Popular Post TQuintA Posted July 27, 2023 Author Popular Post Share Posted July 27, 2023 Chapter 31 It was easier to keep the secret than I thought. Onyx wasn’t asking many questions since he pressed mute, and Slate was unlikely to piece it together. Yes, I was dying to tell someone about my pending trip off campus, but at least I could talk about it with Adam and Edward during our sessions. It actually seemed like Tony was having a harder time keeping the secret than I was. He’d occasionally stop me in the hallway to surreptitiously give me advice about the dinner party. “Don’t forget, when you plug the name of the house, use the house’s new name,” he cautioned. “You never told us the house’s new name.” The old name had been something like The Fields or The Meadows or The Prairies. Something agrarian and uninspired. In the house we had no use for it. “Tartarus,” Tony said proudly. “How Greek,” I responded. Then, I went back to my regularly scheduled routine of lifting, fucking, eating, medicating. Another time, he said, “When you’re outside the house, refer to me as Mr. Fielding.” “Vera’s last name was Crayford,” I said, confused. “So was Tina’s.” “My mother kept her maiden name. My father’s name is Emil Fielding,” Tony clarified—a weird acid sting to his tone. “Thus, I am Anthony Fielding.” “You could have all of us call you Mr. Fielding in the house,” I pointed out. “I don’t want my boys knowing my last name,” Tony spat. “Or each other’s first names,” I thought. Thankfully, I bit my tongue and said nothing. Tony finished his response with, “That would make it too easy for them to find me when they leave the house.” Then, I went back to my regularly scheduled routine of lifting, fucking, eating, medicating. Before the morning meeting on Sunday, he pulled me aside and said, “I’ve just been informed that neither I nor my husband Cliff is invited to the dinner party. If you could wrangle us an invitation, I’ll let you keep a vase in your room.” “A night without you is better than a vase,” I replied before I could stop myself. Tony glowered at me and said, “Get me an invite, or I’ll dismiss you.” “How much sway do you think I have over a senator?” I asked. “Get me an invite, or I’ll dismiss you,” he repeated. “I have a signed contract that says you can’t do that,” I reminded him. “Please,” Tony said quietly. “Was that so hard?” I asked and went to my seat so Tony could start the meeting. I joined Slate and Onyx by our usual spot. None of us could fit into the standard seating anymore, so Tony had given us permission to sit on the floor behind the back row until he refurbished the auditorium. And we really couldn’t fit. Slate, the smallest of the three of us, was as big as a legacy bodybuilder now. His thighs were thick and powerful, his ass wide and massive. He couldn’t cram that lower carriage into a cramped auditorium seat, and if he tried, he’d demolish it. His legs met his massive ass at his hips and drew into a freakishly small waist with a prominent 8-pack (I wasn’t sure when that had happened, seemingly overnight), diamond-hard obliques, and delicious cum gutters I wanted to run my tongue down. His pecs were thick and mighty, his arms were brawny and pulsing with power. His lats and shoulders were so wide that they pushed him broad as a barn. He was starting to have trouble with doorways now too. His neck was thick and sinuous, leading up to a devastatingly handsome face, made even more handsome by his increasingly vibrant brown eyes. He must have upped his testosterone again: his jaw had further firmed up, his chin was squarer, his eyebrows and cheekbones were more prominent, and his beard was thicker with a near-permanent shadow of stubble, even immediately after he shaved, which he was doing less frequently. He was sex personified. As for Onyx, well, if I didn’t have a mirror, Onyx would be the biggest man I had ever seen. His pecs were glorious globes of twitching muscle fiber, covered in coarse black hair, and prominently bounding away from his torso in a powerful sweep. His arms were a symphony of bulges and strength—more akin to boulders than arms. His legs were powerful columns of strength he used to propel himself through everything—fucking, workouts, even just walking made his legs look gloriously powerful. And I… I made Onyx look small. My body was more muscular than a human physique was meant to be, overburdened with