Little devil

by Distendo

A young man has a shady present and even shadier past, cursed by the gods to rob men of their ability to sire offspring. What kind of person will he become?

The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy…

Consider for yourself, readers, the truth behind curses. To say that one is cursed; what does that mean? In ordinary parlance, it is to encounter a fate, or an unlucky series of events, most unfortunate or ill-deserved. Quick examples that spring to mind are, for instance, a handsome man cursed with a small dick, a witty man cursed with a stutter, or perhaps the misfortune that has beset the British nation, with its recent string of Prime Ministers, so ill-befitting of their illustrious predecessors that Napoleon himself would be laughing his way to Westminster Abbey. In fact, the stranger and more broad-reaching the curse, the more likely is it to possess supernatural origins. But a completely different understanding shall descend upon us when considering the nature of such curses; it is better to regard them as punishments from the supernatural.

We trace the story of a young man, and the judgement his curse brings to mankind…

Eadric woke up to an incessantly annoying alarm. Fuck, why must he get up so early in the morning? Sleeping in for a change would be nice. In mindless frustration, Eadric slams the alarm shut with more force than he meant to. Springs and gears spring out of the now shattered casing, littering the carpet floor with parts both metallic and plastic. Ah, what the hell. That’s, what, his fifth alarm already? He may now be awash in cash, but frugal habits from his childhood days of lack, of having to struggle for every meal, and then devoting every available resource to his inhumanly fast-developing body; these leave an indelible imprint on the mind of a growing boy. In any case, he needs to prepare for the day. The sods can clean up this mess.

Without fail, the first thing that greets Eadric as he flips the blanket aside is his morning wood. Daily it greets Eadric since his puberty four years ago. Those were fun times. He had found a way to suppress the onset of puberty, storing up resources and virility inside his young body like a dam. And when that dam inevitably broke, the growth was nothing short of astounding. This pussy-breaker has grown to become longer than any he has encountered.

And let’s not forget his hyper-virile balls. Last he checked, it produced a sperm count of one billion per millilitre. The doctor had a hard time getting it out of him, too, since Eadric simply refused to jerk off for him. Instead, he grabbed the poor doctor and plunged his ass into his cock without removing either of his garments, piercing them in the process. The shocked nurses had to scoop the jelly-like cum from the sobbing doctor’s anus, themselves fighting hard to stay focused as their pussies drenched the floor wet. His pussy-breaker Eadric didn’t care all that much, but he was obsessed with the seat of his masculinity. Today is no different; he grabs his balls as he lay on the bed, fondling them obsessively. Eadric had been struggling to enclose his balls fully in his grip of late, and today’s check all but confirmed it. The normal procedure involves squeezing his balls with minimal effort, and to take stock of its size once his gems begin to resist his effort with steel-like hardness. Today, Eadric found that a good inch or so exists between his thumb and middle finger, along the balls’ lateral circumference, a gap he could not close any further without applying the grip strength needed to crush steel. If given a choice, he’d rather have more hardness than size, but for now it is good enough for him. A silly grin begins to form on Eadric’s drowsy face.

Getting out the bed, Eadric sets his gaze on a metal, handle-less jug filled with warm water, and gulps it down in one sitting. He slams it down with the light-heartedness of someone slamming down a mug of ale after a tiring day, yet with the same force needed to crush a car engine into a ball of scrap. But surprisingly, both the jug and the nightstand held up well. You could chalk that feat up to fussed design and engineering, and much trial-and-error for the ideal load bearing spot and angle of impact. Having household items and furniture break every day is too much even for Master Hulk.

The next stop is the bathroom. This is one of two places in the house where he does hygiene maintenance, and ego maintenance. You see, almost every corner of the bathroom is covered with mirrors. The bathroom is comprised of two adjacent octagonal rooms of different sizes, connected by a fully mirrored door. Eadric need only step inside the bathroom, and it will in turn reflect the majestic sight of his ripped and sculpted body back to him. This is the case whenever he brushes his teeth, coolly observing the flex of his thick and sinuous forearms from the mirror behind the basin, or when he strips down in preparation for a shower and bath in the adjacent room where the eight mirrors fight to showcase his studly physique from different angles. A slight turn, and Eadric would be fed a glorious sight of his insanely broad and thick back rippling past three different mirror panes, allowing him to both study and admire his latest progress. This daily ritual of self-adoration in the Bath of Mirrors is done as a hormonal alarm to his sleepy adolescent brain; one look at his oversized, striated delts is enough to remind him of the destiny ahead of him, and jolt him awake.

