwear and turns his waist toward him. Peter pets his ass, leaning in to examine his hole. “Looks tight,” Peter says. “You’re not an anal virgin, right?” [img['images/thejohnsons/13.webp']] You speak up. “Jesse says he wants his first time to be with someone he //trusts,//” you say, then force Jesse to smile. Peter shrugs, then whispers to him, “Alright. You want it rough or tender?” <h3>How will Jesse take it?</h3> [[Rough, Pt. 1.]] [[Tender, Pt. 1.]]

<h1>Rough, Pt. 1.</h1> You force Jesse to hold up one finger, to refer to the //rough// option. Jesse’s eyes water with fear. Peter strokes Jesse’s jaw and whispers, “That’s good with me. But I have a little request, Jay.” Jesse nods. Peter’s hands trail down Jesse’s chest. “Remember how we used to play games? Heroes and villains?” Jesse’s eyes flicker to you, then back. Peter says, “Well, I love roleplay.” Fuck, you think. //I’m going to need to break Jesse’s mouth trap.// You steady yourself and let go. Jesse looks down, feeling his mouth muscles return to him. He looks to you, then back to Peter. “Who sh - should I play?” Jesse asks, voice shaking. Peter’s hands glide down the all-American boy’s body, down to his balls where Peter gently grips onto them. “You’ll be the captured hero.” Jesse’s eyes roll up, tickling with ecstasy from Peter’s gentle touches. He nods. Peter crawls down the bed and holds up his giant cock. He aims his mouth and spits down a ball of saliva. “And I’ll be the villain,” your brother says, lining up his cock with Jesse’s ass. “As it always was.” Then Peter shoves himself into Jesse, pushing deep until Jesse is screaming out with pain. [img['images/thejohnsons/14.webp']] “I love to hear the hero cry,” Peter says, running his hands up Jesse’s strong legs. Jesse has gone completely post-verbal, his painful crying and screaming morphed into garbled moans. “Oh, you’re so fucking //tight//,” your brother says. In the corner of the room, you raise your brows at Jesse, hinting at him to say something. Jesse opens his mouth. “I’m - I’m - //fuck.// F - f - //fuck.//” <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Rough, Pt. 2.]]

<h1>Tender, Pt. 1.</h1> You allow Jesse to choose. He holds up two fingers, referring to the //tender// option. Peter strokes Jesse’s jaw and whispers, “That’s good.” He kisses Jesse’s cheek.” But I have a little request.” Jesse nods. Peter’s hands trail down Jesse’s chest. “Remember how we used to play games? Heroes and villains?” Jesse’s eyes flicker to you, then back. Peter says, “Well, I love roleplay.” Fuck, you think. I’m going to need to break Jesse’s //mouth trap.// You steady yourself and let go. Jesse looks down, feeling his mouth muscles return to him. He slowly studies Peter’s face. “Who sh - should I play?” Jesse asks, voice shaking. Peter’s hands glide down the all-American boy’s body, down to his cock where Peter gently grips onto it. “You’ll be the villain’s secret lover.” Jesse’s eyes roll up, tickling with ecstasy from Peter’s gentle touches. Peter pats on his thighs, signalling for Jesse to straddle him like a horse. Then he spits into his hand and lathers himself. “And I’ll be the villain,” your brother says, getting his penis nice and slicked. “As it always was.” Jesse crawls down Peter’s body and hovers above him, while your brother eases himself inside. [img['images/thejohnsons/16.webp']] “That’s good, baby,” Peter says, letting Jesse guide himself down on the cock. “Take your time.” Jesse bites down onto his lip and makes a soft boyish moan, Peter holding onto Jesse’s hips. “A hero and a villain,” Peter whispers. “Secret lovers.” Jesse throws his head back and gasps as he lowers completely down Peter’s monster. His hips start to tremble, his cock throbbing hard. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Tender, Pt. 2.]]

<h1>Rough, Pt. 2.</h1> You know personally that when Peter says he’ll play rough, then he’ll be //rough.// After breaking Jesse’s hole open, Peter proceeded to jab himself inward until his cock disappeared entirely. “Oh my //god,//” Jesse cries out, his hands clutching the sheets in pain. Peter thrusts his hips against Jesse, punching into the poor guy’s guts. Jesse yelps out like a dog, tears streaming. “Where’s your super-strength now, //hero?//” Peter whispers into Jesse’s ear, nibbling at his earlobes. “I’m never gonna let you go.” Jesse closes his eyes tight and screams with agony. Peter then clamps his hands over Jesse’s mouth. Your brother wiggles deep inside Jesse, the room filling up with wet squelching sounds as Peter fucks a new cavern in the poor guy’s body. Jesse pants and moans and begs behind Peter’s hand. Your brother’s leg muscles tense up like a racehorse, thrusting into his childhood friend, bruising his insides and smacking his prostate. Then Peter stops. His cock plugged inside Jesse, a bulge lifting out of Jesse’s tight stomach. “You should know, my cum is laced with poison,” your brother says, obviously as his character. Then Peter slowly pulls out. Jesse’s eye rolls back, his inner-walls massaging back into place. Peter gets on his knees and brings his cock to Jesse’s face. He says, “Swallow every drop.” [img['images/thejohnsons/15.webp']] Jesse obeys. He nervously crawls over, legs trembling from the anal abuse, and opens wide. Peter hollers out an orgasm, dumping his thick load onto Jesse’s lips and down Jesse’s throat <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Double the power.]]

<h1>Tender, Pt. 2.</h1> You know personally that when Peter says he’ll be romantic, then he’ll go //all the way.// After letting Jesse get comfortable on his girthy cock, Peter leans up and pushes their lips together. “//Mmm,//” Peter hums into Jesse’s mouth, curling their tongues. You watch as Peter’s beast disappears inside Jesse, spreading apart his wet insides. “You want to join the villains’ team?” Jesse pulls back from Peter’s mouth, saliva stuck between their lips. Jesse nods and moans. “Good,” Peter growls, slowly spinning his hips into Jesse’s waist. “‘Cause I’ll fuck you forever.” Peter slides his hands up Jesse’s body, linking their fingers together. Your brother wiggles deep inside Jesse, the room filling up with wet squelching sounds as Peter fucks him a new cavern. Jesse’s mouth falls open, a line of drool falling from his lips, as your brother’s leg muscles tense up like a racehorse, thrusting into his childhood friend, pressing against Jesse’s virgin prostate. Then Peter stops. His cock plugged inside Jesse, a bulge lifting out of Jesse’s tight stomach. “Let me show you my latest invention,” your brother says, obviously as his villain character. Peter flips Jesse onto all-fours and then slowly enters. Jesse’s arms and legs tremble as your brother leans his hips forward. Once he’s fully inside, Peter pulls out and then slams it back in. [img['images/thejohnsons/17.webp']] Peter expertly hits a deep sensitive part of Jesse, pushing that button over and over again. Jesse screams out a long boyish moan, his cum shooting out and spilling onto the bed sheets. Then Peter follows, plunging himself into Jesse’s bowels and releasing a puddle of warm juice. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Double the power.]]

<h1>Double the power.</h1> You set your phone down at the end of Peter’s bed. Jesse and Peter sit next to each other, both of them panting, sticky with sweat and cum. But you won’t simply stand by as an idle spectator. “Okay, me and Jesse had a deal,” you say. Peter tilts his head, confused. “And I promised Jesse a reward for something. So Jesse?” Jesse obediently nods. “Get in the center of Peter’s bed.” You press record on your phone. Peter slides off the bed and lets Jesse position himself. Then you snap your fingers, directing Peter next to Jesse’s waist. You take the opposite side of him. “Follow me,” you whisper to Peter, and your brother nods. You lean into Jesse’s cock and tongue his glands, sliding around it and lapping at his penis hole. Then Peter accompanies. Your brother takes Jesse’s balls while you worship his shaft. Once Peter has both of Jesse’s testicles lodged between his lips, he makes a wet sucking sound. You kiss at Jesse’s head. Jesse’s stomach rises and falls with pleasure, his breath catching on itself. His hands slide up his body. You take Jesse’s cock into your mouth and slide down, meeting your brother’s mouth. You and Peter both make wet guttural noises, you gagging on cock and Peter suckling balls. “//Holy fuck,//” Jesse gasps, his voice cracking. “I’m gonna - oh my god, you -” His arms collapse. [img['images/thejohnsons/18.webp']] You let Jesse cum inside your mouth, spreading his hot seed between your teeth and gums. When you unplug from his cock, Peter joins you in cleaning him, kissing up each ounce of cum. You look up at Jesse, meeting his bright eyes, and he moans out, voice cracking, “//I’m a faggot.//” <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Part trois.]]

<h1>Part trois.</h1> Your phone buzzes with a message: __ur almost here?__ It’s from Josh Johnson, the oldest of the blond brothers. Thanks to Jesse’s help, Josh thinks he’s texting a woman that he can “hit up.” A few months ago, Josh was exposed online for a “breed list” he’d been making. His mission was to become the local “Genghis Khan” by breeding as many women as fast as possible. You text him back: __almost :)__ You’re sitting in your car across the street from Josh’s house. Thankfully he lives alone. No woman would want to be married to //this// level of freak show. Of course, Josh’s “Genghis Khan” mission is only possible because he’s a hulking mass of Thor beauty. Rae pops into the air and flutters into the passenger seat. “A reminder, kiddo,” he says. “No need,” you say. “Greater mass, greater problem. I know.” You brush away all possible worry. But your fairy insists. “Oliver, I almost lost you last time,” he says, frowning. “That piece of shit -” “That was because of //focus,//” you say, raising a finger. “Not a lack of //power.// This time I will //not// lose my focus.” You rest your hands on the wheel. “I’ve had two Johnsons worth of preparation.” Rae shrugs. “Well, you know I’ll be there,” he says. “So what’s the plan for this big ol’ brute?” You interlock your fingers and crack your knuckles. “Josh is dumb,” you’ll say. “It’ll be nothing.” You push open the car door and walk across the road. Across Josh Johnson’s front lawn, over his porch steps, up to his white front door. Hand raised, a single finger outstretched: //Ding-dong.// <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Confronting the eldest.]]

<h1>Confronting the eldest.</h1> “Can I help you?” Josh says in his deep, slow voice. He looks like Thor with his tall, puffy chest, thick blond hair, scruffy faced and dimpled chin. You could cut diamonds across Josh’s jawline. He stands in the open doorway, his bulky arms crossed over each other. You imagine he could crush a watermelon with no problem. For a moment, you forget the words to say. You stutter. “Y - yes, uhm, my -” you say. You shake your head. “I was sent here by, uhm, my friend Jesse.” Josh tilts his head. He scans you from head to toe, probably assessing how to skin you alive. “Jesse?” he says. Each word tumbles out like a great, hefty boulder. His voice rattles your chest. “I’m looking for a woman.” He speaks crisp. When he’s done talking, you feel guilty for staying. “O - oh?” you stutter. Rae pops into your thoughts. “Oliver, you losing your touch?” You breathe in. //All I need to do is get this fucking bastard inside. I can’t have passerby see me use spinnerets.// “I’m friends with the woman,” you say. “I’m her younger brother. She’s almost here. She sent -” //What the fuck am I even saying anymore?// You sigh out. You look up at Josh. “Oh, //fuck it.//” Ice coats the back of your eyes. The instant headache is near-debilitating. You crouch down with pain, your ears ringing. When you open your eyes, Josh is down the hall against the wall. “That’ll do it,” Rae whispers in your mind. Josh rubs his back from the impact pain. You enter through the front door and slam it behind you. “In your bedroom,” you command. “Right //now.//” <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Silent Thor.]]

<h1>Silent Thor.</h1> When you enter Josh’s room, he’s sat dutifully on the edge of his bed. His back is straightened, plain-faced, no discernible thoughts or feelings. You nod your head. “Good, ahead of the curve.” He watches you. Expressionless. Handsome. A buff mannequin with a revolving head, studying you as you pace his room. “So you’re the infamous //Josh,//” you say, and he doesn’t react at all. “How many girls have ‘bred’ this year?” you ask, trying to put the pressure on. He blinks twice. Then Josh opens his mouth. “Seven.” You stumble backward. //Seven? Shit, I thought it was four.// You remain calm. “Okay,” you say. “Well, uhm, strip down. Now.” You snap and point at his shirt. Josh casually reaches to the shirt’s bottom and pulls it over his head. His muscles look divine. Just as you’re about to snap for his pants, he proceeds. Unbuttoning his jeans and sliding out. Josh sits at the edge of his bed, his massive bulge rising from the center of his white underwear. “Finish up,” you say, nodding toward his crotch. He tilts his head, says, “And what about you?” You look at him. You wait a few seconds. Your brain goes fuzzy. You ask, “And what about me?” “Yeah,” he says, his deep voice soothing your body. “Didn’t Jesse send you? Like you said?” You open your mouth to say something. But then stop short. Josh shrugs, pulls his underwear. His giant cock flops out, making an audible thud against his bulky thighs. You stare down at it. It’s thicker than Peter’s. //It’s a goddamn soda can.// He clears his throat. “We getting it started?” <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Getting him hard.]]

<h1>Getting him hard.</h1> When you focus on Josh, your eyes don’t burn. Not at all. There’s no resistance in his muscles. “Well shit,” Rae whispers in your mind, laughing. “I guess he’ll meet your condition pretty fast.” Josh slides back against his pillows and spreads his legs wide apart, inviting you toward him. You gulp down nervousness. “Do you have lubricant?” you ask. Josh stares at you, blank-faced. He takes one hand and licks the three middle fingers. Then he holds them up, twisting them like a screwdriver. You nod, trying not to expose your fear. You grab onto your shirt and remove it. Josh continues watching. Every few seconds you focus on him, but the ice-eyes never come. You reach down and unbutton your pants, letting them fall to the floor. Then your underwear. “Let me see,” he says. Everything Josh says feels like a command. You spin around in a circle, lifting your asscheeks and dropping them, letting them jiggle. When you look at him, he nods. “Goodbye, Oliver’s asshole,” Rae whispers in your mind. Then he bursts into laughter. You crawl onto the bed and slowly move toward Josh. His fat cock remains flaccid, waiting, threatening. “I’ll get you ready,” you say. He looks down at his cock and then back at you. That’s an order. You crawl closer to him. As you slide your hands up his thighs, Josh flexes his iron muscles. Your hands meet in the middle of his legs. Your thumbs slide under his balls, heavy and thick, and then you move up around his cock. Double-fisting him. You slowly massage Josh hard. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Stretching jaw.]]

<h1>Stretching jaw.</h1> His cock grows. And grows. Thickening and elongating. All the while Josh stares down at you, face unchanged. With your hands wrapped around his dick, you can feel its own beating pulse. “Well?” he asks, except it sounds more like a statement. You look up and nod, breathing in. Then you lean into his cock and lick around the head. You massage his glands very slowly. Josh doesn’t move. He continues watching, unreacting, unrelenting. You push your lips around his massive cock’s head, the tip filling your mouth already, and widen your jaw for a full entry. As you slide him deeper, you inhale Josh’s warm masculine scent. The woodgrains of his construction work, the dark pine scent of his morning wash. You keep swallowing, pushing. Continuously you look up for approval. But he does not grant it. He watches you blank-faced. Josh reaches his hand behind your head and rests it there. You take that as some small praise. Then you pick up the pace. Your saliva makes the job easier, sliding his soda can-sized cock toward your throat. Practically unhinging your jaw. Finally, his eyebrow twitches with ecstasy. [img['images/thejohnsons/19.webp']] Every inch causes a slight //click// in your jaw. But you force Josh down. Just to prove you can. Just to make this thick-dicked asshole actually //react.// His fingers gently press into your skull. When you have Josh’s head at the entrance to your throat, you cum around it. Spit bubbles tickle his glands, causing his eyes to flicker with near-orgasm. His lip quivers. //Fuck yes, Oliver.// <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Couch action.]]

<h1>Couch action.</h1> Then he’s picking up the pace. He uses his one hand to push you down. At first you’re shocked, your eyes bulging out. //If he wanted to, he could spear this right thing through my fucking head.// Josh’s balls slap against your chin. Drool and spit spill out from your mouth, coating around your chin, and there are a few close calls. Vomit rising up. His cock calling for every single gag reflex. [img['images/thejohnsons/20.webp']] Suddenly you feel his bulging penis veins shift. His balls twitch. //Oh shit.// His fingers clench your hair and pull you off his cock. Josh stares into your face, breathing slowly. //He held his orgasm?// Josh slowly crawls toward you. He outstretches his arms and cradles them around you, lifting you into the air. He moves off the bed and carries you out the door. Into the hall, the living room. “I like my bed sheets clean,” he says, staring into your face. Still expressionless. //A little late for that,// you think, //considering my saliva stains are everywhere.// He gently sets you on the couch. You look up at him. Josh stares down at you. His huge muscles. His throbbing monster cock. Your saliva glistening down his shaft, around his balls. He clears his throat and stares at you. “How does it work?” he asks. But again, it sounds like a statement. //How does fucking me work?// You slowly turn around, positioning yourself on all-fours. Josh dutifully climbs right behind you. When he presses his soda can cock against your hole, you already start shaking. “Uhm, just,” you say. But he doesn’t let you finish. He eases his well-salivated beast right inside your hole. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Thor-sized hole.]]

<h1>Thor-sized hole.</h1> Josh is not as patient as he was with the blowjob. Once his cock has stretched your walls to brand new widths, he starts fucking you like a doll. He pins you down and makes you his bitch. [img['images/thejohnsons/21.webp']] “//Josh - Josh, I - Josh - I,//” you keep trying to speak, begging him to slow down. But every time you get one word out, he’s already pulled out and plunged deep. Each time a wet //plunk// sound. Your toes curl. Your cock hardens, you want to touch yourself so bad. But Josh has you pinned against the couch cushions, your cock trapped. The moans escaping you are loud, involuntary. In a moment of revelation, you decide to focus on him. But there’s no ice-burning in your eyes. No resistance coming from Josh. //He’s just fucking me. That’s it.// You arch back into his cock. Josh welcomes you, his cock brushing against your velvet insides and punching your stomach. He makes the slightest, deepest grunts, fucking you like a wild animal with his prized bitchboy. Once he’s tired of that position, he flips you over with his cock still lodged inside. Then Josh wraps his hands around your throat and fucks you that way, your cock slapping your belly. [img['images/thejohnsons/22.webp']] “//Ahh-ohh,//” you moan, not able to form words. You can’t help but stare down his bulky body, Josh’s stack of muscles slamming into your smaller body, forcing you into his little cocksleeve. “I’m cumming,” he says, staring down into your eyes. He doesn’t flinch or quiver. Josh simply keeps fucking you. You feel the hot liquid ooze around his cock, spilling from your hole, but his girth continues pounding your prostate. Wet slapping sounds fill the room. Your eyes roll back. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[The big uh-oh.]]

<h1>The big uh-oh.</h1> The front door bursts open. It flies from the hinges and collapses on the floor. Your heart stops. //What’s happening?// Your eyes don’t move fast enough. Josh slides out of you, throws you aside. It’s a blur. Josh is screaming, “Shoot the faggot!” Two police officers run into the living room. Behind them, Jesse and Joel pointing at you. Identifying you. //That’s him. That’s the one who -// Your head is spinning. Josh’s cum is oozing from your gaping asshole. You put your hands on the ground. //C’mon Oliver. Pull yourself together.// One officer is a female. The other one is a male. The female officer pulls out a gun. She’s pointing at you. You can’t hear what she’s saying. Josh’s cum bubbles inside your stomach. He’s standing above you, foot kicking you back down. Joel is crying. Jesse is laughing. Josh looks disgusted, frantically wiping his dick clean of you. //Was this a set-up?// Things begin speeding up. Your mind slowly catches up. Your eyes catch up. “Forgive me, kid,” Rae says in your mind. His little voice echoes. And then one moment later, the female officer’s neck twists. Her gun falls to the floor. She collapses flat onto the ground. The Johnson boys turn, each horrified. The male officer backs up against the wall, reaching for his walky-talky. Then he struggles. His hand shakes. It slides toward his gun and pulls it out. “//No!//” the officer shouts. The gun lifts and points beneath his chin. He’s trembling. “Wait,” you say to Rae. “I have an idea for him.” There’s a moment of silence. And then the gun falls. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Josh and Cruz.]]

<h1>Josh and Cruz.</h1> You’re back in Josh’s bedroom. This time with all three brothers. And the male police officer. Down the hall, rotting on the living room floor, is the female officer. //We’ll deal with her later on.// Jesse and Joel sit on the floor, waiting in the corner. Rae pacified them and you put duct tape around their mouths and wrists. //Two less motherfuckers to worry about.// You turn to the bed. Sat next to each other, both stripped down naked, is Josh Johnson and Officer Cruz. The male officer looks more terrified than any of the brothers ever were. Tears stream down his cheeks. Josh is no longer stone-faced. He’s disgusted. Everytime you look at him, his deep brown eyes say //I’ll kill you at the first second.// You take one step toward him and look down into his face. “You cannot fathom,” you say, speaking slowly. You feel a hot anger boiling inside you that you’ve never felt before. //Though that might be Josh’s cum.// “The things I have planned for you.” A flash of regret passes his face. But then he puts on his typical strong Thor face. You turn to Officer Cruz and lean down to stroke his chin. “And you,” you say. “Wrong place, wrong time.” You point to the two younger brothers. “For them? I had a simple condition,” you say. Both Jesse and Joel flinch when you pay them attention. //They know they fucked up. Rebelling.// “Now there will be no fucking forgiveness,” you say, then move your finger to point back at Josh. “Older brother. Strong Josh,” you mock him. “How should I let your younger brothers //see// you?” <h3>What's Josh's fate?</h3> [[Cruz fucks Josh.]] [[Josh fucks Cruz.]]

<h1>Three little doggies.</h1> You drive your car up to a stoplight. You have the music on, whistling along, tapping your fingers against the wheel. The sunlight warms you through the windshield, kissing your face and arms. “It’s a bright day,” you say giddily. Then you look into the rearview mirror. Sat side-by-side in the backseat, the three Johnson brothers: Josh, Jesse, and Joel in the middle. They obediently nod. You smile, turning the car onto your street. Then you hear a //thunk// come from the rear of the car. Rae pops up in your head. “They’ll start looking for her,” he whispers in your head. You smile. //Who are they going to blame?// you think. //A female officer goes missing. They’ll look at the guy with the ‘hit list’ of women he wanted to knock up.// In the rearview mirror, you wink at Josh. //He can try explaining what happened this weekend,// you think further. //But I doubt the officers will believe the story.// You pull into your driveway and park. //Besides, I have one little last thing to do.// “You know what I think,” Rae whispers in your mind. You roll your eyes. //No way. No more death. I didn’t even ask for the first one.// Rae scoffs, says, “So you’d rather be stuck in prison now?” You sigh. //Fine. At least we've got Cruz silent. It doesn't hurt to have an officer under your thumb.// You turn around to the Johnson brothers. “Let’s go,” you say. “Don’t waste my time.” They each nod and step out of the car, then follow you up the front porch and inside the house. When they sit on the couch, you stand in front of them and raise a finger. “You’ll think this is torture,” you say. “But this is so I don’t have to kill you three. Understand?” They nervously nod. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Triple dipping.]]

<h1>Triple dipping.</h1> You stand in one corner of the living room, phone held up in your hand, recording the Johnsons. In the middle is Joel, his ass perked up for Josh’s soda can cock, with his mouth open for Jesse. “I’m a faggot,” Jesse says, eyes rolling back as little Joel wraps his mouth around the middle brother’s cock. You’re not even orchestrating these movements. They’re simply following orders. Joel’s eyes widen when Jesse hits the back of his throat, little tears rolling down his cheek. Then Josh positions his massive cock against the twink’s hole, preparing to destroy him. “//Mmm,//” Joel begs, but no one understands him. Josh lifts his waist and slides down into his youngest brother, Joel howling around Jesse’s cock. Josh slides down to the hilt, to the balls. “//Imafadod,//” Joel tries to say around Jesse’s cock, his tears mixing with his saliva. When Josh fucks his twinky brother forward, then Jesse thrusts back, turning Joel into a tiny fuckable game. “Do that thing I said,” you said, playing director. You snap twice. Then Josh and Jesse look at each other, sigh, and lean into each other’s mouths. They swap spit, twisting their tongues. [img['images/thejohnsons/27.webp']] “Okay, now //faster,//” you command. Josh lifts his mighty thighs up and slams down into Joel, causing the boy to yelp out around Jesse, who then punches the back of Joel’s throat with cock. The first one to cum is Jesse, who’s hot liquid slowly oozes around Joel’s teeth and drips down onto your living room coffee table. Then Josh floods little Joel’s cavern with cum, continuing to fuck him like you instructed. Lastly, while moaning boyish tears, Joel spurts a prostate orgasm. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Kiddo.]]

<h1>Kiddo.</h1> You sit next to Peter on his bed, playing a video game with him. Anytime you’re about to pass him up in the racing game, your older brother will suddenly elbow you so that you spin out. “//Pete,//” you say, laughing, slapping the controller out of his hand. “Don’t be an asshole,” you say. He laughs, scrunching his nose. When you’re both done teasing each other, Peter sighs out. “Hey, was that you in the backyard last night?” You pretend to think about it. Then slowly nod. “Yeah, actually.” He turns his head at you, raising an eyebrow. You roll your eyes and shrug. “It was just a thing,” you say. “A time capsule. You know?” He scans the ceiling to remember, then says, “Oh, okay. That makes sense why you had the shovel.” You slap his back and nod. When you leave the room, Rae pops up in the air. “I’m not sure how //all// human relations work,” he says. “Do you think the Johnsons will stay quiet? Like, do you think the video is enough?” You wink at Rae. “If there’s one thing I can tell you about //non-fairy// humans, it’s that there’s nothing worse than being revealed as a //faggot.//” You wiggle your phone. //Especially an incestuous faggot.// “A shame,” Rae sighs. “That Joel can really //serve// ass. And Josh? Do we even need to say?” You laugh and swat Rae away. “No, no, but Jesse was a //freak.// I bet he’s into //freaky// shit!” “Well, maybe we taught them something new,” you say. You collapse onto your bed. Rae lands next to you and reclines his tiny body, mimicking your lounged pose. “By the way,” you say, “thanks for saving my life earlier.” Rae turns to you. He winks a glittery smile. “Always, kiddo.” <h3>The Johnsons: Completed!</h3> [[Back to list of targets.|Who are the targets?]]

<h1>Mission briefing.</h1> Throughout the plane’s descent into Boston’s airport, Rae summarized the magical fairy abilities he’s shared with you. “Every mission had a little //coercive// touch somewhere,” he reminded you. “But each one taught you something //specific.// Like the first mission with that horny twink Colby. That was //whore// magic,” Rae said. “We unlocked his libido to its full potential. //Now// look at him.” According to Rae, Beta Pi used //harem// magic. Matt’s mission used //infatuation// magic and your brother’s mission had //body-swapping.// Of course, there was //body-controlling// with the Johnsons. “And now,” Rae said, “//contract// magic.” He describes it as a soul-body-mind binding between two individuals: one as servant, the other as master. And the contract only expires upon //death.// As the airplane’s wheels touched down in Boston, you thought to Rae, //But I don’t want Ethan. Not eternally, I don’t think.// Rae laughed, said, “Let’s say you’re more of a //wingman// this mission.” And that’s how Uncle Elliot came into the picture. //You want me to hook Ethan up with his dad?// you thought to Rae. //Like, eternally? I don’t know if my cousin will just sign a contract like it’s no -// “And //that’s// where the difficulty comes in,” Rae said. “Ethan must be //uncoerced.// In order for the contract to work, the subject must sign with //full knowledge// of his eternal indentured servitude.” Walking off the plane, you scratched your head. //But like, Uncle Elliot won’t go for that either.// Rae laughed, then said, “Well, here’s the thing. The //recipient// doesn’t have to be uncoerced.” <h3>What's next?</h3> [[The strategy.]]

<h1>The strategy.</h1> You grab your two bags from the baggage carousel. While you’re rolling toward the passenger pick-up area, your phone buzzes twice: __Hey cuz. I’m here. :] Look for the shiny silver Escalade.__ “You understand everything?" Rae whispers in your mind. A pair of sliding doors pulls open and you walk out into the Boston sunshine. //I think so,// you say. //Sort of? But where's the contract at?// Dozens of shiny silver SUVs cruise around the airport pick-up spot. You squint through each of the windows, trying to remember what Ethan looks like. After all, it's been almost three years. "The contract is verbal," Rae says. "When the time is right, I'll show up. Don't worry." Across the street, proudly labeled with a crimson Harvard University bumper sticker, is a silver Escalade. //So you're spinning some fairy dust on Uncle Elliot,// you say, running the information once more. //And the mission is to somehow convince Ethan to - Yeah, whatever. But what's the risk here?// "Well," your fairy says. "You could be the one that ends up becoming the servant." You pause in the middle of the road. //What the fuck do you mean?// A taxi slams on its breaks right behind you. Rae chuckles. "You're gonna have to convince him to sign a contract, Oliver," he says. "But nothing is //that// easy." The taxi driver zooms around you and gives the middle finger. You flip it right back. "If there's one word to describe your cousin," he says, "what would it be?" You approach Ethan's vehicle. When you look down you see the Harvard bumper sticker again. You sigh. //Competitive.// <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Cousin Ethan.]]

<h1>Cousin Ethan.</h1> As soon as you bid Rae farewell, for however long, you pull open the passenger-side door. "Cousin Oliver," Ethan says, lowering his Gucci shades. "Now you haven't changed a //single// bit." You aren't even sure how to respond. "Should I throw these in the trunk?" you ask, signalling toward your luggage. Ethan gives a slight grin. "Well, I wouldn't //throw// them, but perhaps //place.//" Now you remember why Peter hated Ethan. He's uppity. He's unfiltered. He's condescending. You throw your bags into the trunk and hop into the passenger seat. Then Ethan starts to drive. As it turns out, Ethan //has// changed quite a bit. The pudgy sixteen-year-old from Christmas long ago has sharpened into a lean, clean socialite. He looks like the front cover of Vineyard Vines. "So little cousin," he says, referring to your one-year age difference. "How's life in the suburbs?" You open your mouth but then Ethan interrupts. "Oh, can you text my dad? We're on the way." Now you slowly close your mouth. If Rae was present, he'd be telling you to "calm down, kiddo" and to "remember the mission." You heed that hypothetical advice and reach for Ethan's phone. "I forget you don't have his number," Ethan says, pulling out onto a highway and cutting off a few cars. They blare their horns at him. But he's unfazed. "Yeah, you can use mine to text him." You're met with a lockscreen. "What's the password?" you ask. Then Ethan chuckles to himself. "Oh, it's 'crimsonpride'," he says, the phrase referring to Harvard. You try not to roll your eyes. <h1>What's next?</h1> [[Little surprises.]]

<h1>Little surprises.</h1> When you unlock Ethan's phone, you notice he has dozens of apps running in the background. "Don't go snooping around," he says, winking at you. "Something tells me you're a big snooper." You clench your teeth and shake that off. //He's not wrong,// you think to yourself. //But god damn if he isn't annoying for saying it.// You tap around on his phone and scroll for Uncle Elliot's number. But then you //accidentally// look at Ethan's running apps. Twitter. College Confidential. Reddit. Snapchat. //Snapchat?// You accidentally tap on his current conversation with user //NaomiOhMe.// When Ethan gets distracted by traffic, you quickly scroll through his and Naomi's messages. Apparently she and him are in some secret society at Harvard. And he's interested in Naomi. __You're sweet__ she messaged him. And Ethan responded with __Im not sweet. I'm sour. You'll have to taste me to find that out.__ After Naomi didn't respond for several hours, Ethan sent a video. [img['images/ethan/1.webp']] He attached a message with it: __I've also been told I've got good finger game.__ Naomi still didn't respond. You'd almost feel bad for the guy, if he wasn't so god damn relentless. You exit out. "Are you writing him the //Magna Carta?//" Ethan asks, scoffing. You quickly text Uncle Elliot that you're on the way home. Then you put the phone down. There's silence for only three seconds. "So what colleges are you applying to?" your cousin asks. You slowly turn to him and exhale. "None of them," you say. It's not entirely true. But you know he just wants to talk about Harvard. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Uncle Elliot.|Uncle Elliot Intro]]

<h1>Uncle Elliot.</h1> The short drive from Boston to Cambridge is filled with Ethan’s relentless questioning: “Do you do any yoga?” “Have you taken the SAT yet?” “Top five jazz pianists?” “Favorite Russian films?" Every question is an opportunity for your cousin to brag: //He// does morning yoga. //He// got in the 95th percentile for the SAT. //He// has an Oscard Peterson record collection. //He// loves Mikhalkov. When Ethan finally pulls into his driveway, your ears feel like they've been bludgeoned. You step out from the Escalade and remove your bags from the trunk. Then you look up at the mansion. A three-story Spanish colonial with white walls and red trim. It's a strange design for Cambridge, but your Uncle Elliot is a particular man. Palm trees sway along the stone path to the front door. "Just a heads-up," Ethan says, stopping you at the door. "My dad's been pretty scatter-brained." He pauses to think up the next words. "If he does or says anything weird, just um, ignore him." You nod, then ask, "Is he alright?" Your cousin waves you off. "He's just working on a big case," Ethan says. "I think it's stressing him out." Then he pushes the front door open and steps inside. The foyer is filled with sunlight. Handmade wooden benches, wicker baskets with leafy plants. Your uncle's house feels like a Portuguese vacation home. Then you hear the clack of flip-flops. Uncle Elliot emerges from a doorway. "Is that my nephew?" he says, stretching his arms wide. He looks as always: lawyerly, trimmed, clean-cut, warm. You step over and fall into Elliot's hug. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[A sunny afternoon.]]