mass and beef, all of me bulging and fighting with size. I had, just that morning, convinced two of the custodians who were responsible for cleaning me between sessions with clients (the showers had been widened to accommodate the boys’ growing thickness) to take turns washing me down in my personal shower each morning. Doing the job myself had become too taxing. Since I’d upped my testosterone levels, my body thrummed with energy, my hair was coming in denser and in more places, and all my features had thickened (especially my shoulders). My balls had also swollen to a larger size and constantly churned. Between my muscles and my cock, I was the largest man who had ever lived, and I was determined to just get bigger. My favorite feature of sitting behind the chairs during the morning meetings was that the three of us could talk, as long as we were quiet, because Tony couldn’t see us. “Morning, Slate. Onyx,” I said as I crashed down next to them, sending a small earthquake through the auditorium. “Morning,” Slate said. Onyx made eye contact but said nothing. “Was I this zonked out when I was pressing mute?” I asked. “Sometimes,” Slate said. “I just thought you were old. I like you better at full volume.” “You’ve convinced me,” I teased. “I’ll have sex with you.” Slate pointed his omnipresent erection away from me. “Get a new joke, old man.” After the morning meeting, we went for our weekly full body workout to be followed by our weigh-in. Slate had been making significant progress since his meeting with Dr. Mowbray, so, to irk him, I pushed myself extra hard that morning. Slate was a strong, gigantically muscular man. I could outlift him easily, sure, but that day I made sure to lift something twice as heavy as he could in every exercise—at least for one rep. He maxed out at 400? I lifted 800. He managed 550? I barely raised 1,100, but I raised it. I didn’t care if it was far beyond my personal best; I’d lift it once. Records were made to be shattered, and I wanted to show off. No matter how much we sweat, how hard our pulses pounded, or how much our muscles quaked, neither of us would be outdone. At the end of the workout, both of our muscles were so pumped and engorged with blood we could barely walk. Still, we managed our way down to the scales. “You didn’t have to show me up like that,” Slate seethed as we walked across the gym, panting from our exertions. “You’re a fucking asshole.” “Fucking assholes is one of life’s greatest pleasures,” I replied. “One I’m getting too big to enjoy,” I added, grabbing my prominent bulge. Onyx was already on the scale. He solemnly reported, “371.5” “That’s great, man!” I cried out, genuinely happy for him even if he couldn’t be happy for himself. As Onyx stepped down, Slate asked, “And?” Onyx looked at him quizzically, so Slate pointed at Onyx’s cock. “10 and an eighth,” he said. Slapping Onyx on the back, Slate stepped up onto the scale. “311.” He turned around and flexed his arm, breathing heavily as his body struggled to supply him with oxygen. Then, he quickly pulled down and lifted his gym shorts back up, essentially flashing me his stiff cock. I only glimpsed it for a second, but in that second, I could see it was long and red, crisscrossed with straining veins. “I’ve got 12 inches now too,” he boasted. “12 and a quarter,” I said. “I’ve still got you beat.” “Not for much longer, pops,” he retorted as he steered me to the scale, huffing and puffing the whole way. “426,” I said. Then I breathed in fully and deeply. “You might want to talk to Dr. Mowbray again. See what you can do about those weak lungs.” My first client that day was Fred. I was thrilled he was going to see me so pumped up. When I walked through the door, he moaned deeply, his muscles rumbling with the vibration. All he was wearing was a pair of metallic, silvery posers. He’d already taken off everything else. Even his socks and shoes. “I see you’ve been putting my money to good use,” he said. “You’ve been so generous.” “Isaac told me you’d seen him.” “Isaac?” I asked “Dr. Mowbray,” he clarified. “Do you know your growth potential?” “I do,” I said. “But I’m not supposed to.” I puffed out my chest. “65 over 75.” “That is excellent! I’m gonna help you blow up huge.” He openly leered at my mass. “Mine’s 85 over 40.” Then, he added, “We’re not allowed to enlarge our genitals. It’s against the rules.” He rolled his eyes in disdain