The Conspiracy: Act III

By Anonymous published April 6, 2011
Secrets and lies follow Karl home.
Only a single electric bulb hanging on a thick black cord from the ceiling served as a light in the room Karl and Travis shared. This meant that if one of them couldn't get to sleep, he just had to deal with it in the dark, or risk a beating for keeping the other awake with the light on.

Tonight, the sleepless one was Karl. His parents used to read to him at night when he was little, and long after they stopped, he would read himself to sleep. It was a childhood institution that survived into his adult years. Even now, when it was nearly impossible to get any kind of reading material on base, Karl found sleeping difficult without letting his eyes wander over some kind of text first. When it got really bad, like tonight, he would shift from side to side, trying to force his eyes shut, imagining formless words that would sway him to dreamland.

Of course, his every movement was punctuated by a wrenching creak from the metal frame on which his bed rested. Finally, after about fifteen minutes, but what felt like hours to both men, Travis' voice drifted dryly through the moonlit dark, "If I find out you're actually not plowing some chick over there, I'm gonna kick the shit out of you."

If Karl had been a different kind of person, he would have sighed and apologized and tried more silently to get some sleep. Instead, he said, "Screw you."

"Seriously, you need to jerk off or something? Because I'm halfway to giving you a handjob myself if it'll knock you out. It'll cost you ten bucks though. I don't do stuff like that for free. Just ask my pimp."

That got a laugh out of Karl. "Better not make that kind of talk around here, or you'll be the one getting the shit kicked out of him."

"Are you talking about Brenner? That pussy? He's got to be a fag himself, the way he jumps on anyone who says anything that's got a shade of pink to it."

"Wouldn't know," Karl mumbled. "Seems like he's just your average dumbass to me."

Travis laughed, a throaty chuckle that seemed to come deep in his chest. "You've got to be, if you're dumb enough to flap your mouth, even after the colonel comes down on you like a ton of bricks."

He was referring to an incident a few days ago, when Louis Brenner, Class-A Moron, started a shouting match with a fellow recruit, Philip Drake. Phil was a slight man, almost soft-looking, though hard exercise and a stringent diet bucked him up somewhat. He was buddies with Travis and Colin, and they usually took their lunch in the mess hall as a group. Often Karl joined them, though it couldn't be said the Wall contributed much to their friendly ribbing and chatting. Apparently, he lived up to his nickname in more ways than one.

In any case, he happened to be present when the confrontation went down. He had a mouthful of mixed greens, and Travis was regaling the others with a story about an old biology teacher who was endearingly unaware of how her whiteboard diagrams resembled people's private parts.

"She had this thing she'd do when she explained how the electron transport chain worked. She'd do this with her fingers—" He made a circle with his thumb and index finger, then, with his other index finger, "—and she'd show the electrons would shoot through the protein..."

The guys had a good laugh over it; even Karl chuckled. Phil said, "Man, I'd give a lot to see that."

An acidic voice nearby sneered, "I bet you would, Drake."

Colin turned his gaze to the speaker, who a couple seats away. "You want to elucidate that remark for us, Brenner?" He was using his pretentious Southerner voice—down-home and twangy, but riddled with sophisticated vocabulary. He only spoke that way to people who thought they were smarter than they really were.

Jaime Brenner was only a little taller than Phil, and his frame wasn't very big, but he had a lot of stock to his muscles, the result of doing manual labor from an early age. With his high cheekbones, thick crop of black hair, and sultry eyes, a mish-mash of features inherited from an Irish-Mexican parentage, he could easily be considered one of those dark, swarthy types women love so much.

"Was I talking to you?" Brenner said coolly.

Phil spoke up wearily. "Alright, I'll bite. What do you want from me?"

"You took the words right out of my mouth."

Phil seemed to start, then said, "What the hell are you talking about?"

By now they had the attention of the surrounding tables, meaning about a third of the room heard Brenner say next, "I'm talking about your wandering eyes in the showers, asshole. Don't think I haven't seen you, you fucking fag."

An astute observer might have caught the faint redness drawing up Phil's neck into his face, but all they heard was his quiet voice saying, "Sorry, man, but I think you got the wrong idea."

"The hell I do. There's a reason they keep homos like you out of the army—you can't keep your fucking minds off dick long enough to shoot anybody."

"You know," Travis remarked mildly, "it amazes me when any guy can keep his mind off his own dick long enough to shoot someone. You want me to tell everybody what I caught you doing in the latrines three nights ago?"

"Fuck you," Brenner said, though people could see his ears reddening slightly. "Or is your boyfriend already doing that for you?"

"I'm sorry—from what you've been saying, it sounds like you're the one scared of getting fucked," Travis said coolly. "How often do you leave your ass hanging out for people to take a poke at anyway, Brenner?"

Lightning-quick, Brenner had both hands on Travis' collar, much to everyone's surprise. He obviously had practice at this kind of thing. "You wanna repeat that, motherfucker?" he hissed.

Travis didn't bat an eye. "Whoops—you found me out. How's about this for bonding, son?"

In his anger, Brenner didn't go for a knee in the gut like he should have, but lunged one fist back, aiming for Travis' smart mouth. Before he could release the punch, someone caught his arm and held it in an iron grip. Brenner twisted his head to look directly into the Wall.

"Better cut that out," Karl said. He didn't raise his voice above a murmur, but everyone heard the dead seriousness in his low baritone.

Brenner hesitated. He had no problem going at it with Travis and his crew, but Karl was a different story. He didn't know Karl had never actually been in a fight with anyone before, but some instinct warned him that if pushed, Karl probably could hold more than his own.

He was about to tell Karl to fuck off, but seemed to think better of it. "This isn't any of your business, Reynolds."

"Fighting's all our business. I don't give a crap who you have a problem with, but settle that back home. I'll be damned if I get killed on the field because you can't keep your problems to yourself."

"I couldn't have said it better myself," a man's voice remarked from the front of the mess.

Karl let go of Brenner's arm just as Brenner immediately released his hold on Travis' uniform. As one, every recruit turned to face the speaker at attention. Colonel Hatcher oversaw the day-to-day affairs of the training center, with a reputation for running a clean outfit with good humor, but total lack of sympathy where disorder was concerned. He stressed absolute calm for soldiers, and subsequently laid a heavy hand on pistols like Brenner.

The colonel proceeded over to Karl's table, each step resounding loudly in the cavernous room. If anyone had dared to turn their gaze away from the man's approach, they might have seen the faint sweat appear on Travis, Phil, and Colin's temples; the slight twitch at the corner of Brenner's left eyebrow; and Karl's unflinching, unsmiling cool in his superior's presence.

Colonel Hatcher stopped right in front of them and took a moment to give each a hard look. "Right about now is when I should be asking what went on here."

Both Phil and Brenner opened their mouths, but clamped them shut when the colonel continued, "But I'm not. The Corps makes Marines. We win the nation's battles. And we produce quality citizens. On the job, the only things that make it on my agenda are related to those three goals, and a pissing match—over whatever—does not count."

"Sir—" Brenner began.


"But Sir--!"

A lesser man might have looked incredulous at Brenner's insistent backtalk, but the colonel merely raised one eyebrow over a steely eye. The younger man shut up.

"I know your type," Colonel Hatcher continued. "You're not the smartest and you're not the strongest, but you clear that hurdle by having guts. Fine. That's what we like. But you also let your guts tell you what to do instead of your brain, which, frankly, is goddam stupid. You need to get your act together."

Before he could stop himself, Brenner burst out, "Sir, I got reason to think Philip Drake's a—"

Without warning, the colonel stretched out his leg and swept his foot, hard and fast, under the recruits before him. Karl managed to just step aside, but the colonel caught Brenner right at the back of his feet, at the sensitive area just above his ankle. He fell back with a yell, landing with a muffled smack on his side. The floor being a very solid, polished cement, it must've been a very painful wake-up call.

Brenner stifled a groan and tried to turn over and prop himself up, but Colonel Hatcher had a booted foot on him before he could. "It's not rocket science. Reynolds here wasn't busy flapping his mouth. You were. Reynolds is standing. You're not. Got anything more to say?"

The younger man seemed like he was about to answer, but then pressed his lips tightly together and shook his head no.

"Excellent. Lunch is over. All of you—out."

Taking their mostly half-eaten trays with them, everyone filed out. The colonel stepped away and without another word, moved toward the exit in the opposite direction. Phil, Travis, Colin picked up their own trays and moved to follow their fellows. Karl, suddenly unsure of what to do, finally stretched down a hand to Brenner, who was still a bit winded. The smaller man looked as if he was about to bat the offer away, but suddenly changed his mind. He took a firm grip of Karl's hand and pulled himself up.

Neither said a thing—on that, they related to each other very well—but each could sense from a life's worth of habitual silence that there were no hard feelings. Karl didn't stay to watch Brenner brush himself off; he swept up his tray and marched to join his three pals. He didn't look back, but Phil couldn't help himself. He only meant to give a brief glance, but when his eyes met directly with Brenner's, they locked. You didn't have to be a body language expert to know what a clenched jaw and glittery eyes meant.

There hadn't been any trouble from Brenner since then, and Karl was inclined to put the whole thing out of mind entirely, but Travis somehow felt it hadn't blown over just yet. "That guy's gonna try something," he said that night.

Karl was already having trouble sleeping. He didn't really want to trouble himself over something he felt was already over. "He does, he'll get booted."

"Ha!" Travis laughed. "Then he'll be out in the streets, ‘cause that guy's unemployable."

Once he got started, he could crack jokes for a considerable stretch of time. The best way to shut him up was simply to keep quiet yourself. Sure enough, when Karl didn't say anything, Travis, who thankfully was the type who could take a hint, promptly fell silent. For a few minutes, it seemed like they had both drifted off to catch a few hours of shut-eye before the morning wake-up call, but a restless, wrenching creak from Karl's bed signaled he was still hopelessly awake.

"Seriously?" Most of Travis' good humor had gone by now. He propped himself up in his bed and turned in Karl's direction. "What does it take? What? You want your nighttime feeding? You need your mom's tit in your face?"

Karl said nothing, which provoked his roommate even more. Travis flung his sheets off and stalked over to Karl's bed. He wore a plain green tank, showing off arms somewhat less muscled than Karl's bulging guns. In the dim lighting, his dark brown hair appeared almost black, its color one with the shadows. "Alright, get out of there."


"If you're gonna stay up all night, do it on the floor so I don't have to fucking hear it every five minutes."

The lack of sleep was starting to get to Karl too, as he shot back, "Here's an idea: quit acting like my wife, man up, and get back in your own bed—damn pussy."

His last remark seemed to strike a chord, as Travis suddenly grabbed him by the shoulders and attempted to drag him out. "That's it—get the fuck out here, asshole."

Karl wrenched himself free of the other man's grasp, and tried to keep his voice level so as not to alert the whole base to come in and watch them tussle in bed like kid brothers. "You're damn crazy. I'll sleep on the floor. That make you happy?"

"We're way past that," Travis retorted. "Just get out so I can kick your ass."

After trying and failing for a few minutes to get a hold of Karl, Travis finally clenched a fistful of Karl's covers and practically ripped them off the bed. The bit of moon shining through the little window in their room illuminated Karl's now wholly exposed body, which was, to their shock, almost completely naked save for a bulgy, crinkly diaper around his waist, its pure whiteness practically glowing in the pale moonlight. Even with their limited vision they could see that Karl's body was shaved hairless and appeared sleekly smooth.

For a few, incredibly long seconds, neither could say a word. Karl was stunned into total paralysis. Despite all his instincts clanging for him to try to cover himself up or wrench that humiliating nappy off himself, he remained frozen on his bed, staring at his covered nether regions in horror.

Travis also couldn't seem to wrench his gaze away from his roommate's unbelievable appearance. His hands unclenched and the sheets he still had clutched in his fist fell limply to the floor. Then he seemed to recover himself, and a grin slowly grew on his face. "So."

Karl glanced quickly into Travis' eyes, which twinkled at him in an unnerving way.

"Looks like the Wall's inner child is still alive and kicking," Travis commented.

Karl had to say something, but nothing came to mind. Something was all wrong with this situation.

Travis' voice heightened in pitch and his tone grew unbearably condescending. "No wonder you're having trouble sleeping. Does Karly need his num-nums?"

This kind of treatment should have made Karl spring into a deadly anger, but somehow the patronizing words seemed to sap him further of his will, and he could only shake his head in a faint impression of denial.

"Don't be scared, baby," Travis continued, stepping closer to the bed until he loomed over Karl's prone form.

Just as Karl tried to force himself to move away, Travis had both his hands on Karl's diapered package, squeezing it firmly. Before he could stop himself, Karl moaned, a helpless lowing of both confusion and pleasure. Travis' smile grew even broader and he squeezed again, getting another pleased groan out of his roommate, as if Karl had suddenly turned into one of those dolls that gurgled or cooed when you pressed their sweet spots. Even with the thick, rustling plastic in the way, Travis could feel Karl's dick lengthening under his hands, his ministrations causing the sweet-soft cotton to rub irresistibly up and down Karl's shaft.