<h1>A sunny afternoon.</h1> After greeting your uncle, Ethan brought you to one of the guest bedrooms on the second floor. The wall-to-wall window looks out onto your uncle's backyard, his patio and bean-shaped pool. You head downstairs after unpacking. The sound of a guitar plucks somewhere in the distance, so you follow it, turning down curvy hallways and passing through a library and a dining room. When you emerge on the back patio, you discover Uncle Elliot leaned back in a wooden chair, fingering his acoustic guitar. Ethan sits near him, his Gucci shades on, swallowing down melon. "Come, come," your uncle croons, smiling. He nods toward a chair next to him. When you sit, Elliot lowers his guitar into his lap and gives you his full attention. "I'm so grateful you're here." You smile. Behind Uncle Elliot, you notice Ethan turn his head and lightly chuckle. //Is this what my cousin meant? That his dad is a bit weird? He just seems sweet. Sweeter than I remember.// "Thanks for accepting me," you say, reaching over and grabbing a piece of melon. "It's been a long time since I visited." When your fingers grip the fruit, Elliot slides his hand over your own. He leans closer to you. "A little wine in there," your uncle whispers, winking. "Gives the melon a kick." Ethan holds up a piece of melon, then suckles on it. A reddish juice trickles down his chin. You nod. "A kick is good," you say. Uncle Elliot brushes over your knuckles as he pulls away. When he picks up his guitar, he plucks a graceful quiet tune. And he watches you as you eat. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Cleaning up.]]

<h1>Cleaning up.</h1> You bake beneath the sun for a while. But it's been a long day of travel, and the wine-soaked melon starts to make you sleepy. And a bit tipsy. "I'm gonna go shower up," you say, standing. Uncle Elliot stands up with you. "I'll show you the way," he says, resting his hand on your back. Ethan lowers his sunglasses and watches as you and his father disappear into the house. Once you're in your bedroom, your uncle shuts the door behind him. He tugs on the back of your shirt and pulls you into a reverse embrace, his muscled arms wrapping around your chest. "Oliver, Oliver, Oliver," he whispers. "I remember when your mother chose that name." He puts his nose against your neck and gently inhales. His arms squeeze you tighter and you stand motionless. When Elliot speaks, his scruffy beard tickles your neck. //Whatever spell Rae put on my uncle,// you think, //it was some potent shit.// His rough hands slide down to your shirt bottom and pinches. "I'll help you get ready," he says. He lifts the shirt over your head and throws it across the room. "Oh, look at you," he continues, "I remember when I changed your diapers. Now you're a man." The Uncle Elliot from years ago would never be so tender. He was distant, firm, short-worded. But now, his palms rub across your shoulders. Assessing you. Slowly inspecting your muscles. "Lie down on the bed," he whispers. "Just while you get undressed." His breath warms your skin, smelling like red wine and melon. You nod. Will you lie on your stomach, or on your back? <h3>How will you lie?</h3> [[On my stomach, Pt. 1.]] [[On my back, Pt. 1.]]

<h1>On my stomach, Pt. 1.</h1> While you unbutton your jeans and slide them down your legs, Elliot paces around, pretending to examine the nautical-themed paintings strewn on the walls. Then you toss your pants aside. Uncle Elliot hears the //thunk// of your pants and turns toward you. His eyes roll across your body. //Aren’t I supposed to be hooking him up with Ethan?// you think to yourself. //What’s going on now?// “Any girlfriends?” Elliot asks, facing the wall again. He reaches up and touches a photo frame. You lie in the bed, stripped down to your underwear. You pull the bed sheets up to your naval. “No,” you say. Uncle Elliot clicks his tongue, then says, “Well that’s a shame.” He turns to walk across the room. “Neither does Ethan,” he continues, “much as my poor boy tries and tries.” Your uncle stops in front of a tall mirror. He scans himself up and down, adjusting his blue jeans. Then he catches your reflection. “You know how your uncle dabbles,” he says, grinning a little. It’s true. According to your mom, Uncle Elliot has always been a whore. A new girl every week. Never settling down. Never marrying. Even in his late 40s, he’s known for spinning the bitches. “Go on and finish,” he says, watching you. You hesitantly nod. You reach down and pull on your underwear, shimmying them to your ankles. Then you slowly pull the sheets down your body. [img['images/ethan/2.webp']] Your perky ass lifts into the air. Uncle Elliot studies your reflection in the mirror, pressing his lips together and breathing in slowly. And just as he turns to face you, there’s a knock at the door. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[On my stomach, Pt. 2.]]

<h1>On my back, Pt. 1.</h1> While you unbutton your jeans and slide them down your legs, Elliot paces around, pretending to examine the nautical-themed paintings strewn on the walls. Then you toss your pants aside. Uncle Elliot hears the //thunk// of your pants and turns toward you. His eyes roll across your body. //Aren’t I supposed to be hooking him up with Ethan?// you think to yourself. //What’s going on now?// “Any girlfriends?” Elliot asks, facing the wall again. He reaches up and touches a photo frame. You lie in the bed, stripped down to your underwear. The ceiling fan blows cool air on your body. “No,” you say. Uncle Elliot clicks his tongue, then says, “Well that’s a shame.” He turns to walk across the room. “Neither does Ethan,” he continues, “much as my poor boy tries and tries.” Your uncle stops in front of a tall mirror. He scans himself up and down, adjusting his blue jeans. Then he catches your reflection. “You know how your uncle dabbles,” he says, grinning a little. It’s true. According to your mom, Uncle Elliot has always been a whore. A new girl every week. Never settling down. Never marrying. Even in his late 40s, he’s known for spinning the bitches. “Go on and finish,” he says, watching you. You hesitantly nod. You reach down and pull on your underwear, sliding them down to your knees. //Please don’t have a boner. Please don’t have a -// [img['images/ethan/5.webp']] Your half-erect cock flops out. Uncle Elliot studies your reflection in the mirror, pressing his lips together and breathing in slowly. And just as he turns to face you, there’s a knock at the door. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[On my back, Pt. 2.]]

<h1>On my stomach, Pt. 2.</h1> Ethan stands in the open doorway, his eyes darting from Uncle Elliot to you. Uncle Elliot to you. “Is he piss-drunk, or something?” your cousin asks Elliot. There’s a few seconds of total silence. “Yes,” your uncle says, turning away to conceal his bulge, then adds, “Must be a light drinker.” You close your eyes and pretend to be asleep. But your thick ass remains bare, center-stage. Ethan’s feet thump across the wooden floor. “Well, looks like the melon brought out the //melons,//” your cousin says, laughing to himself. Then you feel a gentle swat on your ass. You remain still. “Can you blame him?” your uncle says, his voice growing closer. “At his age, if I had those gifts.” You feel a finger poke deep into your ass cheek, and when it releases, your butt jiggles around. “Oh, god,” Ethan says, sighing. “Don’t be so //creepy.//” He walks toward the door. “You’ve been acting weird ever since he called.” Just as your cousin is about to leave, Elliot clears his throat. “Son,” your uncle says, his voice deep and smooth. “That jealousy on you looks unbecoming.” Ethan stops in the doorway and slowly turns. You feel the pressure in the room suddenly drop. “//Jealousy?//” your cousin says. “Of //what?//” More silence. Ethan takes a few steps into the room. He repeats himself. “Of //what,// dad?” But Uncle Elliot remains quiet. Then you hear unbuckling. [img['images/ethan/3.webp']] You peep your eyes open and watch Ethan strip down bare. Then he turns around and shows his taut ass, slapping it. “Oliver doesn’t intimidate me,” he says, scoffing. “I know what I’ve got.” <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Bustin' out.]]

<h1>Bustin' out.</h1> You wake up in the middle of the night. Nothing but faint moonlight through the window. And the sound of your door slowly creaking open. Your heart thumps and you keep your eyes shut tight. “//Pssst,//” you hear. As you come to your senses, you recognize the soft sheets wrapped around your naked body. Cold air from the ceiling fan. The weight of someone sitting on the mattress. A warm hand touches your arm. “Oliver,” the voice says. Your eyes pop wide open. There’s a large silhouette at the edge of your bed. His hand slides down your arm to your hand. It’s Uncle Elliot. He clutches your hand tight. “You awake?” he whispers. You lift your other hand and rub your eyes, nodding. //When did I fall asleep? Did I ever take my shower?// Uncle Elliot leans in closer. “Get dressed,” he says with a cute smile. “We’re bustin’ outta here.” Then he stands up from the bed. Elliot walks to the door and jiggles his keys in his pocket. “Meet me in the Porsche in five.” You sigh. //What am I even dressing for? Do I wear something casual? Formal?// You hustle over to your bags and choose something in-between: black jeans, a crisp white Oxford, deck shoes. The air outside is cold and crisp. Your uncle’s Porsche lights shine like two lighthouse beacons. When you climb into the car, Elliot winks at you. Then he brushes your hair from your forehead. “Where are we going?” you ask, sleepy-voiced. Your uncle shifts into reverse. “You’re a man now,” he says. “So let’s go where the //men// go.” And right then, you notice Ethan isn’t in the car. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Cheek House.]]

<h1>On my back, Pt. 2.</h1> Ethan stands in the open doorway, his eyes darting from Uncle Elliot to you. Uncle Elliot to you. “Is he piss-drunk, or something?” your cousin asks Elliot. There’s a few seconds of total silence. “Yes,” your uncle says, turning away to conceal his bulge, then adds, “Must be a light drinker.” You close your eyes and pretend to be asleep. But your bare cock and balls are center-stage. Ethan’s feet thump across the wooden floor. “Well, looks like the melon brought out the //melons,//” your cousin says, laughing to himself. Then you feel a gentle //flick// on your balls. You remain still. “Can you blame him?” your uncle says, his voice growing closer. “At his age, if I had these gifts.” You feel two fingers gently squeeze onto your shaft, and when they release, your cock twitches. “Oh, god,” Ethan says, sighing. “Don’t be so //creepy.//” He walks toward the door. “You’ve been acting weird ever since he called.” Just as your cousin is about to leave, Elliot clears his throat. “Son,” your uncle says, his voice deep and smooth. “That jealousy on you looks unbecoming.” Ethan stops in the doorway and slowly turns. You feel the pressure in the room suddenly drop. “//Jealousy?//” your cousin says. “Of //what?//” More silence. Ethan takes a few steps into the room. He repeats himself. “Of //what,// dad?” But Uncle Elliot remains quiet. Then you hear unbuckling. [img['images/ethan/4.webp']] You peep your eyes open and watch Ethan unzip his jeans. Then he pulls down and lets his long cock flop into the air. “Oliver doesn’t intimidate me,” he says, scoffing. “I know what I’ve got.” <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Bustin' out.]]

<h1>Cheek House.</h1> Twenty minutes later, you’re sitting next to Uncle Elliot in //Cheek House,// a strip club in Boston. Red lights pulse above you. Steam oozes through the air. And everyone seems to know Elliot. “Hey babydoll,” a woman says, strutting up in tight white leather, smacking on a piece of gum. “Is this your son? Thought you said he was a prude.” The woman’s name tag says //Miss Athena.// Your uncle bumps your shoulder. “No, this is my nephew,” he says, then turns to you. You nod. //What? What? What am I doing here? What?// “Hi,” you say. “I’m Oliver.” And Miss Athena winks. “Cutie pie,” she says. Then she leans into Elliot’s ear. “We’ll give him Backhouse at a discount.” As she walks away, your uncle watches her ass sway to-and-fro. He wraps his arm around you. “Whatcha think?” Elliot asks, lowering his rose-tinted shades. You hesitate. He points toward a dark hallway in the corner of the room. “That’s the Backhouse. Best sloppies. Absolute //pissa.//” You nod even though you didn’t understand a word. Then Uncle Elliot lifts a hand to his mouth and performs a faux-blowjob, rubbing his tongue against his cheek. He pretends to gag on it. “You see?” he asks, laughing to himself. And you smile. //Don’t think I’m interested in blowjobs from a middle-aged woman.// Your uncle sighs and leans into your ear. “I’d never bring Ethan.” You raise an eyebrow. He shrugs. “Too wrapped up in being clean,” he says. “Kid wants to run for congress someday.” You sense a sort of sadness in Elliot. And it gives you a small epiphany. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Night drive.]]

<h1>Night drive.</h1> After spending an hour watching girls twirl around poles, you and Elliot head out from Cheeks. Your uncle speeds through Boston’s streetlights with 80s rock music pumping out the speakers. “I have an idea,” you shout over the soaring synths and guitars. Elliot turns to you and smiles. //How do I even put this?// You clench onto your knees. “I want to, uhm, help Ethan out,” you say. Wind rips through the Porsche’s open windows as Uncle Elliot soars up and over Zakim Bridge. “Help with what?” he shouts. “That kid has everything planned out. Down to the day he’ll die.” “Exactly,” you say. Elliot turns to you and raises an eyebrow. You raise a finger, to make a point. “Ethan has everything planned out,” you say. “But I want to help him take some risks. To //live.//” Your uncle turns to the road. He considers something. Red light. Yellow light. Street lights pulse through the car. Elliot turns to you and points toward the glovebox. “Grab the bag outta there.” You oblige. When you pull on the handle, you find several car manuals, road maps, old receipts. And between the pages of a Porsche manual, a little plastic bag. Filled with fine white powder. “There she is,” Elliot says, reaching his hand over. You pinch the bag and drop it into his palm. While steering with his knees, your uncle leans his nose into the bag and sniffs from it directly. When he pulls up, Uncle Elliot gasps for breath and grins. “//Who needs a wife?//” he shouts out the open window, laughing. Then he turns to you. “Oliver,” he croons. “Do what you need to do.” <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Are you willing?]]

<h1>Are you willing?</h1> “//Are you willing?//” You rise from the bed. It’s Colby’s bedroom. You’re in Colby’s bed. Sun pours through the window. The walls burn red. You turn to your left. Beneath the sheets, it’s Andrew. //Andrew? Colby’s wrestling friend?// You blink at him. “What did you say?” He stares up at you, smiling. His hand reaches to your back. He’s cold. Andrew freezes to the touch. You can’t move. “Go back to bed, baby,” Andrew says. His fingers continue sliding down, down, sliding beneath you. He pushes his index finger against your asshole. You can’t move. You feel vomit rising up. “//Are you willing?//” You whip your head to the right. The room blurs. Now you’re standing on the steps of Beta Pi. It’s the buzzcut swimmer who first greeted you at the door. He blinks at you. “Go down on me, baby,” he says, sliding his hand down to his crotch. His bulge grows beneath his pants, lengthening to six inches, eight inches, ten inches. He bites his lip and stares at you. Then he shoves you backward. Right before your eyes, he bursts into a plume of white feathers, as his voice echoes away, //“Land in pillows.” “Land in pillows.” “In pillows.” “In pillows.” “Pillows.”// “//You’re willing, aren’t you?//” You can’t see anything. You’re buried beneath six feet of feathers. And you can’t move. But someone is shovelling. They’re pulling out feathers from above you. Light breaks through. Beautiful brightness and weightlessness. Hunger and want returns to you. “//Are your elements split inside?//” You can’t speak. “//The faerie can’t hear you here. Are you will -// <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Good morrow.]]

<h1>Good morrow.</h1> You shoot up from the bed. A gasp for breath. Sunlight pours through the window, bathing your room in orange-pink. You lift your hand to your forehead and swipe away sweat. //Am I losing it?// Now collect yourself: //I’m at my uncle’s house. I’m on the second floor. I’m on the sixth mission.// You slide your legs off the bed. You plant your bare feet on the floor. //The contract. My cousin.// When you enter the dining room, you find plates with bacon crumbs and milk-stained glasses. “Hello?” you call out. You wander into the kitchen. No one. Then you wander into the library. Ethan sits in a puffy leather chair. He licks his pointer finger and turns a page. “Good morning,” he says, not looking up. “Or should I say //afternoon?//” You turn to the grandfather clock: 12:37. “Shit,” you say, scratching your hair. Ethan dogmarks a page corner and gently closes the book. Then he crosses his legs and folds his hands into his lap. “So Oliver,” he says. “How’d you sleep?” Your heart smacks up against your ribcage. //Does he somehow know? About the nightmare?// “Pretty good,” you say slowly. You meander to a bookcase and pretend to look over the titles. “Really? That’s //good,//” he says in a condescending voice. “I hear you and my father had a //fête.//” You hesitate to respond, so Ethan continues. “Is there something I don’t know about your visit?” You speak toward the bookshelf. “No.” And then there’s a long silence. You decide to take it. “Just seems like my uncle needs a fun companion,” you say, trying to hide a smile. “That’s all.” <h3>What's next?</h3> [[A fun companion.]]

<h1>A fun companion.</h1> As soon as you turn to leave the library, Ethan leaps from his chair and jumps out in front of you. “Wait,” he says, holding his hand out. “What do you //mean//?” He looks confused and offended. You think up the right words. //Something that sticks deep.// You pinch your cousin’s hand and move it out from your path. “Well,” you say, “if you’re the serious one, then //I’m// the fun one.” You start walking. But Ethan strides alongside you. He huffs. “//Fun// one?” he repeats. “The //fun// - fun //how?// All you did was //show up!//” His voice echoes down the long halls. “I don’t understand!” With a slight smile, you shrug. Then you grab a piece of bread from the kitchen counter and drop it into the toaster. Ethan paces around the room, and asks, “Where did you go last night?” You shrug again. “Somewhere fun,” you say, which makes Ethan throw his hands up and groan. “//No,//” he says, pointing at you. “My dad’s been acting //real// fuckin’ weird since you asked to visit.” The bread pops from the toaster. You pinch it out and bite into it. “I don’t know what to tell you,” you say, swallowing a piece. Then you throw another punch: “I guess me and Elliot just click.” Your cousin looks moments from erupting. He clenches his hands into fists. “//Click?//” he repeats. With a smile, you nod. “Yeah,” you say, “we’re both risky guys. We like to take //risks.// Be weird.” Ethan’s knuckles turn white. “I can be risky,” he says, watching you take each bite into the toast. “Risk is just intentional //stupidity,//” he says between his teeth, and adds on, “I can do that. Easy.” <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Risky business.]]

<h1>Risky business.</h1> Your uncle's maid shows up around noon to clean the house, do the laundry, and cook lunch. Today's meal, as chalked onto your uncle's fridge, is grilled leeks with ham and potato cubes. The maid declares lunchtime by ringing a little bell. You follow the smell down the stairs and into the dining room, where Uncle Elliot and Ethan wait. Your uncle smiles, pats the seat beside him. "Lorelei is one hell of a cook," he says, as the maid arrives with a pitcher of iced tea. She bows graciously. You take the seat next to Uncle Elliot and he slides his hand down onto your knee. When you meet his eyes, he directs you to Lorelei, who saunters away into the kitchen. Then he turns back to you and wiggles his brows. You roll your eyes and smile. And then Ethan scoffs. "Don't be piggish," your cousin says, picking up his fork and knife. But Uncle Elliot leans close to you and points down to his plate. He whispers, "No, //this// is piggish." He lifts up the slice of ham. You and Elliot snicker together, while Ethan lowers his silverware and stares, utterly bewildered. When Lorelei enters the room with a handful of napkins, your uncle leans close into your ear. "You think I had that yet?" he asks, Elliot's eyes running up her legs. You take a guess and nod. His hand rests on your thigh and squeezes. "Damn right," he says, hot breath against your ear. As Lorelei leaves again, you notice her blush toward Uncle Elliot. And across the table, Ethan with his horrified gaze. //He's vulnerable now.// And the next step? Turn vulnerable into //desperate.// <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Caught slipping.]]

<h1>Caught slipping.</h1> You deliberately leave your bedroom door cracked open. Once you're done with your shower, you stretch out on the bed ass-naked. The ceiling fan blows down cold air on your damp body. //Baby steps,// you think. You close your eyes and breathe. The cold air chills against your cock. You reach down and lightly massage your glands, teasing yourself gradually into an erection. Suddenly, that strange dream comes to mind. //Am I willing?// You remember the Beta Pi frat guy reaching down to his pants, groping his monstrous bulge. And you continue to stroke yourself. And then Andrew, Colby’s wrestling pal. He was there that night when Colby took your virginity. In the dream, Andrew massaged your asshole with his warm finger. “//Fuck,//” you whisper-moan. Now you hear footsteps on the stairs. //Perfect.// Uncle Elliot planned a “movie night” for tonight. He said he'd come fetch you when the popcorn was ready. You stroke yourself faster, faster. The footsteps draw nearer. Pre-cum slicks your cock head. You envision Matt’s dick sliding down your throat. Peter breeding you with his anaconda cock. Joel Johnson’s hole oozing cum. And then, a gentle knock on the door. //Bingo,// you think. The hand slowly pushes the door open. [img['images/ethan/6.webp']] You spew cum across your body. When you turn your head, a puckish smile across your face, you find your cousin staring at you. His face hardened as stone. //Fuck,// you think. //Fuu-uu-uu-ck!// <h3>What's next?</h3> [[The clap-back.]]

<h1>The clap-back.</h1> After watching you decorate yourself in hot cum, Ethan sighs and shields his eyes with a hand. “My dad says the popcorn is ready,” he says, mono-toned. Then he slams the door closed. //Why?// you think. //Why did he send Ethan?// You wipe away a thick clump of semen from your lips. Then once your heart slows down, you slide from the bed and walk into the private bathroom. You turn the sink faucet on and wash the cum from your hands. In the mirror, Oliver stares back. Your lithe body. Your dangling cock. Glimmering strings of cum across your arms and chest. //Am I willing to what?// you think. For a moment you become lost in your reflection. Then your phone vibrates in your pocket. You snap out of it. You turn the water off and dry your hands. It’s a text message from Ethan: __Was that supposed to be one of your vapid “risks”__ You stare at the words on your screen. It takes a moment to process. //Is this motherfucker for real right now?// Another text comes in: __You’re trying to diminish me__ And then another text: __You’re trying to make my father question me__ Every time you start to type a response message, Ethan sends another. __You underestimate me__ With that last message, you stand on the bathroom tile. Waiting. Waiting. No more text messages come in. //He’s at his breaking point,// you think, a smile across your face. [img['images/ethan/7.webp']] And then a video message comes in. __Anything you can do?__ It’s Ethan on the living room couch, stroking his hard cock. Shooting ropes of cum in the air. Gasping with pleasure. __I can do better__. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Movie night.|Movie night ethan]]

<h1>Movie night.</h1> Of course, Uncle Elliot has a private cinema. Four rows of crimson leather recliners, an eighty inch screen spanning across the wall, and a popcorn machine emitting a buttery heavenly smell. Your uncle sits in the front row, one long arm stretched around the chair next to him. //My spot,// you think. And when Elliot notices you, he immediately winks and nods for you to sit beside him. “Just me and you tonight,” he says, grabbing the remote and turning the television on. “My boy said he’s not feeling well. Went to bed early.” You’re dubious of Ethan’s excuse, but you shrug. A single tub of popcorn sits on the floor near Elliot’s feet. //We’re sharing,// you think, then smile. You sit down and get comfy while your uncle scrolls through thousands of movie possibilities. “What’s your style?” he asks, his scruffy face illuminated with blue luminescence. “Are you an action man? Or are we thinking comedy?” He lifts a pinch of popcorn to his mouth and chomps. You shrug. “I’m flexible,” you say. That makes Elliot grin a little. He sets the remote on your lap and leans back into his chair. “You choose, nephew,” he says, bringing a beer bottle to his lips. //Be strategic,// you think, scrolling through movies. //Baby steps. What could move things forward?// You filter through the categories: Action. Comedy. Drama. Fantasy. Horror. Mystery. //Romance?// “What if I close my eyes and pick at random?” you ask. Your uncle shrugs, gives a thumbs-up. So you pretend to close your eyes. //This could seal the deal,// you think. //Or this could utterly fail.// <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Roll the dice.]]

<h1>Roll the dice.</h1> For the first thirty minutes of //God’s Own Country//, your uncle remained completely silent. You’d only heard of the movie’s gay sex scenes, as it’s known as the //Romanian Brokeback Mountain//. But Uncle Elliot didn’t appear visibly comfortable or uncomfortable. He simply watched the movie and ate his popcorn. And the whole time, you were sweating. Nervous. Knees bouncing. Then suddenly Elliot points at the screen. The two main characters, both of them guys, fuck in a field of grass. They groan. They moan. Bare ass and cocks. Elliot asks, “How does that work?” You hesitate. You turn to your uncle, who continues to watch the screen and munch on popcorn. “What?” you ask, sliding your left arm to cover your bulge. “Gay sex? I dunno. I haven’t ever -” “Nah,” he says, taking another swig of beer. “Anal. I’ve seen enough pornography in my days, but I’ve always wondered.” He leans back into the chair and folds his hands. “Just a curiosity.” You both sit in silence. Then Uncle Elliot continues. He has a cute little smile on his face. “Those two have the palest damn asses,” he says. You both chuckle. Then he adds, “Flat as pancakes.” When one of the guys cums inside the other, your uncle lifts both hands and gives an applause. “//Bravo!//” he says, and you burst out laughing. He cheers them on. “Call that a stuffed pancake!” Then your uncle turns to you. “See if //you// were in this movie,” he says, lifting his beer in a toast. “Then it’d be a stuffed //wedding// cake. But my boy, Ethan?” He takes a sip. “Flat as a pancake.” <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Ass man.]]

<h1>Ass man.</h1> Your uncle pops another beer bottle open. He presses the opening against his lips and sips. Then he presses the bottle against your chest. “One chug,” he says. “Finish the rest. No stops.” You hesitate. “//C’mon,//” he says, teasing you. “I got it started for you.” The bottle’s mouth glistens with Elliot’s saliva. You nod. You take the beer bottle into your hand and lift it against your lips. “Good nephew,” he says, rubbing your stomach in a circular pattern. “See? Ethan would never have fun like this.” He grabs another beer and sighs. “My pancake-ass, //no fun,// genius of a son.” //Shit,// you think. //This keeps happening. I’m supposed to be hooking them up. But things keep -// “It’s all genetics, right?” Uncle Elliot asks. He turns to you and smiles. “Your ass? It’s all real?” You finish gulping the beer down. Then nod. “Remember I’m a lawyer,” he says, putting his beer down. “So I’ll need to see some proof.” You stare at Elliot for what feels like three hours, waiting. “Oh, //please,//” he says, bumping your shoulder. “I changed your diapers, Oliver. I’ve seen it all before.” He moves his hands down your shirt and tugs it over your head. He tosses it aside. You obediently stand and slowly remove your clothes. //Well, I was planning on him “accidentally” catching me cumming. So I guess this works.// All the while, Elliot watches your every movement. [img['images/ethan/8.webp']] When you’re completely stripped down, your uncle pats his lap. You sit on him like he’s Santa, and then he eases you forward toward the ground. Elliot slowly caresses your ass and thighs. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Out of sight.]]

<h1>Out of sight.</h1> Your uncle’s hands are large and warm. With your face pressed against the carpet floor, you let him explore your body and squeeze your ass cheeks together, jiggling and wobbling for him. “You’ve grown up, Oliver,” he whispers, his fingers gently pinching your thighs and tickling between your ass cheeks. Then he stops. His hands hesitate to remove themselves. “Follow me, okay?” Uncle Elliot stands up, adjusts his pants, and then walks away. As you stand up, he turns from the doorway and looks up and down your body. His eyes pause on your ass. Then he walks off. You rush to put your clothes on and hide your painfully-hard erection. Then you shuffle out from the cinema into the hall, searching for Elliot. You want to call out for him, but Ethan might hear. On the tip of your toes, you creep up to the mansion’s third floor. At the end of the long hallway, you discover the master bedroom’s lights are on. You follow the light. //What am I walking into?// When you gently push the door open, you hear the water running from the private bathroom. “Hello?” you whisper, taking a few steps inside, slowly approaching the bathroom. “Uncle Elliot?” You place your hand on the door and ease it open. There you discover your uncle, stripped down to his bare cock, sitting on the edge of his bathtub. He nods at you to close the door. “Didn’t want my son stumbling in,” he whispers. You close the door behind you and turn to him. “Now where were we?” Elliot’s eyes scan down your body, hinting to you, //Get naked, nephew.// <h3>What's next?</h3> [[No girlfriends.]]

<h1>No girlfriends.</h1> Your heart thumps against your chest. You stand across the bathroom from Uncle Elliot, both of your cocks fully erect. Both of you stripped down to your asses. Him hungrily staring you down. “You know,” he says. “I could see you working at //Cheek House.//” Then he lifts a hand and wags a finger for you to approach him. You take one step across the cold tile. And then another. When you’re a few inches from Elliot’s warm naked body, he reaches out and grabs your waist. “I can imagine it,” he says. “Doing little dances. Spinning around that pole. Shaking your ass.” He pulls you against his body and slides his hands down around your ass. Elliot’s long meaty cock presses against your thighs. “I guess it’s obvious,” he whispers. “I’m a bit of an ass man.” [img['images/ethan/9.webp']] Uncle Elliot cups your cheeks and squeezes them, his face pressed into your shoulder and exhaling hot breath. Your dick twitches against his tummy, your pre-cum sticking to his skin. //Oh my god, you think.// Your head is racing, your heart crashing. //My uncle is going to fuck me. He’s going to fuck my brains out. Fuck.// Elliot’s a strong man. You’re worried for your asshole. Then he suddenly pulls back from you and reaches for your face. He pets your cheeks and traces your jaw, pinching your delicate chin. “Look at you, Oliver,” he whispers. “Just look at you.” [img['images/ethan/10.webp']] Your breath shakes. Elliot looks into your eyes. “No girlfriend, huh?” he asks, his other hand tracing around your hips. You shake your head. He gives you a small grin. “Well, me neither.” <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Sparks fly.]]

<h1>Sparks fly.</h1> Uncle Elliot brings his mouth against yours. His wet lips press against yours, hands sliding down around your ass and pushing you into his body. You breathe into his mouth and he inhales you. You feel like your uncle’s hands could envelop you entirely. He caresses your hips, squeezes your skin and tempting his fingers between your cheeks. “//Mmm,//” he moans into your mouth. [img['images/ethan/11.webp']] His deep voice travels against your teeth, vibrating your bones. Elliot’s tongue cleans your gums, sneaks beneath your own tongue and plays with every gooey inside of your mouth. When he pulls his mouth away from your own, a thick string of saliva carries between your lips. He pinches his lips together and slurps it inside. Then Elliot swallows. “That’s my yummy boy.” You stand motionless, fearful and aroused and desperate for his attention. Then he leans his forehead against yours and whispers. “I have a request, Oliver.” He kisses the tip of your nose. Uncle Elliot’s hands squeeze your ass tight. Your breath escapes you. His handle is brutal, your thighs trembling, goosebumps rising up your body. “From now on,” he says, “I’m not your uncle.” Your cock twitches, your asshole tightening. And almost as if Elliot knows, his fingers slide between your cheeks and tickles your hole. “When we’re alone,” he growls. “Call me //Daddy.//” You bite your lip and nod. Then he tenderly presses his lips against yours. “And you’re //my boy,//” he says. “My fat-assed, //all fun,// beautiful boy.” Then he smacks your ass and kisses your chin. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Daddy's boy.]]