as he stared at my package hungrily. “If my wife is cool with it, the second I retire from bodybuilding, I’m getting my dick massive. She’s already signed off on me ballooning up past 350.” “In the meantime, you can always play with my massive meat,” I said. “Jeremy was so right about you,” Fred commented. “Who’s Jeremy?” I asked. “Our mutual friend,” he explained. “The guy who recommended I try you out but hides you from his husband.” “I don’t have a regular client named Jeremy,” I said honestly. “Yeah, you do. Curly brown hair. Has had a face lift or two despite only being in his mid-30s? And I suspect pec implants.” “Tattoo of a sun on his calf?” I asked. “That’s him.” “Jiminy. He told me to call him Jiminy, not Jeremy.” “Jeremy… Jiminy…” Fred said, shrugging. “I knew it was something like that. It’s not his real name.” “I know Jiminy,” I said. I’d been seeing Jiminy for years—over 10. Once every four months like clockwork. Fred wasn’t kidding about the plastic surgery. Over the years, Jiminy had had a lot of plastic surgery. Face lifts, pec implants, tummy tuck—just to name a few. And he recently started a stack like I was on (scaled down to sane doses) to grow his cock and muscles (a respectable 8 inches and 200 pounds). Jiminy really liked my muscles and was so excited how big I was getting. He frequently commented how beautiful I was. I rarely thought about Jiminy; he was one of my less imaginative regulars. I didn’t even know Jiminy was married—he’d never mentioned a husband. Fred continued. “Well, Jiminy says hi.” “Hi back,” I joked. “Enough foreplay,” Fred stated, indicating he was ready to fuck. I stripped down to nothing, my clothes fighting my mass every step of the process. “Don’t make me guess,” he whimpered after he’d watched my erotic, belabored disrobing. “426.” His body tensed. I knew it was an orgasm before the wet spot spread from the tip of his crotch, darkening the silver fabric as it leaked through. “That’s 80 more pounds than me!” he shouted, flabbergasted. “You’re huge!” I flexed my bicep right in front of his face. It bulged so mightily he had to look up. “You’re just small,” I replied. He flexed his chest, so I flexed mine. My circumference was so much greater than his that he laughed in delight. “I take shits bigger than you,” I remarked. Then, I grabbed my always-swollen balls and added, “I shoot loads bigger than you.” His right hand reached out to join my hand that was grabbing my balls. “Fuck, Nile. Even your hand is bigger than mine.” He held his hand next to mine. He had a brawny, burly bodybuilder’s hand. It was thick and calloused, each finger packed with brawn, prominent veins tracing from his shoulder, over his bicep, down his forearm, and terminating just below his lowest knuckles. And the backs of his hands were hairy, and his fingers were long and dexterous (though they looked squat with how much mass even his fingers were packing). Unequivocally, he had mitts for hands. And yet, my hands were so much more that they made his look delicate. “That’s because you’ve got those dainty girly hands with lady fingers,” I said. “Daddy’s got a man’s hands.” He whimpered again. I shoved my right hand in his mouth, and he began sucking on my fingers as though each digit was a cock that might nourish him with my cum. Once my hand was juicy and slippery, I removed it. He frowned momentarily, so I shoved my left hand in there and he resumed his suckling. My right hand now free, I reached around him and shoved just my pointer finger in. With his muscular bulk and my bulky muscles, it was a reach, but I made it (he twisted his lower half when he grokked what I was doing). Then, I began fucking him with my finger, manually stimulating his prostate each time I passed it. He moaned and spat my fingers out of his mouth. “Just one finger, please, daddy,” he said. “Your fingers are too thick for you to shove two or three of them up there.” “This is one finger,” I told him. “I just have thick,” I thrust my finger in hard, “manly,” I thrust harder, “fingers,” I thrust even harder. Then, I forcefully inserted my middle finger in with my index, overfilling his buff ass with them. They both could just barely fit. I was stretching him out something fierce. “This is two fingers,” I informed him. Fred spurted so much cum over our feet I was pretty sure he had none left in his body. I pulled my hand out of his ass and let