"Aw, look at how happy he is," Travis murmured. "I got something that'll make you even happier right here."

He began to slide down the dark gray sweatpants he slept in and out sprang his own cock, wagging slightly in its newfound freedom. Still in the throes of his own pleasure, Karl glanced at it without fully realizing the implications of its appearance.

In one swift motion, Travis swung one leg over the bed and heaved himself on, his legs kneeling on either side of Karl's body as he kept himself just a couple inches away from sitting on Karl's chest. Before Karl could protest, Travis placed his hands down behind him, pressing onto his buddy's baby-wrapped groin. Karl grunted as he felt a spurt of pre-cum dribble out of his penis into the absorbent walls of its prison. Travis continued to smile and swayed his hips slightly, allowing the tip of his own dick to drag along Karl's smooth, cobbled chest, leaving a slightly glittery trail of moistness in its wake. The cool air seemed to draw into the wet sheen, causing strangely pleasurable sensations to prickle across the surfaces and crevices of Karl's abs.

Travis inched himself across Karl's chest, gaining ground until his groin was practically in Karl's face. Karl felt his breathing grow shallow as his eyes fixed themselves on the taut six-inch piece of meat before him. Without realizing it, his lips briefly pressed against his tongue, moistening his lips, and he took a hard swallow.

"See what I got for you, baby? A nice, loaded milk bottle just for you. I bet you'd like to have a taste of that, wouldn't ya? You can't even sleep without it."

Karl made no answer. Travis' pecker, almost acting of its accord, suddenly flicked right against Karl's cheek, leaving a dab of oily pre-cum just above his lip. Karl closed his eyes and breathed deeply, the musky scent of another man's sex lingering in his nose. He ran his tongue above his lip, catching the faintly savory taste of his roommate's milk. Instead of feeling disgust, he felt a growing hunger for the real stuff. A flash of horror jabbed into his brain. What was happening? Why was he like this? Why was he acting this way? His every reaction was undeniably gay—even in this state, he couldn't deny the facts—but he wasn't. He wasn't. Not really. Not totally—yet. But when Travis' dick once again brushed his face, right across his lips, he could feel a perverse urge to see just how far this would go.

"Yeah, just look at this baby practically crying for his bottle," Travis said. He grabbed his thick cock with one hand and started painting it back and forth across Karl's mouth.

There was something foreign and unnatural to Travis' voice, a tone Karl had never heard his good-humored friend use before, and yet strangely familiar. Something wasn't right. This—it wasn't supposed to happen like this. It didn't happen like this. In between the involuntary puckering of his lips each time Travis' penis made contact, a slow realization was beginning to dawn on the horizon of Karl's consciousness.

Before he could make the leap to understanding, Karl heard his buddy say above him, "Alright—feeding time. Come on, baby, say ‘Ah.'" In preparation, Travis aimed the plum head of his dick straight at Karl's face.

Karl made an attempt to speak. "W-wait. I'm not...I..."

"Good enough." With that, Travis plunged his meat right into Karl's open mouth, cutting off any further protests that might have come.

Karl's lips reflexively pursed around the thick piece of flesh and his tongue began to run along its hard, underlying ridge. The experience of having Travis' dick run-off make instant contact with his taste buds shot bullets of hot pleasure directly into his brain, short-circuiting any intelligent, rational thought he could have had. Instinct took over. He began to rhythmically bob his head up and down on his buddy's shaft, making it impossibly harder, stimulating even more pre-cum out of it into his thirsting mouth.

"Oh, yeah, baby," Travis sighed contentedly, shutting his eyes and arching back his head. "Feed your hungry mouth with my dick."

His condescension only served to encourage Karl's efforts, and he went double-time on his sex-bottle, his lips almost growing hot from the friction. His hands, which had remained helplessly to his sides till now, reached up and clenched onto Travis' fleshy ass, steadying him so Karl's mouth could more effectively slide along his friend's pole. Soon, Travis had his other hand clasped behind Karl's head, his fingers buried in the thick shock of Karl's dark golden hair, pushing Karl to go even deeper on his shaft, at times down to the root, so his dark crop of pubic hair scrubbed Karl's face.

And through it all, Karl continued to enthusiastically help himself, with no further thought of resistance or discomfort, and no sense of wrongness. It all seemed so right exactly because of how unusual it felt. Soon, the only thing left in his mind was bringing his friend over the top so he could get at the real stuff—the thin, oily pre-cum only stoked his craving. In his imagination, he could already see the gush of white cream spurting out of the juicy head, filling his mouth, slipping down his parched throat. With this image in focus, he sucked even harder, and his vision narrowed until all he saw was Travis' big dick pounding like a rattling gun into his eager face...


"Damn, Burrows—you really did a number on him," General Hatcher said.

Dr. Burrows managed to look apologetic. "I've had a lot of work on my plate these last couple days, so I admit I've been out of the loop lately."

The general rolled his eyes. The best laid-out plans always fell through by one incident of carelessness.

Once again he looked over the scene before him: the examination room at the back of Burrows' office, where on the exam table laid Karl, still shaven smooth and diapered, though the doctor had taken care to change him after his first "milking." Held in a loose grip in Karl's hand was a large, pink, rubbery dildo, anatomically correct down to the ripple of veins on its sides. Karl sucked contentedly on its tapered tip, his eyes shut in dreamy slumber, while his other hand gripped and massaged the obvious bulge under his infant briefs, filling the room with the faint rustle of soft plastic.

Despite the circumstances, the general was impressed. "How long has he been like this?"

The doctor checked his watch, a heavy piece of gleaming chrome on his wrist. "Since I—worked with him this afternoon. About five hours."

"And you've still got Hagstrom's gadget running?"

"Oh, no. The way mine is put together, it can't maintain that kind of output for long. It went out after an hour."

"Really?" Hatcher grew even more interested in light of this information. "So this is all him?"

"So to speak," the slightly older man clarified. "Right now he's in REM, which isn't altogether different from the state Sergeant Hagstrom's device puts him in. I don't know how much of this he'll keep once he's fully conscious."

The general smiled when Karl let out a moan, garbled by the thick sex toy in his mouth. "Damn. This is miles away from the breakdown we put Brenner through."

Dr. Burrows nodded. "It was just me experimenting, then. Have you heard anything from him?"

Hatcher shook his head. "Nah. Out of sight, out of mind."

"I'm surprised Lieutenant Garrett lets you get away with that."

"Stan's a pussycat once you get to know him—or blow him."

The doctor chuckled, but concern creased his face. "I still think we should track him down at some point, see what long-term effects our conditioning has had."

"You mean if he's bat-shit crazy or not?"


"Yeah, yeah. You're a real piece of work, you know that, Burrows? You get on your political-correctness high-horse, and meanwhile you turn a grown man gah-gah in the back room."

It was a good point. There wasn't anything the doctor could say to that.

"That brings us back to our problem: what the hell do we do with Reynolds from here? Can he keep training the kids like this, do you think?"

Burrows looked doubtful. "Well, considering what I heard about his reaction in the showers..."

The general got his drift; now that Karl was in even deeper than before, there was no telling what kind of subconscious behaviors might pop up. As if to confirm these thoughts, Karl's free hand reached up to pinch his nipples.

"Can you reverse this?" Hatcher asked.

The doctor scratched the side of his head, a nervous habit he'd diagnosed in himself, but could never cure. "I've been thinking about that, but I just don't know. This is still unknown territory. For crying out loud, Tim, we barely knew what we were doing going into this—forget reverse-engineering it. It'd be like trying to disarm a bomb in the dark."

"Shit." Hatcher turned away from the wacked-out younger officer. "I made the wrong call this time."

"Just this time?"

"Funny. I've ordered men to their deaths, but never because I didn't think it was the right and best thing to do, given the circumstances. Brenner I packed off the way I did because he proved he wasn't soldier material when he fucked up Drake, but none of the higher-ups could see it."

The doctor, being used to these confessions, told him, "No one's ever had to question your judgment. That includes our circle."

"Not this time." There was no hint of agitation in the general's voice, only quiet regret. "I was protecting our merry band of brothers, yes. But there was more to it."

"How so?" the doctor prompted.

"You can cut the shrink act, Burrows. The truth is, I should have just gone over Reynolds' head and led him off the track, the conventional way. But he was always such a straight-laced kind of guy, I wanted to have fun with him a little—loosen him up."


"And you know Reynolds—that high and mighty attitude of his. I respect him, but maybe I got sick of him acting like he's got the whole thing figured out already. Like he's gunning to outrank me. I guess I wanted to put him in his place a little—show him who's boss."

"I see. Well, Sergeant Reynolds was an unlucky...casualty, shall we say, but I think your issue with him goes deeper than that. I think you know it too."

Hatcher stared off into space for a moment. "Yeah. He knows who he is, and he's going places because of it. And I'm..." He sighed. "I've been holding a part of myself back this whole time. Our circle's all fun and games, but I don't think it solves a damn thing for any of us."

"No," the doctor agreed. "But Karl isn't the real problem for us."

Hatcher nodded. "It's the system. I shouldn't have taken it out on him. He was just doing what he should have."

There was no change in the general's expression, and he stood as straight as ever, but the deflation in his voice spoke volumes. Burrows approached him slowly, spread out his arms, and took him in a deep embrace. After a moment, Hatcher placed his own arms around the slightly taller man's back.

"You're not the only one who's been messed up by how things have to be done in the military," the doctor murmured. "But you've handled it better and you've gotten further than anyone has."

Hatcher rested his head on the doctor's shoulder. "It's funny. I've faced tanks barreling down at me back in the Gulf, but when all it might take is for me to say two words to a roomful of men in suits, I'm nothing."

"Death doesn't scare us; living like you want to die is the worst. You've saved a lot of our boys from that since you came here."

Hatcher clutched onto the other man even harder, then stepped back, though they kept their arms around each other, the doctor's hands on the general's lower back, and the general's on the doctor's shoulders. "What now?" Hatcher said.

Burrows considered the matter. "I can diagnose Sergeant Reynolds with something appropriate and recommend extended leave. He has a girlfriend back home. If she stays close to him and as long as we don't give him any further conditioning, this whole thing may pass over. It's my best bet."

"He might let go of the whole Travis thing too, if we're lucky," the general said. "Yeah, we'll just have to do that. Think he'll go with it?"

"Karl's biggest limitation is his own rationality. Even if he remembers what happened to him, he'll go with the most logical explanation, which is he spontaneously passed out from overwork and had some embarrassing dreams as a result. In light of that evidence, he'll feel obligated to follow an order to get himself straightened out."

Hatcher couldn't help chuckling. "‘Straightened out.'"

The doctor joined his laughter. "Classic Freudian slip. I guess I'm not immune."

When their laughing quieted down, the general said, "You called me ‘Tim' earlier."

"I must have gotten a little overexcited."

"You don't have to apologize, dumbass. It's been—what?—two years now?"

"Just about," the doctor agreed. "You better be careful; you'll have to take this seriously fairly soon."

Impulsively, Hatcher pulled him close to him with formidable strength and placed his lips squarely on the other man's mouth. The long kiss soon grew more urgent, as their mouths parted and their tongues came into play. Their hands no longer stayed chastely above the waist but soon descended to squeeze each other's butts through their uniform slacks.

When they finally paused to take a breath, the general said, "For me, this is serious. Maybe as serious as it'll ever get."

"I know." The doctor gave him another kiss, and things might have progressed quickly from there, but they were alerted to the young officer in question when Karl's sucking on the dildo grew almost frantic, and he began to make a slight whimpering noise. "I think our little baby boy's ready for feeding time."

"You're still going through with that?"

"What's done is done, and it'd be a shame to waste this last opportunity," the doctor said practically.

The general grinned. "Mind if I do the honors? I like to finish what I start."

Burrows gestured grandly toward the moaning, diapered man on his exam table. Hatcher wrenched off his boots, unbuckled his belt, and pulled down his pants, revealing a tight black leather jock that did little more than cocoon the immense bulge of his dick, which thanks to his earlier mouth-play with the doctor had already erected nearly to full capacity. Kicking aside his discarded slacks, the general climbed up next to Karl. He gently pried the dildo out of Karl's hand and removed it from his mouth, leaving Karl's lips working to find its missing toy.

"Easy, son," Hatcher said, carefully positioning himself on top of Karl's broad chest. "Daddy's got your milk right here."

Once he got himself comfortable, the older man released a couple buttons attaching the front flap of his jock to the waistband, freeing his cock with an almost audible sproing. He lightly slapped his dick in Karl's face a few times, and when Karl's mouth opened up, he stuck in the whole girth of his meat. Even in the throes of deep sleep, Karl seemed to sense that he had the real thing in his mouth this time. Since the general's flesh lacked the rubbery friction of the dildo, Karl's lips moved more smoothly up and down the snakey cock. By now, his sucking had become almost instinctive; without his brain at work, his mouth took on a life of its own, swallowing the general's dick as far down to his crotch as it could, twisting around the engorged trunk, using its tongue to massage the stem and head.