Today is no different. The first thing Eadric does in the bathroom, is to burst out into a double biceps flex. This is where the mirrored walls come in handy, because his shoulders are so broad, both his delts—not to mention his biceps—are fully pushed out of the narrow frame that forms his sink cabinet. It has been quite the comic sight for Eadric, watching his frame broaden and broaden over the two years he has moved into this house. Now he can only admire his thick biceps from the mirrored walls, quite the inconvenience since his view is lacerated by the sink cabinet jutting out of the walls. For a fuller view, he’d have to turn sideways to one of the full-length mirrors. But that’s not the point—he needed to get this toothbrushing thing done so that he could get onto to more important stuff. A narcissist exemplar, Eadric keeps his left arm flexed whilst brushing his teeth with the other. If a hot chick were to ask him what his favourite muscle group was, the biceps would be one of his top pics. Not because it was particularly large, but because unlike most men’s biceps, his covered every inch of his upper arm. There is no gap whatsoever from elbow joint to shoulder joint; every flex is a mighty contest between the bicep and the deltoid for space. And thus for a mere 17 inches of arm muscle, the biceps looks full and bursting out from all sides, flexed or unflexed. By his estimates, his biceps are nearly thrice in volume to one of comparable circumference. It is a source of concealed strength, and Eadric loves it.

A woman or a pervert checking his wardrobes and clothing basket would quickly notice the conspicuous lack of casual clothing, of the kind usually used at home. Home for Eadric means being naked all the time, except when he steps out of the bathroom after a shower, or perhaps during the depths of winter, and he felt like torturing his slaves by switching off the heaters. He would have walked the streets naked too, if not for the discretion required for his job. He hated summers for that reason. It made dressing up difficult. At any rate, this is a normal, even mundane, morning, and Eadric jumps down the steps to the living room with his long and girthy cock swinging back and forth his pelvic area. Each jump sends loud blasts of sound, and shockwaves strong enough to cause detectable tremors throughout the building. In retrospect, Eadric was fortunate that he opted for a standalone house structurally unconnected with any of his neighbours’, otherwise the deluge of complaints would attract too much unnecessary attention.

Greeting him as he landed on the ground floor with a boom, is the sight of his sorry excuse of a butler, Jay, standing by silently at a corner, a large plate, one foot in diameter, heaped with some kind of mush that only Eadric knew the recipe to, and another metal jug of water. It is meant for washing that revolting ‘breakfast’ down his gullet. Were someone to serve him this tasteless trash elsewhere, he would simply grab a load of it and shove it up the ass of the waiter, but this is densely packed with nutrients and designed to ensure that his body could absorb the minimum necessary. Genetics wasn’t so kind as to extend its blessing to Eadric’s digestive system, and he finds himself having to eat at least two kilograms of this crap six times a day, and even that is inadequate for his body’s needs. But at least Eadric has found a couple of ways to make the pile of goop more palatable.

The answer to one of them lies in the person of his butler, Jay.

Like the master he serves, Jay goes about his duties without a single article of clothing. But unlike the free-roaming monster cock that his master sports, his pencil dick is locked up inside a little metal cage. Every slave in the house is required to wear it. Not because their sterile cum stand any chance of impregnating any woman Eadric may choose to bring over, but it is a daily reminder of Eadric’s absolute dominance over their total lack of masculinity. Just about everything Eadric does in his house serve to reinforce in the slaves the need to submit themselves to him unconditionally and wholeheartedly, to rob them of any trace of self-esteem and self-determination. Just like the casual glance Eadric is giving Jay as he is seated.

To Jay, that glance is a clear command that his master needs to be served. Immediately, he moves towards his master, with his back facing him. Eadric, in turn, frees up his right hand, and begins to pull out a large anal bead vibrator lodged within Jay. Eadric loves to torment his slaves even when he’s not around, but in this slut’s case, that torment has turned into delirious pleasure. Involuntary moans could be heard with each lump being pulled out; this has the desired consequence of motivating Eadric’s cock to stretch out majestically. What’s left is a gaping anus with a diameter approximating Eadric’s erect cock.