him smell the fingers. “Tut tut, junior,” I scolded. “You’ve made a mess. If you lick up every drop off me, I just might let you stroke my big cock with your tiny hands. Show you what a man’s ejaculation actually looks like. With that, he was on all fours, licking my feet. 29 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Ro20316 Posted July 28, 2023 Share Posted July 28, 2023 Nice to see Tony getting an ahole treatment by not being invited to the party. It's not him the want. It's Nile and i dunno oif Nile hasnt realized it yet but he knows friends in high place that will certainly do what he wants if he just ask. Slate and Nile should fuck and that would be something fierce. Two alphas going at it. 2 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
arpeejay Posted July 28, 2023 Share Posted July 28, 2023 << swoon >> 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
TQuintA Posted July 28, 2023 Author Share Posted July 28, 2023 Chapter 32 That evening, it was time for my next session with Adam and Edward. “You are so fucking gorgeous,” Adam said as Edward gaped, worried he might pass out again at my beauty. “You’re looking particularly swole and beautiful yourself,” I responded. “Are you looking forward to the dinner party?” he asked. “Of course I am,” I said. “And I’m glad you brought it up.” With that, Edward’s face changed to one of stoic seriousness. “Tony wants an invite,” he said, anticipating my next statement. “Tony most certainly wants an invite,” I responded. “Tony’s not already invited?” Adam asked. “We can’t invite him,” Edward said flatly. “Why not?” Adam asked. “If we invite him, we’ll have to invite Cliff,” Edward answered. “Who’s Cliff?” Adam asked. “Tony’s husband,” Edward and I said together. “You won’t have to invite Cliff too. Tony doesn’t let Cliff within 100 yards of any pleasure house, let alone one owned by his own family,” I informed them. “I’ve never even seen a picture of the man.” “You’ve done more than that,” Edward said, putting up his hands in caution. “Cliff and I aren’t friends, but we run in the same circles. We belong to a lot of the same clubs, things like that. We find each other at a lot of fundraisers for bored, rich househusbands. We gossip.” He pulled out his phone and scrolled until he found what he was looking for. When he showed me his phone, I nearly crapped myself. The picture showed Tony and his husband at the beach. Tony had his arm around a man in his 30s with curly brown hair, nice muscles (especially his pecs), a decent package—a man who had clearly had a lot of plastic surgery over the years… and had a sun tattoo on his calf. “That’s Jiminy,” I said. “I know that’s Jiminy,” Edward said. “Who’s Jiminy?” Adam asked, unused to being so thoroughly out of the loop. “A regular client of Nile’s,” Edward replied, putting away his phone. “How?” I asked emphatically. “How?” “How does he book sessions at his husband’s pleasure house without his husband knowing, or how did you never find out Jiminy was Tony’s husband?” Edward asked in turn. “Either,” I said. “Or both.” Edward explained. “According to Cliff, when he married Tony, Vera set up a dummy account for him. She knew Cliff was likely to sleep around. And if he did it at her pleasure house, she could keep an eye on things.” “And the other how?” I asked. “Until just a few minutes ago, I assumed you knew,” Edward responded. “I didn’t even know Jiminy was married until earlier today,” I replied. Then panic set in. “Fuck! Is this why Tony hates me? Because I’m fucking his husband?” “Could be,” Edward said. “I suspect that Tony doesn’t know that you’re fucking his husband, or he wouldn’t be so desperate for an invite.” “They can’t come to the party,” I said. Actually, it was more of a panicked exhalation as I began pacing. “I know,” Edward returned. “That’s why I didn’t invite them.” Adam, now that he was all caught up, had a calm air of sangfroid around him. “This has an easy solution,” he announced as he pulled out his phone. “This is Senator Taylor for Tony Fielding.” He paused for a moment. “Tony. Yeah. I’m in with Nile right now. He told me you wanted an invite to the dinner party.” He paused for a moment. “There was a reason for that. The party planner invited Vera and Emil.” Another pause. “Yeah, apparently, her info was out of date, and she thought Vera still ran the place.” Another pause. “Don’t worry, the planner’s been