Karl's subconscious blowjob soon had Hatcher groaning. "You did a good job with him—nuh!—he gives as good as he got now."

The doctor had contented himself with leaning against a counter and beating his own dick off while watching the general get serviced on his exam table. Gasping from his own pleasure, he said, "He learns fast."

It didn't take long before the general felt a tingling churn in his balls. Every drag Karl took made his dick grow impossibly harder, stretching so tight and rigid it could have jackhammered a hole into a cement wall. Instead Hatcher continued drilling Karl's lusting mouth, moaning with his eyes squeezed shut as he prepared for the payoff, "Just a little bit more, son, you almost got it."

Karl needed no prompting. His sucking became even more furious, to the point it was a wonder he didn't blow himself awake. Within seconds, the cock in his mouth tensed up, then began spewing its milky contents, quickly filling up Karl's mouth with pale white ooze. Karl savored the sweet tang of his reward, letting it coat his tongue and the roof of his mouth before greedily gulping it down.

Panting, the general removed his limp dick and squeezed it from root to tip to remove the very last, prized drops, dripping them into Karl's mouth. When he was done, he plopped his spent meat unceremoniously onto Karl's face, permeating the younger officer's nostrils with the potent smell of pure, rugged masculinity.

Nearby, the doctor had released his own juices into his hand. This being his second shoot of the day, the output wasn't quite on the level of the first he fed Karl with, but "Waste not, want not," as his late grandmother was fond of saying. As Hatcher brushed off the thin sheen of sweat on his forehead, Burrows carefully walked over and said softly, "Open up, son—Daddy's got some more for you."

Karl was too exhausted to do more than open his mouth partway, but that was enough. The doctor stuck in his slathered fingers, and just the taste was enough to get Karl busily slurping the sticky cream off of them. Once his hand was licked clean, the doctor sighed and leaned back against the exam table, his head level to the general's.

Hatcher recovered first. "I have to say, I hate to let the kid go. They grow up so fast." He turned to face the other man, grinning.

Burrows had leaned over to take a peek into Karl's diaper. "Not as fast as all that. Our baby boy's wet himself again." Instead of disapproving, he sounded impressed. Karl's second load was nearly as rich as his first, in comparison to the doctor's. But when you're that young...

The general eased himself over Karl's body and off the table, landing on the floor with a heavy thump. He pulled up the dangling flap of his jock and rebuttoned it over his now flaccid dick. Walking over to the pants he kicked aside earlier, he began to pull them up. "You change him. I've got to find someone to take his place while he's off recuperating."

After he'd made himself presentable again, Hatcher paused just before he exited the exam room. "It won't be easy replacing him. I hope he gets back to us sooner than later."

The town Karl had grown up in was a small, stable if not prospering, place an hour's drive east from Chicago. The economy would have done it in had it not been for the nearby university that kept the area populated with fresh blood and business. A river ran sluggishly through the center of the town, essentially cutting it in half.

Since taking his leave from the Corps, Karl had taken residence in his grandparents' old family home on the eastern half of town, composed mostly of trees and friendly-looking neighborhoods. When his father's father died, Karl's grandmother went to Florida to recover from her husband's passing in the warm sunshine and ocean breezes, and winded up staying. She had kept her Midwestern house, however, and for a while rented it out to several families, none of whom stayed for much longer than a couple years. There came a fairly long vacant period when the housing bubble burst and she grew afraid that she might just have to sell it, so it was to her great relief when her grandson offered to rent the place from her while he was on leave.

It wasn't the ideal living situation—the house had gotten a little run down since Karl's grandfather was no longer around to keep it in shape, and none of the renters felt the need to do much more than superficial repairs for a home they considered temporary. But anyway, Karl didn't plan to stay very long. He figured a few months would be more than enough time to convince the higher-ups he'd gotten himself back together, and then it would be back to the fort.

In the meantime, Karl spent his days fixing up the place (much to his grandmother's delight), reading at the university's library, and working out. He paid regular obligatory visits to his parents, who lived in the western half of town, where most of the most important business and civic centers resided. He didn't enjoy the visits much. His dad, a disciplinarian nearly as strict as his son, had never been satisfied with Karl's explanation for his leave, which was usually along the lines of, "They just thought I should take a break."

"And why exactly would they think that?" his father asked, unconvinced. He'd usually cross his arms rigidly and level Karl with a look that gave the Wall a run for its money.

Karl knew there was no easy way to explain that he had somehow knocked out—he wouldn't say fainted—while paying the fort's psychiatrist a visit for...classified reasons. Or that Dr. Burrows had diagnosed him with mild PTSD triggered by the delivery of his fallen comrade's uniform. Or that the major general had reassured him, "You can apply for a new position as soon as you've gotten yourself straightened out." Or the strange look on the general's face when he said it. It was easier just to tell his dad shortly, "They think I deserve it, I guess."

"That's the first time I've heard the military talk any sense," said Karl's mom. She had never questioned his leave, but in some ways, she bothered him even more than his dad. She not only fussed over him constantly, she turned every conversation into an opportunity to leave the Corps for good, find a comfortable job, and marry someone nice. "By the way, how's Sarah doing? I haven't seen her around forever."

Karl shifted uncomfortably in the wooden chair at his parents' dinner table, where they usually had these weekly visits. "She's fine."

He'd never been able to talk freely with his mother about—well, pretty much anything, but his relationships most of all. And where Sarah was concerned, he didn't know what to make of it himself. Not that they had been distant. In fact, they saw each other almost every day. And they'd been getting along better than ever. But what Karl found most bizarre and unexplainable was how much he'd actually enjoyed her company.

On one of his short breaks a year ago, they took a walk down by the tree-lined riverside, and he was put off when she squeezed her arm around his and rested her head against him. It was the kind of public display of affection he tried to avoid whenever possible. But today, when they took the same walk earlier, he draped his arm around her shoulder as if he had always done it. And the thing was, he didn't even realize it until she shyly pointed it out. "I'm guessing one of your buddies finally decided to bring you up to speed on modern coupling," she joked.

Karl hid his surprise. "How so?"

She brushed aside a stray lock of long black hair that had blown into her face. "For one, you were the one who called me out this time."

"I've asked you out before," he pointed out.

Sarah looked at him with a wry expression in her almond-shaped eyes. "Yeah, formally, when we go out on really datey kind of dates. But—I don't know, you're not really into the spontaneous thing."

Karl had to admit this was true. His conception of dates was formulaic, and never got more imaginative than semi-formal, sit-down dinner at a restaurant with tablecloths, movie optional, then sex at her place. Sarah was usually the one who suggested things like going downtown to try the new gelato place, or hitting the city to visit the art institute, or a weekend getaway at some bed and breakfast in the sticks. But that morning, for whatever reason, he called her up to see if she felt like taking a walk. He thought maybe he'd been bored, but the truth was, he genuinely wanted to spend some time with her. It was a foreign emotion, like how he felt in those dreams...


Karl broke off this uncomfortable line of thought. "Hm?"

Having interpreted his silence as offense at her comment, Sarah assured him, "I didn't mean anything bad by it. It's a nice change. That's all."

"Don't mention it. Don't get to expecting it, either," he added.

She smiled. "Your sense of humor's gotten better too. I might actually try having us watch ‘The Office' again."

"How are people selling paper funny?"

"It's not about what they do; it's how awkward they are interacting with each other. You'd think you, of all people, would relate."

Karl couldn't say he did. "Not sure I follow."

Sarah threw up her hands and laughed. "Okay, so maybe you haven't changed that much."

He appreciated the remark, but he was beginning to realize what she said was far from the truth.


Since taking his leave, Karl's dreams had been gratefully absent of anything strange or perverse, and he'd woken up feeling his usual self, much to his relief. That all started to change a few days after moving back home, when Karl set out to find a decent gym. He kept up some of the exercise drills on his own time, but it occurred to him that getting a little more buffed up might not be a bad idea. He asked about it when meeting up with one of his last friends still living in town.

"I don't know," the friend said doubtfully. "I mean, there's always Bond's."

He was referring to a town institution, a gym established in the seventies but changed little since then. The original owner still ran the place, and stubbornly adhered to the school of isometrics—pushing your body against walls and the like to develop muscle resistance. It was better known around town as the old man's gym, where people's fathers were most likely to go.

"Did they bring in a weightlifter yet?"

"No, but I hear they're thinking about it." The friend thought for a moment. "You know, on the edge of town there's a new place that opened up last year. It's pretty much got everything."

"I'll check it out," Karl said.

His friend hesitated. "I got to warn you, though—the towns nearby use it too, so they've got a lot of different kinds of people going there. It's kind of a gay magnet. Not that I have any real problems with that," he said hastily. "It just got kind of weird, you know? I didn't really feel comfortable."

"Long as they don't bother me, I won't bother them."

Karl went to the place later that same day and found it suited his needs fine, so he signed up for a month-by-month membership. He made a routine of going every other afternoon just before dinner, a set-up that worked well until the day he finally had a go at vacuuming.

One of the only modern features of his grandparents' house was they had a central vacuum system installed to make cleaning the two-story building easier. He didn't spend much time on the second floor, so it took a while for him to realize that a choking layer of dust had begun to develop. The central vac made the chore a cinch—all he had to do was plug in a hose to one of the outlets and it would start up—but when he tried switching it off, it continued running and wouldn't stop, no matter how many tricks he looked up on the internet and tried. He eventually managed to shut the thing down by disconnecting one of the voltage wires from the unit, but decided to call in a professional to take care of it. The company arranged for a serviceman to swing by in a few weeks.

When Karl got off the phone, it was already dinnertime, and he had agreed to come over to his parents' place that evening. For the average person, skipping a day's workout was no big deal, but Karl would have none of that. He decided to hit the gym after dinner.

It was late when he finally left his parents, and by the time he got to the gym, it was nearly emptied, except for a few people who preferred getting their exercise just before going to bed. The night staff had already dimmed most of the lights and turned off most of the televisions hanging on the walls. Even the music didn't seem to play as loudly as usual, allowing the noise from the few occupied exercise machines to echo eerily through the rooms.

Karl liked to do some reps at the various weight machines before finishing his workout with a good run on the treadmill. When he came into the weight training room, there was already another man about his age, lying back shirtless on an inclined bench, doing some leg curls. Karl took the weight machine across from him. He had little choice; the small room was only half lit, and he didn't feel much like working out in the dark. He gave a short nod to the other man, who nodded back, after which they pointedly averted their eyes from each other

Once he got started, Karl could drown out surrounding distractions until the only thing left on his mind was pushing for the next rep, until he reached the count he wanted. In the deep of his workout, he didn't even notice the rivulets of sweat running down his face, occasionally blurring his vision, much less the other people exercising around him. But in the quiet of the gym at night, every sound became more distinctive, more difficult to phase into ignorable white noise. As Karl got well into pulling the long metal bars of the pec attachment, he couldn't shake off the loud clank the machine made each time he finished a successful push. Then he slowly grew aware that in between each clank, there followed a rowdy clatter.

The source of the noise came from the man working his calves across the way. Somehow their rhythms had synchronized so when Karl lifted his weight, the other man dropped his, and vice versa. The resulting rhythm of their dual workouts created a metallic, pounding beat, punctuated by the faint grunts and gasps of the men in their physical efforts.

Even though Karl tried not to lose focus, the repetitive noise kept him from the concentration he was used to, and he couldn't help turning his gaze toward the one responsible for half of it. Each time he felt his eyes draw onto the man across, Karl forced them to look away, only to have them slowly linger back. Each glimpse got him another bit of the man's appearance: the thick plates of muscles that formed his pecs, the deep ridges in his abs, the shock of wiry pitch-black hair on his head, and the scruffy shadow of a day-old beard which framed his carved chin and high cheekbones. His skin was a rich caramel, and his features looked vaguely Mediterranean. All over his body was a sheen of sweat that nearly shone in the sterile fluorescent light.

Before he knew it, these pieces came together in Karl's imagination to form an awesome vision of a man, whose looks and build rivaled his own. The image took hold in Karl's mind, so even when he shut his eyes, there the man was in all his masculine glory. Karl tried in vain to pull his attention away from the unwanted sight, tried to ignore the unnatural quickening of his heartbeat.

Unable to stop himself, his eyes saw that the other man wore a baggy pair of gym shorts, which hung a little low and loosely on the defined angles of his waist, revealing a short glimpse of white elastic—the waistband of the man's underwear.