<h1>Daddy's boy.</h1> Your phone vibrates on the bathroom counter. For a moment you don’t notice it because Elliot has his mouth against your ear, nibbling at your earlobes, growling, “Who’s Daddy’s sweet boy?” “Me,” you whisper a moan. The phone stops vibrating. Then it starts up again. Elliot’s finger presses into your belly button and tickles it, while his other hand creeps inside your mouth. “I want to feel your throat,” he growls. You gag on his fingers as they slide between the velvet wet walls of your throat. “It’s my throat now, understood?” His voice is deep, smooth, menacing. You nod with submission. Your phone stops vibrating. Then it starts up again. Elliot pulls his fingers from your throat and stretches them apart. Webs of your saliva carry between them. Then he puts his fingers in his mouth and slurps up your spit. “Mmm,” he moans. Your daddy then puts his wet hand onto your thigh. “I made you,” he whispers. “And now you’re mine, Oliver.” Your cock is about to explode. Your phone is vibrating. Your heart races. Your uncle - no, your //daddy// bites onto your bottom lip and tugs at it. “I want to eat you,” he says, licking at your chin. //What the hell is happening?// Your impulses kick in. You lean over and grab the phone, pressing the answer button. Then Elliot flips you around and leans you against his body, his hard cock. [img['images/ethan/12.webp']] You press the phone to your ear while Daddy tongues your neck, bathing you in saliva. The voice on the phone speaks. “You know,” Ethan says. “We have cameras all over the house.” <h3>What's next?</h3> [[The confrontation.]]

<h1>The confrontation.</h1> //I’m fucking this up. I’m so fucked.// You hang up the phone and toss it onto the bathroom counter. Elliot bites onto your neck flesh and gently nibbles. When he releases he asks, “Who was it?” You try to pull away but he forces you to remain pressed into him. “Ask Daddy nicely,” he growls. You swallow down nervous spit. “Please, Daddy,” you submit. “Please let me go.” He hesitates. But then Elliot slowly releases you from his grasp, planting one last kiss against the back of your neck. “Come back to me,” he commands. And you nod. You grab your phone. After throwing on your clothes, you step out into the hallway. Terrified that Ethan could be around any corner. //I’m ruining this contract shit,// you think. You feel dizzy. You feel like a failure. When you arrive at your bedroom door, you find that it’s slightly cracked open. You sigh out. Then inhale. When you ease the door open, you find your cousin sat at the foot of your bed. Ethan doesn’t even turn to look at you. He speaks toward the ground. “I’m going to ask you one more time,” he says slowly. When he turns to you, his eyes look demonic. “Why are you here?” You gulp. //Can I run? What happens if I abandon the mission?// You don’t respond. You can’t. When you open your mouth, nothing comes out. Suddenly Ethan jumps to his feet and screams. “//I am my father’s son!//” he screams. Ethan leaps so harshly that his phone flies from his pocket. He doesn’t seem to notice. “//And you, Oliver? You’re a piece of shit, living a delusion of adequacy!//” <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Into the night.]]

<h1>Into the night.</h1> You can’t sleep. Ethan’s voice echoes for hours, or at least in your mind it does. And the threat of Elliot. At any moment one of them could burst inside. Ramming you with a knife. Or his cock. //Rae,// you think, almost as a prayer. //Please give me a sign. That I’m not fucking this up entirely. Somehow I’ll reroute this.// You shiver out a breath. //Somehow I’ll get that contract. Please, Rae.// After Ethan left, you spent the next few hours veering back and forth between fear and arousal. Remembering daddy Elliot, his thick juicy cock, his warm hands, his wet lips and growling voice. You turn onto your side and feel something beneath your ankle. When you slide your hands down the sheets, you discover Ethan’s phone. //Oh shit,// you think. //He never came back for it.// You hesitate to unlock it. Ethan left in such a fitful rage, it’d be a little counter-productive to come back into the room. Because then he’d have to admit to a mistake. And your cousin could //never.// Maybe yesterday you would’ve had different morals. But after discovering that Ethan has been watching you through household cameras? You shrug. You enter the passcode, //crimsonpride.// First you locate the CCTV app that your cousin has been using. When you open the program, you discover cameras //everywhere// throughout Elliot’s mansion. Even including your bedroom. So you change the CCTV password to something random. Something only you’d know. That way, Ethan can’t access the cameras anymore. Then you proceed to Ethan’s Snapchat history. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Oh, Naomi.]]

<h1>Oh, Naomi.</h1> It seems Ethan and his secret society friend, //NaomiOhMe,// have gotten up to //no good// throughout the past 24 hours. Or at least, your cousin has been getting real frisky on Snapchat. Ethan sent the first message this morning. __Naomi, I have two questions.__ A few hours later she responded with a simple __???__ Ethan replied with, __I know we’re not supposed to reveal ourselves.__ Before your cousin could continue, Naomi cut him off. __Ya that’s the society rules. Even tho you keep sending me face pics lol__ Ethan sent back a frowny face __:(__ And then he proceeded to beg. __Please, Naomi!__ he said. Apparently the Harvard secret society doesn’t allow members to reveal themselves to each other until after graduation. But Ethan sent his lewd video a few days ago. __If nobody finds out, then nobody cares.__ Then //NaomiOhMe// doesn’t respond for seven hours. Apparently Ethan got frustrated and moved on. __Fine then. But I still have my second question.__ Within minutes Naomi responded with her __???__ And then things started to get personal here. //Personal// as in Oliver personal. Ethan asks her, __So my cousin is visiting from out of state, right?__ NaomiOhMe sends back __OK?__ Then Ethan sends a series of messages. __Well, he’s a fucking prick. His name is Oliver. I have no idea why he’s here. He just called my dad one day and came.__ The Naomi girl took too long to respond so he continued. __Like, I hope I don’t sound totally paranoid. But I think he’s trying to fuck with my dad’s head.__ You hesitate to continue reading. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Naomi, Oh.]]

<h1>Naomi, Oh.</h1> Ethan proceeded to complain about your influence. How Elliot has been acting //weird,// playfully flirting with you. All of these messages were sent before Ethan saw you in his dad’s bathroom. But the next few messages make you grin. Naomi replied with, __Maybe the dude just has good charm or something__ Then she adds on, __If he isn’t hurting anyone I wouldn’t freak out or whatev__ Then per usual, Ethan starts to complain. __But I have more charm? Undoubtedly. And my dad never acted like this. He’s laughing a lot and playing guitar and like, he’s just like a child again.__ Then Naomi sent back, __Literally what are you complaining about. Your dad is happy, chill out__ You know__ that struck Ethan’s ego. He didn’t respond for hours. And then he finally returned. __Fine. Fine. Whatever.__ Then your cousin asks one final question. __Okay, who would you rather? Be honest.__ And when you see the next video that Ethan sent, your heart skipped several beats. [img['images/ethan/42.webp']] It’s you. In the guest bedroom. From just a couple nights ago, when you masturbated before sleep. //That motherfucker recorded me.// At least it was a nice angle. You pumping your cock. __Who??__ That’s the entire message that Naomi responded with. Ethan replies with, __My cousin.__ And then he sends another video. This time of himself. He’s clearly nervous to record himself. [img['images/ethan/41.webp']] Ethan adds on, __I’m not supposed to send shit like this. It could ruin my career.__ In the video, your cousin jacks off for //NaomiOhMe.// After a few minutes, she responds. __Both are cute. Get over it__ <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Light as feathers.]]

<h1>Light as feathers.</h1> //- ing?//” Beautiful brightness and weightlessness. The hand grabs your hand. He pulls you out from the feather-grave. You stand in an endless field of fragmented pillows. Feathers forever. “The sun shines on us,” Matt says. Indeed the sunshine reflects off his cross necklace, blinding you. You shield your eyes from it. “Can you hear them?” he whispers. “The stars sing for us.” You can’t hear them. Matt looks into the scatter of stars. He glows peach-orange, shirtless and glistening with sweat. “If you’re willing,” he says, his smile falling apart, “I will never leave here.” Voices behind you hum. It sounds like one thousand men chanting. But you cannot turn around. “I’ll do this for us,” Matt says. “While your heart is stout.” He grips your shoulders and turns you. The light blinds you once again. The land flashes. When the brightness relents, you stand in a hospital hallway. Darker. Darker still. Only one flickering lightbulb. And a shadow crawls nearer. “Menacing,” the voice croaks. Her arms and legs twist and bend. She walks as the spider does. “You are willing?” The flickering light falls on Cat. Catherine you body-swapped. From the hotel. Cum oozes from her eyes and nose and mouth. “Men,” she says, her voice clicking. “Menacing.” Her limbs contort inward and she stands on her hinds. “Perverse? The puppet. Plead? A pillow.” And the flickering bulb erupts. The glass shatters. Into darkness. Cold, shivering Oliver. Everything cuts. Across your arm, a glowing tattoo. Blood red cursive. //The crown is heavy,// it says. //Come -// <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Break of day.]]

<h1>Break of day.</h1> You shoot up from the bed. A gasp for breath. Nothing comes in. You suffocate for a moment, scared to breathlessness. The room is freezing cold. //No, wait?// Sweat across your forehead. “//Fuck,//” you whisper. You grip the bed sheets and collect yourself. Then you say it again. “//Fuck. Fuck. Fuck that.//” You look at your arm. Red and raw skin. You clawed at it during your sleep. Then you collapse back onto the pillows and stare up at the ceiling. You study the popcorn patterns in the ceiling. For a moment, you think you see a constellation. You breathe in. And out. Now collect yourself: //I’m at my uncle’s house. I’m on the second floor. I’m on the sixth mission.// You slide your legs off the bed. You plant your bare feet on the floor. //The contract. My cousin.// On the bedside table, Ethan’s phone. You sigh. //I need to make up with Ethan,// you think. //Otherwise I’ll never get that contract signed.// You grab the phone and head out into the hallway. When you enter the dining room, you find plates with syrup stains and coffee rings on the table. “Hello?” you call out. You wander into the kitchen. No one. Then you wander into the library. No one. You turn to the grandfather clock: 12:37. //Where the hell?// You wander outside onto the back patio. The chilly wind blows. Nothing and no one. You check the private cinema. Empty. As you take each step up the first staircase, then the second staircase, a murmuring of voices draws nearer. You step onto the third floor landing and stare down at the master bedroom door. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Daddy's real boy.]]

<h1>Daddy's real boy.</h1> When you push into Elliot’s bedroom, you hear the bath water running. //A bath at noon? What?// You take another step inside. Then you hear two distinct voices: Elliot and Ethan, whispering. “Just pretend I’m //him,//” Ethan begs, his voice sounding whiny. You slide along the carpet, creeping closer to the bathroom. When you’re only a few inches from the doorway, you pause. “Son,” Elliot says, his voice low and slow. “Once things get started, I don’t know if I’ll be able -” But then your cousin cuts him off. “//Fuck// that,” he says. “You called him //son.// How could you?” There’s a long silence. Water continues to fill the bathtub. Then Ethan breaks the quiet. “Look,” he whispers. “I’ve got everything like it was with Oliver. Bath running. Us naked. So why can’t -” “Because you’ve got //school,// Ethan,” Elliot sighs. “If people find out about something like this -” Then he gets interrupted. Elliot tries to speak but his mouth becomes muffled. You lean over. //Holy. Fucking. Shit.// Ethan has brought his father into a kiss. You hear their sloppy wet saliva. Elliot groans into his son’s mouth, while Ethan awkwardly tries to figure out how to navigate this. But his father helps him out. When Elliot reaches down and grabs both his and his son’s cock, Ethan’s eyes bulge. He freezes for a moment. But then Elliot continues tangling their tongues. [img['images/ethan/13.webp']] Elliot massages his cock against his son’s, sliding them together. Ethan’s eyes roll back into his head, his father bringing him closer. “I love you,” Elliot whispers. And Ethan whimpers a moan. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[A history lesson.]]

<h1>A history lesson.</h1> When Ethan stumbles into the library, he nearly shouts with surprise. “//There// you are,” he says, a cocky grin on his face. “Hardly expected to find you here.” He meanders inside and sits down. You don’t look up. You continue reading the book in your hands. And your cousin awkwardly waits for you to pay attention to him. Though you don’t. So he clears his throat and stands up. “Well, that seems a dense book for you,” he says. You slowly lift your head. When your eyes meet his, he gives a smug smile. “But I do like the way you try.” You nod slowly, stone-faced. Then Ethan turns and recognizes his phone on the coffee table. “Oh, there she is,” he gasps, snatching it up. “Did you go snooping around this time?” He unlocks his phone and checks it. When you return to your pages, Ethan creeps beside you and reads over your shoulder. “Ancient Rome?” he asks. “Of all the ancient civilizations, you chose the most overrated one.” You sigh. Then you ease the book closed. “Cousin,” you say, putting on a false gaiety, “do you know about the old Roman contract feuds?” Ethan blinks once. Twice. He furrows his brows. “Of course,” he says, taking a seat. “That’s basic history.” You stifle a smile. Then you continue. “Well, I’ve become so //fascinated// with them,” you say. “Two young men vying for one position?” Ethan nods along. “Yes,” he says, pretending to know. “The position is called //squire//, by the by.” You steady your patience. “Sure,” you say. “Then you must know about the //eternal receivers.//” <h3>What's next?</h3> [[The Roman principle.]]

<h1>The Roman principle.</h1> You know that Ethan’s ego is too fragile to admit to ignorance. So you spin together truths and fictions about ancient Rome. And of course, your cousin goes along with it, nodding pompously. “So whoever wins,” you say, “was chosen as the //eternal receiver.//” Ethan squints his eyes and studies your face. “Okay,” he says. “Refresh my memory. Who were they //eternally receiving?//” You smile. “The //eternal giver,// of course.” You cross your legs and lean back into the chair. “Giver and receiver became bound for life. Understand?” Your cousin looks utterly confused. “And who decides who wins?” he asks, waving his hand in the air. “What’s the competition?” Now you lean forward, staring firmly into Ethan’s eyes. “Well, sometimes they kill each other.” Your cousin hesitates. He nervously looks away, then leans back into his chair. “Violence,” he sighs, pretending to shrug it off. “The language of the illiterate.” You give a small fake chuckle. “Most times, however,” you say, “they compete in a game of skill.” Now Ethan turns his eyes toward you. They light up with possibility. “Skill?” he says. And you nod slowly, repeating, “Skill.” There’s a long silence in the library. Then Ethan clears his throat. “It feels oddly prescient,” he says. “This little history lesson of yours.” Your eyes meet. Both of you refuse to break the gaze. “Ethan,” you say. “Do you know why I’m here?” He hesitates. Then he nods. When he speaks, he speaks between his teeth. “In short form,” he says. “You want to become my father’s squire.” <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Terms of engagement.]]

<h1>Terms of engagement.</h1> Before you leave Ethan in the library, you pause at the doorway. This time he doesn’t follow you. You turn around and face him. “One week,” you say. There’s no need to elaborate. He knows. Your cousin lifts his phone. “I’m a lawyer’s son,” he says, smiling. “So I’ll always need proof.” For a moment you’re confused. But then you realize. You sigh, walk over, and grab the phone. You open the CCTV app on his phone and enter the password: ‘//missathena//’. The woman from the strip club. Then you hand the phone back to Ethan. “Watch the living room cam,” you say. He raises an eyebrow. “Why?” You shrug, grinning. Then you take out your phone and get the CCTV app for yourself. When you open the viewing panel, you see Elliot in the living room. “It has no recording feature,” your cousin says. You look up at him. “I mean, I’m not an //idiot.// Those sort of things can get out there.” He waves toward nothing. You give him a thumbs up. “What happens in the mansion,” you say, “stays.” Ethan puts his fingers together and cracks his knuckles. He lets out a big yawn. “Cousin, you’re playing chess against the chessmaster now.” “Is that so?” you ask. He smooches his lips with arrogance. Then Ethan says, “Seven days. And what are the winning conditions?” You pretend to think about it. Then you lift a finger in the air. “You said //chess,//” you say. “So whoever captures the King.” Your cousin lets out a small laugh. And before you finally leave. “Oh, by the way,” you say. “We both know that the app can record.” <h3>What's next?</h3> [[The first day.]]

<h1>The first day.</h1> //This is a game of big moves,// you think. //Risky moves. Big behavior.// As soon as you walk into the living room, Elliot turns to you and smiles. You reach down and pull your shirt up and over. Your uncle - your //daddy// stares at you wide-eyed. But it doesn’t take long for his startled wonder to transition into hunger. As you strut toward him, you spot the CCTV cam in the ceiling corner. //No more fucking around, Ethan.// “So what’s the special occasion?” Elliot teases, leaning back. You crawl onto his lap and press your lips against his, your daddy’s breath smelling like mint. [img['images/ethan/14.webp']] “Okay, baby,” he growls, his hands running down your chest. “I like it when I don’t have to ask.” His lips peck against your neck, tongue bathing your Adam’s apple as his hands massage you. You feel his cock growing beneath his jeans. “You gonna run away this time?” he asks. You shake your head, //No,// as his tongue cleans your teeth, his fingers squeezing at your rib cage. “Am I //yours?//” you whisper to him. You stare into his big eyes. Elliot nods. “You’re mine.” Then you lick his wet lips. You grind on his lap, brushing up against his bulge. He kisses at your chin. “Are you //mine?//” you moan into his ear. His fingers pinch your nipples and gently twists them. You let out a sharp little moan. “You can’t put chains on me,” he says, then bites your bottom lip. //Fucker,// you think. //I’ll make you mine.// Your hands wander down to his zipper and unbuttons him. //I hope you’re watching, Ethan.// You slowly unzip Elliot. //I’m about to swallow up Daddy’s children.// <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Best sloppy.]]

<h1>Best sloppy.</h1> You pull out Elliot’s cock and slap it against your cheek. And he stares down at you, wide-eyed, hard as a rock, biting down on his lip. “Get messy,” he commands. You nod and follow orders. Your daddy talked about the //best sloppies// coming out from the back hallway at //Cheek House.// So you make sure to make it //really// fucking sloppy. You gather as much saliva as possible. When you place your lips around Elliot’s cock, you don’t move further than his glands. You make the loudest, wettest, most guttural sounds as you bob your head up and down on his cock head. “//Oh - Oh, that - Oliver,//” he moans. It’s cute when your daddy’s voice raises in pitch just a little bit. You flatten your tongue against his cock flesh and massage it obediently, suckling like a pup. [img['images/ethan/15.webp']] Saliva oozes down his cock, glistening around his balls. Then Elliot snaps his fingers. “Pants,” he commands. And you obey. You shimmy out from your pants and he reaches to your ass. “There’s Daddy’s juicy boy,” he groans. You give cute little moans as his fingers explore your asshole, tempting his cock further and further down your throat. Elliot’s toes curl up with joy. When your lips slide down to daddy’s balls, his cock flares at the far reaches of your throat. “//Fucking fuck,//” he desperately moans. You let him wiggle his dick against your smooth flesh. “Baby,” he whimpers. “I’m gonna -” And you nod on his cock. He puts one hand on your head and then fills your skull with hot cum. “Drink it,” he moans. And you obey, gulping and gulping. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Peeping Ethan.]]

<h1>Peeping Ethan.</h1> After serving Elliot’s cock, he throws his head back and lets out an exhausted fit of laughter. “That was //unbelievable,//” he says. A runaway drop of cum oozes from his cock and you catch it. “//Ahh,//” he groans, his cock twitching between your lips. “You’re so //good// to me.” Then you plop his cock out from your mouth. “Daddy,” you whisper to him. “Can I go take my bath, please?” Elliot places one hand on your head and shuffles your hair. “Yes, baby,” he says, winking at you. “Go get clean for me.” You give his cock one last kiss around the glands. Then you scurry off. As you walk up the stairs, you send Ethan a text message. __Dad’s cum tastes like melon juice. :]__ Then you quickly switch over to the CCTV app and watch as your cousin takes everything in. [img['images/ethan/16.webp']] Ethan lies across his bed, a boner stuffed beneath his waistband, his CCTV app still watching the living room. Your cousin mouths to himself, //What the fuck?// And you can’t help but smile. You close out from the app and start the bath water. When your phone vibrates in your pocket, you check the response message from Ethan. __He’s not your father. And I’ll make you my bitch.__ You laugh to yourself. //Does this little competition count as reverse psychology? Or like, a sort of reverse-reverse psychology?// You open the CCTV app again as you lower yourself into the bath. Elliot passed out on the couch, his spent cock still out and proud. But your cousin is spread out on his bed, jacking himself off. //I wonder what he’s thinking about.// Ethan lets out a boyish moan. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[The second day.]]

<h1>The second day.</h1> You wake up feeling refreshed. //No nightmares.// You yawn and stretch, letting the warm sun bathe you through the window. The taste of Uncle Elliot - //Daddy// is still lodged within your gums. Last night, before you passed out, you researched how to record bedrooms with the CCTV app. Now you roll over to the bedside and grab your phone from the nightstand. //Well, any progress?// You start with Ethan’s bedroom. After he orgasmed, your cousin took a shower and went to bed. The next eight hours are nothing. Eventually he wakes up, stretches, and leaves the bedroom. Then you check Daddy’s room. It seems Elliot never left the living room sofa. You scroll through the various rooms: library, patio, kitchen, dining room, private cinema, and then the living room. //Wait.// You caught something while scrolling through the living room recordings. //Wait, wait, wait!// At eight this morning, before Elliot left to go to the office, a video of your cousin on his knees. “I’m gonna be late for work,” Elliot says. But obviously he wants Ethan. Your cousin sits between his father’s knees, sliding his hands up Elliot’s legs. “Just real quick, dad,” your cousin begs him. Ethan is clearly nervous. He’s untrained. You aren’t sure if your cousin has ever received a blowjob, let alone gave one. He looks down at his father’s massive bulge and swallows spit. “You want me to help?” Elliot asks. Your cousin nervously turns toward the camera, then back to his father. Ethan sighs. “Yes, please.” Daddy reaches down to his zipper and slowly pulls on it. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[The attempt.]]

<h1>The attempt.</h1> After Ethan slides his father’s jeans down, he stares at the bulge covered by Elliot’s underwear. “You can do it this way,” Elliot whispers. “If you’re nervous.” Ethan glances toward the camera, then back to his father’s bulge. He gives a bashful nod. Then your cousin slowly leans forward. Ethan licks at the underwear. “Good boy,” Elliot grumbles, which makes Ethan more confident. [img['images/ethan/17.webp']] Of course, you’re laughing your ass off. //Is this supposed to be my competition?// Your face grows hot with laughter. Ethan continues sucking on the underwear, too afraid to suck his father bare. “Can you smell it?” Elliot whispers to his son. And your cousin nods. He wraps his mouth around the clothed bulge and salivates the material damp. “You’re making me feel so good,” Elliot says. Then Daddy slowly pulls down his underwear. Ethan quickly moves back, scared of what’s next. “Don’t worry, baby,” Elliot whispers. “You don’t have to taste it bare.” His thick cock tumbles out. Ethan stares at the penis that made him. His father pumping himself right there. Elliot stares down at his twinky son, his cock slick with Ethan’s saliva that seeped through the underwear. “Take your shirt off, son,” Elliot says, and Ethan obliges. Then Daddy pumps faster and faster. [img['images/ethan/18.webp']] When his father erupts, it takes Ethan by surprise. Your cousin accidentally opens his mouth and receives Daddy’s hot seed. “Oh, //fuck,//” Elliot moans out, painting all over his baby’s face. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Twist and shout.]]

<h1>Twist and shout.</h1> You immediately text Ethan. __Are you serious? Ha ha ha ha__ When you look down at your crotch, you notice that you have a hard-on. //Well, seeing Ethan all submissive was kinda sexy as fuck.// Ethan texts you back. __Fuck you. It’s only the second day.__ You can’t help but burst out laughing again. You send another text back. __Okay, big guy! Can’t wait for more softcore. Ha ha ha ha.__ Surprisingly, your cousin doesn’t text you back. It’s apparent to you that shame is something Ethan can’t handle. //Is he in a closet whipping himself now?// You roll your eyes at the thought. Then you hear loud footsteps marching toward your bedroom. //Boom. Boom. Boom.// Up the stairs, down the long hallway. //What the fuck?// The footsteps cause the walls to tremble. And then there’s a single moment of silence. You sit on your bed cross-legged, facing the door, not knowing what to expect. You sigh. //Time to hear Ethan bitch and complain for seven hours.// The bedroom door flies open, slamming against the wall. He raises his hand and points at you. “//I’m sick of your shit,//” he shouts. He takes three steps inside the room and slams the door shut. //Oh, fuck.// He’s snapped. Ethan looks red-faced, breathing heavy, hands clenched into two fists. “Take off your clothes, //bitch,////” he orders. He stares at you. You stare back and clear your throat. “Um, no,” you say. Then you smile. //What’s he going to do? Scream until the windows break?// Ethan closes his eyes. He takes a deep breath in. “I’m giving you //ten fucking seconds,//” he says. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Unforeseen strength.]]

<h1>Unforeseen strength.</h1> You waited all ten seconds. Then Ethan charged toward you. It was a massive blur. One second you’re screaming at him, “What the //fuck// are -” And then he shoved your face down into pillows. “//Shut up,//” he grunted. You were disoriented. Ethan is about your size and weight. But for some reason, your cousin was //three times as strong.// Like he went all //Incredible Hulk// on your ass. He started by ripping your pajama shirt from your body. Didn’t even pull it over your head. You gasped out in pain, “//Fucking oww, Ethan!//” Then he set his knee on your neck and silenced you. While you twisted and pushed against the mattress, Ethan ripped your underwear from your legs and tossed them across the room. Then he started removing his clothes one-by-one. Now he’s leaned into your ear, his bare body lying flat on top of yours. His cock wedged between your two fat ass cheeks. Ethan whispers, “I’m going to //fuck// you until you apologize.” And before you can make a witty reply, he slaps the back of your head and shoves you deep into the pillow. “You’re getting it raw,” he says, then spits down on your back. “For being a //bitch.//” Sure enough, Ethan aims his cock against your hole. And without any finesse, he rams himself deep into your guts. You scream into the pillow. For a moment your vision goes white and cold. [img['images/ethan/19.webp']] Your cousin has one hand choking your neck, the other cuffing your hands against your back. “Say sorry, //bitch,//” he shouts, spitting on your back again. His cock slides deeper and deeper. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[A new Ethan.]]

<h1>A new Ethan.</h1> You try screaming for mercy. Then you pretend to pass out. But nothing convinces Ethan to slow down or stop. His long smooth cock pummels your walls apart, splitting your body mercilessly. “Are you ready?” he asks, his cock head flaring wide against your prostate. Your eyes roll back and you moan desperately, nodding your head. He pulls you by your hair from the damp pillow. “//Daddy come help -//” But then Ethan slams your head against the pillow. “He’s gone for work, you fucking //idiot,//” he says. He pulls you from your hair and repeatedly slams you into the bed. Ethan wraps one hand around your mouth and uses the other arm to pin you down. His balls slap against your ass, his cock making squishy music as it slides in and out of your sticky walls. [img['images/ethan/20.webp']] Your cousin has completely elevated. Now you know how Ethan got into Harvard, and how he succeeds in everything he does. When he feels threatened or humiliated, he goes fully //berserk.// He leans into your ear and spits into your ear canal. “I’m gonna fill you up,” he says, his cock moving your guts around. You feel your lower stomach shifting higher, intestines getting twisted. “How do I //feel,// baby cousin?” he says, biting your ear and yanking down. You yelp out in pain. “You want my cum?” You shake your head. Then he slaps your back. “//Too fucking bad, Oliver.//” Ethan rams his hips against your fat ass, releasing gallons of warm spunk. You feel your belly expand with his seed, begging for mercy, threatening to pop. “//Take. It. You. Fucking. Bitch.//” <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Sore.]]

<h1>Sore.<h1> When Ethan unplugs from your asshole, it makes a loud wet //popping// sound. As if your poor body has grown used to your cousin’s abuse, and now begs for him to return back inside you. “And //stay down,//” he says, slamming the bedroom door behind him, walls shaking around you. You remain in the bed, a puddle of drool on the pillow, a puddle of cum dripping from your hole. When you try to push yourself up, your arms give out and you collapse back into the pillow. Your hips hurt. Your asshole feels like it’s bleeding on the inside. Your spine feels totally out of place. //I need to - God, I need to -// You’re so thoroughly destroyed that you can’t even think properly. The tunnels in your body throb with pain, confused at the absence of Ethan’s long furious cock. Finally you push yourself up onto your knees. You heave for breath. When you look down at your thighs, you find a long fat slug of Ethan’s cum oozing down toward the bed. It has bubbles. Before your brain can communicate anything else, your phone vibrates on the nightstand. You sigh, collapsing onto your tummy and reaching for it. You have to pull yourself across the bed. It’s a text from Ethan. __I love watching this so much.__ You drop the phone on the ground and look around the room for the CCTV camera. //Where is that fucker placed?// You can’t even spot it. “Hey, Ethan,” you gasp out, using every ounce of energy you have. You know he’s watching, listening through the cameras. You hold up a thumbs-up. “//That’s// the energy I’m looking for.” <h3>What's next?</h3> [[The third day.]]

<h1>The third day.</h1> //Oh god.// When you wake up, you immediately regret it. Your thighs feel glued together. Ethan’s cum has cemented all across your body. Your asshole feels sealed shut with his dried semen. //At least there wasn’t a nightmare.// Most of your strength has returned to you. You push yourself off the bed and land on your feet. Every step you take, patches of Ethan’s dried cum flake off. //How much did that boy cum?// It’s like a second skin, or the dead skin from a full-body sunburn, his flaky white cum chipping off and floating on the floor. You zombie-walk into the bathroom. You start the bath water and sit down on the tub’s edge. You slowly breathe, meditating in the calm of morning. //How did I sleep so long?// Then you recall. //Oh, yeah. I practically got raped.// A few droplets of water splash onto your thigh. You jerk back in reaction. //That’s fucking cold!// You place your hand beneath the faucet and feel. //Yeah, where is all the fucking hot water?// And then something dawns on you. You sigh. You stand up and meander back into the room, grabbing your phone from the floor. Then you wobble back, still shedding Ethan’s cum flakes. //I didn’t know Elliot even took showers before work.// But you wouldn’t mind catching sight of his meaty cock again. After all, you didn’t even see him yesterday. Not after your cousin’s assault. You open up the CCTV app and flick through the rooms. //First floor bathroom. Second floor. Ethan’s private bathroom. Oh, hey that’s me!// You wave at the camera. //And then, you see them.// <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Interior, Ethan's throat.]]

<h1>Interior, Ethan's throat.</h1> As soon as you select the master bedroom bathroom, the camera reveals Ethan and Daddy. Your cousin tonguing Elliot’s bare cock, the hot shower water running down on Daddy’s back. “That sweet tongue,” Elliot moans. Ethan laps at his father’s cock like a puppy, tasting the shaft and curling around the glands. Daddy’s legs tremble and his hands wrap around Ethan’s head. Your cousin looks up into his father’s eyes, both of them ass-naked and rock-hard. Elliot’s hands squeeze his son’s face together. “I wanna hear you gag,” he growls. And Ethan nervously nods. Then Daddy controls your cousin’s head like a sex toy. He shoves Ethan down on his cock, the boy’s eyes bulging and throat gagging. “//Blaogh, bl - blao,//” Ethan gags, vomit rising up his body. [img['images/ethan/21.webp']] “Go ahead and throw up,” Elliot says, forcing his son’s throat to swallow his fat cock. “That’ll just make it sloppier. Go on, baby.” Tears roll down your cousin’s face, his Adam’s apple bobbing. Ethan places his hands on his father’s legs for stability. His body retches, snot oozing out from his nose as he tries to hold his vomit down. “You’re so fucking wet, boy,” Daddy moans out. Then Elliot slowly eases out. Then back in. Each time your daddy hits the back of Ethan’s throat, you hear a wet //thwoping// sound. And the //thwack// of Daddy’s balls against Ethan’s chin. [img['images/ethan/22.webp']] “I loved painting you last time,” Elliot says, unplugging from his son’s throat. Right on cue, he shoots out ropes and ropes of cum. And again, Ethan //accidentally// opens his mouth wide. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Showing off.]]