fired. Vera and Emil had already RSVP’d yes before I caught the mix-up. So, of course, Edward and I would be delighted if you and Cliff can come, but your parents will be at the dinner party. I know how you and your father fight…” Another pause. “I understand. If you can’t make it, Edward and I will have you over some other night for a private party. Just the four of us.” Another pause. “Goodnight, Tony.” He put his phone away and turned to us defiantly. “That was easy.” “What if he comes?” I asked. “You technically just invited him.” “Tony Fielding turned down his father’s legacy as a CEO rather than work with him,” Adam said smoothly. “He doesn’t go anywhere his father might be.” Edward nodded. “He goes abroad on holidays.” “How did you do that so quickly?” I asked, no longer pacing. “Please,” Adam said, rolling his eyes. “Half my job is soothing the egos of small people who think they’re important. Tony will be flattered that I know intimate things about him. Like his husband’s name. Even though I just learned it five seconds ago. And it’s common knowledge that he hates his father.” “Very common,” Edward echoed. “But now you’re going to have to invite Vera,” I said. “We already did,” Edward replied immediately. “There’s no party planner. Or rather, I’m the party planner. I’m overseeing every detail, including the guest list.” “Why did you invite Vera?” I was flabbergasted. With a small shrug, Edward said, “We like Vera and Emil.” “It was Edward’s idea,” Adam said. Edward grinned, pleased. “Everyone wants to come to this party. Our efforts to keep this thing small failed almost instantly. It’s gonna be a packed house. We know you haven’t been off campus in half a century, so we invited a handful of people who’d be familiar to you, so you wouldn’t be all alone among a crowd of strangers.” I nodded, and Edward picked up the thread. “Vera was the first name on the invite list. I also invited Dr. Mowbray and a handful of your most prestigious regulars.” Edward chuckled. “The ones whose spouses know about you.” “We even invited Quentin,” Adam continued. “He promptly RSVP’d no.” “We would have also invited some former pleasure boys, especially Gavin,” Edward added. “But that was a dealbreaker for Tony.” I nodded again. “Your people only make up 2% of the guest list—a guest list of 750 people,” Edward said, “but we don’t want you completely alone.” “How courteous,” I said with a genuine smile. “Oh, and, interestingly, the only Tony-approved pictures of you are from when you weighed 250 pounds,” Edward told me. “Yeah,” Adam said. “Tony has been very reluctant to allow photos of his boys in the press mid-competition. He wants it to be a big surprise when he unveils the final 10.” “That means,” Edward continued, “that we’ve been somewhat forced to keep your current size a secret.” “We’ve dropped hints,” Adam said. “We’ve obviously told everyone that the house is going niche and that you’ve gotten bigger, but it’s an entirely different experience to look at you than it is to hear about you.” “Is it ever,” Edward agreed. “People are slathering to see you firsthand,” Adam continued. “Me? Why me?” I was just an inconsequential pleasure boy. “The man who’s been sleeping with a senator for 30 years,” Adam explained. “And his husband. And recently a governor. And the governor’s husband. And multiple legacy athletes. And apparently a movie star.” “Movie star?” That one shocked me. “Mark Foster. He was a movie star both before and after transition.” “Ah. Him.” Mark was a movie star? “He RSVP’d no,” Edward said. “But sends his love.” “Lots of people are spreading rumors about how big you are,” Adam continued, “so, if you can, could you get to 500 pounds by then?” “I’ve got a month,” I said, thinking it over. “Especially if you can get me that vial of Red Miracle you promised me, it’ll be doable.” “Excellent,” Adam said. “You’ll be twice as big as your press photos.” “My cock won’t be 16 inches by then.” “You’re over a foot long and only getting bigger,” Edward comforted me. “That’s more than impressive.” “Since we announced the party,” Adam interjected, “my numbers have started to recover and are steadily climbing.” He smirked and waggled his eyebrows. “He masturbates while looking at his polling numbers going up,” Edward said. “I only did that once,” Adam corrected. “The boy wonder they have running against me—the college boxer who began weightlifting