Eadric didn’t know why, but not long after his puberty really got into gear, he noticed that whenever he stuck his schlong inside a male’s anus, the anus got stretched and would not tighten back properly, even with time. The same, however, did not happen in the vaginas of females. In fact, the reverse happened were he to ejaculate inside of her. Her vagina became tighter and more muscular with each ejaculation, a process which thankfully kept pace with Eadric’s hardening dick and strengthening pelvic muscles. Having his dick thoroughly massaged with a force that could crush steel remains something he eagerly looks forward to, something which he can’t quite get out of a loose anus, no matter how deeply he thrusts.

But socking Jay’s loose anus is an adequate distraction for shoving down his morning goop into his stomach. There’s no other way to get a still groggy Eadric to swallow two kilograms of that shit. Were the developer of the formulae behind Eadric’s meals to be still alive, Eadric will make sure to fuck the living daylights out of him every morning.

Jay understood well the needs of his master, and why he acted the way he did. Had Eadric been a more normal person, they would have become very close friends. Alas, his fate in the present timeline is to offer himself up as an onahole for his forever horny master, just so that he could gulp down nourishment so nutritious it is guaranteed to make him even stronger, hornier and sexier. Just fantasizing about it, about how much bigger and stronger his master could become, is leaving Jay weak in the knees and moaning like a bitch in heat. Eadric, frustrated at Jay’s tardiness, grabs him by his neck with his right hand, and plunges his open hole down where his fully erect cock is waiting.

“What am I to do with you…” sighs Eadric. “You are weak, fragile, slow and needy, like a naughty little girl always whining and in need of protection from the wolves. I should just grab a twunk off the street and turn him. At least he could suffer the broken hips. What do you say? Should I feed you to the wolves?”

But somehow Jay mustered the strength to protest in the midst of all his moaning. “No! I love you, Master! I want to see you grow into a beast of a man! I want to see all men kneel before your mighty manhood! Don’t cast me aside!” A frenzy seems to have overtaken Jay. Involuntarily, he starts to reach out for Eadric’s flexed bicep. These muscles have compelled many men like Jay to submit, and will surely cause many more as the days pass. The prospect of groping a feel of those powerful, veiny, rock-hard muscles is leaving Jay drooling like a mindless idiot.

Eadric, however, will have none of such impetuousness. With a hint of annoyance, he flicks Jay’s approaching arm away—but even this seemingly inconsequential act contains enough power to send his arm flying backward, twisting his joints and nearly causing a dislocation.

“Who said you could touch me without permission?” Eadric grabs Jay by the collar and stares into his eyes. Jay could already feel an immense heat emanating from Eadric, along with a strong, manly scent that is sending his own arousal into overdrive. Jay could only whimper in the close presence of his super-alpha master, a whimper that soon gave way to a series of moans, as he let loose an uncontrolled wave of dry orgasm.

“Horny little slut, that’s what you are. If you want to stay by my side, you’ll need to work for it.” Eadric thrusts his cock deep into Jay’s gaping hole for emphasis. “Get my rocker off with your sluthole.”

That command sent both waves of delight, and shudders of fear into Jay’s consciousness. There’s nothing like the feeling of his master shooting massive load after massive load inside him. It made him feel good. It made him feel needed, feel fulfilled. The only problem? Master does not cum if he doesn’t want to. Last month, he had an orgy with fifty young babes, many no younger than eighteen. The gals squirmed and squealed throughout the night. And when morning came, Jay went in to his master’s bedroom, only to find the whole room covered in girl juices, and the remaining ten gals crawling over Master’s muscular body, desperately rubbing at his various sensitive spots, each taking turns to lower themselves onto Master’s immense cock, trying to get Master to cum, as he does leg squats with one thousand kilos on each side of the bar. Finally, when only three girls were left conscious, Master let out a deafening, primal roar, and proceeded to pump the three girls full with cum. These three girls somehow had the strength and stamina to walk out with pregnant-like bloated-ness, yet without a drop spilling out.

A month has barely passed, and Master has not released his potent seed. Jay knows his Master by experience: the longer he goes without release, the hornier, more violent and unpredictable he becomes. Failure to obey Master under these circumstances could carry serious consequences for his life as a slave. Being starved of food is one thing, but to have Master throw him into the dark pits, in the company of the moaning, stinky fat blobs of men, denied of the ability to even fantasize about Master, that’s the absolute worst. He needs to work Master’s manhood with every ounce of strength and energy.

Yet despite all the might of scrawny Jay, his valiant efforts could not be felt by Eadric’s insanely turgid cock. He once fucked a concrete pillar into pieces. In comparison, this rubbing motion feels more like a piece of plastic grazing past it.