Karl felt suddenly hot—not just the usual burn from his exertions, but a simmering heat concentrated in his head and trickling down to his crotch. The mere thought of underwear had reminded Karl of his own white briefs, and he wondered if the other man wore the same kind. He wondered how well they fitted around the man's privates. Perhaps he liked some room down there, same as Karl. Or maybe he liked them stretched tight around the bubbled cheeks of his ass, firmly cupping his big penis—of course a guy who looked like that had to have a dick to brag about—and when he got hard, no doubt that fat cock would have to force its way down the side of his thigh, trapped beneath the restraints of its cotton prison. Trapped, but not hidden. The snakey outline of his dong would still be obviously visible, and when the pre-cum started to run, there'd be a damp patch on his crotch that would only grow until it turned the fabric sheer, letting the flesh of his dick show through, inviting anyone to kneel down and put his mouth—

Karl groaned as he negotiated the last rep, then let the weights fall with a heavy thump. He rubbed his eyes with his fingers, aware of how heavily he was breathing. It wasn't just the exercise. He could feel his own dick practically throbbing in his briefs, and he was grateful for the concealing bagginess of his sweatpants.

When he looked up, he was startled to find a pair of dark eyes gazing steadily back at him. He had lost track of when the other man had finished his workout, so had no idea how long the man had been sitting there, looking at him. This was the time for Karl to use the Wall to stare him down, but for the first time, uncertainty made him hesitate. He realized to his consternation that he was feeling wary—no, he was actually feeling nervous at what the other man might be thinking, of him.

For one awful, drawn-out moment neither man made a move nor a sound, besides the quiet heaves of their labored breathing. Even in this predicament, Karl couldn't help noticing the slabs of the other man's pecs slightly expanding and contracting, as if they, not his lungs were taking in air and letting it out. A person could get hypnotized into watching them all day.

Then the impasse ended. A corner of the man's lips tugged up, impressing an irresistible dimple in the chiseled hollow of his cheek. Without a word, he stood up from the bench, took a towel that had been slung over the bench to his right, and walked out the training room. Only after he left did Karl let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding.

The staring contest had been unnerving, but it was his graphic thoughts earlier that really disturbed Karl. He had never—never—had erotic thoughts of another man before. He'd never even entertained many erotic thoughts about women, and even when did, he didn't remember them being as graphic and potent as his brief, tantalizing fantasy of that man's—Karl forced himself to think it—privates. The delusion had been almost insanely alluring, so convincing he could practically taste the salty musk of the pre-cum—

Wait. Taste? But he had never...

His temples began to ache. Even though he'd barely started, Karl decided to call it a day. The thought of burying the night's strangeness in sleep had suddenly become very appealing. But sleep posed its own dangers, as he soon discovered.


The gym had a room dedicated to the electric exercise machines. Karl usually finished his routine with a good run, and he was about halfway through on the treadmill when he spotted the man running on the machine in front of him. Karl recognized the sweat-glistened, flared backside right away. It was the guy who'd been doing leg curls in the training room earlier.

Even though a walkway separated them, the man's back seemed to swell into Karl's vision until he saw every contour and ridge of muscle, which inevitably drew his eye down to the man's ass. The shorts had seemed baggy before, but now they clung close to each rounded piece of flesh, outlining the crevice where the two muscled globes clenched together.

Karl's hands were bunched into fists as he jogged, but in a moment it was if the distance between the two men closed and before he knew what was happening, he already had a hand gripped onto the other man's butt, squeezing the firm yet pliable meat with his fingers. The man's treadmill had stopped running. They stood together on the stilled machine, and with his right hand occupied, Karl drew close and ran his other hand along the center of the dark-haired man's back, sliding over the shoulder and reaching down to clasp his jutting pec, tweaking the little nub Karl knew was his nipple.

An instant later the other man reached back, grabbed onto Karl's neck, and eased him even closer so that Karl's head now rested on his shoulder. Karl dully noted they were exactly the same height as he pressed his face into the little nook of the man's neck, brushing his lips against the moist, sun-kissed flesh. He removed his right hand, then slowly slipped it beneath the man's shorts, squeezing past his underwear, and massaging the dense ass muscles inside. Karl felt the fingers on his left hand spread as the man's pecs expanded in reaction to his play. Emboldened, Karl slid his right hand around the man's waist, bringing it to the front, then cupping the smooth eggs that were the other man's balls. They were pressed so close together that Karl felt rather than heard a groan rumbling through the man's chest.

After spending a few moments rolling and agitating the balls in his hand, Karl released them and took hold of the man's penis, which was already beginning to tighten up in his underwear. Karl began stroking it, each time feeling it lengthen a little more in his hand as he kept up his handjob. When it reached maximum length, Karl rubbed his thumb and forefinger around the piss slit, using the dribbles of pre-cum leaking out to intensify the pleasure. He used his other hand to turn the other man's face toward him, and for a moment they quietly gazed at each other, the man's umber eyes looking straight into Karl's blue-gray, until they both tipped their heads and let their lips finally meet—

The timer on his treadmill went off and the machine slowed to a stop. Karl's run was finished. Looking up, he saw that the other man had already left.

His heaving breath masked a sigh as Karl stepped off and wiped his forehead. He was about to take off when strong arms grabbed him around his chest, pulling him into the embrace of the dark-haired man who had suddenly appeared behind him. This man lost no time in twisting Karl's head to face him, then roughly crushing his lips in a deep, manly kiss. Karl made one startled movement to escape, but the man's big hand clasped his head tightly, forcing the kiss to go on longer and longer until Karl lost himself to it, and he began pressing his lips back with instinctive passion.

Karl felt a large hand grab onto his crotch through his sweatpants, squeezing it thoroughly, provoking a pleased moan that got muffled by the man's rugged kisses. A second later, his sweatpants were getting pulled down his waist, and his briefs tugged off, exposing his quickly enlarging penis into the open air. Karl didn't even make the connection that he was getting felt up and making out with another man in a public place. Even the feeling of the man's hard-on clearly pressing into his ass didn't register. Instead he hurriedly reached down to take his dick, only to have it removed and replaced by the other man's hand, which started to pull and tug in expert strokes, bringing Karl to an almost instant full erection.

The man released Karl's mouth and ran his tongue along Karl's face and neck, leaving a heat trail that seemed to pierce directly into Karl's brain. He began openly panting, growing more feverish as his cock continued to get played with. The man seemed to know all of Karl's most sensitive pressure points—or rather, pleasure points, as he serviced each with his tactile lips, almost choking Karl with pleasure. Just when Karl thought he couldn't take anymore, he was occupied by the man's fingers reaching into his mouth, which he immediately began to suck on, his cheeks bulging as the fingers explored them, his tongue trying to squeeze between the digits.

This mouth-play continued until the other man broke off his onslaught of kisses and quit his hand-job, leaving Karl almost paralyzed at the peak of his lust. He grabbed Karl by the shoulders, turning him around so they stood face-to-face. Karl should have hated being forcefully moved around this way, but he seemed incapable of feeling anything that wasn't sexual at the moment. The man firmly pressed down on Karl's shoulders, pushing him to his knees, his head level with the man's bulging crotch. Karl knew what he had to do to finish the job. As soon as the hands released him, he was off, practically tearing the man's shorts and underwear in his haste to get them off, and without a blink he had his mouth on the man's prick, nearly taking it whole.

The cock soon swelled until it filled Karl's whole mouth, almost stretching out his cheeks with its heavy girth, but he sucked doggedly on. He felt fingers running through his thick crop of golden hair, mussing it up, as an older man might to a young boy out of affection. This childish treatment seemed only to encourage Karl, as he made an effort to change up his blowjob, pushing the dick first into one cheek, then the other, flexing his tongue around it in different ways.

And then Karl found himself lying on the floor, the other man on top of him, but turned so each had his mouth deep onto the other's cock. Even as the man pumped his mouth from above, Karl could feel plush lips and a slightly rough tongue work his own dick over, and the feedback pleasure was almost overwhelming. It took only a few moments before he felt the cock in his mouth heave, then release all its cream, gravity doing its part to ensure every bit slipped down his throat. Within seconds, Karl felt his own penis surge and start to shoot, drawing up the accumulated pressure in his balls and releasing it into the hungry mouth of his sudden lover. Had it not been for the meat Karl still kept tucked in his mouth, he would have moaned loudly from each climax that burst from him, as it went on and on and on...


The sunlight winking through the blinds dazzled him as Karl's eyes fluttered opened, his mouth open and working on thin air. He blinked, his mind slowly drawing itself together, then slowly pushed himself up in his bed. He felt strangely sore and lightheaded. He stopped when he became aware of slimy-sticky moistness around his crotch. Looking down, he saw that his covers had been kicked off and there was a large patch of dampness spread across his underwear. He quickly tugged down the front of it to reveal a puddle of fresh cum pooling around the fuzz of his pubic hair and splashed along his dick.

Despite his relief that he hadn't peed himself, Karl felt a sickening consternation over his involuntary orgasm. He hadn't had a wet dream since he was in middle school, and then it was just the one time. And never did he have a wet dream that was so intense...and so gay.

Karl clasped his face in his hands. He had insisted to Dr. Burrows that there was nothing wrong with him, but now he knew that was a lie. He thought he had left behind the strangeness he'd been experiencing at the fort, but it seemed to have followed him home—because the strangeness was inside him. And for the first time, he had no idea what he could do about it.


The dreams didn't come every day. Karl might get two or three days of inexplicit sleep before the next one came. He soon discovered the one sure way to ward off the unwanted night visions for a while was a good round of sex with Sarah, an act he found, to his relief, still pleasurable. Sarah had no complaints; after going through such long dry spells between lovemaking, it was downright pleasant to get some on a regular basis. She was even more pleased that his skills in bed had improved, or at least he seemed to be more into it than before. He was more open to trying new things too. She wanted to joke that he must have learned some things while he was away, but she figured he wouldn't take very well to the comment.

Sarah might not have seen the humor in it if she knew what her military boyfriend was really going through. It was taking all of Karl's mental discipline to keep from questioning his own sanity.

It wasn't just the graphic nature of the dreams—although they were unquestionably the raunchiest dreams he ever had—but they were intensely vivid, stimulating all his senses almost as much as anything in the waking world ever did, and worse, they never failed to arouse him. They always started harmlessly, and often drew from his past memories: the tent he shared with Travis on their Middle East tour; General Hatcher's office; the fort showers with Colin; Burrows' examination room; and, more frequently, the gym where he saw the dark-haired man that one night. The dreams would proceed normally, but then take an unexpected turn, becoming more suggestive and erotic, the featured men—and it was always men—acting more sexually aggressive as the dream went on. And they would turn out with Karl in a state of semi or complete nakedness, in some prostrate position—on his knees, flat on his back, crouching down—and sucking off the man in question. Sometimes it was forced on him, other times he was the one who made the first move, but always he was in complete, even contented submission by the end. And when he'd wake, there'd be a mess of erupted semen in his briefs. The only thing to be relieved bout was the sex acts never got beyond oral, although this was hardly encouraging.

Things would have been bad enough if the gay experiences ended at occasional dreams, but they were beginning to infect his waking life too. Since the night he went to the gym, he restricted his workouts to daytime only; they, at least, stayed normal. But now and then he'd be go out and encounter some man—a curly-haired, brunet grad student who was always studying in the same reading area at the library Karl frequented; a broad-shouldered cop that questioned Karl when he witnessed a car accident downtown; a Hispanic stock-boy who lifted crates of groceries with his powerful, caramel arms at the nearby supermarket. Even as Karl tried to ignore them, they'd linger on his mind, at times for the rest of the day, occasionally crossing over into a dream that put Karl into physical contact with them—and more.

There were even more subtle changes intruding on Karl's behavior. Once he was eating a banana while checking up on news of military ventures online. He spotted a photo of several army men out of uniform, stripped down to their tanks and military pants, simply standing around and talking while the sun beat down on the trained muscles in their back and shoulders. Suddenly Karl caught a glimpse of his reflection in the computer screen and saw that he had been softly sliding the banana in and out of his mouth in an obviously suggestive way. He nearly choked, then threw it away. He hadn't eaten a banana since.

And then there was his underwear. Each time Karl woke up from a wet dream and found a deluge of cum in them, he'd peel them off, clean himself off as best he could—resisting the perverse urge to stick his fingers in and lick them off—and throw them out. He couldn't abide the thought of wearing them again, as if to do so might worsen his "condition" somehow. When his supply of untainted briefs dwindled, he was forced to buy more. It should have been a simple errand. But when he got to the clothing store and looked at the limited selection of conventional underwear (this being a small town, after all), he didn't immediately grab his preferred large-sized, white briefs and call it a day, as he should have. Instead he found himself scanning over the options and impulsively choosing, in addition to his usual tighty-whities, some black jockstraps ("gym supporters" the package called them) and a pair of dark blue gym shorts—all of them a size or so smaller than he needed. There was nothing obviously outlandish about his purchases, but he still hurried through the cash register and out of the store as if he was carrying something illegal.

For about a day, the new underwear gathered dust (what with the vacuum system on the fritz) in the bottom of his dresser. Then one night he came toweling off into his room and started poking through his dresser drawers for clothes to sleep in. He found an old t-shirt in the bottom drawer, but when he removed it, he uncovered the underwear he'd bought, still in their see-through plastic.