<h1>Showing off.</h1> While Daddy works at the office, you spend the day outside in the bean-shaped pool, swimming laps back and forth. And every once in a while, you notice Ethan looking out from his window. The repetitive motion of swimming helps relax your muscles. They’ve been tense since Ethan. Your legs feel like they’re returning to you, and your asshole has slowly begun to stop aching. When you finally step out from the pool, you stretch out on a lounge chair and let the sun dry you off. The scent of chlorine lifts from your body and fills the air with sweet summer smells. You enter a calm trance. Eyes closed, sun sizzling against your skin, the pool gently lapping. And then suddenly, a voice frightens you. “//So,//” your cousin says, crouching down next to you. You open your eyes and glance over at Ethan. He has a cocky smile. “You //sure// look comfy,” he says. “Have you already given up?” You stare at him, waiting for him to laugh. But he’s serious. “Ethan,” you say, turning your head away. “Ethan, Ethan, poor Ethan.” You chuckle to yourself. Then you turn your head away and completely ignore him. “Okay? Whatever, Oliver,” he says. As your cousin walks away, you watch his ass sway left and right. //Maybe I’ll return the favor.// You start thinking that Elliot was too harsh about his son’s “pancake ass.” He’s simply toned. Nevertheless, that’s less cushion for him. And when you //do// finally fuck Ethan’s guts up, he’ll feel that pain for days and nights. You smile to yourself and let the sun continue kissing your skin. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Daddy's home.]]

<h1>Daddy's home.</h1> As soon as you hear Daddy’s Porsche pull into the driveway, you launch onto your feet and head inside the house. And before Elliot can get through the front door, you’re up in his room. When your daddy pushes open his bedroom door, he finds you sat at the edge of his bed. Stripped down to your bare ass. Leaned back on your arms. Smiling and waving him closer. “One right before work,” he growls, dropping his briefcase on the ground. “And one right after?” He reaches down to his belt and slings it away. Then he unbuttons his shirt and black slacks. “Well, you did //so// much work this morning,” you say, heckling Ethan’s poor blowjob skills. Elliot greedily rubs his hands together and then slides his underwear off. He kicks it across the room and flops onto the bed, his girthy manhood popping into the air. And you crawl over toward it. [img['images/ethan/23.webp']] You lick your lips and then kiss at Daddy’s bulging cock head. You make love to it with your mouth, treating him nice and slow. Elliot throws his head back and bites on his lip, groaning. “Your tongue is fucking //magic,//” he gasps. Then he has an idea. “How much can you take, son?” You wink up at him and flip onto your back. Daddy steps beside the bed and aims at your throat. Then he rams it in. His anaconda deep in your throat. But you’re a pro. You gulp on his fat cock. [img['images/ethan/24.webp']] Within the minute, Elliot pulls out and spews a desperate load of chunky cum across your face. It covers your eyes, your mouth, your hair and chest. “//I love you,//” Elliot moans, legs trembling. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Eye of the storm.]]

<h1>Eye of the storm.</h1> Your daddy has too much paperwork to catch upon, so at dinner tonight, Lorelei cooked just for you and your cousin. She dutifully sets down two plates of baked ravioli, one for each of you. At first it’s utterly quiet. Lorelei eats in the kitchen while you and Ethan pretend to not notice each other in the dining room. Every once in a while, however, your stern gazes cross paths. “I know the next step,” Ethan finally says, breaking the silence. You take a sip of your unsweet tea and nod. “Yes,” you say. You set the glass down. “It’ll be harder for you than for me, though.” Your cousin slowly chews on his ravioli. “And why’s //that?//” he asks. You point your fork at him and smile. “Because you’re not broken in.” Then you stab a ravioli and shove it in your mouth. “And we //both// know I’m ready,” you say, winking at him. Ethan steadies himself, trying not to go //Hulk Smash// on your ass again. Which you appreciate. You need stamina for the days to come. For a moment, it seems like your cousin psychologically //exits// the dining room. He gazes out the window behind you, staring into the dark backyard. Then he snaps back into reality. And smiles. “I’d like to think,” he says, calmly sipping at his tea. “That after all of this, we might be friends.” You wait for a punchline. The witty add-on. Or the backhanded compliment. But nothing comes. You look up from your plate. “Maybe,” you say. And Ethan shrugs, smiling. Then you continue. “Or maybe you just want to fuck me again.” Your cousin hesitates. Then he looks up and winks. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[The light.]]

<h1>The light.</h1> //- unto the denouement!”// The theatre’s audience erupts into applause. You cannot see them. The spotlight shines upon you. You part your lips to speak. But confetti bursts from your teeth. You cover your mouth. //Stop. Stop the confetti.// Footsteps clap across the black wooden stage. Your brother Peter with a tophat and cane. He points a white-gloved hand toward your face. Peter shouts, “//He is willing!//” You open your mouth. Confetti bursts free. The audience screams. A flashing neon sign lowers from above. It bleeds three red words upon you: //HE IS WILLING.// It burns. It hurts. The neon lights. You shut your eyes. And at last the screaming audience fades. Now the voice draws you. It is unfamiliar. “//The faerie can’t hear you here.//” She comforts you. You peel your eyes open. The officer. The woman that Rae murdered. The woman you buried. She rows the boat. You are surrounded with mist. The sea beneath you is foaming milky white. You blink once. The woman has become Joel Johnson. He drops the oars into the cum ocean. Joel is naked. His beautiful golden body. “Do you summon light?” He parts his legs wide for you. You look down at your naked body. Your cock glows silver. He says, “Come measure the light.” You cross the rickety boat. You press your silver cock against Joel’s golden flesh. He wraps his legs around your waist. And you slide into him. His tender body. His mouth falls open. His guts are warm and gooey. Joel collapses backward. And he drags you both into the ocean of cum. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[The tune.]]

<h1>The tune.</h1> When you wake up, you stare into complete blackness. Not even moonlight filters into the room. //Again,// you think. //Again and again. I can’t take this much longer.// Your eyes feel heavy and dried. You sit up in the bed. Nothingness. Surrounded with pitch black void. //Did the electricity go out?// You lift your hand right in front of your nose. You wave your hand. Nothing. You can see nothing. “//Son chapeau était vieux, son habit était usé.//” A soft feminine voice. It speaks from elsewhere. You know her somehow. “//L'eau passait à travers ses souliers et les astres à travers son âme.//” “Hello?” you say. Your voice carries into the darkness. “I can’t see anything. Can you turn on -” The woman flicks a match. She lifts the pale fire to her cigarette. A flickering flame reveals her. It is Lorelei. The housemaid. She brings the cigarette to her lips. The fire lights her eyes red. “//Malheur, hélas,//” she says. “//À qui n’aura aimé que des corps, des formes, des apparences.//” “I don’t understand,” you say. Tears gather in your eyes. You are exhausted with these dreams. //But am I dreaming?// The housemaid flicks her cigarette. She clears her throat and sings a tune. “//Slagt ham,//” she croons. “//Kristenmands søn har dåret.//” Lorelei’s voice is soft and high-pitched. She is a wailing specter. A singing mouse. “//Dovregubbens veneste mø. Slagt ham. Slagt ham.//” You blink once. The housemaid has become Ethan. He drops the cigarette and crushes it with his shoe. “You are willing, Oliver,” he says. He looks up at you. He wears a padlocked metal collar. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[The fourth day.]]

<h1>The fourth day.</h1> You wake up. The layer of sweat across your forehead is a welcomed symbol: //It’s over. Finally. Fucking finally,// you think. You wipe the sweat away with your wrist. //Breathe in. Now breathe out.// You stare up at the ceiling. Your head leaned back into the feathery pillow. The image of Ethan wearing the padlocked collar. It burns into your mind. And his last words. “You are willing, Oliver.” You press your hand against your chest. Your heart thumps. //More than a dream,// you think. //Something else.// With the sunshine bleeding through the wide windows, your body is warm. Now collect yourself: //I’m at my uncle’s house. I’m on the second floor. I’m on the sixth mission.// You slide your legs off the bed. You plant your bare feet on the floor. //The contract. My cousin.// No need to go wandering around this time. You lean toward the nightstand and grab the phone. //Maybe Ethan has finally learned to suck dick.// You open the CCTV app and scan through rooms. Nothing in the master bedroom. Nothing in the bathrooms. Nothing in the kitchen, library, patio. //None of the usual spots, you think. Maybe Daddy left for work early? This evening oughta be -// Then you stop. You stare at your phone screen. For a moment you think you’re imagining it. //There’s no fucking way.// You lean closer toward the screen. //Is he? He’s really - he’s going for it.// You watch through the camera in Ethan’s bedroom. Him and his father spread out across a chaise lounge sofa. Your cousin on all-fours sucking off Elliot, while Daddy fingers Ethan’s hole. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Zeitnot.]]

<h1>Zeitnot.</h1> When you arrive at Ethan’s bedroom, you press your ear against the door and listen to them. “Does that feel good?” Elliot whispers to his son. And all you can hear is Ethan moan, //mmmm.// You think to yourself, //Is Ethan even prepared? He can’t even suck. Let alone take it up the ass.// “You want Daddy inside you?” Elliot growls. You can hear his wet fingers popping Ethan’s hole. “//Ahh,//” your cousin moans, his father’s girthy cock muffling his voice. You take one deep breath. Then you let it out. When you push on the bedroom door, they don’t notice you standing there. [img['images/ethan/25.webp']] Elliot’s wet fingers play with his son’s hole, plucking it like a guitar until it opens up wider for him. Then you clear your throat. Both of them stop. Ethan turns to you, wide-eyed, cock in his mouth. “Well, well,” Elliot says, two of his fingers plugged into his boy’s body. “Did you come to watch?” Your daddy scans down your torso and notices the bulge beneath your pants. He winks at you. “Actually, Daddy,” you say, thinking on your feet. You slide your hands down to your crotch. “Maybe you could let the //boys// play?” Ethan raises an eyebrow, his face saying, //Excuse me?// Elliot thinks about that. He looks down at his son’s body, his cock buried into Ethan’s hot throat. You can tell he’ll need convincing. “It’s his first time,” you say. “I can get him stretched for you.” Ethan unplugs his father’s cock from his throat. “//No,//” he says. “I was here //first.// You’re too late.” But then you smile. You look straight into your cousin’s eyes. “Actually, you //owe// me, cousin.” <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Debt is a debt.]]

<h1>Debt is a debt.</h1> You show Elliot the recording of Ethan raping you in your room. He watches you scream //mercy.// Your cousin choking you. Fucking you. Suffocating you against the pillows. Flooding your guts. Your daddy turns to Ethan and shrugs. “As a lawyer,” he says, giving a wink. “I must admit, this is damning evidence.” And your cousin looks absolutely dumbstruck. He shakes his head, //No.// “I want //you// to be my first,” Ethan begs, reaching out for Daddy’s hands. But Elliot pulls away. “Be a //man,// son,” he says, slapping Ethan’s hands away. Then Daddy adds on, “Pay your debts.” Ethan gasps. He looks between you and Elliot. He can’t believe it. And your cousin stammers. “//But - but he’s -//” Ethan points at you. “He’s going to be mean,” he says. “It’s going to //hurt.//” Elliot rolls his eyes and turns to you. “You’re not going to hurt him, are you?” You put your hand on your chin and pretend to think about it. Ethan watches you, his eyes wide. His lips quivering. “Hmm,” you say. “As a matter of fact, I think I //will.//” Ethan’s mouth falls open. Your daddy laughs. He looks at his son and shrugs, then walks across the room. Daddy sits down in an armchair. “Well, I’ll be right here,” he says, spreading his legs wide, gripping his bare cock. “Watching.” You nod and turn to Ethan. Your cousin flinches when he meets your eyes. You step closer. As you remove each piece of clothing, Ethan breathes faster. “On your stomach,” you order, snapping your fingers. As your cousin obeys your command, you drop your pants to the floor. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[The reckoning.]]

<h1>The reckoning.</h1> Ethan lies on his tummy, your long cock dangling before his mouth. “Are you a whore?” you ask. Your cousin hesitates. He looks to his daddy, then to you. Ethan swallows down nervousness. “I don’t think -” But as soon as he opens his mouth, you force your cock to the back of his throat. Ethan goes bug-eyed, his legs kicking against the sofa. “//Beohlglg - Blgoego -//” He gags on you. [img['images/ethan/27.webp']] “Sorry, I can’t //hear// you,” you say, grabbing onto his hair and shoving your dick against the back of his throat. Tears leak from your cousin’s eyes, snot dripping down from his nose. He chokes. Guttural music feels the room. Ethan’s hot saliva bathes your cock, his lips forced down to the base of your penis, hot breath on your balls. When you unplug from him, bubbly spit pours out. “Now,” you say, snapping your fingers. “On your back.” Ethan hesitates. So you slap him across the face. //Swat.// Your cousin cries out. “I’m //sorry,//” he whines, then stretches out onto his back. When you crawl on top of his body, you lean down into Ethan’s face. “I’m going to break your stomach open,” you whisper. His watery eyes tremble. You press your cock against his hole. “//P - please, Oliver,//” he whimpers. But then you ram inside him. Ethan throws his head back and screams out in boyish pain. And yet his cock throbs with pleasure. He grips himself as you fuck. [img['images/ethan/26.webp']] Daddy watches as you take his boy’s virginity. Stretching your cousin’s tender, untouched walls. “Are you a whore?” you ask him again. Ethan bites his lip and nods. “I’m a whore. I’m a //whore.//” <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Rest.]]

<h1>Rest.</h1> Elliot watched you fuck his son. Cum inside his son. And when you pulled out from Ethan’s ruined asshole, Daddy watched your bubbly cum ooze out from his son’s hole. And he smiled. “My boys,” he said, jacking himself off. After Elliot spurt cum across his chest, he dismissed himself to clean up and head off to work. “You two play nice, okay?” he said, leaving the room. Now Ethan remains on the chaise lounge sofa. Hand on his heart. Breathing like a dog in heat. You sit on the opposite end of the sofa, leaned back with your arms stretched along the back. “//Now - I know,//” Ethan says between heavy breaths. “//What it - felt like - when I did that - to you.//” He turns to look at you. He looks apologetic. You smile at your cousin and pat his shoulder. “All is fair in love and war,” you say, giving him a wink. Then Ethan scoots closer to you, his bare sweaty shoulder pressed against yours. He sighs. “I guess,” he says. “I can’t tell the difference.” You think about that. //The difference?// You turn to him. “What do you mean?” Ethan shrugs, his head lowered with exhaustion. “I don’t know what I’m saying,” he says. “I’m fucking //exhausted.//” Now you laugh. “Yeah,” you say. “Now you know why I slept so long after - you know, //last// time.” Ethan gives a tiny smile. Then he looks up at his bed. “I think I’ll -” He tries to stand up but can’t. “Here,” you say, wrapping your arm around him. “I’ll help you up.” Ethan gradually rises to his feet. You walk with him to his mattress and lay him down. Then you collapse right beside him. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Dazed.]]

<h1>Dazed.</h1> You and Ethan lie next to each other. Both of you staring up at the ceiling. His shoulder pressed against yours. You can feel his heart beating through his body. Both of you breathe slow, heavy. “It really is like chess,” he says. Your cousin has his eyes closed now. You close yours as well. “Yeah?” you say. You can feel Ethan nod. “You showed up with the right move at the right time.” You smile to yourself. “I guess so,” you say. Then there’s a long moment of silence. You think that your cousin has fallen asleep. But then he suddenly speaks. “I can clarify what I meant.” You wait. And Ethan continues. “This game,” he whispers. “I can’t tell what parts are //love.// And what parts are //war.//” When you open your eyes and face him, you find him staring back at you. “I think that’s -” You stop. You try to find the right words. “Maybe that’s just like, //sex in general.//” Ethan considers that. He bites his lip with thought. Then he turns his head away and sighs out. “Please don’t take this the wrong way,” he says. Ethan’s voice is soft, almost impossible to hear. “But sex with you, I think, is war.” You aren’t really offended by that. In fact, you sort of agree. “And with my dad,” he says. Your cousin takes a soft breath. “I think it’s love.” And with that, you can’t help but smile. //Finally,// you think. //He’s finally coming around.// “Yeah,” you respond to him. Ethan turns his head and rests it on your shoulder. “I think I’ll sleep for the next three days,” he says. You gently chuckle. “Then you’ll //really// lose our game,” you say. But he’s already asleep. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[The fifth day.]]

<h1>The fifth day.</h1> “Good morning,” you hear. It’s a soft whisper. You feel a gentle kiss against your cheek. When you flutter your eyes open, you’re facing a nightstand in Ethan’s bedroom. A steaming coffee. The first word out of your mouth is, “//Huh?//” Then you slowly turn onto your back. Your cousin sits at the edge of his bed, his hair wet from a recent shower. You can smell his pomegranate soap. “Lorelei told me how you take it,” Ethan says, nodding toward your coffee. You push yourself up and rub the sleepiness from your eyes. “Thanks,” you mumble, giving a big yawn and stretching. “Um, what day is it?” you ask. You lean over and grab the coffee cup by the handle. Ethan gives a cute boyish grin. “It’s been about twenty hours,” he says. You nearly spill the coffee in shock. Your cousin chuckles. “//I know,//” he says, rubbing his shoulder in embarrassment. “I might’ve slept longer if my dad hadn’t called.” You sip the coffee. //Ethan got the flavor down perfectly.// “That said,” your cousin adds. “Well, dad’s out of town for today. For a client over in Hartford.” You slowly rise from the coffee. Ethan turns to face the window. The sun shines his face golden. “It throws a little wrench in our seven day system,” he says, shrugging. “But I have a little idea.” You raise an eyebrow. Your cousin then turns around to you and stares up your still-naked body. “When you finish your coffee,” he says. “Go take a shower.” You hesitate. You give him a funny look, like, //What sort of scheme is this?// But Ethan waves that away. “Just trust me, Oliver". <h3>What's next?</h3> [[All is fair.]]

<h1>All is fair.</h1> After your shower, you walk into Ethan’s bedroom with the towel wrapped around your waist. Your cousin looks up your glistening body and smiles. “Come here,” he says, waving you over. You sit down next to him. Ethan puts one finger against your arm and traces down its length. “Yesterday, I said something about us being at //war,//” he says. His hand then embraces yours. You look up into Ethan’s face. He nervously avoids looking back. “Well, I want to offer a treaty,” he says. “Or a negotiation, I guess.” Your eyes travel across his skin, his bare chest and legs. “Okay,” you whisper. Ethan lets out a nervous breath. He places his hands on his knees and squeezes them, gathering the words. “Oliver,” he says. “I’m begging you for one simple thing.” You wait. You nod for Ethan to continue. And then he finally turns to face you. “I want to be my dad’s first,” he says. “His first boy. His only boy.” Ethan’s eyes shake with a watery passion. //Fuck, I feel guilty,// you think. //Is this it? Have I pushed Ethan far enough? I can finally back off?// You reach up to Ethan’s cheek and stroke it. “What about our game?” you ask him. He sighs. “We can let him decide,” Ethan says. He looks down into his lap. “On the seventh day, who he //really// wants as his boy.” Then your cousin turns to you. “Just //please// let him take me first, Oliver.” You lean forward and kiss Ethan on his lips. And his eyes widen. He looks at you, desperate. “Fine,” you say. You reach down and grab Ethan’s hand. “A treaty then. No more war. Just love.” <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Just love.]]

<h1>Just love.</h1> The next few moments are a hot blur. Ethan leaned into your mouth and wrapped his tongue around yours. Then he stripped the towel from your waist and flipped you onto your knees. Now your cousin places his hands onto your ass, massaging them and spreading them apart. Ethan licks his lips. “Please accept my apology,” he says. Then he gently tongues at your hole. [img['images/ethan/30.webp']] Your cousin’s soft tongue feels like magic. He bathes you with saliva, tenderly spreading you open and ticking your insides with his fingertips. “//Ahh,//” you moan, and Ethan kisses your hole. Each kiss gives a wet //smooch// sound. And as each minute passes, your cousin stretches you open wider and wider. Slowly and tenderly. The complete opposite of Ethan’s previous raping. “I want to look at you,” he whispers, grabbing your hips and turning you over on your back. Ethan crawls on top of you and then kisses your nipples. Kisses your neck, chin, cheeks, lips. You become distracted by Ethan’s love. So distracted that you’re surprised when his long cock slides inside of your body. He gently eases it into your bowels. “//Ethan,//” you suddenly gasp out. “Do you feel good?” he whispers. You bite your lip and nod. Your cousin navigates his girth inside you until he stumbles upon your prostate. He expertly massages against it over and over. [img['images/ethan/28.webp']] You lose control of your body. You start to babble and curl your toes while Ethan fucks you long and slow. Suddenly your body goes cold, then boiling hot, as you cum hands-free and scream. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[The sixth day.]]

<h1>The sixth day.</h1> You spent Saturday morning out near the bean-shaped pool, tanning beneath Cambridge’s warm sun. And every once in a while, in the distance, you heard a cute boyish moan fill the air. Yes. To your word, you allowed Uncle Elliot - yes, Uncle Elliot, no longer //Daddy// - to fuck Ethan first. His //only boy.// Of course, if you wanted to, you could’ve had Elliot in the palm of your hand. But the moaning seemed to go on for //hours.// Sometimes, less often, you overheard Uncle Elliot gasp out in mannish ecstasy. “//Fuck,//” he shouted, and your cousin screaming out, “//Love me!//” //How many times are they going to fuck?// you started asking yourself. //I mean, are they going to eat lunch?// Every so often you noticed Lorelei looking out the windows, wondering what’s up. Once your stomach started rumbling, you got up and headed inside. But then the moaning only got louder and more obnoxious. You stood in the kitchen with Lorelei, obliquely looking around. “Nice day,” you say, taking a bite of toast. Lorelei politely nods. And above you, the floor //booms// and then your cousin howls with pleasure. Lorelei picks up a newspaper and pretends to read it. “Crossword?” she offers, turning the newspaper toward you. You give a gentleman’s decline. “//Daddy,//” you hear above you, Ethan’s moan piercing the air. And the dishes rattle in the sink. “Perhaps you should go home for the day,” you suggest to Lorelei. She gives a sweet smile. Then she nods and excuses herself out, while the house continues to tremble with ecstasy. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[The usual spot.]]

<h1>The usual spot.</h1> Later that evening, you’re sitting in the library flipping through various books. History books. Law books. Adventure novels. You’re halfway through a first chapter when Ethan suddenly appears. Your cousin gives a meek smile. “Hi,” he says, wobbling over to a chair. He’s freshly showered, carrying around that pomegranate soap smell. You give him a teasing smile and close the book. Silence hangs in the air. Ethan nibbles on his lip and tries to hold back a smile. He turns to you. “Did you watch?” he whispers. You shake your head. “No,” you say. “It was your special thing.” Ethan nods with appreciation. And then he says, “Oliver, it was //magic.//” He searches for something to say next, but then he just stammers into silence. “It was - I mean, my dad - I can’t even -” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone. After tapping around on the screen, he walks over to you and leans close. Ethan shows you the screen. It’s a recording of the sex. [img['images/ethan/31.webp']] “This was my favorite moment,” he says. Elliot stares down into his son’s eyes. And your cousin continues. “It’s right when he pushed inside me,” he says. “Like he was //meant// to be inside me.” Then Ethan starts fast-forwarding through the hours of fucking. Elliot bending and cradling his son into pretzels, missionary, doggy-style, fucking his child into cum-soaked smithereens. [img['images/ethan/32.webp']] “I love him,” he whispers, watching the phone screen. In the video, Elliot spews cum inside him. And then he keeps fucking his son. And then he cums again. And then he fucks his child more. [img['images/ethan/29.webp']] <h3>What's next?</h3> [[The final day.]]

<h1>The final day.</h1> You and Ethan sit beside each other at //Cheek House,// the strip club that Uncle Elliot showed you. Red lights pulse above you. Steam oozes through the air. And everyone remembers you. “Hey babydoll,” Miss Athena says, strutting up in her white leather, smacking on a piece of gum. “Who’s this?” she asks, pointing at your cousin. And you clear your throat. “This //was// the prude.” Ethan turns to you and raises an eyebrow. But Miss Athena pats him on the shoulder and leans between your ears. “Well, welcome to the //bright side,//” she whispers. “Backhouse at a discount.” As she walks away, your cousin looks around with wonder. “So this is where Dad runs off to?” You wrap an arm around his shoulders and chuckle. Ethan leans close to you and whispers. “Uhm, what’s the Backhouse?” You just roll your eyes and say, “Well, according to Elliot, it’s where the //best blowjobs// are in town.” But Ethan shakes his head. “Before he met us, I guess.” You both burst into laughter. The //Cheek House// crowd turns to look at you funny, but you both ignore them. Ethan then leans over and kisses your cheek. “Thank you for everything,” he says. You nod. //It’s nice to feel like the fucking hero for once.// You and Ethan watch as women spin around poles, the club music thumping beneath your feet, the light pulsing all around you both. “I know he wants to fuck you,” he whispers. You turn to your cousin. Ethan stares off into the distance. Then he gives you a polite smile. “It’s okay if you want to,” he says. “I understand.” <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Another night drive.]]

<h1>Another night drive.</h1> Your cousin cruises through Boston’s backroads with ambient techno pumping out the speakers. When the red streetlights paint his face, you are suddenly visited with flashbacks to the dreams. //HE IS WILLING.// You blink away the thoughts. But while you’re looking over at Ethan’s face, you remember the visual of him. A padlocked collar. You twist your head away and close your eyes. “I don’t admit to this lightly,” your cousin says, shouting over the speakers. Then he pinches the volume knob and turns the music down. “But something tells me you could’ve won this game.” You sit in silence. The wind whispers around your cousin’s Escalade as he soars up and over Zakim Bridge. “It’s all about the checkmate,” you say. And Ethan nods, adding on, “Exactly.” //I suppose it’s time I tell him.// Your cousin glances over as you reach into your pocket, pull out your phone, and open your own Snapchat app. You notice Ethan raise his eyebrow, curious. When you open the chat history between //NaomiOhMe// and Ethan, he nearly veers the vehicle right off the bridge. “//What?//” he says, his eyes bulging. “//You’re - wait, how - you’re Naomi?//” You lean back and smile. And Ethan just stares forward, gobsmacked into a stuttering mess. “So if you - if that was //planned// - then if Naomi isn’t //real,//” he says. Ethan’s eyes dart around. “Then you came to visit for a //reason,//” he says. Your cousin turns toward you, eyes wide. But you have your supposed reason. Your invented excuse. “Yes,” you say. “I wanted to have sex.” <h3>Who did you want to fuck?</h3> [[With Ethan.]] [[With Uncle Elliot.]]

<h1>With Ethan.</h1> And on the seventh night, you have sex with Ethan. Again. And again. You already know that your cousin’s stamina is limitless. You both start on the living room couch, sucking off in a 69. [img['images/ethan/33.webp']] Ethan’s blowjob skills have improved manifold. His tongue cradles your cock gently, salivating you down to your balls. You stretch out on top of him, gagging down his long cock to its depths. “//Mmm,//” Ethan moans, sucking on you lovingly. His arms tenderly explore your thighs, tickling your ass and massaging your cock deeper into his mouth. You hum lowly against his penis. “I’m - I’m about to cum,” he whispers, so you pull off from him. Ethan climbs toward you and kisses you on the lips. Then he takes you by the hand and guides you out of the living room. You follow your cousin up the stairs and into his bedroom. After he shuts the door behind him, he points up at a camera in the corner. “It’ll be a keepsake,” he says. “A video of me and you.” And although you expect Ethan to want to fuck //you,// he pushes you on the ground and stradles you. Your cousin lowers himself on your salivated cock, his eyes rolling to the back of his head. “Let me do the work,” he moans, twisting his hips on your cock. “I want to ride the cum out of you.” Ethan proceeds to gyrate and fuck himself upon your lap, all while kissing you tenderly. [img['images/ethan/34.webp']] You feel cum rising from your balls. “//Ethan,//” you moan into his mouth. And when he nibbles on your lip, a flood of cum spews out from you. You paint your cousin’s insides with warm spunk. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[The denouement.]]

<h1>With Uncle Elliot.</h1> And on the seventh night, you have sex with Uncle Elliot. Again. And again. You already know that your uncle is a goddamn sex stallion. So you start by offering yourself to him like a servant. You find him in his office, flipping through documents. When he looks up from his desk, he finds you ass-naked in the doorway. Of course, Elliot obliges, whisking you away like captured prey. He brings you into his bedroom and eats you out, tonguing your ass like a wet peach. His fingers spread you open, preparing you for Elliot’s girthy impact. And then he eases deep inside. [img['images/ethan/36.webp']] “Easy, boy,” he growls into your ear, treating you like a wild horse. Your body goes cold as your uncle’s cock spreads your walls apart. Elliot wraps his arms around you and locks you into it. “//Shhh,//” he says, squeezing his dick down to your depths. You pant boyish desperate moans, your stomach inflating with hot breath. Elliot then presses his hands up against your stomach. Your uncle leans into your shoulder and nibbles, teething at your skin. He kisses up your neck, his rough fingers claiming your flesh. Elliot’s cock reaches your deepest guts and you groan. “Oh, //god,//” you scream, your legs shaking. And with that, Uncle Elliot lifts you into the air and carries you across the room. He slams your lips against his, his manhood wedged deep inside. [img['images/ethan/37.webp']] “//Mhmm?//” he asks, his voice vibrating to your bones. You nod. So Elliot fucks you up against a wall, his cum splattering out from your hole, dripping down the wall and oozing down your legs. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[The denouement.]]

<h1>The denouement.</h1> Beautiful brightness and weightlessness. //Oh, c’mon. Are you fucking kidding me?// You are a brimming vessel full of illusions. //Yeah, yeah, whatever. Let’s get on with the fucking nightmare.// You sit on a locker room bench. Dozens of young men strut around you. The football players. They walk in a trance. Their shoulders are slumped over. Drool falls from their cum-slick lips. “Waiting.” They chant. Their deep voices. “//Waiting.//” They march in perfect formation. //“Waiting.” Waiting for what? For who?// The wads of semen falling from their lips. Onto their sweaty bodies. A hand rests on your shoulder. It’s warm. You slowly turn. //Wait. What? What? What are you -// “Are your elements split inside?” It’s Spencer. Your high school crush. He stares into your eyes. “I - I don’t.” You can’t even finish your sentence. All the football players stop strutting around. They turn toward Spencer and drop to their knees. The team lifts their hands. They praise him. You can’t move. His eyes sparkle. Spencer. It’s Spencer. His hand squeezing your shoulder. “Oliver,” he whispers. He gives a cute grin. “Tell me the truth.” The football team repeats his words. //“Tell him.” “Tell him the truth.” “Tell him.”// You shake your head. “I don’t - I don’t know what’s -” Spencer leans closer to your face. His breath falls on your mouth. And he smells intoxicating. “Are you //really// willing?” he asks. Spencer’s face. His dimples. His strong arms. His warm smell. You blink. And then he is gone. //Spencer is gone.// You reach out. //Why? Why does this happen -// <h3>What's next?</h3> [[To be willing.]]

<h1>To be willing.</h1> You wake up. Pissed off. You throw the sheets off your body and land down on your bare feet. “//Motherfucker,//” you say to no one. You stomp into the private bathroom and flick the faucet on. With your arms leaned onto the counter, you stare into the mirror. Giving angry, heavy breaths. Once the water has warmed, you cup water into your palms and splash your face. //Fuck all this.// And when you look up into the mirror, you nearly scream. Floating right above your shoulder, spinning in a glittery little circle. That bastard. That //motherfucker//. Your personal fairy. Rae. “Did ya miss me?” he asks, kicking his feet together. You lift one hand to try and crush his body. But he narrowly escapes it. “//Hey now!//” He disappears and reappears over your other shoulder. “I //knew// it,” you spit. “You were behind those nightmares.” Rae waves his hand on his face, then says, “You mean little ol’ //me?//” And he bursts into a tiny fairy laughter, clutching onto his belly. “//The faerie can’t hear you here,//” he says, using his fingers to air-quote. Rae laughs so hard he starts coughing. Then he sorts himself out. He clears his throat. “Well, Oliver-boy, I suppose it begs the //question.//” He raises a tiny finger in the air. “//Are you willing?//” You clench your fists together. “Willing to //what?//” you ask. Rae flutters down onto the counter. He looks up into your hot face. “The //mission,// of course,” he says. “Starting today, your cousin becomes a mindless sex slave.” You furrow your brows. You look at your reflection. //Ethan becomes mindless? A sex slave?// <h3>What's next?</h3> [[A sonny afternoon.]]