“Hey slutboy, you need to work harder than this. I can’t feel a thing.”

“Wha—”

Eadric, losing patience, grabs Jay by the armpits.

“I said… harder!”

He brings Jay down with skull-crushing force.

Eadric’s unnaturally girthy twelve-incher rams into Jay’s stomach from its underside, the abrupt and massive force sending his half-digested breakfast flying upwards and spewing out from his gullet. Jay started puking out his own nourishment onto the table, right beside Eadric’s plate of goop; he barely managed to avoid vomiting it all over Master’s breakfast. Fuck, if this is going to happen every breakfast, Eadric will really lose his appetite. Maybe he should really kidnap a twunk, undrained by his powers, and ram him in stead.

“You really are weak, slutboy. One thrust and your breakfast starts coming out, like you’ve never eaten. What you need is real nourishment.” Having said that, Eadric proceeds to stuff Jay with a fistful of the goop, but all he got in response is a loud shrill, followed by a desperate plea not to feed him stuff that only Master should enjoy. Eadric thought he was trying to buff up the little runt, but little did he realise that Jay had already snuck a taste of the goop in the past. He vomited the entire contents of his stomach that day, and left him drained for days after. Nevertheless, the sight of Jay being terrified at the prospect of being fed that goop awoke in Eadric a deep desire to see the runt slut—Jay barely reached his shoulders—shudder in fear. This desire, to dominate and terrify, turns Eadric on tremendously. He begins to shove in fistful after fistful of goop directly into Jay’s gullet while doubling up his thrusting from behind, grabbing his shoulder to keep Jay in place. However, Jay could not bear this much physical action, and begins to vomit out the remaining contents of his stomach, with the goop offering scant resistance to the oncoming deluge.

But Eadric would not have it. He would not have his wimpy page boy throw up his nourishment. In one swift motion that belied Eadric’s bulk, he flips Jay upside down, and drives his wanker deep down his throat. This had the intended effect of halting the oncoming vomit, and forcing it, and the fistfuls of goop, back into where it ought to belong. However, Jay’s throat was woefully unprepared to receive the massive girth of Eadric’s twelve-incher. Despite his nearly two years of service, that throat received no stretching whatsoever, unlike the other hole, which widened as his Master’s manhood developed. Now, he is to suffer the painful consequences of novelty. The pressure on Jay’s vocal chords, for one, is enormous. He could feel the immense pain pulsing into every corner of his boyish Apple. His ribcage isn’t faring much better, with the intense discomfort of having a rock-like cylinder pressing against his lungs from the inside, leaving him ill and nauseous. As Master resumed his thrusting, Jay could feel the thick and hard web of veins scratch the insides of his throat and gullet. It is severely nauseating, and he is reduced to a contortion of vomiting spasms, but with the stomach blocked by Master’s cock head, the undulating motion of his gullet serves only to massage Master’s cock in its entirety.

This, too, is a novel feeling for Eadric. Not even the most robust and skilled of girls had managed to achieve the level of muscle control needed to massage Eadric’s cock along its full length in a controlled, rhythmic and sustained manner. This new erotic experience is sending Eadric’s arousal to new heights. In the process, he begins to let slip control over his cock.

It begins to slim down and lengthen, taking on a prehensile nature.

Jay could not anticipate the disaster heading his way. At first, he’s relieved that the pressure on his wrecked vocal chords and compressed lungs begins to abate. But this is soon followed by a sensation poking at the bottom of his stomach. Realisation begins to dawn on Jay; Master’s cock is lengthening. This probing cock opened up a flood of memories dating back nearly two years ago.

He was then eighteen and working at a gay nightclub, awaiting matriculation at Cambridge. This was before 2000, when the LGBT rights movement were little more than underground affairs between consenting homosexuals, and everyone else in between. Even then, discrimination of non-binary sexual orientations by homosexuals existed. But that was none of Jay’s business. All he wanted was a decent paying job that allowed him to ogle at muscular bodies however much he wanted, without having to conceal his gaze or fear being called out as a weirdo. Thanks to much luck and some connections, he landed precisely such a job at the country’s largest (and perhaps only) gay nightclub, which for decades had grown a reputation for being unusually welcoming to male clientele absolutely not attracted to women.