He hesitated, then took out the undersized briefs, opening the package and taking out a pair. Just looking at them he knew they'd be too tight, but he slipped them on anyway. With a firm pull, he just managed to get them to cover his privates, but that was about all they did. He stood in front of the big mirror placed atop the dresser and stepped back so he could see how the new threads looked. They gripped so tightly the fleshy color of his dick could clearly be seen cradled snugly in the strained fabric, almost as if he had the underwear painted on. He twisted to see how they looked from behind, and predictably, the spheres of his butt seemed to pop out as the briefs forced them to perk up. With his muscled body and striking looks, he fancied he looked not much different than the underwear models pictured on the packaging.

Recognizing the danger of this line of thought, he quickly pulled off the briefs and left them on the floor. Before he could stop himself he reached down and opened up the gym shorts, slipping them on before he thought twice. Being also a little too small, the dark blue shorts clung to his ass almost as much as the tighties did, though they offered a little more breathing space for his dick, which bulged at the front of his privates. Karl placed a hand over the bulge, enjoying how well it fitted into the cup of his palm. The shorts were made of nylon, and the ultra-smooth feel of them sent tingles into his nether regions, especially as he rubbed his hands over the surface of the fabric, which pressed so close to his body they felt like a second skin. A white stripe rand down each side and formed a border around the cuffs, drawing attention to the substantial muscle of his thighs. Again he turned and watched in the mirror as he brought his hands back to clasp onto his butt cheeks, squeezing them gently. Running his hand through his hair, which had grown out since he left the fort and regained some of its waviness, he noted how the navy color of the constrictive shorts brought out the color of his eyes, the shards of ice-grey in them enhancing their crystalline appearance.

He suddenly realized the narcissism of his behavior. He quit preening his hair and slid off the shorts. Almost automatically he took the pack of jockstraps, pulled one out, and tugged it on. He'd never had to wear one for high school basketball, compression shorts being preferred at the time. But he sure saw the appeal now. The black jock had only enough material to cup his cock and balls into one prominent package, leaving the massive trunks of his thighs exposed. A wide elastic band encircled his waist, just below where the oblique muscles tapered down toward his groin. Attached to the band were two strips of fabric which ran down the sides of his thighs and under the rounds of his ass, meeting and disappearing into the crevice of his butt to attach to the tight pouch in the front. The contrast between his securely held privates and his freely exposed ass looked and felt oddly satisfying.

Karl took hold of his bulge, gently squeezing it like a ripe fruit, resisting a groan at the stimulation. His other hand busied itself kneading his bare ass, occasionally slipping a finger or two down the crack. He took occasional glances in the mirror to watch his vain ministrations. Continuing to keep one hand clasped on his crotch, he left the other roaming up and down his chest, feeling the hardened ridges of his abs, which had only grown more pronounced since he started his gym routine, and grasping the firm, muscled folds of his pecs. He began to tweak his nipples, pinching, rolling, and flicking them, a play that was more pleasurable than painful.

He'd always been vaguely aware of his attractiveness—everyone told him so, down to his grandmother, who once said, "It's nearly a sin for that boy to look that good." He'd been too practical to place much importance on his looks, but now he couldn't seem to get enough of looking at himself. Damn. Who was that actor Sarah had a "celebrity crush" on? Ryan Something. He looked as good as that guy, if not better. Anyway, that guy was well behind him in the build department. Speaking of which...

Curious to see the full extent of his muscles, Karl began to flex, first his arm, which he brought forward and crooked, forcing the bicep to round out even further, as if he was inflating a football beneath his skin. Once he had admired the taut rounds of his arms, he started on his abs, holding his breath and focusing the muscles until he felt a faint burn, and he could see them become ever so much more defined in the mirror. Then came his pecs—he'd seen a couple guys who could pop theirs one at a time as a joke, but it was so much hotter flexing his together. A person could crack a knuckle knocking on them. And all the while he continued to rub his hands around his tight package, the caress of the synthetic fabric against his privates maintaining his pleasure as he posed for himself.

Karl twisted to face his behind to the mirror and almost eagerly began clenching his ass, dimpling the cheeks in a very enticing way. He noticed that compared to the upper half of his moderately tanned body, everything below his waist looked pale, even a bit ghostly. The idea of evening his color out occurred to him, but he was too distracted to really consider what he'd have to do to make that happen. Right then he was thinking how he'd look if the waistband was a lot smaller, or if the straps down his thighs were reduced to a single strip running directly between his ass, or if the whole thing was made of a different material, like silk, or rubber—or leather.

The foreignness of this last thought made Karl's brain shudder to a halt. And just in time, as he suddenly noticed that he was just about to bend over to flare his ass suggestively to the considering mirror. Quickly, he straightened up and removed his stroking hands from his bulge, though a large damp spot had already appeared on the black fabric. Before he could hesitate, he pulled off the jockstrap and tossed it and all his newly purchased underthings into the wastebasket. He sat on the edge of his bed, completely nude, only dimly aware of the soft sheets under him rubbing against his bare ass. He could still see his face in the mirror, his features still sharp, his hair thick and burnished in the warm light, his eyes piercing despite the worry in their depths.

Rather than making things better, his leave seemed to be pulling Karl even deeper into this homosexual surge that had entered his life. Not only was it worsening fast, but Karl was gradually adapting to it. How long would it be before he was no longer just accepting the changes, but embracing them, wholeheartedly? His willpower kept these invasive thoughts and behaviors under wraps for now, but how long could he control himself if he was slowly losing the desire to do so?

This all started after he began questioning the secrets in Travis' life—that much was clear. Karl had been reluctant to believe the mind-numbing effects of Colin's email were anything more than mere boredom. His strict rationality didn't allow him to accept that he could be brainwashed without his knowledge by words on a computer screen. But the evidence was mounting up in that direction. He could admit now that embarrassment had prevented him from thinking too closely about all the weird, unexplainable events that had happened to him. Now if he wanted to keep from losing any more of his former self than he already had, he'd have to confront his experiences and try to trace their connections back to the source—and shut it down. Karl didn't know how he would do it, but he resolved to start the very next day.

His newfound determination seemed to clear up his anxiousness, and he went to sleep—wearing his normal, conservative briefs—with a clear head. Still, he was not surprised by the dream that visited him that night: himself on a black stage, wearing nothing except a leather jockstrap stretched around his groin, leather booties snugly fit on his feet, and a chain necklace around his neck, upon which hung three metal triangles linked together inside a circle. Crimson red and bright yellow spotlights, the colors of a bordello, illuminated his muscular, stripped body.

He stood in front of a raucous crowd made up entirely of men, all the men he knew—Travis, Colin, the major general, Dr. Burrows, the grad student, the buff cop, the Latin stockboy, and many others he'd met and took interest in besides. They cheered him, as much in mockery at his sexual appearance as excitement. Instead of retreating in shame, Karl strode in a forward march to the front of the stage and posed, arms akimbo, flexing every muscle he could. The rowdiness grew even louder, and white flashes from the crowd dazzled his vision. He drank it all in, intoxicated by the attention, though he knew there could be nothing decent behind it. When they quieted, he knew that was his cue to take the next step. He roughly grabbed the leather pouch that held his pulsing cock and balls, and squeezed it for the audience, who whistled and egged him on. He turned, bent over, and used his hands to spread his butt cheeks apart and wide. Only a thin leather strip from the codpiece managed to cover his asshole. A corner of his lips tugged into a smug smile at the noise that followed. He straightened and turned to face them again, thinking to end the show with a parting flex, but his subconscious had other plans.

He noticed the crowd's excitement rose again, but was not exactly directed at him. He looked to his side and saw entering the stage the dark-haired bodybuilder he'd seen at the gym, the one who'd lately frequented many of these dreams. Karl felt the stage rumble from the pounding feet of the watching men, the beat syncing with the thuds he felt in his chest. The man wore a leather piece of underwear that merely framed his six-inch dick and bubble butt, doing absolutely nothing to conceal them. He too had leather boots on, though his reached further up his legs than Karl's. The black color of the leather matched exactly with the raven-black of his wiry, curled hair. In three long strides he approached Karl and with one quick motion, he undid the buttons on Karl's codpiece, allowing his own six-incher to flop out, eliciting an excited shout from the spectators.

Before Karl could react to this undoing, the man grasped his dick with a big hand and firmly tugged Karl close, reaching around with his other hand to keep Karl from breaking free. An instant later, he'd tipped his face and had Karl in an unbreakable lip lock, which Karl found himself powerless to resist. Soon all sounds faded from his hearing, and all he knew was the meeting of their tongues in each other's mouths, and the brusque stroking of his dick by another man's hand. Karl's own hands made themselves useful by catching on to the big mounds of the other man's ass, clutching them as if to keep himself grounded.

Once Karl felt a swelling piece of flesh brush his chest, he knew the other man was ready for him. Karl gave him one last kiss, then crouched down on one knee to bring his lips in contact with the completely erect dick. Karl took a few moments to suck at the juicy red head, which appeared even redder in the light, then he swallowed the whole penis practically whole. A familiar heat began to burn in his lips as they slid up and down the engorged cock. It took only a few minutes to get the job done, and Karl relaxed as he accepted the gushes of cum that filled his mouth. He briefly opened his eyes to take in the crowd, and smiled in a dazed kind of way at the way they whooped and hollered—except for General Hatcher, who stood grinning at Karl in triumphant silence, the last thing Karl saw before his vision grew blurry, then black.

When Karl woke up, he found another spoiled brief to join his recent purchases in the wastebasket.


The only real clue Karl had was the triple-triangle symbol he'd see on both Travis' uniform and Colin's email—and hanging around his own neck in this latest dream. He'd had no luck finding its origins on the internet, so he decided to bring it to the nearby university and see if perhaps one of faculty members of the social sciences department knew about it. Since his laptop essentially belonged to the military, he hadn't been able to take it with him when he left. He wasn't much of a drawer, but he sketched it carefully on a small piece of paper, trying to remember every detail he could.

Karl was reaching for the door when the phone rang. It was the vacuum company. "I'm just calling to remind you we're sending one of our servicemen to take a look at your central vacuuming system this afternoon," a woman's voice said.

"Right." Karl had forgotten. It'd been weeks since he made the appointment.

"Did you want to reschedule? It'd be another two weeks."

"It's fine. I'll be here."

A little irked by the setback, Karl went into the kitchen and emptied his pockets, leaving his house keys, wallet, and drawing on the counter. It was a terrifically hot day, and the house was stifling. He opened the fridge to get out the bottle of orange juice. As he poured himself a glass, the phone rang again.

"Hey," said Sarah. "I'm glad I caught you. When are you getting a new cell phone?"

His previous one had never worked right again since the night he first opened Colin's email. His unsociable nature had made replacing it a low priority. "Maybe tomorrow. Want to help pick one out?" he asked, quite spontaneously.

She was pleased he suggested it. "Sure, that'd be fun. Listen, I'm on my break so I can't talk long—the principal's been breathing down my neck since I came to class late that one time. I just wanted to call and ask if you're free tonight."

"What's up?"

"My mom's heading to Chicago for some medical convention, and she's staying over at my place tonight, so I'm planning to make dinner. Can you come?"

Mrs. Trinh, Sarah's mother—her husband having passed away a year ago—lived one state over. Karl had met her all of three times, and remembered her as an exacting woman, as many Asian mothers were. He couldn't say he wanted to see her again, but he also knew that she was twice as hard on her daughter as on him. "I can do that. What time?"

"I'd say I'll be done around eight. But if you can come earlier..."


"Thanks. I've got to go—love you."

"See you later."

"I'll take that as a ‘Ditto, love bunny,'" she said dryly, but he could tell she wasn't really upset by his reticence. After several years, she'd gotten used to it. "Bye."

After hanging up, he took a swig of his orange juice. He was halfway through the glass and about to go read the news online when the doorbell rang. "Who is it?" he called.

"I'm here to check your vac system," a laidback baritone answered.

Karl set his glass on the counter, walked over to the front door, and opened it. Standing on the front step, dressed in a pale blue work shirt and jeans, was the dark-haired man from the night at the gym. From one of the belt loops on his jeans hung a heavy metal ring with a number of keys and miniaturized tools looped on it. He was occupied filling something out on the clipboard he held in his hands, so he didn't notice that Karl had frozen upon seeing him. The prolonged silence made him look up from his work. A small smile appeared on his lightly stubbled face. "Karl Reynolds?"

Karl forced himself to recover. "That's me."

The man reached out to shake his hand. "I'm Leo Agassi. Good meeting you."

Karl had no choice but to take the hand, though in the back of his mind he couldn't help remembering the many occasions it had touched his naked body and held his crotch—in dreams.
"How are you?" he said.

"Good, thanks for asking. So I understand you have a problem getting your system to turn off."

Karl decided to keep things businesslike. It didn't seem as if Leo had any recollection of their encounter. If they could stick to the appropriate talking points and get things done as soon as possible, it'd be fine. "Yes. I disattached one of the wires and that shut off the system temporarily, but it'll turn on again if I reattach it."