<h1>A sonny afternoon.</h1> The sound of a plucking guitar. Your Uncle Elliot playing an old Italian tune, fingering the strings expertly. Ethan sits near him, his Gucci shades on, swallowing down bits of wine-soaked apple. “Well, I’ve really enjoyed your visit,” your uncle says, laying the guitar on his lap. He leans back into the chair. “But it feels you’re leaving all too soon.” Ethan looks over and gives a cute grin. “Thank you for your, uhm,” you say, thinking of the right word. “//Hospitality.//” Elliot turns to you and winks. “Of course. You know, if I had it //my// way,” he says, “I’d have both of you //on retainer.//” You and Ethan smile at each other. Then Uncle Elliot stands up. “I’ll fetch more wine,” he says. After he disappears into the house, your cousin turns to you, says, “He’s never been this happy.” Inside your mind, Rae pops up. //Here’s the target. Now take the shot.// You nod. “It’s beautiful,” you say. Then you allow a few moments of silence. “Imagine if you could make it permanent.” Your cousin chuckles. Then he sighs. “All my life,” he says, “I’ve been fighting toward the top.” He lifts both hands into the air, gesturing toward the sky. “But I’ve never felt so, I dunno. //Right.//” “The eternal receiver,” you say. Ethan slowly lifts his shades. “Yeah,” he says. “That’d be the dream.” And you make him clarify. “If you could sign away your life for that, would you, Ethan?” He stares at you. And then he nods. “I would.” You feel a cold chill pulse through your body. //Now finish the contract,// Rae says. //Just name an eternal giver.// You turn to Ethan. And then. <h3>Who shall be Ethan's master?</h3> [[Uncle Elliot.]] [[Me.]]

<h1>Sky back.</h1> You sit against the window on a crowded airplane. The mountains unfurl below, blooming into a great gray panoply. You look at your phone: //Two hours until home. Then onto the final mission.// “We should clear the air,” Rae says inside your mind. You’ve been rather cold to your fairy ever since he admitted to conjuring the nightmares. You sigh. You don’t deign to grant a response. “You really //doubt// me?” he asks. You shrug. //Yes. I’m allowed to doubt you.// Rae is stunned into silence for a few moments. Then he speaks in your mind. “Oliver. We can’t proceed without trust.” You raise an eyebrow. //Why? We’ve come this far. I’ve always thought you were a bit suspect.// Rae scoffs. He argues, “After all the gifts I’ve given you?” You roll your eyes, shake your head. //Some gifts. Some curses.// Rae gives an incredulous laugh. “That’s what the nightmares were about, kiddo!” His shrill voice bounces around your skull. “The good, the bad, the ugly, //right?//” You look out the window. Skinny little clouds slithering by. You shrug. Rae sighs in your mind. “Look, Oliver,” he says softly. “I know that things haunt you. It comes with being a human fairy.” You think on that. And Rae continues. “I told you things get harder,” he says. “I warned you at the fifth mission. Things get -” He stumbles for the word. “//- complicated.//” You take a breath. //Why can’t we proceed with trust?// Your thought echoes in absence. Then Rae finally responds. “Because you’re about to learn something,” he says. “And you’re not going to like it. Not at all.” <h3>Ethan: Completed!</h3> [[Back to list of targets.|Who are the targets?]]

<h1>Yeah, I get it.</h1> “Good,” Rae says. Then he falls silent. All around you, the audience gasps and gives applause. Piles of snow blanket the stage. A beautiful woman then emerges, named the Sugar Plum Fairy. To the sound of rain, gentle drops of water, the fairy ballerina tip-toes en pointe to the edge of the stage. She is surrounded in soft blue light. //Rae,// you say in your mind. //Am I going to die?// But he ignores you. “You know, a hundred years ago,” he says. “They used to do this dance in a land of sweets. Not some -” And then Rae scoffs. “Putrid snow and rain. //My// how times change.” Surrounding the Sugar Plum Fairy, tiny ballerinas twirl and point across the stage. And then a thought occurs. //Do you bring all your human fairies to the ballet?// you ask. //On their last mission?// Rae thinks about that. “For the past hundred-or-so years,” he says. “Before that, Shakespeare. //A Midsummer Night’s Dream.// And the Dark Ages?” he says. “Didn’t have much entertainment.” In a final showing, a dashing prince—formerly the Nutcracker, now transformed—holds the hand of a beautiful ballerina. She stands on her toes as he pulls her along. And she glides on thin air. “To answer your question,” Rae says. “About ten percent die.” On the stage, the performers come out and bow. The audience stands up and gives rapturous applause. And you follow suit. //Ten percent of your fairies?// you ask. Your hands clap together and freeze in-place. “Or worse,” he says. //Or worse? Like, slavery? Torture?// Rae clears his throat. “C’mon, Oliver. Let’s get going.” <h3>What's next?</h3> [[To the library.]]

<h1>To the library.</h1> You’re behind the wheel, driving from the concert hall toward your high school. That’s the only instructions Rae gave you. “So why am I going to the library?” you ask. “For the last mission?” Rae pops into the air. He settles down onto the vehicle’s dashboard, stretching onto his side. “Oliver,” he says. “What do you know about court intrigue? Princely heirs and lines of succession?” You keep your eyes on the road. You wrack your brain for ideas. “I dunno,” you say, shrugging. “Like, I read //Macbeth// in English. And I know that ancient Rome was like, super fucking corrupt.” Rae yawns. He nods his head. “Right,” he says. “In the //short// scheme of history, it’s about power. Alliances. Money. Magic and manipulation and murder and slavery.” He waves a hand. “All //that.//” “Okay?” you say, stretching the word out. Then Rae lifts a hand into the air, extending a finger. “At the end of the day, the prince has one mission.” He snaps his fingers and glitter sparkles out. You nod your head, waiting. But it seems Rae wants you to answer it. “To, uhm, become King?” As the high school comes into view, Rae claps for you. “//Good,// Oliver,” he says. “That’s the score.” You pull into the school library’s parking lot. A three-story building with wide gleaming windows. Rae continues. “In order to become the king,” he says. “You must overcome the other prince.” “//The other prince?//” The words tumble from your lips. Rae’s eyes bulge, worried you’re going to crash the car. “Oliver, park the sodding car before you -” You slam on the breaks in a parking spot. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Heir and no spare.]]

<h1>Heir and no spare.<.h1> Your face feels hot. You try to pay attention to Rae’s words. But he sounds like a buzzing blur. //“Have faith in yourse -” “He has all the same powe -” “Oh, c’mon don’t make that face, we can -”// You close your eyes. A deep breath in. A deep breath out. “So there’s another one,” you say. Rae sits up on the dashboard and shrugs. “Well, //yeah,//” he says. “You’re not the only faggot in -” “Who is it?” you ask. “So we’re competing for - //what?// What happens if I lose? What are the -” Rae claps his hands to stop you. “//Oliver//, shut //up//,” he says. “I can’t answer all of that right now.” You whip your head toward Rae. “And //why// the fuck //not?//” Your fairy quickly throws his hands up. “Those are the rules!” he pleads, sensing your rage. “You meet in a neutral zone. The library.” You squint toward the big building. But you can’t see anything through the gleaming windows. //He’s in there,// you think. //The other prince.// Your heart thumps against your chest. Hot, burning. “You have to learn the rules at the same time,” Rae says. “Those are the ancient directives, Oliver.” You can’t decide whether to cry or scream or run away. You clench the steering wheel hard. //Who is gay in my school?// You rip through rushing thoughts. Memories. Possibilities. //Is it Colby? Maybe Matt? Have they been lying to me? Or has - maybe - has Rae been lying to me? Is he -// “Am I not your only human fairy?” you ask. But Rae laughs, and says, “You //kidding// me, kiddo? Of course you are.” He juts a thumb toward the library. “This faggot has his own personal fairy.” <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Into the library.]]

<h1>Into the library.</h1> As you shut the car door behind you, your heart drops into your stomach. Even after everything, after the brutal frat harem and Cat’s 9-1-1 call and burying that officer, you feel sicker than ever. “Do you know who it is?” you whisper to Rae. You take slow steps across the library parking lot. The sun warms against your neck. Rae pops into your mind. “I do,” he says. “I’ve met his fairy.” You feel your knees wobble. You think about all that you’ve done. All that you’ve //had// to do. Colby’s whoreness. Matt’s obsession. Cat and the body-swapping. Those three blond brothers. And //Ethan,// your cousin. Forever conscripted. The weight on your soul becomes unbearable. You imagine what the //other prince// might’ve done. And what he might do to you, if you fail this. When you pull open the library’s front door, a little bell dings. And you gulp down nervousness. //Where is he?// you think to Rae. You look around the first floor at the dozens of busy students. “At the top,” Rae says in your mind. You sigh. And nod. And continue walking. An assistant at the front desk smiles at you. You give a curt wave. //So is this a cat-fight for Spencer?// you think. “Sure,” Rae says. You step into the library’s elevator and press the “3” button. The doors close. //And to stay alive? For our powers? Do we die if we lose? Do we become a sex slave? Do we -// “Sure,” Rae says again. You’re growing frustrated. Desperate. But you’re too nervous to do anything rash. You squeeze your fists tight. //I didn’t ask for this,// you say. //Why can’t I just be gay?// <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Ding!]]

<h1>Ding!<h1> You step out onto the library’s third floor: the Archives. Collections of old VHSs and DVDs and textbooks held together with duct tape. It smells like mothballs. Even the lights flicker with age. Most notably, no one is present. Not even a library assistant. I mean, who visits the high school //archives//? Except the folks during lunch who want peace and quiet? You look around. //Empty.// You want to ask, //Where is he?// But you’re too nervous to even think. You stand outside the elevator as the doors shut behind you. “Shit,” Rae says in your mind. “Must be late.” You breathe out. As if the //other prince//’s lateness spares you from the inevitable. “Just take a seat at that table, kiddo,” Rae instructs. You oblige. The library creates an echo-chamber of nauseating silence. You only hear noises from outside, the car doors slamming or horns honking in the far distance. Otherwise, you wait in agony. //What if it’s Peter?// you think to yourself. //He did make all those prince and king references. Or Ethan comes back to take revenge?// Your breath trembles. //Tommy? Or one of the Johnsons?// Across the floor, you hear the elevator ropes squeal with movement. Someone is coming up. //Or Spencer? Could this be some fucked-up twist of fate? Or maybe it’s someone I never thought -// The elevator stops. A long stretch of silence. Then the bell //dings// above the elevator. And the doors slide open. But you can’t look. You turn your head toward the windows as he approaches. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[The other prince.]]

<h1>The othe prince.</h1> “Well, I’ll be damned,” the voice says. He gives a small laugh. But your spirit is utterly crushed. You feel vomit rise into your throat. //Please. Please God. Wake me up. Wake me up from this.// Spencer places his hand on your shoulder and gently squeezes it. “Is that little //Oliver?//” he asks. “From sophomore Geometry class?” You can’t make yourself turn. You stare out the window. Rae pops into existence. “//No touching,//” he says, pointing a finger at Spencer. Then suddenly another small fairy pops into the air. He’s got sharper wings than Rae, but his feet are clunkier. “He’s right, champ,” the other fairy shrugs. In the reflection of the window, you see Spencer whip his hands back and lift them in the air. “Alright, Gully,” he says, smiling with his teeth. “//My bad.//” //Gully?// you think to yourself. //Is that his fairy’s name?// You sit in silence, the three of them waiting for you to finally participate. You force tears back into your eyes. Inhale. And finally, turn around. [img['images/spencer/2.webp']] “You always get the awkwards, Rae,” Gully says. Both him and Spencer look you up and down. But while Gully looks unimpressed, the quarterback gives a slight grin. He looks, well, //happy?// “So now you know,” Spencer says, waving to himself. “My big secret.” He gives a little chuckle. Your heart thumps. //I’m so fucked. I’m so fucking fucked.// Spencer’s eyes roll down to your lips. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[The conditions]] [[Skip to Chapter 17|Now me.]]

<h1>The conditions.</h1> “Who won last time?” Gully asks, fluttering down to the library table. “I can’t even remember my last one. Was it the -” But Rae cuts him off. He lifts a finger. “Remember? Turkish oil wrestler?” Gully slaps his forehead. “Oh, //shit.// Right.” He yawns and stretches out onto his back. “Well, since my guy //won// last time,” he says, winking at Rae. “You get to do the conditions this time.” Your fairy sighs, rolling his eyes. While your gut sinks. //Rae’s last human fairy - he fucking lost?// But Rae reads your thoughts and presses his finger to his lips, //shhh.// Then he clears his throat. “Alright, you two,” he says, pointing a finger at both you and Spencer. “I’ll make it quick. It’s not difficult. This is a time-told tradition. Hundreds of thousands of faggots have completed the trial.” Then Gully interjects, lifting a little fairy leg into the air. “And hundreds of thousands of fags //lost.//” Rae nods along, says, “Right. So the conditions: The first one to say ‘I quit’, loses. Capeesh?” You look at Spencer. Spencer looks at you. Both of you with eyebrows raised. You start to ask it, but then the quarterback leaps in. “Quit what, Gully?” he says, biting his lip. “What’s the game?” Gully sits up onto his fairy butt. “Anything,” he says. Then he shrugs. “Everything. I taught you the magic. Rae taught //him// the magic. Now you challenge each other. Until the best one wins.” Your mouth falls open. //A free for all?// Spencer turns to you. He scans your face, searching for some emotion. But your brain is frazzled. And he looks frazzled, too. You stare at each other. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[The victor's prize.]]

<h1>The victor's prize.</h1> “Only starting //tomorrow,//” Rae says, snapping his fingers. Then you and Spencer snap out of it. “Today, me and Gully will //not// allow magic. Not until tomorrow.” Gully gives a thumbs-up at Rae. Spencer takes a breath in. He folds his hands on the table and sighs. “Okay,” he says, slowly. “How does this usually go?” He looks out the window over your shoulder, watching the cars. “Sometimes,” Gully says, “one of the princes quits. Too tired. Didn’t want the magic anyways.” Then Spencer’s eyes shift to your face. And you look back, conveying nothing. Both silent. “That’s what I thought,” Gully says. “In that case, it’s a versus-match for the Gods. Brawn versus wit versus - well, sometimes it’s just //luck//. And the prize? You’re endowed with magic forever.” You open your mouth to speak but Rae finishes the job. “And the loser? Well, it’s just as simple. The loser //loses.// All magical abilities. All effects on his subjects. And //all// memories associated.” Spencer’s eyes widen. “Just like that?” he asks. Gully and Rae answer in unison. “//Just like that.//” You stare down at the table, thinking hard. Something doesn’t seem //finished//. Like there’s //more//. “But if one prince keeps the powers,” you say. “He could do whatever he wants to the other? Like, even after it’s all said and done?” All three of them turn to you. They each sit in silence. “Yeah,” Gully says, shrugging. “My last guy won and turned Rae’s barista boy into a sex slave.” Your fairy turns to you and frowns. He avoids eye contact. //A mindless sex slave? Forever on?// <h3>What's next?</h3> [[The handshake.]]

<h1>The handshake.</h1> As you ride down the elevator with Spencer, Rae and Gully decide to give you boys a moment. Spencer leans back into the corner, watching your eyes nervously twitch around the small box. “Well,” he sighs, giving a small grin. “I’m glad it’s you.” You look over to Spencer. And he shrugs. //Because why? Because I’m smaller? Or because you can tell I’ve crushed on you for years?// “You’re one of the good ones,” he says. The elevator //dings.// He steps out first and waits for you. Then you oblige, following next to Spencer. Across the first floor, people watch in amazement. You know what they’re thinking: //What’s some loner track-runner doing hanging with Spencer?// And Spencer pushes the front door open and holds it for you. The sun bathes the both of you. “What do you mean?” you ask quietly. You feel utterly dejected. Like every ounce of pride and power you’ve gained in these past few months have been sucked from you. //I can’t win this.// “You helped me pass Geometry,” he says. “Remember?” Spencer smiles. //Oh, shit. That’s right. Whenever there were tests, I’d push my paper to the corner of my desk. So Spencer could see.// He nudges your shoulder. “I got to play on varsity as a sophomore,” he says. “Because of you.” You never thought about that. If Spencer failed geometry, he would’ve been benched for good. When you get to your car, Spencer holds his phone out to you. “Hey, put your number in here,” he says. His lips spread into an easy smile. “I guess we’re gonna get to know each other soon.” <h3>What's next?</h3> [[A little meltdown.]]

<h1>A little meltdown.</h1> When you get home, you smash down into the mattress and scream into the pillow: “//AHHHHH!//” Every square inch of breath and voice escapes you. You deflate into a heaving mess of worry. Then Rae pops into the air. “Well, kiddo,” he says, fluttering down next to your ear. “On the bright side, there’s a //very real// chance that you’re going to get railed by your all-time crush.” You close your eyes. You try to ignore him. But you can’t. “How long did you know?” you ask. “That it was Spencer. Days? Weeks? //Months?//” Rae sucks his lips in and tries to sound small. “//Months,// might be the answer?” he says, wincing. “Remember when I ditched you for a while, during the whole Beta Pi thing?” You stare at him. He continues. “And the, uh, //Ethan// thing?” You deflate again. “So you were meeting with that //Gully// fairy?” you ask. Rae shrugs, then nods. “Yeah,” he whispers, meekly. “He’s a fae for the more ‘//Alpha//’ faggots, typically. Army. Sports -” “Wait,” you say, cutting Rae off. “You’re //categorized?//” Your fairy blinks, takes a step backwards. “//No,// we’re //specialized,//” he says. And now you feel like you’re a part of some weird algorithm. “So am I like, a //Beta// guy?” you ask. “And wait, I thought you were //born// when I was eighteen?” You shake your head with confusion. Rae leaps into the air and spins, glitter falling from his feet. “First off,” he says. “You’re more //Sigma.// It’s a rough estimation. And I didn’t //lie.// I was born on your birthday. To //you.//” You clench your hands until they turn white. Then your phone vibrates. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[A text from him.]]

<h1>A text from him.</h1> It’s a text message from Spencer. But you don’t open it immediately. “Is this allowed?” you ask, turning the phone screen toward Rae. Your fairy gives a thumbs-up, says, “No magic, all good.” So you open the message. __hey__ That’s all his message says. You stare at the screen, wondering if he’ll send something else. But Spencer doesn’t. So you type up a same brief response: __hello__ (7:45) //Spencer:// __i ask one Q and then you can__ (7:48) //Me:// __um, OK__ (7:48) //Spencer:// __sweet__ (7:49) //Spencer:// __what’s ur favorite candy__ You squint at the phone screen. As if you’ll detect something by reading the words repeatedly. (7:51) //Me:// __i like sour stuff i guess__ (7:52) //Spencer:// __sweet__ (7:52) //Spencer:// __me 2 sometimes__ (7:54) //Spencer:// __now u ask__ You bite your inner-cheek, trying to think of a good question. //What even is this conversation?// (7:59) //Me:// __all those girlfriends you’ve had__ (7:59) //Me:// __were they just like, cover-ups?__ (8:01) //Spencer:// __lol ya__ <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Texts into the night.]]

<h1>Texts into the night.</h1> Over the next few hours, you learn about Spencer. He tried to have sex with girls but couldn’t. He apparently only //acted// like an asshole to protect himself. And his family is super homophobic. (10:14) //Me:// __shit. i’m sorry to hear that. you deserve better__ (10:16) //Spencer:// __thx. what about ur family? are they cool__ (10:20) //Me:// __pretty much. some of my missions had to do with them__ You and Spencer catch up on each other’s missions. You tell him about Peter and Ethan. He tells you about his missions with his step-dad, the football team, and the high school principal. (11:15) //Spencer:// __i wish i knew u were gay before this lol__ (11:17) //Me:// __why?__ (11:18) //Spencer:// __nvm lol__ (11:20) //Spencer:// __it’s nice talking to another gay dude without magic__ You hadn’t even thought about that. These past few months, the lines became blurred between who was //always// secretly gay, or at least bisexual, or a straight guy mangled into a cock whore. (11:28) //Me:// __thanks for asking for my number, by the way__ (11:29) //Spencer:// __ofc. thx for responding lol__ (11:33) //Spencer:// __can i send u something__ (11:35) //Me:// __OK, sure__ (11:35) //Spencer:// __yay__ <h3>What's next?</h3> [[The something.]]

<h1>The something.</h1> You wait a few moments. Next to your pillow, Rae flutters around, pretending to not notice you blush. Or your heart beating. Or you smiling at your phone screen. Waiting for Spencer’s //thing.// (11:47) //Spencer:// __i never got to do this before__ (11:47) //Spencer:// __u can send one back if u want 2__ [img['images/spencer/3.webp']] You immediately drop your phone. It //thumps// against your chest and Rae can’t help but laugh. “Alright, kiddo,” he says. “This is your //rival// right now, remember?” But even Rae smiles, too. //What the hell am I supposed to say? Or do?// You stare at the screen, watching Spencer play with his long cock and flex toward the mirror. You want to jack off. You want him to come over. “No //touching// until //tomorrow,//” Rae reminds you, reading your thoughts. You sigh and shoo him away with your hand. For the first time in, well, //ever,// it’s like you’re flirting with another gay guy. (11:50) //Me:// __woah__ (11:54) //Spencer:// __now u?__ <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Now me.]]

<h1>Now me.</h1> Even though you’re nervous enough to implode, you climb from the bed and strip down. Luckily, you’re already hard as stone. You plop down onto the floor and set the phone against your bed. When you’re done recording yourself, nude and erect, you make sure it’s how you want to be seen. By Spencer. The quarterback. Your forever crush. Your brain keeps spinning around that. (12:02) //Me:// __i don’t have your muscles__ (12:02) //Me:// __but here’s my response__ [img['images/spencer/4.webp']] You press //Send// and gulp down nervousness. Then you slide back onto the bed, pulling the covers over your body. You don’t want to jack off. You just want //this// moment. //This// exchange. (12:15) //Spencer:// __omg__ (12:15) //Spencer:// __i’m so mad at myself lol__ (12:17) //Me:// __wait, why?__ (12:18) //Spencer:// __i waited this long to meet u__ (12:21) //Spencer:// __shit sorry if that was corny lol__ (12:22) //Me:// __no, that’s OK. it was sweet__ (12:25) //Spencer:// __yay. see u tomorrow then?__ <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Tomorrow then.]]

<h1>Tomorrow then.</h1> //Tomorrow then.// The words echoed in your mind throughout the night. You dreamed of Spencer. You cooked him dinner. He sat at the table watching sports clips on his phone. You kissed him. When you woke from the dream, Rae was already standing on your chest. Looking down into your eyes. “Kiddo,” he said. Your vision was blurry. You rubbed your eyes and focused on him. “This is going to be much harder,” Rae said, “if you both fall in love with each other.” You rolled your eyes and shooed him. //I’ve maintained a crush on Spencer for years. I’ll be fine, alright?// Your fairy shrugged. “Fine,” he said. “That’s my last bit of unsolicited advice.” And with that you got ready, pulling on a fresh pair of jeans. //Today then.// You’ll meet Spencer outside the school. Now you drive toward the high school, reminiscing again on that dream. Spencer pulled you into his lap. His arms could crush you. But he was tender. He dangled a grape between your lips. Rae //blips// into the passenger seat. “Remember I can see your dreams, Oliver?” he asks. You sigh. “Rae,” you say, speaking through your teeth. “I didn’t //ask// to have a dream. Let me enjoy this.” But contrary to the norm, Rae does //not// shut up. “Listen up,” he says. “From here on out, I can’t give you advice like normal. Got it?” The fairy seems somewhat more //aggressive// than ever. You furrow your brows and nod. “Got it,” you say. Rae clears his throat. “Good.” Then continues. “//Yes// or //No// questions only. Gully has it the same. And Oliver?” he says. “I can no longer save you.” <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Today then.]]

<h1>Today then.</h1> //Today then.// Early morning. Spencer told you to meet him behind the school gym. It’s an hour before the first bell. You have an hour with him. At school. //Will someone see us? Is this risky?// In the dream, after feeding you grapes, Spencer lifted you into the air and carried you to the living room couch. You and him. You lived together in some big city. He crawled on top of you. As you walk around the gym, you can almost //feel// his thick arms squeezing around your body. Like a human blanket. In the dream, when Spencer breathed onto your neck, your body melted. “In the dream, the //dream,// the //dream,//” Rae mocks in your head. //Fuck off,// you think. He laughs. And then he whispers, “Fine by me.” And he goes away. Then you turn a corner and there he - [img['images/spencer/5.webp']] Your breath escapes you. Spencer pulling himself up on a bar, his back arching down to his ass. Shirtless. His arm muscles bulging into beautiful hills. His shoulders tightening, his skin glowing. “Is this real?” you whisper. And then your fairy emerges. “That’s a //Yes// or //No// question. So, //Yes.//” You roll your eyes. Then take another step forward. Spencer makes the softest grunting noises. In the dream, when Spencer kissed at your neck, your chest, your tight stomach, it felt like love. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[At the threshold.]]

<h1>At the threshold.</h1> “Hey, magical boy,” Spencer says, finally noticing you. He drops down from the bar and collects his breath, wiping sweat from his forehead. He lifts up a water bottle to his lips and chugs down. His voice sounds familiar. As if you’ve heard it since you were born. Like it was meant to be as constant as the wind. As regular as your heartbeat. You stare at him, and he stares back at you. “Hey,” you say, smiling. You give a small wave. Spencer laughs to himself, charmed by your awkwardness. “Do you feel that?” he asks. You don’t know what he’s asking about. But you nod. He licks water from his lips. “I know you do,” he says. “I put it there.” You smile at him and nod. //What does he mean?// Who are you asking? //Put what where?// Spencer takes a few steps closer. You can smell him. He smells like oranges. He smells like clean sweat and orange toothpaste. Spencer makes your legs tremble. You can’t move. //What does he mean?// And no one answers. When he stands right in front of you, he raises his hand to your chin and pinches it. Spencer’s face glistening with sweat, crinkling into a smile, his eyes twinkling and staring into your pupils. “If I kiss you,” he whispers, “will you quit for me?” And your heart punches against your rib cage. //I don’t want to hurt Spencer. I want him to be happy. What does he mean? He put what where?// You nod. Spencer licks his lips again, readying for your mouth. And you can almost taste him. The orange flavor on his tongue. “Then say it, magical boy,” he breathes onto you. “Say ‘I quit’.” <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Crossing it.]]

<h1>Crossing it.</h1> “Oliver?” The voice shatters your Spencer-soaked reverie. You turn your head and find none other than //Matt// watching. His sport bags slung over one shoulder, one eyebrow raised, face puzzled. //Did he just save me?// you think. And then Rae emerges. “That’s a //Yes// or //No// question. So, //Yes.//” Matt looks between you and Spencer, his face an expression of both confusion and jealousy. “What the //fuck// are you doing here, Jesus-bitch?” Spencer shouts. Something deep inside you stirs. It notices Spencer’s change of attitude. But you can’t help but worship him. His perfection. “//Jesus-bitch?//” Matt repeats, a smile on his face. “Whatever, my man. I wasn’t talking to you. And besides, what are //you// doing here?” Matt lowers his bag to the ground, prepared for a fight. //I can’t move my body. Why can’t I move my fucking body?// But no one answers. Spencer tilts his head at Matt and gives a sinister nod. Then he smacks his hand on your ass and squeezes it. “I’m here for my bitch,” Spencer says. You watch his lips move. You want to kiss the glistening water and sweat from them. //He called me his bitch.// Your heart beats. You want him inside you. “And I’m here for a morning swim,” Matt says, rebelling against Spencer’s intimidation. “Like I //always// have. I’ve never seen you here before, so -” Matt stops himself. “Also, his name is //Oliver.//” Spencer unleashes his grip from your ass. A sting of relief travels up your spin. “Oh, Matthew,” he says, his voice growling. “Oliver told me //all// about you. Don’t you know that he just //used// you?” <h3>What's next?</h3> [[His bitch.]]

<h1>His bitch.</h1> It’s a blur. One moment Spencer is bad-mouthing you to Matt, and the next moment, your friend is charging toward Spencer, roaring with rage. But Matt doesn’t have powers. Not like Spencer. Inches before Matt can ram into Spencer’s stomach, the quarterback uses spinnerets on him. //“What?”// Matt asks, frozen in-place, his feet glued to the ground. He looks up at you, wide-eyed. Spencer leans forward and spits on Matt’s forehead. Your friend flinches, the silver wad oozing down to his eyebrow. “He made you his bitch,” Spencer says. “But he knows how it feels now.” //How it feels?// You can’t move. Your eyes flicker between Matt and Spencer. When Matt looks at you, his eyes reflect a deep loyalty. The same loyalty you feel for Spencer. Endless. Right now. “You don’t believe that he’s //using// you?” Spencer says to Matt. “Fine, watch this.” Then he turns to you, smiling with all his teeth. “Oliver,” he says. “Say ‘I quit’, or I’m going to //destroy// his throat.” You swallow spit. Your heart keeps climbing up your throat. //How it feels? Put what inside me? Did he// - You open your mouth to speak. Then shut it. //Did Spencer use infatuation magic on me?// And then Rae emerges. “That’s a //Yes// or //No// question,” he says. “And the answer is //Yes,// kiddo.” Your heart shatters. You still can’t move. Matt looks at you with puppy-dog eyes, so confused. “I’m sorry, Matt,” you whisper. Tears fill your eyes. You can’t watch this. But as soon as you shut your eyes, Spencer forces them open with spinnerets. “//No//,” he says. “You’re watching all of it.” <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Panic at the poolside.]]

<h1>Panic at the poolside.</h1> You and Matt remain lifeless. Staring at each other helplessly. Then Spencer walks up to him. He rips the shirt from Matt’s body, throwing it aside into the school pool. You want to shout. //Why can’t I break from this?// you think. But no answer. Spencer presses his bulge against Matt’s face and rubs to-and-fro, hardening himself beneath his jeans. Matt closes his eyes and takes it. //Fine.// //Yes// or //No,// you rephrase. //Can I break from this?// And at last Rae pops up inside your brain. “Under these conditions,” he says. “//No.// Spencer has more muscle. His spinnerets is stronger.” A stream of tears roll down from each eye. You watch Spencer unbuckle and unbutton himself, lowering his jeans down. Then he pulls his shirt off and tosses it aside. Only his underwear left. //Can I use infatuation against him?// you panic. //To make him stop.// Rae clears his throat and says, “//No.// Spencer infatuated you first,” he says. “Hyper-pheromones travel in a singular linearity.” Matt stares at the massive bulge beneath Spencer’s underwear. His throat glistens with sweat. You don’t want him to get abused. You want to save him. But you can’t speak against Spencer. //Body-swap?// you ask. And Rae responds, “//No.// A human fairy can only body-swap into another human fairy if that body is unpopulated.” You gasp out with desperation. //Then what the fuck!?// Spencer pinches onto his waistband and slowly reveals his giant cock. Matt looks up at him, his watery eyes begging for mercy. But neither of you can move. Neither of you can do anything. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Watch it.]]

<h1>Crossing it.</h1> You hoped for a miracle. Some breakthrough idea. But nothing came. Within moments, Spencer placed his girthy cock between Matt’s lips and slid it down, down, down to the back of his throat. [img['images/spencer/6.webp']] “//Grrhhg - graacchh,//” Matt gargled, his air passages getting punched against. And you watched. As Spencer clasped onto your friend’s head and fucked himself inside him. Raping his throat. “Where’s Jesus now?” Spencer said, eyes rolling with pleasure. “Because Oliver can’t save you.” Matt’s body is completely under control, his hands clutching onto Spencer’s muscular thighs. //What about the whore magic? Or the harem magic? Or the contract?// your brain rushes around. And Rae gives a curt response. “//No,//” he says. “Those are situational or need-not-apply, kiddo.” Spencer’s balls //slap-slap-slap// against Matt’s chin. And you can see the muscles in Matt’s throat straining for control. Trying to not snap against Spencer’s thrusts. His nose heaving for breaths. //Maybe it’s time,// you say, silent tears pouring from you. //I mean, is there any way I could still win?// Rae doesn’t respond for a moment. Only the sound of Matt’s guttural walls getting pushed wide. “Of course,” Rae says in your mind. “Oliver, in the game of chess, consider this an opening move.” <h3>What's next?</h3> [[The Greek gift.]]