when a man 40 years his senior had bigger arms—he and his wife let it leak that they share a pleasure girl together.” “The boy has no original ideas,” Edward said. “I bet you do,” Adam said suggestively. “We’ve got 50 minutes left.” He paused for emphasis. “What’s the most satisfying, kinky thing you ever did during sex?” “The most satisfying thing…” I said leadingly as I scoured the room for the appropriate props. “There are three of us, so I’ll have to get improvisational.” “I’ll just sit and watch,” Edward said, gleefully taking a chair so he could attentively observe. I stripped the sheet from the bed. “If you’ve been following my plan, your bench is over 400.” “My one rep max is 400,” Adam said. “I’ll have to be on top, then,” I responded. “What are we going to do?” Adam asked tentatively. “Only chickens ask,” I responded with a smile. “I wish we had some exercise equipment in here,” I added, looking around. “Do you think the door frame would hold both of us?” “This might be too adventurous for me,” Adam said. “I don’t want to risk grave or serious injury.” With a cough, he muttered, “At least, not this close to an election.” “In that case,” I said, “how about you bend over the bed and I fuck you silly?” “Sounds splendid,” Adam said, grabbing the lube. 25 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
jwood Posted July 29, 2023 Share Posted July 29, 2023 I was going to say 420 lbs is a nice weight for a 69-year-old, but it looks like Nile is going to explode past it over the next month! 3 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
ploder4 Posted July 29, 2023 Share Posted July 29, 2023 I sense some deliberate and accurately timed clothing malfunctions in the future. 3 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Ro20316 Posted July 29, 2023 Share Posted July 29, 2023 Oh That's why Tony wasnt invited. That must be hard for him but it goes both ways cause Tony has Onyx for his pleasure all the time with Cliff comes once a year 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
TQuintA Posted July 29, 2023 Author Share Posted July 29, 2023 Chapter 33 That night, I dreamed another recovered memory about Gavin and me. He came to my room in the middle of the night butt naked and carrying two pieces of rope, one much longer than the other. “Why do you have rope?” I asked. “I got them from the supply closet,” he answered. “That wasn’t my question,” I responded. “Only chickens ask,” he taunted me. “Now, get naked, and bring your lube.” Ever since we’d broken into the auditorium (which was about two years before this dream/memory took place), he’d been getting more adventurous with the rules he’d break. By this point, we routinely snuck out of the dorms at night. We had half a dozen ways of doing it. Sometimes, we swiped key cards. Sometimes, we broke locks. Once, we took a door off its hinges using a crudely manufactured chisel. Vera knew we did it—she even caught us a few times—but I’d just give her the fucking of her life, and all would be forgiven. We never damaged anything more valuable than a door, we never went further than a room off the main lobby, and we never broke anyone else out with us. That night, we surreptitiously went through a door we’d broken and made our way to the gym. Once inside, Gavin turned on the lights and instructed me to lube up my ass and his cock. “You’re what, 240?” he asked as I lubed him down. “I thought only chickens asked,” I retorted. “Touché,” he laughed, and then tied my hands together. Once they were firmly secured, he put his head through the O created by my tied off arms. Then, he lifted me off the ground and inserted his cock into my ass, all in one go. I wrapped my legs around his torso and mumbled non-verbal sounds of pleasure, my feet dangling a few inches off the ground. He then lashed the two of us together with the other piece of rope. Once that was done, he applied more lube to the point where my body met his. “Just to make sure I can reapply without untying us,” he said. Then, he went over to the chin-up bars and began doing chin-ups with the two of us tied together. Every time he crested the bar, he’d flex his cock, which would give my prostate a good ring. Up and down. Up and down. He fucked me thoroughly as neither of our feet hit the floor. “I’m going until you cum,” he informed me, his voice uneven from the double exertion of exercise and sexual