Leo made a note on his clipboard. "Okay, that sounds like you've got a short in the system wire. That's easy enough to fix, as soon as we find out where the exact problem is. Mind if I take a look?"

"Yeah, come in." Karl stood aside to let Leo enter his house. He noticed as Leo passed by that they really were exactly the same height, and Leo's dark hair was styled to look more spiky than curled.

Karl led Leo to where system's unit body was kept in the basement. Leo reattached the wire Karl had earlier disengaged and immediately the system howled into life, despite the switch being firmly in the off position. Leo investigated the body and the connecting wires carefully, marking off certain bubbles and boxes on his form. "Alright, the short may be in one of the inlets. Can you show me where they are?"

They went one by one to each inlet, where Leo would unscrew the faceplate just enough to see if the system would stop running when he did. If it didn't, he had to screw the plate back in and move on to the next. The process took a long time, as almost every room in the house had an inlet. The two men spoke little, as Leo was intent on his work and Karl was trying not to let his eyes get drawn to Leo's bottom, which jutted out prominently in his blue slacks each time he crouched down to unscrew an inlet.

After Leo checked every inlet and the system continued to run doggedly, he let out a breath. "I'm going to have to broaden the search. Do you have an attic?"

Karl led him up to the second floor hallway, where the entrance to the attic was built into the ceiling, marked by a square, board door that had a latchstring attached to pull it open. Leo glanced up at it. "I'll have to get my ladder from the truck."

"I've got one," Karl offered.

"Nah, it's company policy. It'll just be a minute."

When Leo reappeared, he had taken off his collared work shirt, leaving only a white tank stretched over his broad chest. Karl watched as Leo's built arms carried and set up the heavy metal ladder with ease. Leo climbed up, pulled down the attic door, and hauled himself in. Karl heard a wooden scrabbling above him, and he knew that the serviceman was creeping along through the small crawlspace, using his flashlight to scope out any broken wires amidst all the heavy insulation padded into the walls. It was already stuffy in the house; the heat and air in that dusty attic must have been nearly unbearable.

In about ten minutes, Karl heard the whoosh of the running system quiet down and stop altogether; Leo had, apparently, found and solved the problem. Moments later Karl saw Leo's sneakers and jeans hang out of the attic entrance to get a foothold on the later, and then the rest of him climbed down. His white tank had gotten gritty and stained gray-brown from the dust, there were some small splinters in his jeans, and he was sticky with sweat. "Phew!" he exclaimed. "You may want to call in an exterminator. I found some chewed-up wires up there."

Karl tried to ignore how the sweat created a distracting sheen on Leo's bare muscles. "Is that so? I'll call someone in."

"Anyway, I fixed the wires, so you shouldn't have any trouble from now on." As he said so, Leo brushed his damp forehead with the back of his hand. His hair had wilted from the heat, and returned to its more natural curliness.

"Thanks for your help," Karl said, not looking him in the eyes.

"No problem at all. I'm gonna take this to the car—" He meant the ladder. "—and I'll be right back to get you to fill out some forms, and we'll be all set."

With some relief, Karl said, "Great."

Leo came back in puffing out his tank with a finger. The cotton fabric had soaked up most of the moisture and turned almost sheer, allowing Karl to catch a hazy glimpse of Leo's ripped body underneath. Quickly he turned his head aside as Leo approached. "I don't know what's worse," Leo said, "being outdoors where it's hot and humid or staying inside where it's hot and stuffy."

"Inside—at least you can get a cold drink from the fridge." On impulse, Karl said, "Speaking of which, can I get you one?"

A look of gratitude came over Leo's face. "That'd be great, actually. Thanks a lot."

"Don't mention it." He thought Leo was going to stay in the dining room to get the paperwork ready, but he followed Karl into the kitchen instead. "I got water and OJ. Take your pick."

"Just water would be fine."


"Oh, yeah," Leo said with exaggerated enthusiasm.

Karl opened up the freezer to pull out an ice-cube tray, while Leo leaned back against the kitchen counter, propping himself up with his hands. This close, Karl could see curls of dark hair covering Leo's lower arms.

Karl filled a glass with water from the tap, cracked the ice tray, and dropped a couple cubes into the brimming glass. As an afterthought, he added some ice to his half-drunk orange juice. He handed the water to Leo, whose hand nearly engulfed the glass. Karl stood against the fridge as he sipped on his orange juice, watching Leo gulp down his drink, his Adam's apple bobbing in a distracting way with each swallow. Karl stared at the protruding muscle over the rim of his glass, trying to be discreet. It didn't help when after Leo finished his drink, he fished out an ice-cube and began to quietly suck on it. It was a habit that Sarah shared, one of the few gestures Karl found a turn-on. The problem was, seeing Leo's firm lips pucker around the glassy cube was also turning him on.

Suddenly, Leo caught his eye. Just as it happened in the gym, Karl froze, wondering if Leo had seen his fixation on the serviceman's lips. Leo smiled and slipped the melting cube into his mouth, sliding it into a puffed cheek, and continuing to look at Karl with his dark, twinkling eyes.

Karl had never broken a staring contest before, but he couldn't bring himself to keep looking while the other man munched on an ice-cube in such a slow, deliberate way. "You want some more?"

Leo merely nodded and handed over his glass. He continued to smile.

Hoping the growing thump in his chest wasn't audible, Karl turned to the sink and turned on the tap, listening to its hiss as water shot out of the elongated faucet. The cup was nearly full when a pair of powerful arms clasped around his torso from behind, pressing so tightly he lost his breath. The glass dropped out of his hand and clanged against the metal sink, spilling its contents as the tap continued to run and douse it with water.

Karl made an effort to break out of the other man's hold, but Leo's grip was strong and Karl was too awash in conflicting emotions to put his whole effort into it. He felt one of Leo's hands slide down from his waist to search for and clutch the clearly growing bulge in his jeans. He also felt a very distinct bulge pressing against his butt from behind. That made him panic. He thrust his shoulders back and managed to get free. Turning around, he managed to angrily demand, "What the hell—" before Leo immediately closed the distance and stopped his mouth with a deep, rugged kiss.

Karl's hands scrambled to try to shove the serviceman off, but Leo's kiss had shot a piercing stake of unexpected pleasure into his brain, driving out every self-defense move that should have come by instinct, and all he managed to do was shut off the faucet with a flailing elbow. Leo released his lips only long enough to let him take a gasp of air before sealing them again with an even more sensuous kiss.

This was not a dream. This was really happening, right now, to him, in his own kitchen. These thoughts should have driven Karl into action, but instead they seemed to sap his decisiveness. It was as if the many dreams he'd had had conditioned him into accepting the turn of events, as he always did in his subconscious. Instead of fighting further, his arms fell to his sides, though his hands balled into fists, a token sign of resistance. They did nothing as Leo gripped Karl's face securely with both hands and continued the mouth-to-mouth, lightly sucking the bottom of Karl's lip. After a minute of this, Karl's fists relaxed and he awkwardly placed his hands in the small of Leo's back as he began hesitatingly to return the kisses. Eventually, as Karl grew more comfortable with the feeling of a man's lips on his own, he grew more invested in the action, puckering more fully to better fit the contours of the other man's mouth.

Leo sensed the change and immediately probed Karl's lips with his tongue, seeking entrance, which Karl soon gave. Now their tongues were at play, flicking and rubbing against each other as they explored the other's mouth. Their hot breath practically steamed in their faces as both no longer felt the heat of the summer, but only the heat of their own growing lust.

When they finally took a breather, Karl was slightly panting from his efforts to keep up with the obviously more experienced man. Leo grinned. "I guess you remember me after all."

Karl glanced at him, and Leo went on, "After you made bedroom eyes at me, I thought you'd follow me out. I had the car running for ten minutes before I finally drove home."

Feeling an unfamiliar heat creep into his cheeks, Karl stammered, "I—I didn't..."

Leo stopped smiling and took a hard look at him. "Tell me: does ‘orbum fraternus delectans' ring a bell to you?"

Confused, Karl shook his head.

Leo gave him another piercing stare, then released his arms from Karl and stepped back. He reached down and began to fiddle with the loaded key ring on his jeans.

Having regained some rational thought during the interlude, Karl began to ask what he was doing when Leo interrupted him, saying quietly, "I do hereby extend this invitation to join our circle of brotherly delight."

In an instant, Karl's eyes rolled up in his head and he grew lightheaded, swaying forward precariously. Just before he collapsed, Leo caught him with a steady arm and propped him up. He took one of Karl's arms over his shoulders and helped the dazed man into the living room, where he let Karl collapse almost drunkenly back against the sofa. For a moment he loomed over Karl with a grim expression, then with emotionless eyes he left the room. There was the sound of the front door opening, then moments later shutting and being locked.

When Leo reentered the room, he was carrying what looked like a rigid briefcase, only several times larger. He set the case on the carpeted floor, snapped open the clasps, and lifted the lid, revealing a foamed interior with distinctly-shaped spaces in the foam, much like the inside of a case for a musical instrument. In the spaces were some heavy metal bars colored black, a number of plastic "elbow" pieces, and a bright pink roll of synthetic sheeting. Leo pushed some furniture aside to make a sizable bit of space in the middle of the room, in front of the television.

He began to fit the metal bars together using the elbows as connectors and attaching the latex sheeting as he went along. "I have to say, I'm disappointed. For some reason you really stayed on my mind after that night. Meeting you here was a pretty good stroke of luck. Then I saw your little drawing and I really thought I found someone in the same boat as me. Figures you'd turn out to be the opposite.

"Here's a little secret for you, Karl: I'm ex-Marine, same as you. Well, not exactly. You see, I got kicked out—for good reason, I guess, if you define a good reason as having the dumb luck of being Arab in the midst of national paranoia over Islamic radical terrorists. Fuck, I'm not even Muslim. I haven't even been inside an East Orthodox church since my aunt got married when I was fifteen.

"You know what's hilarious? It took them years to catch on to the fact that I was Iranian because they thought ‘Agassi' was Italian. Fucking too many white people in the military. You know what it took for them to finally figure it out? I screw up one time out in the field—and for the record I didn't even get anyone injured or killed, unlike some ‘superior' officers I knew—and they vet me to pieces, and suddenly I have an ‘ethnic conflict of interest.' The irony gets me every time: I spent years worrying they'd get me for being a fag, and it's your good ol' racial prejudice shit that does me in. But that's for my shrink, Karl, not you."

By the time he finished setting up the parts, he'd built a large cube in the middle of Karl's living room, the connected metal bars forming the frame while the pink synthetic draped from all sides to form some loose, pliable walls that had the texture of a velvety latex.

Leo walked over to Karl's prone figure on the sofa and began to undress him, pulling off his shoes, socks, and jeans. When he tugged off the underwear, Leo managed a smirk at Karl's cock, which was already starting to show interest. It took a little more effort to remove Karl's t-shirt, but luckily Karl was capable of enough physical movement to drowsily lift his arms, making things easier.

"I have to wonder what you did to piss off the circle. They wouldn't have zapped you with this little guy unless you really went after one of them." He lifted up the key ring on his jeans, showing a small device that looked almost like a garage opener and had a small blue bulb shining steadily at its tip.

"Like it? Me too. Although I'm just a co-creator—worked on it with a real brainy guy back in the day to go after a little shithead who thought he could screw up a person's whole life and get away with it. I had to leave before I could see it in action, but I heard it worked out pretty well—albeit with some complications. Not that anyone cared very much.

"I guess I shouldn't be complaining though. Leaving meant I could get some college work in, start my peacetime life early. And I managed to fine-tune this bad boy." He patted the device at his hip. "I've used it a few times—just for testing purposes—but I've never felt the need to take it all the way, until now."

He smiled without mirth at Karl, who he'd just finished stripping naked. Karl's eyes were open, but unfocused, and he couldn't seem to close his mouth properly. There was no telling how much of what Leo said actually got through to him, but from the looks of things, it wasn't much.

Leo leaned in closer to murmur directly into Karl's ear. "I know I shouldn't be sticking my nose in after the fact, but you know something? I don't give a shit. You go after the circle, you deal with all of us, retired or not. By the time I get through with you, you're going to be a fetish-wearing, kink-loving cock slut, Karl—on both ends. And you'll love it too."

With that, Leo unbuttoned his jeans and pulled them down, revealing a thong that was essentially a black string around his waist and an almost neon blue pouch flimsily holding his large privates, his six-inch cock hanging a bit sloppily out the side.

"Now let's check how far you've gotten," Leo said under his breath as he got beside Karl on the sofa. He leaned over Karl's naked body and resumed their makeout from where they left off earlier, though this time he put more effort in drawing each kiss out as sensually as possible. Karl gave up his mouth willingly. By now, this was all familiar ground for him.