<h1>The Greek gift.</h1> When Spencer finishes cumming inside Matt’s throat, he keeps his dick lodged deep inside him. Matt starts to gargle and choke, his hands still locked onto Spencer’s thighs, eyes pouring tears. “Say it, magical boy,” Spencer says, unrelenting. You stare at Matt, watching the quarterback’s cum start to ooze out from his nose. You could end this. You could stop this. //Just say that I quit.// Matt convulses. His chest bulges and retracts, suffocating, as his nose clogs up with thick cum. He can’t breathe. //Could Spencer kill Matt?// And you remember what you’ve been capable of. “//Can I use any spinnerets? Even a little? Even on Matt?// Rae thinks about that. “Yes,” he says. “But the rebound effect may be -” You don’t care. Fury builds inside you. Fury and infatuation. Behind your eyeballs, your eyes chill over. It burns from the back of your brain. A slow migraine. You grit your teeth together and a scream slowly spills out from you. Spencer and Matt turn to - “//RUN!//” you scream. A surge of energy escapes from you, directed toward Matt. You couldn’t force it toward Spencer. Your infatuation prevents you from affecting him. But Matt? //A chance.// Matt soars from the ground. He flips into the air and crashes onto his stomach, a burst of breath escaping him. Spencer’s cock dangles and sways, droplets of cum //plopping// onto the ground. You feel your muscles return to you. //Spencer’s distracted.// Only a brief moment. You turn to run. And when you look behind, you see Matt running in the opposite direction. Then a hand grabs - <h3>What's next?</h3> [[The Indian defense.]]

<h1>The Indian defense.</h1> No. Not //a hand.// Many hands. Spencer raised one hand into the air and waved someone over. Some //several// guys over. Three of them. You tried to run as fast as possible. But they’re too fast. One of them grabbed your left arm. The other wrapped around your waist. Then a third guy pressed a wet cloth against your mouth. And your vision began to fade. The last thing you saw - //There. Keep. Run.// Matt ran across the parking lot, shirtless, sprinting for his life. //Go. Matt. Go.// You collapsed onto your knees. The grass felt wet on your cheek. Three guys. And Spencer. They stood around you, staring down at your useless body. Spencer leaned down to your face. Your vision. //My love.// The infatuation. He looked like a watercolor. You faded. //Spencer. My love.// He spit on your face. You blinked, fighting to stay conscious, fighting the chemicals. Spit oozing down between your lips. Then one of the guys leaned down, shoving the rag into your mouth. The strong chemicals. //Sleep. I’ll sleep now.// You fade out. You dream. A patchwork of images. You’re on a stage. Snow falls down onto you. It chills your bones. When the spotlight rises, it falls upon Spencer. He stretches his arm toward you, inviting you closer. You know he is warm. “//Come,//” he says. His voice echoes across the stage. You reach out, but you cannot touch him. The snow pummels you. It buries you. You beg for him to pull you out from the pile. He watches. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[His domain.]]

<h1>His domain.</h1> “I think the bitch is awake.” A deep voice. From somewhere. You open your eyes. A white sheet beneath you. The sun warming your bare body. //Am I hearing things?// And Rae answers, “//No.//” When you try to turn onto your back, you can’t move your muscles. You can’t move anything. You want to call out for //HELP.// But your mouth is duct-taped shut. And a chorus of guys laugh. [img['images/spencer/7.webp']] “Spence said text him,” one of the voices says. //Spence? Is that some nickname?// You try to calculate who each person is. //Players on Spencer’s football team?// And Rae answers, “//Yes.//” You can hear your heart beating through your head. “I just wanna fuck this bitch,” one guy says. Then another guy chimes in. “Well, I don’t care who. I just wanna //fuck.//” Then they laugh again. You’re bare. Vulnerable. At any moment they could take advantage of you. //Oh, shit,// you think. “Fucker said we can’t touch him,” one of them says. //Did they just call Spencer a - a fucker? // “What he don’t know won’t hurt him,” another guy says. //Wait,// you think. //They wouldn’t be saying this if they were infatuated with Spencer, right?// Your brain races. And Rae answers. “//Correct.//” In fact, it reminds you of a different magic. The //harem// magic. From the Beta Pi fraternity house. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Spencer's harem.]]

<h1>Spencer's harem.</h1> “Spence texted back,” one of them says. “He said we can’t touch him.” And the other two groan. //It’s just like at Beta Pi,// you think. //When you put that charm on Tommy. They followed his orders.// “Well, I can’t keep looking at the bitch,” one voice says. “Or I’ll break protocol and fuck his ass.” The other two grunt in agreement. Then the group exits the bedroom, leaving you to yourself. //Rae,// you think, face still pressed into the mattress, arms and legs bound. //I have a question.// Your fairy pops into thin air and flutters beside you. “Yes, my dear Oliver?” he asks, giving a smile. If your mouth wasn’t duct-taped, you would’ve scoffed at that. //Can someone only be under one spell at a time?// Rae cups his hands together. “Kiddo, he //also// had you under spinnerets earlier.” //But it seemed like he really needed to focus on it.// Rae nods, giving you a proud thumbs-up. //So instead of managing a whole group of infatuated football bros, Spencer just made one harem.// You struggle to flip onto your back, rocking yourself to-and-fro like a boat. When you succeed, a corner of the duct-tape sticks to the bed and rips away from your mouth. It burns like all-hell. [img['images/spencer/8.webp']] “//Fuck,//” you gasp out, hoping none of the guys heard you. The rope’s fibers grind against your wrists and ankles, chafing you raw and sore. The binding is too strong. You are locked here. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Why him?]]

<h1>Why him?</h1> How interesting can the ceiling become? You start at it for hours, tracing the popcorn shapes until you’ve determined dozens of false-constellations. //Where is he? Why Spencer? Why him?// The football bros become a low drone in the background. While you lie across the bed, bound, listening to yourself breathe, you hope for some miracle. For the fibers to snap and unravel. //Could I have known it was him?// You think back to middle school, when Spencer was nothing more than a scrawny kid in your P.E. class. He was sweet. He was harmless. He was a friend. In seventh grade, when Spencer started to play football, you noticed him distance himself from his lanky P.E. friends. //Was it for survival? Did he learn he was a faggot? And chose to bury it?// You discovered you were gay around those years. But instead of the hyper-masculine route, you opted to fall into the shadows. Go quieter. Run track. Stay harmless. Stay sweet. Stay Oliver. But Spencer changed. //Could I have known?// you think. //That our paths were always aligned?// When you got to high school, Spencer blossomed into the school darling. The #1 acquisition. [img['images/spencer/1.webp']] Sure, he became arrogant. But he //earned// that. He was gorgeous. An exceptional quarterback. But now you know. //He was always ashamed.// You settle on that thought: //Spencer has shame.// <h3>What's next?</h3> [[The approach.]]

<h1>The approach</h1> You hear the front door open and slam. A chorus of guys welcoming Spencer home. Your heart thrashes inside you. //What does he have planned? What far will he go to make me say, ‘I quit’?// Facing the ceiling, you trace the popcorn constellations for a sign. A revelation. //The more spells, the more concentration. But harem counts as one spell. And spinnerets competes muscle mass.// You feel yourself getting dizzy, trying to negotiate and balance all this information. You need an opportunity. An escape. //Spencer has the muscle. I have the brains. But he already infatuated -// “Knock, knock,” you hear from outside the bedroom door. You freeze up. Your body goes cold. When Spencer pushes the door open, he looks up and down your bare body. And he smiles. “There’s my little magical Oliver,” he says, gently shutting the door behind him. As soon as you see his face, your chest flutters. Your beautiful Spencer. His Adonis muscles. Orange on his breath. //When did he infatuate me?// Spencer takes a few steps closer, his hands tucked into his pockets. His fluffy brown hair falls onto his forehead, curling into little J-shapes. You want to kiss him. When he’s in the room, your thoughts - you can’t control - you want to please him. Spencer sits on the edge of the bed and slides a hand across the sheets. //Please touch me. Please touch me.// His hand wraps around your ankle, gently applying pressure to the bone. At the instance of his touch, warmth crawls up your legs. You’re his baby. You belong to Spencer. He must be happy. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Infatuation.]]

<h1>Infatuation.</h1> Gully pops into the air. He flutters next to Spencer’s head. “Looks like his brain has gone soupy,” he says, nodding toward you. You want to deny. But you can’t speak against Spencer. //My love.// “That text message thing was pretty smart, huh?” Spencer says, his finger tracing your ankle. He looks up at you and winks. “Enchanted you at the stroke of midnight.” You feel rage inside. //No.// You feel burning love. Spencer leans down to your ankle and presses his lips against the bone. He gives small pecks. One-two-one-two. His lips move up to your shin, then your knee. “I’m sorry,” he whispers to your knee, rubbing it softly. “My boys were rough with you earlier.” Spencer’s hands slide up your legs, tickling your little hairs and pausing at your trembling thighs. He presses his cheek against your bare thigh and whispers. “Did you dream about me, Oliver?” You stare down at him, terrified and utterly enamored. And you bite your lip. You nod at him. “I thought so,” Spencer says, his hot breath sliding across your skin. “That magic is sure potent.” Then his hands continue to slide up your thighs, goosebumps rising up every inch of your body. Spencer stops at your waist, his large hands wrapping around you. You’re a bowl. A cup for him to sip from. You belong to Spencer. He leans down and plants a kiss against your belly-button. He turns his head up toward you, resting his chin against your tight stomach. His sparkling eyes. “Okay, baby,” he whispers. “Let’s get you dressed. We’re going on a little adventure together.” <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Together.]]

<h1>Together.</h1> You sit in the passenger seat of Spencer’s car. You and him. Riding around together. //To where?// Spencer wouldn’t say. He only said he has something he wants to //show// you. And you’re giddy. You don’t want to be giddy. Something deep inside you rebels. It’s submerged. In the depths. You can’t draw it forth. Instead, you watch Spencer drive. His strong arms gripping the wheel. “You could make this easier,” he says, speaking behind his sunglasses. Then he turns to you. “All you have to do is say, ‘I quit’.” Spencer smiles at you. His teeth glisten white. His lips wet. //But if I quit then the infatuation stops. I don’t want to lose him.// “What happens after?” you ask. Your own voice startles you. Like you haven’t spoken in hours. //Probably because I haven’t.// Spencer turns back toward the road. He slowly inhales, then says, “Well, that depends on how long you make me wait.” At once you register contempt beneath his voice. Rage against you. He continues. “If you quit right now, there will be less consequences.” His fingers grip the wheel. “But each hour you wait,” he says, “you’ll put yourself at risk.” He clears his throat. “//And others.//” //And others?// You want to ask him about the //others,// but when you open your mouth, you say, “Please don’t leave me.” Your eyes widen. Spencer gives a smile. //I’m out of fucking control.// He pulls into the parking lot near the high school gym. Then he parks the car and turns to you. “After I win,” he whispers, lowering his sunglasses. “I’ll take care of you, magical boy. //Promise.//” <h3>What's next?</h3> [[The next threat.]]

<h1>The next threat.</h1> You dutifully follow Spencer toward the gym entrance, where he pushes the doors open and greets some of his football buddies. They look to him with reverence. They worship Spencer. In turn, they do not acknowledge you. //Are they all in Spencer’s harem?// As you wind around the lockers, past the men’s showers and the coach’s office, you emerge in the weight room. Empty. Spencer turns to you. He looks you from head-to-toe, curling a corner of his mouth into a grin. “Take a seat on the leg machine,” he says. He snaps his fingers and points to it. And you oblige. Then Spencer lifts two fingers to his mouth and whistles. The sharp noise echoes around the room, travelling down the halls. He’s obviously calling for someone. //Or signalling something?// You hear muffled shouting. From down the hall. //That voice? I know that -// “At any moment, Oliver,” Spencer says. “You can stop this.” He gives a sinister smile. Then the doors burst open and - “This kid is fucking //insane,//” one of the football bros says. He has his hands wrapped around Colby’s waist, holding him still. Two other guys restrain Colby’s arms and legs. He’s gagged. “//Mmmfmmasf!//” Colby grunts behind a sock in his mouth. You can’t breathe. //My best friend?// Spencer takes slow steps toward him and pinches the sock. Then he rips it from Colby’s lips. //Oh, God. Please don’t do anything stupid or// - Colby spits a wad of saliva on Spencer’s face. Then Colby shouts, “Let me //go// you unrepetant mother//fuck.//” //Oh shit. Oh no. Not Colby. Why?// <h3>What's next?</h3> [[The decision.]]

<h1>The decision.</h1> Spencer lifts his hand to his face and slowly wipes away Colby’s spit. He looks at the ooze on his palm and holds it up to the light, as if to watch it glow. Then he swings it toward Colby’s face. //SWAT-T-T-T.// The slap echoes around the weight room, harsh as shattered glass. Every guy in the room flinches. And Colby’s gasps out a high-pitched scream, the blood rushing to his face. Your best friend goes limp. But the football bros keep him propped up. Like some war prisoner. And Spencer turns to you, lowering his face into a scowl. He speaks lowly, slowly, with poison. “I should’ve known the infatuation wouldn’t be enough,” he says. He takes a step toward you. “That’s alright. I know how it works.” Spencer gets closer. “It festers. It’s like a worm in your gut.” Colby watches, panting for breath, confused. You can’t move from the leg machine. Spencer has spinnerets on you, locking your ass to the cushion. He stands in front of you, staring down. “You get a choice, Oliver,” he says. The twinkle in his eyes becomes a hardened glassy stare, not unlike a cobra’s gaze. “You can quit now. And spare you friend.” Spencer turns to face Colby. “Or,” he says, looking back at you. He reaches down and pinches your chin. “You’ll watch little Colby sign a contract.” Spencer leans closer. His lips inches from yours. “To become my //slave.//” Tears build inside you. //Why did I tell him? Why did I share my fucking missions with Spencer?// You look down in shame. And rage. //First Matt. And now Colby?// You love Spencer. But you - <h3>What's next?</h3> [[You bide your time, Pt. 1.]] [[You shake your head, Pt. 1.]]

<h1>You bide your time, Pt. 1.</h1> //If I win this, then Spencer loses all his magical effects.// You look between Spencer and Colby. //Even if Spencer makes Colby his sex slave, I can reverse it.// And you gulp down nervousness. //Rae,// you think. //I can reverse it, right?// There’s a moment of silence. In your head and the gym. The footballers wait. Spencer waits. Colby waits. And then in your brain, Rae says, “If you win.” You don’t make a sound. Spencer removes his hand from your chin. And he sighs. He turns and steps toward Colby. “You might be under //whore// magic from him,” he says, pointing back at you. Spencer places his hands on Colby’s head and tousles his hair. Your friend looks bewildered. “But you’re under //no// influence from me. Ain’t that right, Gully?” Spencer looks up into the air. Gully //plops// into existence. He flutters down, spinning in circles. No one reacts. At least, no one except //Colby.// He looks horrified. Like he’s seen the devil. But the footballers are under a spell. “That’s right, champ,” Gully says, snapping his fingers. “If he consents to the contract, it’ll be under no magical duress.” And Spencer smiles. He wraps a long arm around Colby’s shoulder. “So Colby,” he whispers in your friend’s ear. “Would you do //anything// to keep your friend alive?” Spencer points at you. And Colby looks too shocked. Too mentally paralyzed to think clearly. You want to speak out against Spencer. //Don’t listen to him.// But the infatuation prevents you. “Well then,” Spencer says. “All you’ve got to do is agree to serve me. //Forever.// Understand?” <h3>What's next?</h3> [[You bide your time, Pt. 2.]]

</h1>You shake your head, Pt. 1.</h1> //If I win this, then Spencer loses all his magical effects.// You look between Spencer and Colby. //Rae,// you think. //I can reverse it, right?// There’s a moment of silence. In your head and the gym. The footballers wait. Spencer waits. Colby waits. And then in your brain, Rae says, “If you win.” You shake your head. You can’t risk your best friend’s life. And it hurts to betray your infatuation. It burns your gut to rebel against Spencer. You want to throw up. But still. You shake your head. Spencer removes his hand from your chin. He scowls. “I’m disappointed in you, magical boy.” Then he turns around. “Well, you might be under his //whore// magic,” he says, pointing at you. “But you’re under //no// influence from me. Ain’t that right, Gully?” Spencer looks up into the air. Gully //pops// into existence. He flutters down, spinning in circles. No one reacts. At least, no one except //Colby.// He looks horrified. Like he’s seen the devil. But the footballers are under a spell. “That’s right, champ,” Gully says, snapping his fingers. “If he consents to the contract, it’ll be under no magical duress.” And Spencer smiles. He wraps a long arm around Colby’s shoulder. “So Colby,” he whispers in your friend’s ear. “Would you do //anything// to keep your friend alive?” Spencer points at you. And Colby looks too shocked. Too mentally paralyzed to think clearly. “That’s what I thought,” Spencer says. “Too bad Oliver made things a whole lot worse for you.” <h3>What's next?</h3> [[You shake your head, Pt. 2.]]

<h1>You bide your time, Pt. 2.</h1> An anchor of shame drops into your gut. You watch as Colby nods along to Spencer’s contract, and within moments, the light fading from his eyes. You saw it with Ethan. You know the story. Once Colby has been transitioned under Spencer’s will, the quarterback arrogantly strips down to his bare ass and moves over to a weight bench. And then he snaps for Colby’s oral services. You cannot move. You’re both infatuated and under spinnerets. And so you watch the unfolding: Colby fall to his knees and crawl between Spencer’s muscled thighs. To serve his new master. [img['images/spencer/9.webp']] As Spencer trains his arm muscles, your best friend slobbers up and down Spencer’s cock. Obediently. Colby moaning around the quarterback’s girth. As hot tears stream down your face. “Keep going, slave,” Spencer grunts, pushing his weights above his head. “Suck until I’m dried.” And so your best friend follows his orders. He makes wet guttural sounds until he extracts cum. [img['images/spencer/10.webp']] Once Spencer has filled Colby’s belly with gooey spunk, he stands up, gets dressed, and orders his harem to “take care of his new slave.” Then he grabs you by the wrist and takes you home. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Punishment.]]

<h1>Punishment.</h1> Once you arrive back at Spencer’s house, he shoves you into a bedroom and orders his guys to bind you up again. You flail against their arms, but they’re too strong for you. You succumb to it. From down the hall, you hear Spencer shout. “By the way,” he says. “Someone grab his phone.” //Fuck. Where is my phone? I haven’t seen it -// One of the footballers searches your old clothes. //How much spinnerets would I need to - //But then you catch yourself. You need to rephrase it. //Would I need a lot of energy to use spinnerets on these guys?// you ask. //I want to stop them.// Inside your mind, Rae clears his throat. “Yes,” he says. “You’d need about the same amount you applied on Josh Johnson.” //Oh shit. The oldest brother?// You watch the footballer lift your phone. “Found it,” he shouts. Then another guy snatches it and takes it from the room. There are too many of them. You’d need to use spinnerets on //all three// of them in order to make an opening. After they’re done binding you and retrieving your phone, they turn the lights off and leave you. Stranded in the dark. In a stranger’s home. //No, my lover’s home.// Spencer. Your infatuation. When he’s not in the room, it’s easier to have rebellious thoughts. Against your lover. Spencer. You have to practice them. //He is not - he is my lover - Spencer is my enemy - no, your lover.// You gasp out with frustration. Hours slug by. Each minute feels like an hour. You strategize. //Spencer has allies. My lover has allies.// You stare into the dark. //And he’s stealing my allies.// <h3>What's next?</h3> [[The endless night.]]

<h1>You shake your head, Pt. 2.</h1> An anchor of shame drops into your gut. You watch as Colby nods along to Spencer’s contract, and within moments, the light fading from his eyes. You saw it with Ethan. You know the story. Once Colby has been transitioned under Spencer’s will, the quarterback arrogantly leans into Colby’s face and presses their lips together. Your best friend gasps with ecstasy, with adoration. You cannot move. You’re both infatuated and under spinnerets. And so you watch the unfolding: Colby swallowing Spencer’s saliva. Then falling to his knees, pulling down on Spencer’s pants. [img['images/spencer/11.webp']] As Spencer grunts and groans, your best friend slobbers up and down the quarterback’s cock. Obediently. As hot tears stream down your face. Spencer turns his head toward you and smirks. “Hey slave,” Spencer asks, his eyes rolling back into his head. “Stretch out on the bench press.” Colby obeys. He pulls his shirt off and lies on his back, looking up at Spencer’s dangling beast. [img['images/spencer/12.webp']] Once Colby finishes feasting upon Spencer’s wide cock and gooey cum, the quarterback orders his harem to “take care of his new slave.” Then he grabs you by the wrist and takes you home. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Punishment.]]

<h1>The endless night.</h1> The sound of crickets outside tell you that it’s nighttime. You haven’t slept. The weight inside keeps you awake. //He almost suffocated Matt.// And then even worse: //And Colby is - now he’s -// “Living in your head is torture,” Rae says, popping into the air. He flutters in a circle, landing on your bare knee. You want to give back a sassy remark. But you’re too tired. And too defeated. “Rae,” you whisper. “Has it been worse than this?” You look at your bindings. Rae’s cheeks puff up with a laugh. He puts his hand on his belly and tries not to erupt. “//Worse// than this?” he says. Your fairy kicks off into the air. Glitter trails beneath him. “Well, I suppose I can answer that,” Rae says. “Since it won’t provide undue //benefit// to your final mission.” Now he hovers in the air. “Oliver, it has been much, //much, much,//” and he keeps going, saying the word twenty more times. “Much, //much, much// worse than this.” He pretends to shiver. “Oliver-boy, all the //things// I’ve seen.” That’s relieving. Over the past hours, you’ve noticed that your Spencer infatuation has been less intense. Which brings another question. “Rae, didn’t you say infatuation is //pheromone//-based?” Your fairy gives a grin. “Yes sir,” he says. Even in the pitch black room, Rae glitters with silver. “So in a way,” you say. “The longer I go without seeing him, the more strength I can reserve?” Rae winks at you. “See,” he says. “I //knew// you were the smart one.” You sit in the bed, bound, staring at the ceiling. And then you whisper. “//Fuck it.//” And you roll right off the edge of the bed. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[The crawl.]]

<h1>The crawl.</h1> You’re glad no one could see you try to get the bedroom door open. Well, except for your fairy. Inside your head, Rae scoffed, “Are you really trying to twist the doorknob with your //teeth?//” And then you succeeded. You wiggled across the floor like a caterpillar, slid up against the wall until you were on your knees, and then arched high, plating your lips around the big doorknob. When the door creaked open, you were just as shocked as Rae was. “Holy shit, kiddo,” he said. Fortunately you’ve had some experience with //wide receptions.// Now you unplug from the knob. //I need to find that fucking phone,// you think. Your “bedroom”—more like a prisoner’s cell—is at the end of the hallway. And at the other end: a large living room. With a flashing television light. Because your hands are tied behind your back, bound in a knot with your feet, you have to roll down the hallway tile floor. Silently. And in your head, Rae says, //“Hope you’ve got a plan, Oliver.”// You roll your eyes. //Don’t start giving advice now,// you think. //If I managed to outplay Ethan, I think I can manage this hot dumb jock.// And then your fairy laughs in your brain. “Alrighty then.” When you roll to the edge of the living room, you immediately spot the three football guys. One of them, the tall Latino guy, sleeps in a kicked-back recliner. He has an empty beer next to him. The other two guys, a hunky black guy and spiky-haired white guy, share the couch together. They have a bag of chips between their thighs. And then right in front of that bag, your phone. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Shifting the game.]]

<h1>Shifting the game.</h1> Every few minutes, the television erupts with a commercial song. And at that //precise// moment, you roll one more tumble closer to the couch. And then another. Inch by inch. Approaching it. When you’re right up against the couch, you slide up the cushions until you’re staring down at your phone. And your heart feels like it’s about to leap from your throat. //Please stay asleep.// You bend down like an awkward crane, planting your teeth around the corner of your phone. And once you have it, you securely suck it inward. Then you gently tilt back onto the tile floor. //THUD.// It was louder than you thought. Your blood stops pumping. Your muscles constrict. But to your fortune, none of the footballers wake up. You take a silent breath inward and calm yourself. The next thirty minutes are an excruciating journey back to your bedroom. Flipping. Flopping. Rolling inch by inch. Petrified by the idea that someone might need to use the hallway restroom. But you make it. You roll into your room, toe the door shut, and then let the phone slip from your mouth. And your jaw hurts from carrying the fucking thing for half an hour. It shimmers with spit. //If he hadn’t taken the phone,// you think, as you use your nose as a finger to turn the screen on, //then I probably wouldn’t have connected the dots. Allies. Planning ahead. Using my phone.// You press the tip of your nose against the screen. Slowly typing one long message. “Uh, Oliver?” Rae asks. He watches you type. “That’s a big gamble.” You ignore him. And you press //Send.// <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Boom!]]

<h1>Boom!</h1> The door flings open. It smashes against the wall and the entire house trembles. You wake up on the floor, the phone next to your face. When you look up, it’s the muscular black footballer. “You fucked up,” he says, his voice low. Then he bends down and snatches the phone. He flicks on the phone with his finger. He searches for something. Then the tall Latino guy walks inside. “What’d you get, Lew?” Apparently the black guy’s name is Lew, or Lewis. He continues flicking down your phone, becoming agitated. “Nothing,” he says. “Bitch must’ve deleted all his shit.” “I’ll go tell Noah,” the Latino guy sighs, looking down at you with hatred. Then he says, “Spence has some major shit coming your way.” And he leaves the room. Lewis follows with your phone. There is a cold silence. You hear the guys mumbling in the distant living room. Plotting your fate. //Hey Rae,// you think. He then pops into the air, fluttering down onto the carpet and stretching out. “Got a question, Mr. Moriarity?” You blink at his reference, not understanding. //Yes, a question.// And you think of how to word it. //Does every enchantment have its - uhm, it’s weaknesses?// Rae turns his head and examines your face. “Yes,” he says slowly. “But I would say //all// things have a weakness.” You nod your head. Then you hear the front door slam. The house shakes. //After Spencer infatuated me,// you think. //When I saw Matt and Colby sucking him off, I felt this// - You look for the right words. //I felt betrayed.// Rae’s eyes twinkle. He smiles. And then you smile. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Another crawl.]]

<h1>Another crawl.</h1> Spencer’s voice booms down the hall. “Just throw him in the hall, Julien,” he says. “If he wants to creep and crawl behind my back, he can do it //again.//” That’s when the Latino guy emerges. “I told you,” he says, giving you a smile. Then he puts his foot onto your shoulder and nudges you down. Once you’re on your side, he lifts you up from the rope around your hands and feet. “//Ahhhh!//” you scream out, the fibers cutting deep into your sore skin. Julien then flings you onto the hallway tile floor. A crack in your back and a bolt of pain surging through you. //That fucker.// [img['images/spencer/13.webp']] Julien steps over your body and ambles into the living room. But then a revelation occurs to you. //It happened,// you think. //I called Spencer a fucker. My lover. I broke the - for a moment I felt it.// Rae //blips// into your brain. “Well, are you sure you weren’t directing it toward that Julien fellow?” But you shake your head. //No. I felt sick when I rebelled. So I know it. It was toward Spencer.// “Crawl your ass in here, bitch,” Spencer shouts from the living room. And your chest flutters with warmth. Your lover calling for you. “I have a little surprise to show you,” he says, lifting his voice. And so you oblige. Rolling down Spencer’s hallway again, inch by inch, painful fibers digging into your wrists and ankles. And when you finally emerge in his living room, your mouth drops. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[The mysterious rook.]]

<h1>The mysterious rook.</h1> “Peter?” you gasp out. Your brother and Spencer are both on the couch, with the quarterback’s legs wrapped around Peter’s head. Shoving him deep onto his cock. Face-fucking your brother. [img['images/spencer/14.webp']] “//Glaaghhoggh,//” Peter gargles, his spit oozing down around Spencer’s balls. The quarterback rolls his eyes back, his toes curling from your brother’s pleasure. “Keep going, Petey,” he says. For some reason it seems like your brother //wants// this. His hands clench deep into Spencer’s thighs, pushing himself down. Does he //want// Spencer’s cock? But that could only mean he - “Contracted,” Spencer says. He gives a sinister smile. “I told you things would get worse, Oliver.” The quarterback moves his leg and Peter comes up for air, saliva dripping from his mouth. Spencer turns to your brother. “On your back, slave,” he says. And your brother quickly obliges. You feel a heat inside. A sort of envy. No, //a betrayal.// From your lover. Spencer. Your soulmate. Peter spreads his legs wide, ready for his master. Spencer saddles up to your brother’s ass, slapping his meaty cock against Peter’s hole. And then pushing inside, causing Peter to moan. [img['images/spencer/15.webp']] “I told him your life was in jeopardy,” Spencer says, as he pummels into your older brother’s ass. “And now that I know you //stole// your phone from me?” he says. “Now you’re //really// in trouble.” <h3>What's next?</h3> [[The ultimatum.]]

<h1>The ultimatum.</h1> The next thirty minutes are a torture show. Spencer spreads your brother’s walls wide as a fist, fucking Peter into a drooling mess. //It’s like he’s not even there,// you thought as Peter moaned. And when Spencer cums inside your brother, you hear the //squirt// of liquid and the fleshy //squish// of your lover’s cock massaging the anal walls. When Spencer pulls out from Peter, you sigh. “Oh, you thought it was //over//?” Spencer says. He snaps his fingers and points at Lewis, who curtly nods and drops his basketball shorts. His long black cock flops out, dangling for Peter. You watch with tears in your eyes. Lewis causing your brother to tremble and vibrate with house-shaking moans, Peter cumming from a prostate orgasm, biting his lip until it’s purple. And then Noah gets a turn. And then Julien gets a turn. Black and white and brown cocks raping your brother’s guts. Filling him with a cocktail of hot bubbling DNA. Peter moaning, trembling. The power of the contract is enormous. Even while Peter looks at you, strangers’ cocks lodged inside his belly, he doesn’t seem to recognize you. He’s only fulfilling his new master’s wishes. Spencer crouches down in front of you. He pinches your chin and stares into your teary eyes. “Oliver,” he says, slowly, his breath smelling like orange toothpaste. “This is your final ultimatum.” In the background, Noah’s pale balls slap against Peter’s asscheeks. “You can quit right now,” Spencer says. “And when this is all over, I promise to you. I’ll end his contract. And Colby’s.” <h3>What's next?</h3> [[I quit, Pt. 1.]] [[Say nothing.]]

<h1>I quit, Pt. 1.</h1> As soon as the words “I quit” leave your mouth, the memories of the past many months escape your brain. A black hole fills that void of memory. And when you wink to life, you’re at Spencer’s. “Spencer?” you ask. You’re in a strange living room. And there’s a - //why// are there naked dudes around you? Are these guys from the high school football team? Spencer steps in front of you. “Hi, Oliver,” he says. Then he points to your left. “Look right there for me, will you?” You scream. “//What the fuck!?//” You try to stand up but you collapse to the tile floor. //Is there rope on my legs?// “Peter?” you ask, tears falling from your face. “What’s going on?” Your brother is collapsed on the couch, his asshole dripping with bubbly white fluid. He looks drugged. And you’re horrified. “//Please let us go,//” you beg, looking up at Spencer’s sweaty, cum-splattered body. “//I don’t - I don’t know what’s happening!//” The quarterback turns to his teammates and they chuckle along. “Let’s make a deal,” Spencer says, kneeling down beside you. “If you agree to my //contract//, I’ll let your brother free.” You don’t understand. You feel like you’re dreaming. “You understand?” Your heart beats. The blood is cold. You don’t understand. //Why is Spencer here? No, wait. Why am I at Spencer’s house? Was I drugged? I didn’t even know he knew I existed. Was I raped?// You nod. “I understand,” you say, your lips quivering. Then Spencer leans close and breathes. The smell of his orange toothpaste. “There, there,” he says. “That’s a good non-magical boy.” <h3>What's next?</h3> [[I quit, Pt. 2.]]

<h1>Say nothing.</h1> You stare into Spencer’s eyes. Defiant. Rebellious. He leans closer into you, his hands curling around your ears. His nose pressing against yours. //Kiss me. Kiss me, Spencer. Please kiss me.// “You’re hurting my feelings,” he whispers. For a brief moment, his lips move against your own. And the anchor falls deeper into your gut. //I can’t hurt my lover. My Spencer. I feel like I’m dying -// Then Noah arches his back, dumping another load inside Peter. And your brother stares blankly, turning his head toward Spencer. Peter asks, in monotone, “Are you proud of me, my master?” Spencer blinks away. He turns around to your brother. “Shut up, slave,” he says. And inside you, //Betrayal.// The word repeats. //Spencer is mine. Betrayal. Spencer wants another boy. Betrayal.// You pull away from Spencer’s grasp. “I do not quit,” you say. And then a sickness rises inside. You bend over and vomit surges out from you. Days-old food. //When was the last time I ate?// Spencer looks down at you, disappointed and furious. “You disobedient //slut,//” he says, spitting on your back while you’re knocked over. You dry-heave. Tears well in the corners of your eyes. “Send the brother off,” Spencer barks to his men. They nod and grab Peter, dragging his naked cum-soaked body out from the room. And Peter doesn’t look back at you. He is utterly absent. Spencer stands up and paces the room. His long, cum-slick penis flopping. “Gully,” he asks. “Can I just //kill// the motherfucker?” And then his fairy emerges. “//Yes.// That is a qualifying win.” <h3>What's next?</h3> [[The next day.]]