gratification. “And I’ll know if you’re faking.” “Then I’ll hold off as long as I can,” I said, my breath catching as he flexed his cock again. He went like that, a sexmachine of pure pleasure, for five full minutes before my floodgates broke. “That was incredible,” I said, panting, my slick, shaven chest and abs coated with my own spunk. “We’re not done,” he said. He was flushed and I could feel his elevated pulse, but his eyes had a look of determination that had me ready to go again. With his cock deep inside me and the two of us tied together, he did a full calisthenic workout: stationary bike, treadmill, push-ups, and sit-ups. The push-ups were particularly pleasurable for me, giving me a frisson of delight every time he lowered me to the floor. Whenever he felt my enthusiasm waning even one jot, he’d thrust hard into me, bringing back my full attention. He wouldn’t move on to the next exercise until he made me cum. 90 minutes later, I was exhausted, inside and out, having cum five times after a full day of clients. If I was exhausted, Gavin was near dead. He collapsed on the floor, still strapped to me. He was bright purple from exertion. I could hear his heart jackhammer in his chest. His body was drenched with sweat, lube, and cum. I had never seen a bigger smile on his face. “Why did you tie me to yourself? I would’ve held on.” “I tied your hands so you couldn’t stop me,” he said between pants. “I tied you to me so I couldn’t wimp out halfway through.” “Oh yeah,” I said sarcastically, my ass and prostrate vibrating from the athletic sex, his cock still deep inside me, “you’re a wimp alright.” “I love you,” he said. He’d once again said my name, but I still couldn’t hear it. This time, however, I grasped its size and dimensions. Its rhythm. Its number of syllables. The beauty of its trochee. “I love you, Gavin,” I responded. “This is normally where I’d sing to you,” he panted. “But it’ll take me a while to get my wind back.” “I could sing to you,” I said, but at that exact moment, Vera burst in. Then I woke up, covered in jizz. My cock twitched enthusiastically, remembering the best sex Gavin and I ever had. A security guard had found us and called her. After she finished laughing at the mess we made, Vera almost dismissed us both immediately, but she was pregnant with Tony and was feeling generous. So, she gave us a stern warning and docked our tips for two weeks. I had other suspicions for why she kept me. For the next ten months, whenever I fucked her, she made me tie her up first. Gavin and I continued to break every rule we could, but we were never so bold after that. And we began to cover our tracks better. I smiled broadly at the memory, and then I heard a voice ask, “Why are you crying?” It was Onyx. He’d come in for his morning fuck. “Happy crying,” I said. I hadn’t even realized I was crying until Onyx had pointed it out. I’d been doing that a lot. “Gavin loved me, and I loved him.” “I see you don’t need any release,” Onyx said flatly, pointing to the wet spot on my blanket. “Climb aboard, buddy,” I announced, lifting up the blanket like the flap of a tent. “I got another go in me.” Just as we started fucking, I flipped us over so Onyx was underneath me. While I drove into him hard and deep, a few of my stray tears landed on his face. Onyx wiped them away and said, “If it’s too hard to have these memories, just start taking the green stuff again.” Robotically, he added, “When I overdose on the green stuff, I can check out when Tony’s on top of me. I’m not there anymore.” I stopped fucking Onyx immediately. “What the fuck, man?” I asked. “That’s my line,” he replied. “Why’d you stop?” “You just confessed to overdosing on the green stuff.” “Yes,” Onyx said. “I got the idea from you.” “You could destroy your brain,” I warned him. Onyx shook his head. “I doubt it. Since I’ve exceeded the maximum recommended dosage, I’ve broken through to the other side. I can hold a full conversation again, Nile. That doesn’t sound like brain damage to me.” I was still horrified. “What does Tony do to you that you are so desperate to forget?” Onyx shrugged. “He makes me act out fantasies that are against house rules,” Onyx explained calmly. “He makes me do disgusting things I don’t want to do. I know that.” Onyx stopped and looked me dead in the eyes. “And right now, Nile, I can’t remember a one of them. It’s gone. If you hadn’t gotten on