Meanwhile, Leo's hands drifted down to clutch Karl's dick, squeezing and pulling at it until it stiffened to its full six inches, which took almost no time at all. Karl pursed his lips and moaned, languidly sticking up his hips to encourage Leo's handjob. Leo smiled to see this uptight soldier helpless in sexual heat. He released Karl's lips and slid down to suck at Karl's neck, at one point so roughly he left a little red bruise. Then he got to Karl's nipples, clamping them between the fleshy parts of his lips, then flicking at them with his tongue. He continued to work Karl's dick and balls, taking the low-hanging sac and tickling the bottom, making Karl squirm and sweat from the prickling sensations driven right into his nuts.

But this was small time for Leo. He wanted to see how Karl reacted to the real stuff. He drew his legs so he was kneeling on the sofa, then crossed one leg over Karl's body so he was right on top of the blond Marine. He straightened to level his thong-covered crotch with Karl's head, then pressed his groin right into Karl's stupefied face, his hardened dick nearly squashing it.

Karl didn't know how to react at first, for a few moments simply letting the bulging silk abuse his face, but his nose seemed to recognize the mellow scent of penis, and his mouth began to water. He opened his mouth and clamped it onto the bright blue pouch, using it to feel the distinctive bulbous shape of Leo's balls and the thick outline of his fully-erect dick. He sucked fruitlessly in this way until the thong turned dark with his own saliva, at which point Leo deemed him ready for the goods. He slipped down his thoroughly moistened thong and cast it aside, then prodded Karl's face with his unbound prick.

Karl's drowsiness made him a little clumsy as he kissed and licked up the sides of Leo's penis, then took it into his mouth, sucking it with increasing confidence and making Leo groan as his tongue got involved. A few times his mouth lost its grip on Leo's dick from getting a little too excited in its work, making a slight, fleshy pop when his lips slid off. But Leo could see by the vaguely contented expression on Karl's face as he bobbed his head up and down Leo's formidable cock that Karl had gotten very comfortable with oral play. Now it was time to see how he took to things on the other end.

Leo reluctantly removed his dick from Karl's mouth, which gaped at the sudden loss of its meat. Carefully, Leo turned Karl over so he was facedown on the sofa's seat and kneeling over the side. Leo placed his hands firmly on Karl's ass and squeezed, getting a low groan from Karl, whose voice was muffled in the cushion. Taking this as a good sign, Leo used one big hand to spread the cheeks apart, revealing Karl's slightly hairy hole. Leo put his face close and took a deep whiff, then stuck his tongue to the fleshy rim. Karl's whole body jerked instantly at the sensation, and Leo backed off. From the violent reaction, it was obvious Karl hadn't yet much experience with ass play. Leo planned to rectify that as soon as possible.

Leo gently pulled Karl off the sofa and arranged him so that he was sitting back on his knees on the well-worn carpet. Karl's hands plopped lifelessly in his lap, side by side with his hard-on, and his head drooped forward onto his chest. Leo crouched down in front of him and chucked his chin up so Karl's dazed blue-gray eyes looked at him. "Listen, Karl: we're going to make some changes around here, but we can't make them all at once and I can't make them on my own. You'll be a very different kind of guy when we're done—you might not even like the process so much—but I think I know one way to make things easier for you."

He curled his lip into a leer and offered his dick once more right in Karl's face, swaying it back and forth and chuckling as he saw Karl's glassy eyes shift in sync with it. It beat the old pendulum on a string by a mile. Karl leaned forward and took the fat cock as far into his mouth as he could, nearly massaging the plump head with the back of his throat. Leo couldn't help groaning, but he braced himself and let Karl service him for a few minutes before backing up out of Karl's mouth.

Karl looked confused at the sudden removal of his treat. "Come on, doggy," Leo encouraged him, wagging his dick just a foot away, "Here's your bone—come and get it."

Through the warm fog that enveloped his mind, Karl only understood that if he wanted his meat back, he was going to have to fetch it. A little unsteadily, he shuffled forward on his hands and knees, keeping his mouth open, his tongue practically drooling out, until he caught up to Leo and could latch on again. Again Leo let him have his way for a minute or so before backing up again, forcing Karl to crawl to continue his blowjob. It was a humiliating position for a grown man to be on all fours, like an animal—like an infant, but these were personas Karl had gradually become accustomed to in this dreamlike state. After all the anxiety of maintaining his rigidly controlled demeanor day after day, it was almost a relief to let himself give into this helplessness, and let someone take charge of him for once.

Each time Leo took a step back, he was leading Karl closer to the pink latex cube. When he finally got Karl right in front of the odd apparatus, Leo said in a voice dripping with mocking sweetness, "Good, doggy. Now, do you still want your bone?" To make his point, Leo took his cock by the root and shook it vigorously for Karl to see.

Karl's limited attention was fully focused on the bouncing dick and he nodded furiously—or as furiously as was possible for a zonked out man.

"Alright," Leo said, smiling. "If you want it, you're gonna have to be a good doggy and get in here." He lifted aside one of the latex walls, revealing a hollow interior.

Karl didn't quite seem to understand. Leo assumed a condescending tone. "Come on, it's not so hard. You're practically there. Just crawl right in, and you'll get what you deserve."

Karl had been teased to the point where he was almost panting for more cock. He slowly made his way into the cube, which was only big enough to allow him to position himself doggy-style inside. Just as his behind disappeared into the cube, Leo gave his ass one light slap. "Good boy." He quickly drew the latex sheeting down, zipped it along its edge, and sealed the zipper with a spare latex sleeve, trapping Karl inside. Before Karl could suffocate, Leo moved to the front of the cube, and helped pull Karl's head through a small elastic opening in the latex wall. As soon as Karl's chin popped out, the opening immediately tapered around his neck.

"Just a minute, Karl—you're gonna love this." Leo pulled out from his big carrying case a long black hose, which he attached to a valve at the bottom of the cube. He stuck the other end of the hose into the vacuum inlet in the living room wall, which immediately prompted the central system to roar to life. "Is it a lucky thing we got this fixed or what?" Leo said.

Within seconds, the latex walls of the cube began to collapse under the vacuum's pressure, imploding inwards to the center of the cube until they met Karl's body and began compressing around it, tightening with every passing moment until every drop of air had been sucked out, leaving Karl encased in its paralyzing grip. Karl groaned as he felt the slick, slightly velveteen texture of the latex first caress, then hug, then cling to his naked body, conforming perfectly to every ridge and rounded edge of his muscles, and pulling up his genitals until they were pressed flat against his chest. The sensation of being so tightly entombed in such a stimulating material almost overwhelmed his highly sensitized skin. He shook his head back and forth helplessly and vaguely tried to move his limbs, but he was trapped, the top part of his chest and his propped arms defined in the front latex wall of the cube, his angular lats slightly sticking out the sides, and his legs and ass perking up in the back. It was as if his skin had become one with the bright, rosy pink latex, which was already keeping him in a state of perpetual sexual heat.

Leo took a few minutes to enjoy the spectacle of Karl halfheartedly struggling inside this fetish prison, but then got down to the real work. He walked over to the entertainment system at the front of the room and inspected it. "You're a little behind the times. Come on, Karl, get with the future—Blu-rays are the way to go."

He went back to his carrying case and took out a disc case. "Luckily, I still have a copy of this on DVD. It won't be as good—the high-definition really makes the sex pop—but I figure you'll enjoy yourself anyway."

Leo stuck the disc into the player and immediately the television—which was at least a high-quality flatscreen—bloomed to life, the picture dissolving to show two naked men, a strapping brunet and a slightly smaller blond, standing by a poolside, arms around each other's shoulders, and making out with the intensity that only gay pornography could bring. Karl's attention was immediately drawn away from his sexy prison to the erotic imagery on the screen. He could hardly help it; his face was only a couple feet away from the television.

"Who says it's not healthy to watch so close to the screen?" Leo quipped. As Karl grew more interested in the lip-locking fellows being displayed in front of him, Leo began to speak in a low, soothing voice, just loud enough to be heard with the electronic music and sex sounds emitting from the speakers and the low hum of the vacuum which continued to keep Karl contained in his slightly rubbery cocoon. "Take a good look at them, Karl. Check out how hot they are. Look at the muscles on that taller guy—kind of give yours a run for their money, huh? Those are some good-looking men. Am I right?"

Karl didn't answer, but he managed to nod.

"Hey, it's good to know you can appreciate a hot guy. And man, look at them go at each other. Ever seen a man and a woman get that into it?"

Karl shook his head slowly, watching how the men nearly smothered each other with their unending barrage of kisses.

"That's how real men do it, Karl. But of course, you know that. Our little kiss-fest wasn't so bad either, right?" He didn't even wait for Karl's response. "So men kissing men—good. Next."

Almost right on cue, the picture changed to show another couple—both male, both torridly naked, both ideal specimens of masculine attractiveness, of course—in a sixty-nine on a carpeted floor, each breathlessly sucking the other off. They writhed together on the floor, their arms and hands switching from clutching each other's asses to massaging the other's back to running their fingers in each other's hair. Karl grew almost dizzy between watching their irresistibly stimulating passion and the consuming sensations of being made immobile in bright pink latex. He looked longingly at the screen, an expression which did not pass Leo's attention.

"Now here's something I know you like. Some good, old-fashioned oral. It's the next rung on the ladder to true manhood. In fact, once you get to this point, you're about halfway there. Damn. I forgot how hot this scene is." Leo brought his hand to his crotch and began slowly stroking himself off, turned on by both the video and his stupefied prisoner. "I have to admit, we didn't go quite that far in our oral play—although I'm sure that's coming down the pike—but you can easily imagine how hot it'd be to do it yourself, can't you, Karl? Just picture yourself sucking someone off, how good it feels to do just that, and then picture someone doing the same to you, blowing you until you feel like you can't take it anymore. Imagine being one of those men, Karl. Go on."

Karl needed no prompting. He had already in his mind taken the place of the man on the bottom, who also happened to be blond. As for the dark-haired stallion on top—well, it was a cinch to say that Karl replaced him with Leo, who was anyway even better-looking. Karl's chest would have been heaving in desire right then, were it not for the constricting synthetic fabric keeping his pecs and abs completely contained.

Leo could practically feel Karl's increasing lust from where he sat on a nearby couch. "Oh, yeah. That would be hot. A dirty, sweaty sixty-nine with another man right on the floor of your own home. Man, oh, man—that'd be hot. Anytime, Karl. But there's something even hotter than that, and I'm pretty sure that if you're not a fan of this already, you're gonna be a full-time addict later. Watch this."

The picture changed again, revealing a big, chiseled fellow with auburn hair, draped chest-down over an ottoman, and an even bigger, smoothly shaven black man looming over him from behind. The black man kneeled on the floor and had his face pressed deep into the crevice of the white man's butt. It was a little difficult to see what he was doing, exactly, but whatever it was, the white guy was loving it—he moaned uncontrollably into his arms, and the look on his face was one mixed with pleasure and desperation.

"It's called rimming, Karl," Leo explained at Karl's puzzled expression. "What you do to another man's mouth, you do to his asshole. You can even French. Look, there he goes."

The goateed black man had taken a brief breath and come back in with gusto, revealing a flicking, pointed tongue that licked and probed at his white lover's pulsing rosebud, the source of the prostate man's senseless groaning. Just when it looked like he was going to faint from the ass manipulation, the black man had straightened and was stretching a condom over his massive dick, one admittedly superior in size and girth to those of both men watching him.

"Shit, just look at that. Let me tell you: taking that in your mouth is one thing—it's like an anaconda trying to swallow a baby elephant. But what tops even that is coming next."

Karl continued watching, feeling his heart rate rise in anticipation for—what? He had no idea, but Leo's persuasive smoothness convinced him that it was something worthwhile. On screen, the black man finally managed to get the condom on, and he carefully positioned himself into a crouch so his enormous cock pointed directly at the waiting hole of his lover. There was no way he could miss. One smooth, gradual push, and he was inside, drawing out a whimper from the white man that filled the room. Karl watched in perverse fascination as the black man pumped his hips, going through all the motions he would in plowing a woman's vagina, but instead driving his meaty piston into a man's disarmed ass. From the sounds of things, the man getting raped may have found it painful, but it didn't seem like he wanted to let it stop either.

"So, Karl," Leo said, crouching beside Karl's exposed head in the cube. "What do you think? Think you might like that? Well, obviously, you'd probably like to be on the outer end of it, wouldn't you?"

Karl swallowed and nodded, continuing to watch as the black man flipped his lover over, lifted his legs, and started thrusting into him once more.

"What if you were the one getting fucked? Think you might still like it?" At Karl's silence, Leo said more firmly, "Come on, Karl. Answer me. You think you'd like getting your hole invaded?"

"I...I don't....Dunno," Karl said finally, slurring his words.

"That's okay. The idea takes some getting used to. Just keep watching—for frame of reference, you know."