<h1>I quit, Pt. 2.</h1> Spencer lied. He does not break any of the contracts. In fact, he signs dozens and hundreds more. You are only one of them. And once you agree to his contract, your brain turns to mush. //Today my master recorded me. I was proud to be recorded by him. I love Spencer with my whole heart. He asked me to beg for him to fuck me. But he had a gag in my throat. It was fun.// [img['images/spencer/17.webp']] //Today my master raped me again. I was proud to be raped by him. I love Spencer with my whole heart. He refused to use any lubricant. I screamed a lot. I made him cum seven times.// [img['images/spencer/18.webp']] //Today my master hurt me again. I was proud to be hurt by him. I love Spencer with my whole heart. He tossed me across the room. Lots of men laughed at me. I loved being abused again.// [img['images/spencer/19.webp']] //Today my master sold me into a market. I was sad to say goodbye to him. But I love Spencer with my whole heart. I made him a lot of money. I will be a good whore for every man forever.// [img['images/spencer/20.webp']] //Today I am a slave. Today I am a slave. Today I am a slave. Today I am a slave. Today I am -// <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Return|The ultimatum.]]

<h1>The next day.</h1> When Spencer’s clan returns, he orders them to bathe you, feed you, and lock you in the room. It seemed that the quarterback hadn’t considered all the hygienic upkeep a “captive” requires. For the rest of the night, you lie in silence. Bound at the ankles and wrists. Running over your schemes. Over and over. Navigating every possibility. Listening to footsteps go down the hall. //Rae,// you think. You stare at a sliver of moonlight peeping through the window, glimmering upon the wall.// You said something about body-swapping. That we can only possess an empty body.// In your mind, your fairy responds. “That’s right,” he says. “You can’t possess Spencer’s body unless he’s vacated it.” You think about that. //Spencer wouldn’t take that risk. Neither should I.// “And would it be a //qualifying// win,” you ask, using Gully’s phrasing, “if I hopped into Spencer’s body and made him say ‘I quit’?” Rae chuckles inside your head. Then he pops into the room. “Unfortunately, that’s how my last human fairy lost,” he says, shrugging. Fairy dust tumbles from his shoulders and wings. “Gully’s little Turkish bastard hopped right inside mine. Won like //that.//” Rae snaps his fingers. You sigh. Then nod. “And now your barista boy is a sex slave. Forever.” Your fairy shrugs again. He points at you. “Well, you’re having a //bit// more luck than him. So far.” //Right,// you think. //I wasn’t sure if Peter would follow the text messages word-for-word. But he did.// Your heart shakes in your chest. //He did the contract for me. Peter trusted me. So I cannot lose.// <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Go psycho.]]

<h1>Go psycho.</h1> When you wake up in the morning, the sliver of moonlight has become a sliver of sunshine. //Today is the day.// You take in a breath. A few finals moments of serenity. //To turn the game.// You know that Spencer should be gone at school. But his three goons are still here. Watching. Listening. His football buddies. Under Spencer’s //harem// spell. But their loyalties stop there. //Every spell has its weakness,// you think. //Infatuation. It unravels under the pressure of betrayal. But a harem?// You clench your fists until your knuckles turn white. //What unravels the harem?// //“I HAVE TO PEE!”// you scream at the top of your lungs. You start slamming your head against the pillows, causing the bedframe to crack and squeak. //“I HAVE TO PEE! I HAVE TO PEE! I -”// Footsteps stomp down the hall. Then the door is kicked open. Noah stands there, his face red and arms straining muscle. //“Dude,”// he says, exasperated. “There are //neighbors.// Quiet //down.//” Then he rolls his eyes and walks into the room. You notice him carrying an empty water bottle. //“No,”// you say, turning your head away. “I’m //not// peeing in that. Bring me to the bathroom! Now!” Noah stares at you in disbelief. And in a flash, he grabs you by the neck and squeezes tight. “You’ll //piss// where we say,” he speaks through his teeth. “You //lost// your bathroom privileges.” From down the hall, you hear Julien shout, “//Hersch,// just grab his cock and shove it in there.” Noah looks down at you and considers it. Then he shakes his head. “Fuck it. Let’s go, bitch.” <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Double-up on psycho.]]

<h1>Double-up on psycho.</h1> Noah, who must have the last name //Hersch//, lifts you by the rope and carries you like a handbag down the hall. Fibers strain against your flesh, cutting into your bones. You gasp and scream. “//AAAH! IT BURNS! IT HURTS!//” You scream as loud as possible, straining your vocal folds until they feel sore and bruised. Noah instinctively drops you on the tile floor. And your head //cracks//. You cough. You start to babble. “//I feel - I feel funny - I think -//” You pretend to foam at the mouth, your eyes rolling around in your head. And as Noah Hersch watches, his eyes bulge with fear. “//Fuck, oh fuck,//” he says, pacing around your body. “Lewis, Julien,” he says, nervously biting his fingernails. “I think I did something. I think he’s -” You keep babbling on, “//Fun. I see stars now.//” When the other two footballers show up, they start freaking out. Lewis, the black guy, throws his hands up and reaches for his phone. But then Julien stops him, quickly grabbing Lewis’s wrists. “Don’t,” the tall Latino footballer says. “He’ll snap out of it.” They all three look down at you as you continue twirling your head, twisting your fingers together like you’re having a slight seizure. “Should we duct tape him?” Hersch says, poking your chest with his shoe like you’re a corpse. The other guys shrug. Then Julien lifts you into his arms while Lewis breaks out the duct tape. Once they have your mouth closed up, stopping the “foam” from coming out, they drag you down the hall into the living room. Julien sets you on the couch, where they can closely watch. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[The body-swap.]]

<h1>The body-swap.</h1> You stare vacantly at the living room floor while the trio paces the room. Lewis points his hand toward you and extends a finger. “Spence said we were gonna fuck some bitches,” he says. Hersch shrugs. “Maybe once this kid gives in?” he says. He kneels down and puts his head between his shoulders, trying to calm down. Then Julien stands between them, breathing slow. “I can’t last much longer,” he says between teeth. Julien closes his eyes, trying not to rage-out like the Hulk. “I could’ve fucked //ten// bitches by this point. And all I’ve had was that Peter guy.” You look between the three big footballers. Hersch, the white boy, almost hyperventilating. And Julien, the tall tan one, surely the leader of the group. And then Lewis, the most muscular guy. While you bob your head in a false-ailment, thoughts surge through you. //A harem. The promise of nonstop sex. And yet Spencer hasn’t fulfilled.// You hold back a smile. //The boys are in heat.// They turn to look at you. Eyes sharp. The hungry dogs. It takes everything within them to not rip your clothes off and impregnate you. Like they did to Peter. Right now they’re weak. //Vulnerable.// [img['images/spencer/16.webp']] You have the “sickness” card ready and planted. But there’s a limited amount of time before Spencer gets home. And now you have three choices: which footballer will you body-swap with? <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Hersch, the white boy, Pt. 1.]] [[Julien, the brown boy, Pt. 1.]] [[Lewis, the black boy, Pt. 1.]]

<h1>Hersch, the white boy, Pt. 1.</h1> You watch your body go limp on the couch. Oliver collapses onto the living room floor, his limbs bound up with thick rope. Julien and Lewis quickly move to investigate, but you leap ahead. “Wait up,” you say, Hersch’s voice coming out with soft airiness. You wave his hand. “Just wait.” The other two guys raise their eyebrows at you. Then they slowly back off, looking down at Oliver. Deep inside of Hersch, a spirit of sorrow bubbles. A spirit of neglect. //All three of them feel that. Now I need to draw it out.// You turn to look at Julien and Lewis, who both look up toward you. “How long has it been?” you say, speaking through Hersch’s lips. Now you pace the room, using the spiky-haired white boy to step over Oliver’s limp body. “We were promised way more, right?” Julien tilts his head. “Sure,” he says confidently. “We bred that bitch older brother. And his pussy was fine as fuck.” Lewis nods his head, then agrees. “Brain-dead. But his ass was like butter.” You hold Hersch’s hands out, facing the palms toward the ceiling. “Right, but before? When was the last time you //had sex?//” Julien looks at the ground, furrowing his brow. And Lewis shrugs. Something stirs in the back of Hersch’s brain. //This is perfect.// A memory. A memory that Noah has tried to bury. Something shameful. “I remember,” you say as Hersch. “It was with Spencer.” Both Julien and Lewis wince. All three of the footballers have a similar memory. When Spencer //recruited// them. When they joined his harem. When Spencer taught them who their //leader// was. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Hersch, the white boy, Pt. 2.]]

<h1>Julien, the brown boy, Pt. 1.</h1> You watch your body go limp on the couch. Oliver collapses onto the living room floor, his limbs bound up with thick rope. Hersch and Lewis quickly move to investigate, but you stop them. “He’s fine,” you say, Julien’s voice lilting with a Chicano accent. You wave his hand. “He’ll rest.” The other two guys raise their eyebrows at you. Then they slowly back off, looking down at Oliver. Deep inside of Julien, a spirit of rebellion bubbles. A spirit of neglect. //All three of them feel that. Now I need to draw it out.// You turn to look at Hersch and Lewis, who both look up toward you. “How long has it been?” you say, speaking through Julien’s lips. Now you pace the room, using the footballer’s long tan legs to step over Oliver’s limp body. “We were promised more than this.” Hersch clears his throat. “Well,” he says nervously. “We got to breed that older brother. And he was pretty good.” Lewis nods his head, then agrees. “Brain-dead. But his ass was like butter.” You hold Julien’s hands out, facing the palms toward the ceiling. “But before him? When was the last time you //fucked?//” Hersch looks down at the ground, biting his lip. And Lewis shrugs. Something stirs in the back of Julien’s brain. //Oh, this is perfect.// A memory. A memory that Julien has tried to bury. Something shameful. “I remember,” you say as Julien. “It was with Spencer.” Both Hersch and Lewis wince. All three of the footballers have a similar memory. When Spencer //recruited// them. When they joined his harem. When Spencer taught them who their //leader// was. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Julien, the brown boy, Pt. 2.]]

<h1>Lewis, the black boy, Pt. 1.</h1> You watch your body go limp on the couch. Oliver collapses onto the living room floor, his limbs bound up with thick rope. Julien and Hersch quickly move to investigate, but you stomp a foot. “Stop,” you say, Lewis’s voice coming out deep and commanding. You wave his hand. “Don’t.” The other two guys raise their eyebrows at you. Then they slowly back off, looking down at Oliver. Deep inside of Lewis, a spirit of torment bubbles. A spirit of neglect. //All three of them feel that. Now I need to draw it out.// You turn to look at Julien and Hersch, who both look up toward you. “Think about this shit,” you say, speaking through Lewis’s lips. Now you pace the room, using his hairless muscled legs to step over Oliver’s limp body. “Spencer made a goddamn promise.” Julien tilts his head. “Sure,” he says confidently. “We bred that bitch older brother. And his pussy was fine as fuck.” Hersch nods his head, then agrees. “Yeah, I think I came inside three times.” You hold Lewis’s hands out, facing the palms toward the ceiling. “But the last time you //fucked?// Before that shit? Consider it, man.” Julien looks at the ground, furrowing his brow. Hersch sighs. Something stirs in the back of Lewis’s brain. //This is perfect.// A memory. A memory that Lewis has tried to bury. Something shameful. “Can’t forget,” you say as Lewis. “When Spencer came.” Both Julien and Hersch wince. All three of the footballers have a similar memory. When Spencer //recruited// them. When they joined his harem. When Spencer taught them who their //leader// was. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Lewis, the black boy, Pt. 2.]]

<h1>Julien, the brown boy, Pt. 2.</h1> //“You know what they say,” Spencer said. He slapped his thick cock against Julien’s bubbly lips. “Latinos are the sexiest of them all.” Julien wanted to argue. To not be minimized by Spencer.// [img['images/spencer/27.webp']] //But he couldn’t stop it. Something inside him owed Spencer. A promise that Spencer made. Infinite sex. Beneath Spencer’s harem. All Julien had to do was provide for Spencer. That’s it.// [img['images/spencer/28.webp']] //“Gglacch.” Spencer shoved his cock to the back of Julien’s throat. Then Spencer gripped Julien around the neck. “There you go, my Mexican bitch. You exist to serve. Suck this fat white cock.” As vomit surged up Julien’s abused throat, Spencer continued with his harassment. “In history,” he said, gasping with ecstasy. “I bet conquistadors did this to your pathetic whore ancestors.” Spencer bruised Julien’s throat. And when he was about to cum, he flopped down onto his back and ordered Julien to slide down his cock. Julien trembled. He moaned. He screamed pleasure.// [img['images/spencer/29.webp']] //“Just like a salsa dance,” Spencer said. “You were born for this cock, you fucking brown whore.”// <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Julien, the brown boy, Pt. 3.]]

<h1>Hersch, the white boy, Pt. 2.</h1> //“Hersch? That’s a Jewish name?” Spencer said. He pressed Noah against the gym shower wall, rubbing his hands up the white boy’s body. “Shouldn’t you be afraid of showers, or something?”// [img['images/spencer/21.webp']] //Noah wanted to run. But he couldn’t. Something inside him owed Spencer. A promise that Spencer made. Infinite sex. In Spencer’s harem. All Hersch had to do was provide for Spencer.// [img['images/spencer/22.webp']] //“Gglacch.” Spencer shoved his cock to the back of Noah’s throat. Spit and slime poured forth. “There you go, my little cocksleve. I’m your goddamn Gestapo. Swallow this superior cock.” As vomit surged up Hersch’s abused throat, Spencer continued with his harassment. “Back in the day,” he said, gasping with ecstasy. “I bet Germans did this to your whore grandparents.” Spencer bruised Noah’s throat. And when he was about to cum, he ordered Noah to follow him to the coach’s office. Onto the couch. And Hersch trembled. He slid down on Spencer’s cock.// [img['images/spencer/23.webp']] //“You’re my prisoner,” Spencer said. “You were born for this superior cock, fucking Jew whore.”// <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Hersch, the white boy, Pt. 3.]]

<h1>Hersch, the white boy, Pt. 3.</h1> When you snap from the memory, you nearly collapse with fury. Blood boils up into Noah’s face. And the others, Julien and Lewis, look like they’ve remembered their own Spencer encounters. “He broke us,” you say as Hersch. His voice comes out with a tinge of sorrow. A surge of hatred. Then in his body, you walk over to your //real// limp body, Oliver, and rip the duct tape from the mouth. Your football brothers look to you for guidance. They are disoriented with a similar regret, woe, and an endlessly repressed lust. You point down at yourself. Oliver on the ground. And body-swap. “//Oh,//” you gasp out. An explosion of breath. And across the room, Noah blinks into his body, shaking his head. He looks around the room, awkwardly looking up and down his teammates. Once you’ve collected your breath, you clear your throat. “I can help you get what you want,” you say, looking between Julien and Lewis. You know that Noah is probably none-the-wiser. They hesitate. They look at each other, Noah trying to piece together where his consciousness was the past few moments. And then they nod. Lewis lifts you up and Julien unbinds the rope. “Wait?” Noah says, lifting a hand. But he’s outnumbered. Julien and Lewis are too involved. They might be under Spencer’s enchantments. But none of yours. And so, there’s an opening. You lift your head and smile. “Listen boys,” you say. “I have an offer to make you. //A contract.//” <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Home alone.]]

<h1>Julien, the brown boy, Pt. 3.</h1> When you snap from the memory, you nearly collapse with fury. Blood boils up into Julien’s face. And the others, Hersch and Lewis, look like they’ve remembered their own Spencer encounters. “He’s using us,” you say as Julien. His voice comes out with a tinge of regret. A surge of hatred. Then in his body, you walk over to your //real// limp body, Oliver, and rip the duct tape from the mouth. Your football brothers look to you for guidance. They are disoriented with a similar regret, woe, and an endlessly repressed lust. You point down at yourself. Oliver on the ground. And body-swap. //“Oh,”// you gasp out. An explosion of breath. And across the room, Julien blinks into his body, shaking his head. He looks around the room, awkwardly looking up and down his teammates. Once you’ve collected your breath, you clear your throat. “I can help you get what you want,” you say, looking between Hersch and Lewis. You know that Julien is probably none-the-wiser. They hesitate. They look at each other, Julien trying to piece together where his consciousness was the past few moments. And then they nod. Lewis lifts you up and Hersch unbinds the rope. “Wait?” Julien says, lifting a hand. But he’s outnumbered. Hersch and Lewis are too involved. They might be under Spencer’s enchantments. But none of yours. And so, there’s an opening. You lift your head and smile. “Listen boys,” you say. “I have an offer to make you. A //contract.//” <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Home alone.]]

<h1>Lewis, the black boy, Pt. 2.</h1> //“Lewis the Fourth,” Spencer said. He shoved Lewis to his knees, slapping his cock against the black boy’s cheek. “Your father had that name. And his father. And his father.” Spencer smiled.// [img['images/spencer/24.webp']] //Then he shoved his cock into Lewis’s throat. Lewis wanted to run. But he couldn’t. Something inside him owed Spencer. A promise that Spencer made. Infinite orgasms. In Spencer’s harem.// [img['images/spencer/25.webp']] //“Gglacch.” Spencer’s cock tickled the back of Lewis’s throat. And Lewis’s dangly uvula gagged across the length. “There you go, bitch. You’re my slave. Take all of this big, fat white cock.” As vomit surged up Lewis’s abused throat, Spencer continued with his harassment. “Back in the day,” he said, gasping with ecstasy. “I bet my ancestors fucked every black Lewis before you.” Spencer bruised Lewis’s throat. And when he was about to cum, he ordered Lewis onto his bed. Down on his back, legs up and ass spread. And Lewis trembled. He took all of Spencer’s cock.// [img['images/spencer/26.webp']] //“I own you now,” Spencer said. “You were conceived for this superior cock, fucking black slut.”// <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Lewis, the black boy, Pt. 3.]]

<h1>Lewis, the black boy, Pt. 3.</h1> When you snap from the memory, you nearly collapse with fury. Blood boils up into Lewis’s face. And the others, Julien and Hersch, look like they’ve remembered their own Spencer encounters. “He’s evil,” you say as Lewis. His voice comes out with a tinge of anguish. A surge of hatred. Then in his body, you walk over to your //real// limp body, Oliver, and rip the duct tape from the mouth. Your football brothers look to you for guidance. They are disoriented with a similar regret, woe, and an endlessly repressed lust. You point down at yourself. Oliver on the ground. And body-swap. //“Oh,”// you gasp out. An explosion of breath. And across the room, Lewis blinks into his body, shaking his head. He looks around the room, awkwardly looking up and down his teammates. Once you’ve collected your breath, you clear your throat. “I can help you get what you want,” you say, looking between Julien and Hersch. You know that Lewis is probably none-the-wiser. They hesitate. They look at each other, Lewis trying to piece together where his consciousness was the past few moments. And then they nod. Julien lifts you up and Hersch unbinds the rope. “Wait?” Lewis says, lifting a hand. But he’s outnumbered. Julien and Noah are too involved. They might be under Spencer’s enchantments. But none of yours. And so, there’s an opening. You lift your head and smile. “Listen boys,” you say. “I have an offer to make you. A //contract.//” <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Home alone.]]

<h1>Home alone.</h1> When Spencer enters through the front door, he doesn’t notice anything. He flings his keys onto the kitchen table and shimmies off his football jersey. Then he kicks his shoes off and turns to - He stops dead. Frozen. Staring into the living room. Staring at the couch. Staring at you, Oliver, sat on the living room couch. Watching the TV. Nonchalantly. Pretending not to notice Spencer. The rope is gone. The duct tape is gone. Hersch and Julien and Lewis? Gone. Spencer stares. Inside your chest, your heart thumps. //Is he going to go berserk? What is Spencer going to do?// “Okay,” he says, taking careful steps into the living room. You don’t even turn to look at Spencer. But you hold back a smile. “So you did something?” he asks. And takes another step closer. “Did something?” you repeat, not turning away from the television. Infatuation stirs deep inside. You want to leap and climb all over Spencer. Worship his body. Kiss his orange-scented lips. But the //betrayal// of Matt, Colby, and Peter. The rape of your friends and brother. And then the memories of the footballer. Spencer is meant to be //yours.// These betrayals keep you sobered. “Where are they?” Spencer asks. He steps in front of you, blocking the view of the television. You glance up into his eyes. It hurts. It hurts fighting back against the infatuation. Your lover. And Spencer knows it. His lips curl into a smile. “I know you’re struggling,” he says. “All it takes is a single touch to make you break.” He slides his feet closer to you. And you hold your breath. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[The Armageddon game.]]

<h1>Foreword (__//Please read!//__)</h1> //The Fairy Prince// was a visual novel CHYOA by //VoirLePrince// located at https://chyoa.com/story/The-Fairy-Prince.29722 on chyoa.com. Unfortunately, the author deleted his account and took the story with him. This is my (Lampshade15's) attempt to put the story back together again, using Twine //(HUMPTY DUMPTY enters stage left.)// / //Humpty Dumpty has entered the chat//. All content after this page is the author's original work and which I have no claim to. Many thanks to VoirLePrince for sharing his work with us :). [[Start!|The Fairy Prince]]

<h1>The Armageddon game.</h1> Spencer pulls his shirt off and tosses it across the living room. Then he lifts you off the couch and stares into your eyes. You want him. //I want him. But Spencer - he betrayed me with my -// [img['images/spencer/30.webp']] Spencer presses his wet lips against yours. Curling his tongue with yours. Massaging your teeth and gums with his tongue. The heavenly orange scent filling your mouth. You breathe Spencer. “You can’t hold it,” Spencer says, biting onto your bottom lip and gently tugging down. Your eyes flutter with ecstasy, your hands gripping onto your pants for stability. And he grabs your waist. Spencer walks backward, pulling you along with him. Your body agrees with his commands while your heart screams //Abort! Abort!// Fortunately, you planned with your mind. Far, far ahead. Now that Spencer feels threatened, he’s willing to go the distance. But you’ve //been// threatened. You’ve //been// risking everything. Using Peter as a pawn to trigger another betrayal from Spencer. With each accumulative //betrayal//, from Matt to Colby to Peter, your level-headedness increased. //How could Spencer want any other man than me?// The illusion of infatuation slowly crumbled. Now the greatest risk: yourself. Everything comes down to immaculate planning. Perfect timing. As Spencer guides you into his bedroom, you know that this will lead to victory or destruction. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Into the fray.]]

<h1>Into the fray.</h1> Once the quarterback strips you down naked, he pushes you onto his soft blankets and kisses down your body. He starts at your collarbone, then pecks down your chest to your belly-button. When he arrives at your hard cock, he pinches it between two fingers. You gasp a long moan. //Fuck, that feels too good.// Spencer smiles, his eyes trailing up your erection. He looks up at you. “Do you want to be mine?” he whispers. His hot breath tickles your shaft. You fight back against answering. //I love you Spencer. I can say it in my thoughts. I love you. I want to be yours forever.// [img['images/spencer/31.webp']] Spencer then kisses down your cock until he reaches your balls. Then he tenderly sucks them, lovingly tugging on them and staring up into your eyes. And your legs and arms start to tremble. “Mmhmm?” he asks, his mouth full of your balls. You bite down on your bottom lip and hold back agreement. //Don’t give him anything. Just keep it in your thoughts. I love you Spencer. I so love -// He then lets your balls slip from his lips. Spencer stands up and easily lifts you onto your feet. “You won’t last much longer,” he teases, planting you at the foot of his bed. Then he lies down. [img['images/spencer/32.webp']] As Spencer swallows down your cock, inch by inch, you tremble with pleasure. And great fear. Your glands flare at the back of his throat, clogging his walls, as the quarterback moans for you. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Hold the line.]]

<h1>Hold the line.</h1> Hell. Heaven. You oscillate between both. Spencer suckling on your cock like a hungry puppy. Your balls resting against his forehead. His tongue expertly dancing around your bulging shaft. //It’s just a spell. I don’t - I love him. I’ve always loved Spencer. I can hold out - I want him inside -// Spencer unplugs your cock from his throat. Saliva oozes down from his mouth toward his eyes. “Okay,” he pants, giving you a sinister smile. “I’ve been saving this. I’ll think you’ll like this one.” Spencer stands up from the bed and walks behind you. He leans against the back of your neck. And he gently kisses you. Soft lips. Warm breath. You lean back into Spencer’s arms as they wrap around you. He is tender. His hands travel down your chest and wrap around your belly. When you hear a wet //plopping// sound, you don’t register the meaning. Until Spencer’s salivated fingers slide inside your ass, spreading you for an inevitable entry. You can’t help but moan out. “Oh, //fuck,//” you pant, your legs almost giving out. But Spencer holds you. He keeps you within his strong arms as his thick cock rubs between your cheeks. And he kisses your shoulders. [img['images/spencer/33.webp']] When his penis presses against your hole, you lean back into it. //I want him. Oh god, I want him.// And Spencer gives himself. His fat cock spreading your walls apart. Sticky wet sounds of love. When his tip prods against your deepest guts, he whispers to you, “You can have this forever.” <h3>What's next?</h3> [[A Parthian shot.]] [[Skip missing chapters.|No, move on to Hersch.]]

<h1>A Parthian shot.</h1> “Just say it,” Spencer growls into your ear. He nibbles his teeth onto your earlobe as his cock slips inside you, spreading your walls apart, then pulls out, leaving you his empty little shell. His arms wrap around your arms, squeezing them gently, your back pressed against his hard chest. “Just say it,” he whispers again, his dick kissing your prostate and causing you to yelp. //“Ohhh,”// you moan like a ghost. And the quarterback chuckles, kissing down your neck while his fingers trickle down your sides. He feels across every rib, every goosebump along your tummy. “I’ll make you mine forever,” he says, his voice echoing inside your head. “Spencer and Oliver.” Then he rams inside harder, his balls slinging up against your ass, your spine bending back. Your blood goes cold. Your sight goes blurry. But Spencer doesn’t stop. His fingers trail down to your cock and grabs on, lathering your precum across the shaft. He starts groaning in your ear. “You like this, baby?” he says, fucking you in a rhythm. Your ass slaps against his hips, his cock curving up into your stomach. “I can give you this. You can be mine. Just say the words, Oliver‘I quit.’” //I love him. I love him so fucking much. Spencer feels perfect inside me. This is how I belong. His little Oliver. Inside his strong arms.// Your brain runs rampant. Your moments away from saying - The door bursts open. Before Spencer can whip his head around, Julien presses a wet rag against the quarterback’s mouth, while Hersch and Lewis hold his arms. And then he goes out. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Exigency.]]

<h1>Exigency.</h1> An hour later. You’re sitting in the corner of Spencer’s bedroom. In a cushioned chair with your legs crossed, phone in your hand, sending a few final text messages. Finalizing the end-game. “//Whu -//” Spencer groans, his voice muffled behind a band of cloth. The quarterback is still on his bed, ass-naked and bound at his wrists. He blinks his eyes. His head twirls to the left and right. You press //Send// on a message and then put the phone down. “Alright, Spencer,” you say firmly. He jolts with shock and then turns his head toward you. He’s trying to suss out what happened. [img['images/spencer/34.webp']] “You have a few options,” you say. You speak like a politician: precisely, ruthlessly, determined. “First, you’ll probably try more spinnerets on me.” You wave the idea off and roll your eyes. Spencer remains silent behind his gag. So you continue. “But the moment you do, your //friends// will come back in here with the rag.” You lift a hand and snap. “Which will make you weaker.” He stares at you. His lifted eyebrows of fear slowly lower into fury. But you simply return a smile. “I’ve seen what you’ve done to these people,” you say. “And I want you to apologize to them.” Spencer looks confused. Then he starts realizing what you mean by the word //apologize//. You immediately feel him trying to use spinnerets on your body, and so you call out, “//C’mon, boys!//” <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Let's try that again.]]

<h1>Let's try that again.</h1> When you called for the guys to come back, they shoved the chemically-doused rag against Spencer’s mouth again. Now it’s been thirty minutes. Waiting for Spencer to wake up again. “//Whu -//” Spencer groans. This time Julien and his friends left Spencer on his stomach. And now you clear your throat. “//Now,//” you say, clapping your hands. The quarterback jolts his head up. When Spencer looks at you, his eyes grow wide. You stare back without blinking. //Inside me there is a love for him. The curse of infatuation. But his betrayals have been so fucking cruel.// “Only someone like //you,// Spencer,” you say, speaking through your teeth. “Could be so corrupt. That your human actions cancel the enchantments.” You stand up and walk over to Spencer. Then you rip away the cloth from his mouth. //Fuck. This is risky. Hearing him could increase the infatuation.// But you shake your head. //No. I’ll give him the choice. He’s going to lose regardless.// “But you won’t hurt me,” he says, speaking slowly and sweetly. “Right, baby?” You can hear the fear beneath his voice. You turn around and sigh. //I want him. God, I want Spencer so fucking -// “You will apologize to Julien,” you say, turned away from him. “And then you will quit this game.” Spencer opens his mouth to speak. But you interrupt him. “That wasn’t a question. You //will// quit.” A gentle knocking at the door. Then you turn around to Spencer. You look him in his shaky eyes. “And if your apology isn’t //enough?//” you say. “Then you’ll apologize to Lewis. And then Noah.” <h3>What's next?</h3> [[The Julien Apology, Pt. 1.]]

<h1>The Julien Apology, Pt. 1.</h1> “Come in,” you say. Julien walks in and softly shuts the door behind him. It’s a strange sensation knowing that you’ve given Julien and his friends //freedom// from Spencer. By contracting them all. “He’s awake?” Julien asks. And you nod. But Spencer won’t even lift his head to look at Julien. He’s too ashamed. Or maybe too rebellious. You can’t determine yet. But Julien is getting mad. “You a coward now, man?” the tall footballer asks. He takes a step toward the bed. “You don’t wanna own up? I thought you were better than that.” As Julien steps closer, you grow worried. [img['images/spencer/35.webp']] “How’re you gonna fuck me like some bitch?” Julien asks, crawling onto the bed. “And never return the favor? Huh?” But Spencer still won’t respond. He won’t turn around to face his friend. //Hersch and Lewis are out there with the chemical rags,// you think, calming yourself down. //Just in case things go bad. So as long as Julien remembers not to -// And then Julien completely forgets. The tan footballer pulls his shirt off and then grabs Spencer by the chin, turning his face around. “Motherfucker, why won’t you //look -//” But you quickly stand up. “Julien, remember? The //eyes?//” Julien looks confused. But then he remembers. You told him and the others to not let Spencer look at them during his “apologizing.” Because with spinnerets, the subject has to be looked at. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[The Julien Apology, Pt. 2.]]

<h1>The Julien Apology, Pt. 2.</h1> For his apology from Spencer, Julien decides that the quarterback needs a shower. He smells too much like that chemical rag. So the Latino footballer guides Spencer out from his bedroom. [img['images/spencer/39.webp']] And Julien joins Spencer beneath the running water, pressing his strong body against Spencer’s backside. “Say my name, bitch,” Julien says, rubbing his thick cock across Spencer’s tailbone. And Spencer tries to speak, but everytime he opens his mouth Julien shoves his hand inside the quarterback’s mouth and gags him. Spencer retches and trembles beneath the cold shower. You watch from across the bathroom as Julien breathes into Spencer’s ear, “Guess what, //puto?//” Julien bucks his hip against Spencer’s body, shoving the quarterback against the wet tile wall. “Today I’m gonna break you,” he says. “I’m gonna write my name in cum. On your fucking guts.” Julien speaks with pure vengeance. And Spencer looks terrified. Julien’s hand still in his mouth. The Latino’s other hand slowly lowers to the quarterback’s asshole, a finger creeping inside him. Then another. Within one minute Julien has four fingers inside Spencer, spreading him open. “//I’m s - so sorry,//” Spencer says, tears running down his cheeks. Or is that just shower water? You roll your eyes. //After all he’s done, this is all it takes to break him down? Oh, how pathetic.// <h3>What's next?</h3> [[The Julien Apology, Pt. 3.]]