top of me, I wouldn’t have even remembered that Tony and I have sex.” Onyx didn’t look sad or scared or disgusted. He looked bored. “I’m all for Tony acting out his fantasies with a consenting adult,” Onyx said. Then, he lifted up his head so it was right next to my ear and whispered sinisterly. “And every day I don’t quit is a day I’m consenting.” “I’m your accountability buddy. I’m telling you to stop taking the green stuff for your own good.” “If you want me to stop taking it so bad,” Onyx said. “Get Tony to leave me alone. He’s the only part of this job I can’t stomach.” With that, I threw on a pair of boxers and marched out of the room, leaving Onyx alone in my bed. I stormed all the way to Slate’s room. “We got to get Onyx off the green stuff,” I said the second Slate opened his door. “About time,” Slate said, welcoming me inside. “I asked him to stop taking it a week ago, and he flat-out refused.” “He told me he wouldn’t stop taking the green stuff until Tony left him alone.” “How do we accomplish that?” Slate asked. “Find him another boy. One who doesn’t mind the shit Tony’s into.” Then it hit me that I was missing crucial information. “What is Tony into?” “Murder fantasies,” Slate said. “He likes to pretend to kill the guy he’s topping. He uses real, loaded guns to add to his excitement.” “Really? How do you know that?” “Onyx and I are in the same pledge class. He told me during training—when Tony first took a shine to him.” “Okay, sure. That’s dark. Deeply disturbing, even. It’s just a fantasy, though,” I said. “Tony may be a lot of things, but he’s not a murderer.” I’d acted out that exact same fantasy with my clients a few times even though it was explicitly against the rules to do so. “Did Onyx ever tell you why he became a pleasure boy?” Slate asked. I shook my head no; I’d assumed it was the money and the posh digs. “He used to work in a loading dock of some factory. His boss thought Onyx was sleeping with his wife. Onyx wasn’t, but you know how paranoid some guys can get. His boss took out a gun and shot at Onyx a few times. Thankfully, he missed, but he threatened to kill Onyx if he ever set foot on the factory grounds ever again. Onyx was then fired and couldn’t find another job because his boss badmouthed him to every factory owner in a 100-mile radius. So, he came here. Having sex with a man pointing a loaded gun at you could fuck with a guy who’s never been shot at. Imagine what it does to Onyx.” All I could say was, “Shit.” “He loves it here,” Slate said. “Job security, fancy surroundings, good food, sex on tap.” Slate laughed. “And when you’re as good at this job as Onyx is, the money’s not half bad either. Even with all the supplements he’s on, he’s saved a ton.” “If he loves this place so much, we definitely got to get Tony to leave him alone.” Slate stared at me and asked, “Fine. But how?” “If we weren’t going niche, the solution would be simple. Give a younger pleasure boy to Tony. One who hasn’t been shot at and wants to be the boss’s pet. But there’s a hiring freeze. And Onyx is the youngest pleasure boy.” “No he isn’t,” Slate said. “Like I just said, he and I are the same pledge class. I’m a whole six months younger than him.” “I don’t think six months is going to cut it.” “Tony’s favorite toy is broken,” Slate said flatly. “I’m a younger model. Plus, since the contest started, I’m actually hot in a way Tony finds sexually appealing.” “True,” I said optimistically. Then, I remembered. “But Tony is in love with Onyx.” “That’s just pretense,” Slate replied dismissively. “He calls him Nixie in private.” “Okay,” Slate said. “But I want to try this. I mean, I’ve got a bigger dick than Onyx. Tony’s a size queen. That might be enough to turn his head.” “Try it,” I said. “We better shuffle off to breakfast,” Slate said, his stomach gurgling. “I’m going to need a full tank to seduce the boss.” 22 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Mdlftr Posted July 29, 2023 Share Posted July 29, 2023 Slate is headed for the dark side! 2 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Ro20316 Posted July 30, 2023 Share Posted July 30, 2023 But why is Slate offering himself when he has seen what has happened to Onyx????? 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Recommended Posts
Join the conversation
You can post now and register later. If you have an account, sign in now to post with your account.