Karl did that, staring open-mouthed as the white man got flipped to his side and then plowed that way. Meanwhile Leo reached into his carrying case once again and pulled out a clear glass bottle filled with some kind of translucent liquid. He unscrewed the cap, drizzled some into his hands, and then began to rub it all over the surface of the latex cube, where the material made direct contact with Karl's skin. The material seemed to be semi-permeable. Just the slightest tinges of the liquid absorbed through the latex and moistened Karl's skin, giving it an inflamed sensation before cooling and becoming aromatic.

The contrasting sensations of the liquid, combined with the seductive constriction of the latex on his body, put Karl's pleasure centers into overdrive. He moaned uncontrollably, still unable to turn his face away from the TV screen, which was now displaying a different set of men fucking the lights out of each other. These men wore leather gear over their muscles—metal-studded harnesses and enhancing arm and wrist bands—and leather pants and shorts that let their privates and asses hang free. The sight was somewhat familiar to Karl. He watched as the man doing the pounding used the back straps of his partner's harness to keep him steady under his relentless thrusts.

Karl's brain was on sexual fire, his erotic imagination the only thing at work. He at first saw his face on the leatherman on top, but when he felt Leo's hands caressing that magical oil into his rubberized skin, his mind would short and when it came back, he saw himself as the harnessed and chapped man on the bottom. But there were limits to his fantasizing; even as he could see a look of ecstasy cross his usually sober face, he couldn't imagine the cause of such pleasure. His virgin ass had never experienced anything like it, so the sensation was foreign to him. But every passing second was ramping up his yearning to feel it for himself, firsthand.

When the picture changed to show three young men in a locker room, one getting plowed and the one behind him also getting plowed, Karl's curiosity started to overcome whatever residual reservations he had left. His fully erect dick was leaking all over his embalmed chest, mixing in with the stimulating oil Leo had rubbed onto him. Though he knew it was futile, Karl began to writhe in the latex cube, his ass especially squirming, as if it was itself trying to beg for something to relieve it.

Seeing that Karl's lust had reached a fever pitch, Leo knew the opportunity was ripe for bringing Karl over to the other side. He kneeled in front of the latex cube, his head beside Karl's. "How are you doing there, Karl?"

Karl moaned loudly in response, his blond hair damp and darkened with sexual frustration. Leo stopped his mouth with a tender kiss, but that was hardly enough for Karl. Driven to the breaking point, he forced himself to speak as clearly as he could. "M-more."

"More?" Leo smiled. "More what?" He kissed Karl again and rubbed his hand against the top of Karl's pink-colored chest, a motion which seemed to reactivate the oil beneath, further driving into Karl into animal heat.

Karl tried to say what it was he wanted, but it was hopeless. He grunted, tossing his head from side to side in a belabored way.

Leo decided to help him out. He moved aside and pointed to the screen. "Look, Karl. Is that what you want?"

Karl wearily looked to see a man with a runner's build positioned doggy-style on the floor—just like him—and a much bigger, overly tanned jock fucking him, his hands clamped on the runner's back to keep him from bucking with pleasure. The sight had the desired effect of arousing him even further, especially the look of blank contentment on the bottom's face. He wanted that look on his face. He'd experience anything to have that look on his face. "I..."

"What? You want to be like him?" Leo pointed to the bigger top. "Or you want to be like him?" He pointed to the ecstatic bottom.

It was a tease for Karl, who was then incapable of pointing with his hands frozen flat in the sucking cube. He had to wait for Leo to point again to the man bottoming before he could gasp out, "H-him. Like him."

Leo grinned. "That can be arranged. Hold tight, Karl—not that you have much choice."

He moved to the back of the cube, where Karl's butt popped out smooth in the girlish pink latex. There was a small zipper attached to the surface, right over the middle of Karl's ass. Leo unzipped it and positioned the opened slit right over Karl's asshole, which was red and throbbing. "Ready or not," Leo said.

Just like before, he clasped Karl's rubbery ass and put his mouth right on the sphincter, tonguing its hairy rim. The sensation nearly made Karl jerk out of his own skin, but trapped as he was, he submitted motionlessly to his first rimjob—but not silently. "Ah...Ah--!"

Leo removed his mouth long enough to tell the helpless soldier, "It's okay. You can be as loud as the hell you want. When it feels that good, there's no point trying to keep it in." His advice was well-heeded. When he returned to tongue-fucking Karl's asshole, Karl groaned even louder than before.

Needless to say, Karl had never experienced anything like this before—and somewhere deep in the recesses of his mind he was wondering why. He thought the pleasures of his dick were as good as it gets, but he was wrong. Fucking hell, he was wrong. His hole seemed to burn red hot with every swab of Leo's tongue on the rough flesh. How was it possible that the pleasure he felt in his ass could strike so potently and instantly into his brain? Leo was right. He was quickly becoming addicted to having his ass played with. And the thing was, it was about to get even better.

Once Karl's asshole was well-moistened with his spit, Leo began rubbing his middle finger around and across it, smiling at how the sphincter flinched as he did. When he sensed the time was right, he slowly inserted his finger inside, embedding it halfway up Karl's ass.

Now Karl knew what it was like to have something up his ass. No amount of imagination could have prepared him for the real thing. The feeling was neither pain nor pleasure—it was just uncomfortable, and instinct made him clench down, trying to dislodge Leo's finger.

Leo used his other hand to caress Karl's side soothingly. "It's okay—it takes a little getting used to, but once you do... I promise, Karl, you won't know how you lived without something stuck in your ass at all times. Just relax..."

Leo reached his finger in a little deeper and made contact with Karl's prostrate, which had swollen up and was easily reachable from all the earlier ass play. Leo fingered it as intently as he could, and his efforts paid off handsomely. Karl's mouth became a perfect circle as the intoxicating sensations flooded him. "Ohh..."

"There you go. What'd I tell you?" Leo finger-fucked him for a few minutes, making sure to press on Karl's newly-discovered hot button as often as he could. Then he pressed his index and middle finger together and inserted both. Again Karl's initial discomfort made him attempt to reject the invasion, but Leo kept him calm with his low, comforting voice. "Relax, relax, just like before. We're almost there."

Karl did as he was told, and sure enough, after a few plunges, his asshole relaxed to take in the additional finger easily. There was even something pleasurable in the feeling of his rosebud becoming stretchier and malleable, like the latex that encased him.

Leo continued to twist his fingers, occasionally brushing Karl's prostate, until he was sure Karl was ready for the big guy itself. Leo removed his fingers, leaving Karl gasping and a little disappointed by the sudden feeling of emptiness in his butt. He wanted the pleasure back. "M-more," he panted.

"Coming right up, Karl. Just give me a second here." Leo tore open a packet he pulled from the back pocket of his abandoned jeans, and took out a sizable condom. It was pre-lubed—Leo hated wasting time with that—so all he had to do was slip it over his formidable cock and he was good to go.

For his part, Karl had never been so primed to take another man's cock up his ass before. The clips of men fucking each other that were still playing on the TV made him actually impatient to experience it for himself.

Leo positioned himself behind Karl, thinking it was a good thing Karl was such a big guy, allowing his butt to jut out prominently. It would have been a little tricky trying to fuck him in the latex cube otherwise. For good measure, he slapped his dick against Karl's ass a few times, signaling he was about to begin. There was no need; Karl was more than ready—he wanted it bad.

Pointing his cockhead into the hole, Leo gently pushed his way in, clearing the outer ring and going deeper until he was irrevocably inside Karl. Karl sighed as the sensation of fullness returned to his ass, then hissed and squeezed his eyes shut as the fullness grew and grew until he wasn't sure where his ass ended and Leo's dick began. Two fingers were ill preparation for the massive girth of Leo's love-stick. Karl flexed, bracing himself, but since he was immobilized by the cube, it wasn't really necessary.

Once Leo had gotten all the way in and tapped Karl's prostate, he slowly pulled out up to his head, then pushed back in. Now he was really fucking Karl, and the sensations of getting a dick lodged up his ass, having it withdraw only to thrust into him again and again, squeezing his love-nut with its prodding head—Karl could never go back. He somehow knew that even if he could ever manage to go back to what he once was, a possibility that was getting less likely as time went on, he would never be able to forget how damn good this felt.

Karl let out a heavy grunt with every thrust of Leo's hips against his bottom. He no longer had to look at the TV to know what getting fucked was like; he was having it rammed straight to him. And he...yes. He was loving it. He was a respected, upright, straightlaced officer of the military getting pounded in the ass like a dirty whore and he was loving every fucking second of it. It was obvious that with Leo's device messing with Karl's mind, the gadget's bright blue light still beaming from the discarded jeans, and with all the bodily stimulation he was getting between the entrapping latex cube, the arousing oil, the lurid images flashing on his own TV, and Leo's unceasing pumping, Karl no longer had the ability to think straight anymore. He was thinking gay, not only did he accept it, he wanted to see how much further he could go. It was like every shove of that fat dick in his ass was pushing more of his sense out of his exposed head, leaving an insistent desire for more and more sexual pleasure in its place.

"Fuck, your ass feels good," Leo couldn't help groaning. He had taken hold of the cube's top metal bar he jackhammered his penis into Karl's tight ass, making the cube creak with every effort.

Finally tiring of fucking in one position for so long, Leo pulled out, listening to Karl's hot breath rasp over the whirring vacuum. "Hold on—this is going to take some—" Leo gripped the cube firmly and, using all his strength, he flipped the cube over, careful not to dislodge the hose, so that Karl hung inside the unyielding latex. Leo was reminded of Han Solo frozen straight up, hands outstretched, inside that gray liquid-rock, only Karl was frozen in doggy-position, hands and feet stretched up, inside thick, demasculatingly pink latex.

Bewildered by the feeling of being suspended in midair, Karl lurched inside the cube, thrusting up his hips against the resistant rubber, all to no avail. The cube continued to hold him fast. Leo slid his hands across Karl's chest, feeling his muscles beneath the tight, conforming material. As an afterthought, he retrieved his bottle of oil and dribbled some directly onto Karl chest, using his hands to massage it in. Karl whimpered at the return of the hot-cold liquid making contact with his skin, trying to pull away from Leo's caressing hands, but forced to endure the unbearably erotic feelings washing over him.

Ready for another go in Karl's ass, Leo got behind him again, and was forced to lift the bottom edge of the cube several feet above the carpet to line up his dick with Karl's pleading butthole. Only pure lust gave him the strength to keep the cube lifted while he once again assaulted Karl's ass.

With the cube tipped up at an angle, Karl's head fell back to rest against the carpet. Looking up, he found that his face was even closer to the TV screen than before, allowing him an in-depth view of men of various builds, statures, and degrees of sexiness, all enrapturing one another with myriad acts of senseless desire. His own vision growing glazed as he became ever more consumed with carnal lust, the DVD's lurid imagery filled his entire line of sight, becoming the only thing he could see, even when he shut his eyes against the screen's brightness.

Leo felt himself reaching the edge, and decided to conclude on the right note. He increased his thrusting and, punctuated with gasps, he said breathlessly, "Almost there, Karl—you're almost one of us. Not the circle—you're going to join an even bigger brotherhood of men who can't feel pleasure unless they're getting it from another man. I know you're already into the feel of a cock in your mouth. Well, now you've got the feel of a cock in your ass—memorize it. I'm going to make it so it's the only thing you long for. And that's just the beginning. There's a whole world of sexual thought out there, and you're going to taste it all..."

Karl had already zoned out, lost in the familiar surge of dark desires boiling throughout his body, agitated by the continuous, rapid pounding in his ass. He was beyond any intelligible sound now, reduced to making fretful noises like a wounded animal. Despite the constricting latex around his dick, he could feel it swelling against its restraints, his balls squeezed tight against his body in preparation for its release.

A shudder racked Leo's body, rippled down his spine, and shot up through his dick, and Leo roared as he came inside Karl's ass, his semen bubbling within the condom. Rather than pull out, he thrust even harder, squeezing his dick head against Karl's enflamed prostate harder than he ever had before.

His buttons pressed beyond endurance, Karl lowed like a bull in heat as his own dick compressed then burst, the pent-up dam of cum in his fully loaded balls shooting out and puddling around his chest and spasming penis, and taking something deeper of himself with it.

Leo finally pulled his exhausted cock out, and slowly brought the cube back to rest on the carpet. He leaned wearily against the side of the cub and watched as Karl's body undulated within the sucking latex, his rubbery arms and legs still outstretched into the air in helpless ecstasy, further trapped in the throes of the most powerful, mind-numbing afterglow he'd ever had.

Wiping the sweat off his forehead, Leo pulled off his filled condom and was about to throw it away, until a thought occurred to him. He squeezed the creamy contents of the condom into his hand, then squatted next to Karl's head, whose expression had turned beatific. "Here," he said, "dessert."

He slathered his cum-ridden hand over Karl's face, not even bothering to limit himself to Karl's mouth, but spreading the semen in sticky threads over his nose and cheeks, webbing up his eyebrows and even the faint stubble on his chin. Karl mindlessly stuck out his tongue to lap up as much of it as possible into his mouth. As he did, Leo whispered, "Don't get too comfortable, Karl. There's more where that came from. I guarantee it."

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