<h1>The Julien Apology, Pt. 3.</h1> After Julien finishes cleaning his bitch-boy, he brings Spencer back into the bedroom and bends him over. The quarterback’s eyes facing the bed sheets. And Julien readies his enormous cock. “This one goes out to Oliver,” Julien says. He winks at you, then aims his fat cock toward Spencer’s hole. //Oh my god? That’s one of the biggest dicks I’ve - //And then Julien plunges straight inside. [img['images/spencer/40.webp']] Spencer howls out with pain. He flails his arms around, trying to grab onto the bed sheets, but the Latino jock grabs Spencer’s wrists and takes control. Saddling him like a horse with reins. It’d be hard to compare Julien. He’s one of the most violent tops you’ve seen. Every stab of his cock seems to burst some internal organ. And his dirty talk certainly adds on to the whole aura. “Gonna fuck you so fucking wide,” Julien says, grunting through his teeth. “Your intestines are gonna fall right out.” //Shit. I wouldn’t doubt it.// Spencer goes post-verbal, babbling and gasping. You get the //full// picture of Julien’s assault when he flips Spencer onto his back and starts mating-pressing his cock inside the quarterback. Spencer’s asshole making wet squelches. [img['images/spencer/41.webp']] When Julien finally cums, he drops his hips against Spencer’s body and thrusts over and over and over. White goo bubbling around Julien’s cock as he refuses to pull out, flooding him more. <h3>Is Spencer done apologizing now?</h3> [[No, move on to Hersch.]]

<h1>No, move on to Hersch.</h1> After Julien left the room, his limp cock swinging around like a pendulum, you determined that Spencer has //not// learned his lesson. You now walk to the edge of the bed, staring down at him. “What’s your fairy saying now?” you ask him. Spencer doesn’t budge. He’s sprawled across the bed sheets, his ass shimmering with cum. You watch Spencer’s shoulders slowly rise and fall. “Going quiet on me?” you continue. “Don’t you want to try spinnerets? Maybe try to manipulate my infatuation?” Spencer inhales, almost says something, and then sighs. He’s flattened out. //He’s not quitting. And he’s not responding. So I assume he’s ready to apologize to the next footballer.// You clear your throat and whistle for Hersch. After a few moments, the door opens. “Oh, shit,” Noah Hersch says, gently closing the door behind him. He scans Spencer’s body, his eyes lingering on the quarterback’s red-raw asscheeks. “Julien really, uh, did a number on him.” You shrug. Then you take a seat and wave your hand toward Spencer, signalling to Noah, //Go on and have him.// But Hersch stands there awkwardly. Definitely the mildest guy in the group. “If it’s alright,” he says, nervously looking over to you. “I think I want him to do what he did last time. With me. But um.” Noah stops and searches for the words. “This time without all the shit.” You quint at Hersch? //He really wants to get fucked again? By Spencer?// Then you roll your eyes and snap your fingers. “You heard the man, Mr. Quarterback,” you say. “Play nice this time.” <h3>What's next?</h3> [[The Hersch apology, Pt. 2.]]

<h1>The Hersch apology, Pt. 2.</h1> For his apology from Spencer, Hersch starts by shedding his clothes and crawling onto the bed. But the quarterback is utterly drained from Julien’s abuse, and so he doesn’t quickly respond. “Well?” you say, snapping Spencer to life. He blinks a few times. Then sits up. Noah then crawls between Spencer’s legs, lifting his ass so that Spencer can prep the Jewish boy for insertion. [img['images/spencer/42.webp']] As Hersch lovingly tongues at Spencer’s cock, a string of questions flows through your mind. //Was Noah always gay? Or bisexual? What’s even happening?// Whatever. You enjoy the show. Hersch seems to be decent at his tongue-work. Every once in a while, Spencer shivers a moan and whispers to his teammate, “//There.// Yeah, //there.//” And Spencer prods his fingers inside Noah. Even though Spencer is looking straight at Hersch’s thick ass, you’re not especially worried about him using spineretts. Most of the quarterback’s energy got drained from Julien’s ravaging. “//Mmm,//” the spiky-haired boy moans, sucking on Spencer’s glands, popping it and out of his mouth like a sucker. And Spencer looks appreciative, his eyes rolling around with pleasure. After a few more minutes, Hersch leans back and then turns to you. “Okay,” he says, smiling. “I’m ready now.” You nod and wave onward. Like a king on his throne. //Proceed, gentlemen.// <h3>What's next?</h3> [[The Hersch apology, Pt. 3.]]

<h1>The Hersch apology, Pt. 3.</h1> Now that Spencer seems to be getting excited, you don’t want him using that adrenaline against you. So you orchestrate the sex position. Spencer and Noah face away. They’ll do //bumper cars.// With Noah’s head facing the opposite direction, both of their stomachs facing the floor, Spencer slowly slides his desperate cock inside his friend. And Noah’s legs tremble with lusty gratitude. [img['images/spencer/43.webp']] “//Oooh,//” Noah moans out, his hands digging into the carpet. Spencer stretched across the bed, lifting his hips and dropping them against Hersch. His cock //plops// against Noah’s wet insides. You study their muscular bodies, Spencer’s thick thighs tensing and untensing like a racehorse. And Hersch with his arched back, bending in agreement with the quarterback’s hard thrusts. Spencer tries to conceal his grunts. But each time Noah’s buttery ass accepts his cock, he can’t help but push air through his nose. The Jewish boy’s ass is so tight, yet so smooth and inviting. “Cum in me,” Noah begs. When Spencer hears that, he freezes for a moment. Then he obliges. He flips over and pulls Hersch onto the bed, saddling his ass like he learned from Julien earlier. [img['images/spencer/44.webp']] From this new angle, you watch Spencer’s fat cock pummel into Noah Hersch, his balls slapping against the needy bottom’s ass. And then his cum oozes out, dripping down on the bed sheets. <h3>Is Spencer done apologizing now?</h3> [[Nope, still not done.]] [[Fine, I guess so.|Ka-boom!]]

<h1>Nope, still not done.</h1> After Hersch left the room, his ass jiggling with Spencer’s cum between the cracks, you decided that Spencer //still// has not learned. Fortunately, as soon as Noah exits the door, Lewis walks in. The muscular footballer stares up and down Spencer’s spent body. And then Lewis turns to you. “Julien got him slick?” he asks. With his commanding voice, everything sounds like a statement. You nod. Then Lewis pinches his lips together and nods along. He turns back to Spencer and steps toward him. “Spence,” he says. “I’m gonna do the same I did when I caught my girl.” Lewis then removes his shirt, kicks off his shoes, and then reveals a gorgeously massive cock. Spencer doesn’t even react to it. He’s so deflated. So spent. He’s spread on the bed, waiting. “Another man bred her pussy,” Lewis says, crawling onto the bed. On his knees, he towers over Spencer’s body. “So I went inside there. I dug that shit out. And then I replaced it with my own.” With that, Lewis rears his hand back and slaps Spencer’s ass. //THWACK.// Enough reverb to cause a ringing in your ear. And Spencer wakes up at that. He obeys Lewis’s every command. [img['images/spencer/36.webp']] The black footballer fingers Spencer’s cum-soaked asshole, digging out all of Julien’s leftovers. “I remember that shit you said,” Lewis whispers to Spencer. “You’re gonna learn who’s //superior.//” <h3>Is Spencer done apologizing now?</h3> [[The Lewis apology, Pt. 2.]]

<h1>The Lewis apology, Pt. 2.</h1> For his apology from Spencer, Lewis flips the quarterback onto his stomach. And with Spencer’s ass perked high, Lewis squeezes onto the cheeks and jiggles them like a pair of water balloons. “Oh, yeah,” Lewis says, placing his cock between Spencer’s ass cheeks. “This bitch was //made// for being fucked.” Then the footballer aims his enormous cock against Spencer’s gaping hole. When Lewis slides inside Spencer, the star quarterback howls out a boyish moan. “Oh my //god.//” As each inch disappears into Spencer’s womb, he lifts his trembling waist higher, begging for it. [img['images/spencer/37.webp']] “Oh, you //like// that?” Lewis grunts, sliding his hands up Spencer’s back. And the quarterback bites his lip and moans in agreement. That motivates the hung black footballer to speed it up. //Slap. Slap. Slap.// Lewis’s waist ramming against Spencer’s wobbling ass. Lewis’s girth punching deep into Spencer’s tummy. Spencer’s eyes rolling back until all you see are his milky whites. Even though the poor quarterback has been chemically-restrained, brains-fucked-out and utterly cum-drained by his former two teammates, Spencer manages to twist his hips and moan along. [img['images/spencer/38.webp']] “Take this, fucking //bitch,//” Lewis groans, pushing his cock deep inside Spencer. Lewis bucks his hips with ecstasy, dumping his load of white goo while Spencer collapses in servile fulfillment. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[What remains of him.]]

<h1>The Lewis apology, Pt. 2.</h1> You stand up from the armchair and walk toward the disheveled quarterback. His matted hair pokes in every direction, his body shines with sweat and cum. Spencer not only looks defeated. “You have nothing left,” you say, standing over his limp body. Spencer doesn’t look up at you. He keeps his flushed cheek pressed into the mattress, breathing slowly with his eyes closed. You lean down so that you’re face-to-face with him. “I’ll make you a similar offer,” you whisper, reaching your hand to his face. You stroke his cheek. His skin feels hot and slick with sweat. “If you quit now, no harm will come to you,” you say. “After this is over, after you lose the powers and forget everything that happened. I promise. I’ll let you live a normal life. A normal, gay life.” Spencer doesn’t budge. His shoulders rise and fall with gentle breath. You slide your hand to his back and gently knead his skin between the shoulderblades. He seems to relax into the groove. Each time your fingers push into his sore muscles, Spencer breathes out with physical relief. “Maybe after this,” you whisper, “when things are normal, we can try things out. You and me.” The quarterback’s eyes slowly open. They look lazy, half-closed and stunned with exhaustion. “Yeah?” Spencer says, giving a small smile. His shoulders rise and fall into your massage. “Yeah,” you say. Your fingertips gently trace down Spencer’s spine. And his eyes scan up to your eyes. “But I have two contracts,” he whispers. “And you don’t know where I’m hiding them.” <h3>Is Spencer done apologizing now?</h3> [[Fine, I guess so.|Ka-boom!]]

<h1>Ka-boom!</h1> A blur. A flurry of movement. One moment you’re knelt down at the bed, and the next you’re six feet in the air soaring across the bedroom. And when you crash into the wall, you go breathless. Everything goes monochrome. You see stars floating around. Spencer limps from the bed, but you can’t stop him. //How does he have energy still?// You want to shout for the guys to come help. The quarterback doesn’t even try to confront you. He knows that you have the upper-hand here. Spencer hobbles toward the bedroom door. When he opens it, you hear a chorus of shouting. “Stop - stop him,” you say, but your breath is gone. No one can hear you. More bodies slam against walls, the house shakes, and you hear the front door open and slam shut. He’s gone. //Fucker,// you think. You lift your hand to the back of your head. //No blood at least.// You breathe in. Sigh out. And close your eyes. //Concentrate. Refocus. You’re still in the game. Spencer ran off.// You look around the bedroom floor, trying to see where your phone flew off to. When you spot it beneath the armchair, you slide over and grab it. //That jackass really thinks I’m some sort of fool.// You type a number into the phone. And wait. The receiver picks up. “Hey?” “Yeah, I need you.” You give the voice your address. Spencer’s address. Thankfully, he seems to live alone here. After hanging up the phone, you rest your head against the wall. //Last act, Oliver. The final dance. You watching, Rae?// Your fairy pops into the air and opens his mouth. But then - a police siren. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[The great denouement.]]

<h1>The great denouement.</h1> You watch your body go limp on the couch. Your real body. Oliver’s body. And inside Officer Cruz’s body, you place a pillow beneath your head and then drape a fluffy blanket up to your chest. “Stay here,” you say, turning Cruz’s head toward the three footballers. “Watch him. If someone tries to come inside -” Then you take out the officer’s gun and hand it to Julien. “Shoot them.” Julien, Hersch, and Lewis nod obediently. Even though you body-swapped into the police man, your servants know, at a spiritual level, that Oliver is giving these orders. Julien takes the gun. You walk outside and fish Cruz’s keys from his pocket. //Thankfully you didn’t kill this one, Rae,// you say, climbing into the police cruiser. //Contracting Cruz was the saving grace I didn’t expect.// Because Spencer’s car is missing from the driveway, you pick up the handheld police radio and speak in Cruz’s voice. You report Spencer’s car as “stolen” and to report any sight of it to you. As you drive around the neighborhood, peering into alleyways and backyards, Rae pops up and flutters down onto the dashboard. “Gotta say, kiddo,” he says, “you really play the long game.” Behind Cruz’s aviator sunglasses, you nod and smile. “He doesn’t deserve to win,” you say, the officer’s voice coming out deep and smooth. “All Spencer knows is shame. Shame and pain.” You wink at the fairy. And then the radio makes a fuzzy reception sound. A woman from police dispatch reports a vehicle fitting the description of Spencer’s car. So you slam down on the gas. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Pull over, sir.]]

<h1>Pull over, sir.</h1> After speeding through a red light, you catch sight of Spencer’s car. He must’ve had some clothes in his trunk or backseat, because you half-expected to catch Spencer on the run, naked. You flick on the police sirens and tail behind him. For all Spencer knows, he’s being pulled over for speeding. And after a moment of hesitation, Spencer continuing to speed on, he slows down. You take a deep breath in. //Alright, Oliver. It’s fucking show time.// You kick open Cruz’s police door and step out. From behind Spencer’s car, you notice him glaring through the rearview mirror. With each step toward the quarterback’s door, your heart thumps with anticipation. //At this level of desperation, Spencer could kill me. Would he kill a cop? Does he think he could get away?// You stop at Spencer’s car door and knock on the window twice. He looks at you nervously, his eyes running down from Cruz’s police cap, to his badge, down to the empty holster on his belt. Spencer rolls down the window. “Good evening, officer,” he says. His voice is ragged, airy, tired. The dark circles beneath his eyes present exhaustion. He’s running out of fumes. Last vestiges. “Step out of the car, son,” you say, staring at him behind Cruz’s aviators. Spencer nervously gulps. He opens his mouth to argue but doesn’t. Then he nods. Spencer grabs the car handle. You take a step back. Once the quarterback has exited the vehicle, you point to the gravel road. “On your knees,” you say. Spencer tilts his head. He’s baffled. And then his eyes slowly widen. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[On his knees.]]

<h1>On his knees.</h1> Spencer’s gaze turns from fearful to hateful. As he slowly lowers to his knees, he looks up at you, into Cruz’s eyes, with a piercing fury. “Risky move,” Spencer says, his head at your waist. Then he gives a cocky smile. Because Spencer pulled over on an off-road, nobody can see you lift Cruz’s hand high into the air and slap the ever-living shit out of Spencer. //Thwack. Thwack.// “//Fuck,//” Spencer shouts, spit soaring from his lips. His right cheek glows red. You stare down at him, waiting for him to make a move. “Go on,” you say in Cruz’s voice. “Try something special.” Spencer must know. Surely? He must be smarter than to - //Nope. He’s a fucking dumbass.// Spencer looks up into your eyes and focuses. You can feel your limbs tickle, a fuzzy feeling. “My real body might have less muscle,” you say. Then you press your knee into Spencer’s shoulder, shoving him against the car. “But Officer Cruz is at least twice as strong as you.” He remains quiet. Your knee pressed into his body. Spencer’s eyes darting left and right, trying to think of some escape plan. Every few moments he looks up into Cruz’s eyes, fury abound. “Trying to infatuate him?” you say, tilting Cruz’s head. “He was contracted long ago. After I killed his partner.” Spencer hesitates to react. Then he shakes his head, taking in a shaky breath. “You can’t use spinnerets. You can’t infatuate,” you say, lowering Cruz’s gloved hand toward Spencer’s mouth. You press against his lip. “So use what you’ve got and suck my fucking cock.” <h3>What's next?</h3 [[Roadside show.]]

<h1>Roadside show.</h1> Because Cruz has more muscle mass than Spencer, it’s easier to use spinnerets on the weak quarterback. You drop the officer’s pants and grip onto his girthy cock, brushing Spencer’s face. [img['images/spencer/45.webp']] Ice behind the eyes. You move Spencer’s hands onto Cruz’s pants, his head leaning toward the officer’s fat tan cock. All while maintaining eye contact, because you force Spencer to do so. “Good slut,” you say, enchanting Spencer’s tongue to curl around Cruz’s cock. You make sure to apply pressure on Spencer’s teeth, so he doesn’t get the notion to chomp down or something. Then you make it more unbearable. You signal blood pressure to flow into Spencer’s cock, making his erection harder and harder to ignore. As he sucks Cruz off, he starts rubbing himself. “Go on,” you say. You allow Spencer to pull his pants down and jack himself off. His hot saliva builds around the officer’s giant shaft, glistening like a second layer. He slurps, licks, gargles. “You could’ve made this easy,” you moan out, Spencer’s soft lips running across Cruz’s glands. “But now you’ve crossed the line.” You place the officer’s hands on the back of Spencer’s head. When you ram into the back of his throat, Spencer’s eyes bulge out. You dump cum inside him, Cruz’s balls squished against the quarterback’s chin. Once you’ve run dry, you pull out and stare down at Spencer. Cum bubbles between his teeth. You say, “Let’s bring you to your new home.” <h3>What's next?</h3> [[One day later.]]

<h1>One day later.</h1> After dropping Spencer off at the local prison, the warden allowed “special arrangements” for the quarterback. Partially because the warden has been //infatuated// with you for quite some time. See, after the female officer went “missing” during your fifth mission, the powers-that-be started asking a lot of questions. //Where was she seen last? Wasn’t she on duty with Cruz at the time?// In summary, a lot of police chiefs, prison wardens, town mayors, and other major players, had to be //infatuated,// some the //harem// spell, in order for things to quiet down. So you could move on. Of course, as a “magical boy,” it didn’t take much effort. A single day of driving through town, walking into town hall and the local prisons, staring men in the eye and quickly enchanting them. But now, like Cruz’s obedience, these things have returned as tricks-up-your-sleeve. It’s been a day since throwing Spencer in prison, and he still hasn’t revealed the location of Peter or Colby. Now you sit in your bedroom, the house much quieter without Peter, and take a deep breath. Then you turn on your computer and access your emails. //One new message in your inbox.// Rae pops up and flutters down onto your desk. He twirls in a circle, fairy dust scattering into the air. “I’ve done this for thousands of years, kiddo,” he says. “And I think we’re nearing the end.” You can hardly believe it. //The end? What comes after the end?// You glance at Rae and smile. “Maybe,” you sigh. “But if I win, Spencer will forget everything. What if he locked my brother and Colby somewhere? What if he forgets the location, and they just -” You shake your head. No. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Open the email.]]

<h1>Open the email.</h1> //Oliver, Good evening. This is Warden Pratt emailing. I hope you’ve been well, young man. Your phone call yesterday brought light to my life. I hope the contents of this message bring you satisfaction. This morning we minded your warnings. Do not let Prisoner #13699 use his eyes after a night’s rest. We are to keep him depleted of energy. I am happy to report that he has been despairing. Below I am attaching two videos of Special Assignment Officer Cruz and Prisoner #13699, also known as “Spencer” on transcripts. These recordings were documented last night around 11:30.// [img['images/spencer/46.webp']] //After his shower we permitted S.A.O. Cruz a private quarters with the prisoner for a few hours. Unfortunately the prisoner proved disruptive, shouting vulgarities. I assure you he was handled.// [img['images/spencer/47.webp']] //I must commend S.A.O. Cruz on his wartime tactics against the prisoner. The rape of Prisoner #13699 disturbed even the inmates down the hall, who are known for their own brutal means. Tomorrow I will email with more updates. Prisoner “Spencer” is being transferred to a shared cell sometime after lunch hall. As instructed, he will be paired with a known “problem” inmate.// <h3>What's next?</h3> [[The second email.]]

<h1>The second email.</h1> //Oliver, Good evening. This is Warden Pratt emailing. I have been thinking about you, young man. Feel free to visit my office anytime. I hope that the contents of this message will bring you pleasure. Early today we transferred Prisoner #13699 to share his cell with Prisoner #08595, also known as Tomé. It seemed miraculous timing, as Tomé had just been released from solitary yesterday. Below I am attaching two videos of the prisoner Tomé and Prisoner #13699, also known as “Spencer” on transcripts. These recordings were documented earlier this evening around 7:19.// [img['images/spencer/48.webp']] //As you predicted, the prisoner attempted to use his “gaze” to counter Tomé’s aggressions. Nevertheless, we have kept the prisoner depleted of energy, and so his efforts were for null.// [img['images/spencer/49.webp']] //Even now I still hear Tomé raping the prisoner down the hallway. That would be near five hours of constant wartime tactics against Prisoner #13699. Perhaps I might expedite Tomé’s release. Tomorrow I will email with more updates. The prisoner “Spencer” has yet to reveal information on the location of your comrades. But I believe tomorrow’s “special gift” will break the prisoner.// <h3>What's next?</h3> [[The third email.]]

<h1>The third email.</h1> //Oliver, Good evening. This is Warden Pratt emailing. I believe I dreamt of you last night, young man. Perhaps that may soon become reality. Nevertheless, I hope this message brings you comfort. This morning we needed to provide medical attention to Prisoner #13699. It seemed exhaustion was claiming his body. No worry. We injected the prisoner with stimulants to force him awake. Of course, the prisoner needed a cleaning after Tomé’s efforts yesterday. It was here that we brought inside your “visitor,” known as Josh Johnson, who fulfilled your instructions precisely.// [img['images/spencer/50.webp']] //Prisoner #13699 had no way of expecting the Herculean man to arrive in the prison showers. Mr. Johnson began by coaxing sounds from the prisoner’s throat with his, let’s say, instrument.// [img['images/spencer/51.webp']] //Shortly afterward Mr. Johnson began raping the prisoner. Although Tomé had left the prisoner readily accessible for our visitor, it seemed Mr. Johnson’s instrument was making its deep mark. Unfortunately the prisoner has not confessed to the whereabouts. But I assure you, young man, that tomorrow will be a different day. For I’m taking things into my own hands. I will update you.// <h3>What's next? [[The final email.]]

<h1>The final email.</h1> //Oliver, Good evening. This is Warden Pratt emailing. I am eager to see you tomorrow, young man, because today I message you with evidence and information that should completely satisfy you. As I was growing weary with Prisoner #13699’s insubordination, I took it upon myself to enact special wartime tactics. I hope you might commend or forgive me for the lengths I’ve now gone. When my guards brought the prisoner “Spencer” to my special office, he looked as though he hadn’t slept in a week. Of course, that is nearly the precise case. They left him alone with me.// [img['images/spencer/52.webp']] //The evening began with my Insubordination Machine, which the prisoner found suitably woeful. His body was made deeper and wider for me, and his screams and moans were sweet music.// [img['images/spencer/53.webp']] //When the prisoner “Spencer” had reached a certain status of exhaustion, where his body failed to function, I began a rape of Prisoner #13699 that even our beast ancestors would shudder at. In conclusion, the whereabouts of your comrades have been extracted from the prisoner. They will be delivered to me posthaste, and then we will clean and prepare “Spencer” for your arrival.// <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Endgame.]]

<h1>Endgame.</h1> When you walk into the prison reception area, you immediately spot Peter and Colby in a couple chairs. Colby has his head leaned on Peter’s shoulder, both of them passed out, Colby drooling. “I guess you’re both alright?” you ask. Peter blinks awake. When he looks up at your face, his eyes are still vacant and glassy. Your brother clears his throat. “Do you know where Master -” You wave him off. //That’s not my brother. Not yet.// Colby continues sleeping, his chest rising and falling with gentle breath. //I need to go get Spencer to quit. So they both return to fucking normal.// You walk toward the reception desk and nod. The receptionist is infatuated with you. He smiles. The entire prison is either infatuated with you or under the harem sleep. Nobody questions your presence. You keep walking on. You turn down a long hall. With each footstep, your shoes echo along the tile. Then Rae pops up in your mind. “I gotta say, kiddo,” he says. “I thought I was gonna lose you for a while there.” You roll your eyes. //I’ve been meaning to ask,// you say. But as soon as your next thought begins, your fairy interrupts with, “As long as it’s a //Yes// or //No.//” And you sigh. You turn another corner. //Fine,// you think. //So let’s say I win. I keep my powers. And I stay magical for a long, long time. Whatever.// Then you spot the “Holding Room” door, where Spencer is located. Deep breaths. //Where do you go after I win?// You stop. You reframe the question. //I mean, do you go on to your next human fairy? But I keep my magical powers?// Rae takes a moment to answer. Then, “Yes.” <h3>What's next?</h3> [[The holding room.]]

<h1>The holding room.</h1> When you open the door, you find Spencer handcuffed to a chair. His head is bowed, a metal table separating you and him. You shut the door behind you and take a seat opposite Spencer. There is a long silence. Spencer’s soft breaths fills the room with a whir. He is shirtless with a pair of ragged prisoner pants. You breathe quietly. You wait for him to speak. And then he does. “Oliver,” he whispers. Spencer’s voice is ragged, tired. As if he’s aged a hundred years, smoked a thousand cigarettes, suffered a million screams, and what remains of the quarterback is this. Spencer tries to lift his head. But he can’t. His body is too weak. So he remains bowed. His lips are cracked and dry. His skin has lost its sun-kissed tan. He opens his mouth again to speak up. “I’m -” he says. But he can’t finish it. Spencer sighs. You remember back at Spencer’s house, when you massaged between his shoulders. It revived some energy inside him. So you stand. As you walk around the table, you half-expect the quarterback to flinch. But he doesn’t budge. You move behind him and rest your hands gently on his shoulders. And slide your hands down. When you press your palm between his shoulders, you feel nothing but rock hard tension. Spencer has become corpse-like. His body has been conquered. You begin to knead into it. “Do you know about Excalibur?” you whisper. Your fingers gently spread across his bare body, massaging the skin back to life. Spencer doesn’t respond. But you continue with the idea. <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Excalibur.]]

<h1>Excalibur.</h1> “It’s a magical sword. It belonged to King Arthur. Some people think it’s real, some say it’s just a part of the myths.” You locate a tense knot in Spencer’s back and gently apply pressure to it. “Well, before Arthur could get the sword,” you say, sliding down his spine until you find another knot. “He had to pull it from a magical stone. But only the //true king// could remove the sword.” You press your two palms into Spencer’s back, applying more and more pressure, until finally the knot becomes removed. When you slide across his back, it feels universally more tender. Then you lean down beside him. You rest your hand on his thigh and look up into Spencer’s face. But his eyes are closed. He might be awake, but he’s still exhausted into a state of silence. “Well, they say on each side of his sword, it said something,” you whisper. You gently squeeze your hand on Spencer’s thigh. “On one side of Excalibur, it had the engraving, //Take me up.//” You pat Spencer’s knee and stand up. Then you walk around the table and take your seat again, folding your hands on the metal table and leaning forward. You whisper to Spencer. “And the other side it said, //Cast me away.//” Your soft voice echoes around the room, like an invisible tornado whirling around. Spencer inhales your words and then quietly sighs out. “Are you -” he whispers, trying to gain the energy, “- saying this, because you’re the king now?” You tilt your head and give a smile. “Partly,” you say. “I want you to choose a side, Spencer.” <h3>What's next?</h3> [[My side.]]

<h1>My side.</h1> Finally Spencer has the energy to lift his head. Only slightly. He looks confused. He squints his eyes toward you, somewhat suspicious of your intent. His lips move, but nothing comes out. You nod, signalling, //It’s okay. You don’t have to speak right now.// Then you take a deep breath. “Let me clarify,” you say, unfolding your folded fingers. You spread them out on the metal table. “What makes us faggots?” you ask. Spencer continues staring at you, his mouth slightly open, his eyes tired and dark. Then he manages to move his jaw and utter a single, soft word. “Men.” You nod again. “Right,” you say. Then you scratch behind your ear, trying to find the right words for the next part. “And Spencer,” you say. “What makes faggots magical? What makes us, //us?//” Spencer looks down to the table. His eyes slowly move left and right, trying to locate the answer or meaning in your question. But he doesn’t. He can’t. He looks up and gently shakes his head. You smile. “Think about the things we’ve done,” you say. “Think about the seven missions. Think about the //last// mission, Spencer.” You say his name with a fondness. A friendliness. A warmth. He hesitates to respond. And then you notice a tear fall from his face. When Spencer looks up at you, he remains quiet. But his eyes say everything. Exhausted. Defeated. Filled with tears. “I quit,” he whispers. And you sit in silence. Both of you. The reverberating silence. “I know, Spencer,” you whisper back. “But that’s not the only reason I’m here. I’m offering you a choice.” <h3>What's next?</h3> [[It's your choice.]]

<h1>Excelsior!</h1> You’re where it all began. Back in your bedroom. Spread out across your bed. Typing away on your phone. About half a year ago, you were just starting your first mission. The //Colby// mission. Rae pops up in the air and flutters down onto your chest. You put your phone down and smile. “Hey there,” you say. Rae spins in a circle, sending glitter up into the air. It slowly tumbles down. “Kiddo,” he says, “it’s been one hell of a ride.” He lifts a little fairy hand to his face and pretends to wipe away a tear. He says, “They grow up so fast.” And you roll your eyes, waving him away. “Oh, I still have my magic,” you say. “You can come visit whenever.” Rae winks at you and kicks off into the air. He flutters up to the ceiling fan and stands on top of it. Then he nose-dives off it. Before he crashes into your knee, he pops out from thin air. You wait for him to emerge above your head, or on your chest, or across the room on the windowsill. But there’s just total silence. “Rae?” you ask. You wait a moment. Nothing. So you shrug and pick up your phone, scrolling down on yet another social media app. Then a familiar voice clears his throat inside your mind. “Don’t forget,” Rae says. “I was only a reflection of your own power, kid.” His voice sounds far, like he’s speaking down a long hallway. It echoes and falls into nothing but the smallest whisper. “You’ve always been magical,” Rae says. “Fairies are magical. Faggots are magical. Alright?” You can hardly hear him. You can only make out Rae’s very last words. “//Excelsior! Excelsior!//” <h3>What's next?</h3> [[Back to list of targets.|Who are the targets?]]

<h1>It's your choice.</h1> Spencer parts his lips slowly, finishing your sentence. “It says //Cast me away.//” He manages to lift a wrist to his face and wipe away hot tears. Then he collapses his arm onto the metal table. “Yes,” you say. You lean closer to him. “You’ll always be a faggot, Spencer. There’s no denying.” You look down at your empty hands and shake them, signalling to the imaginary weapon inside. “But if you wanted, once this is over, I can contract you to someone,” you say. “You won’t have to feel it anymore. You’ll become their slave. But you won’t have thoughts. No feelings. Nothing.” Spencer’s eyes flicker to your face. He reads your face, scanning left and right, finally taking in the message. His lips quiver with perhaps sorrow, perhaps anticipation. He opens his mouth. “And the other one?” he asks, a faint whisper. You slide your hand toward his, grabbing onto it. It’s rough and dry. You clear your throat and look up to the ceiling, searching for the words. “If you choose //Take me up,//” you say. “Then I’ll return you to yourself. And I’ll give you a chance. I’ll find you in the school. I’ll try to help you stop being ashamed. But it will be a painful journey.” Spencer looks down at your hand. His fingers slowly fold onto yours. He inhales slowly. “I can’t,” he whispers. “It’s too hard. My life. It’s too hard, Oliver. It’s too hard. I just -” You squeeze his hand. “It’s your choice,” you say, presenting your palms. “//Cast me away.// No more pain.” Spencer looks down at the imaginary sword. Then up into your eyes. “//Take me up.// Fight the shame.” <h3>What's next?</h3> [["Cast me away"|Cast me away.]] [["Take me up"|Take me up.]]

Foreword (Please read!)

The Fairy Prince was a visual novel CHYOA by VoirLePrince located at https://chyoa.com/story/The-Fairy-Prince.29722 on chyoa.com.
Unfortunately, the author deleted his account and took the story with him.
This is my (Lampshade15's) attempt to put the story back together again, using Twine (HUMPTY DUMPTY enters stage left.) / Humpty Dumpty has entered the chat.

All content after this page is the author's original work and which I have no claim to. Many thanks to VoirLePrince for sharing his work with us :).
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