When an opening came by, Jay was warned by his liaison of the nightclub’s selective hiring policy. That warning did nothing to ready him for the thoroughness of the owner’s inspection parade during the interview. The first thing he was asked of, was to strip down every article of clothing, and throughout the session, he had to manage the shame and his mighty erection. He stood at attention nervously, like a soldier about to be punished, as the owner, with his silky fingers, fussed over every nook and cranny of his smooth, angular jaw, over the broadness of his shoulder, his height, the size and thickness of his fully erect penis, or, or any other aspects gone unnoticed by an anxious Jay.

Finally, after several agonising minutes of naked shame, the owner stood upright and announced, “When can you start working?” Jay was by no means relieved, but he could not appreciate the significance of the owner’s stringency until he encountered some of the most stunning lads as his co-workers on his first day of work. They were all strikingly handsome, youthful, brimming with energy and of bright personalities. Their manners of speech, too, were not far off from what was expected of a well-bred, charming son of an aristocrat. This exquisite aura of desirability they deployed to great aplomb as they charmed and seduced the most daunting and demanding of customers, and Jay finally understood a motivation behind the owner’s pickiness.

Fast forward a few months, and Jay had been settling down into a semblance of a routine, and the daily tempo of the nightclub, the ebbs and flows of customers, even the horny ones staring him down like wolves in rut, these things he had taken well into his stride. Until the sound of a commotion outside the nightclub alerted his attention to something amiss. It was not at all unusual for there to be such commotions in the first place. That is to be expected when a female bouncer is employed; every time a prospective male customer makes a pass at her, she’d know to turn him away or direct him to an adjacent establishment, and if they made a scene, the bouncers are adept at hitting them where it hurts. But this commotion carried a different tone. The sound of a heavy male body being slammed onto concrete was absent, replaced by an almost inaudible smack of a lighter body. Jay shot glances of concern towards the owner, who, in turn, gave him a nodding approval to investigate.

The scene that greeted Jay at the front of the nightclub’s entrance looked so ordinary that it felt out of place at this nightclub. Ordinary, however, only in the sense of a short, stocky young man singlehandedly hoisting a girl up by her wrists, pinning her to the wall. Jay had come to learn that fights in this nightclub almost always end in favour of the female bouncers, their lack of muscular heft speaking volumes about their extraordinary skill. This assailant is clearly not ordinary.

“Amanda, what happened?” Jay, adopting a business-like posture and professional tone, went up to his colleague, pinned to the wall by brute strength.

“This manhandling brute is underage!” she spat at the assailant, disgust for his brutish ways clear in her eyes.

Turning to the assailant, Jay was about to ask if the most esteemed customer could produce any document to verify his age, but as Jay locked eyes with him, he was left awestruck at the assailant’s jaw-dropping masculine presence. He was exquisitely handsome, the possessor of a pair of bright, piercing eyes spaced narrowly enough to convey high intelligence, but not so close that made him pass off as a nerd. It contained an odd, mesmerising red hue glowing beneath his brown irises. His jawline was developing, its angular edges pushing out the baby fat that nonetheless held on to its boyish charm. His natural lips too, accentuated the general charm of a boy growing into virile manhood. As far as he could tell, his facial features were perfectly symmetrical. Yet his commanding countenance only served to crown the real gem that is his overdeveloped body, overflowing with masculine power.

The first thing that caught Jay’s attention was the sight of a ridiculously striated chest, fighting to push aside the black singlet underneath his unbuttoned longcoat. The striations looked like they were etched in stone, and it conveyed a sense of untold strength, despite the lack of mass to his chest muscles. The next thing that caught his attention was the bulkiness of his shoulder muscles, and the significant width relative to his waist and hips, evident by the looseness of his coat around the core of his torso. He couldn’t quite peel his eyes away from the veiny mass of shoulder and neck muscles that pushed out the collar of his longcoat. As for the ends of his shoulder, it was as though someone had inflated a small balloon underneath the shoulder pads. His lungs too surged out in bold relief, proclaiming its powerful existence by forcefully pushing out the longcoat sideways and upwards. All these massively contributed to the commanding presence imposed upon Jay by his body frame. The lower half of his torso was well hidden by the loose-fitting longcoat, itself already distorted from the top by his large chest, but even then the vague imprint his thighs and crotch left on his black jeans broadcasted massive heft. Jay had served thousands of men in his few months into the job, but none had a body part so well developed and well masculinised, much less possess a splendid and arousing combination, as this walking sex attraction. In fact, the only unremarkable feature about this Man was his height; at one metre and seventy-five centimetres, Jay looked unto his spiky hair at eye level.

Jay took a full three seconds to recover from his shock, and did his best to present himself a calm and collected member of the nightclub’s crew. The big boy in his pants, that he could not control so well. He hoped no one noticed, but judging by the condescending smirk of the Man, Jay knew he was found out.

The Man spoke before he could react.

“Old man, why in the bloody Queen’s name did you bring me to this cesspit crawling with bent fags? Here we have for a bouncer a slut begging to be screwed, and a waiter bum boy begging to be sodded.” He pointed to the bulging tent Jay had had set up in his pants. “We could have gone to a normal watering hole, and got ourselves a fancy!” He then scowled at his older companion, whom merely gave a shrug in response.

“Trust me on this,” he said. “You want to avoid broadcasting your whereabouts to the Yard, this is the place to be.” But Jay got the sense that the older man was not completely truthful with his reasons, and it seemed that the Man had caught wind of it too, for his scowl did not by any means subside. The older man, not noticing or caring about the emerging aggrievement in the facial expression of his boyish counterpart, directed his attention to Jay, with all the aloofness he could muster.

“Listen here, chap. You do know what this card signifies?” He handed over a metal card plated in pitch black. On it was engraved in silver only the establishment’s name and a thumbprint on the bottom left. James considered what that meant. On the first day of his job, the head waiter explained the nightclub’s different tiers of membership and their associated privileges. Pitch black meant the guest, and any number of company he brought, were covered under a “no-ask, no-tell” policy. For a nightclub that went great lengths to filter the sexuality of its clientele, so much as to fork out big money to hire highly competent and sexually attractive females as bouncers, it was a rare privilege accorded only to highly trustworthy regulars, or to persons the owner deemed too important, useful or troublesome to offend. Jay could not infer which of the latter categories the older man belonged to, but if the Man’s brutal handling was a gauge, it would be the troublesome sort.

Still, he was trained to stand his ground, at least for a while, and create an exit that maintained the nightclub’s reputation. James took one look at the Man who bested a member of the nightclub’s renowned bouncers, swallowed his saliva, and began to speak.

“Good sir, our establishment seeks to maintain cordial relations with all interested stakeholders, including the authorities. Owing to the mature nature of our establishment, we are required by law to enforce an age limit of eighteen on all patrons. If your esteemed companion could produce a reliable means of identification, we shall be delighted to admit his entry.”

“Here.” The Man singlehandedly took out a piece of paper from a wallet, and flung it at Jay’s face. The paper somehow managed to cut into Jay’s otherwise handsome face, leaving behind a bleeding would. He bent down to take the paper now lying on the ground. It was a paper driving license; “Amber Wesley,” it read. Amber’s birth was dated fourteenth of November, nineteen-seventy-nine. He’s barely past eighteen– and yet he’s licensed to drive all categories of vehicles his age would permit… That’s rather odd, thought Jay. How did he manage to test right off the bat of his eighteenth? Gabrielle the bouncer’s suspicions might not have been entirely misplaced. Trying his best to interpret the situation, Jay made a fateful judgement call.

“According to this licence, you have barely turned eighteen. How did you manage to clear the Class C and D tests in such a short period of time?”

That short statement sent bolts of lightning into the minds of all present. Gabrielle, having found the logical support for her street wisdom, returned a triumphant smirk. The older companion appeared lost for words. But Amber was the one who produced the most dramatic response. His initial silence quickly gave way to a rising anger, his face contorting into one of terror as he released Gabrielle from his grip, in order to deal with the impudent waiter, whose nametag carried the name “Jason”. He grabbed Jay by the collar and yanked him below his eye level, and spat into Jay’s right eye.

“Jason, huh?” A thumb reached for his right eye, and began pressing down on it, moving in a circular fashion and spreading the spit into all corners of the eye. It was excruciatingly painful, and Jay could only flail about helplessly as he tried in vain to push away either of his arms. Meanwhile, a hand reached into his boxers, and began to rub his erect penis in a gentle, almost soothing fashion. This paradoxical conflux of pain, helplessness and arousal is leaving Jay in a state of desperate confusion. He looked about desperately for help, but all he saw was a terrifyingly handsome young man, smiling viciously at him, seemingly savouring every moment of his suffering, observing with morbid curiosity the subtle shifts in his facial expression as he dialled up and down the pressure on his right eye or varied the speed and motion of his hand job. Jay wished only that his eyelid was not frozen in helpless horror.

Eventually, the arousing monstrosity moved out of Jay’s field of vision. A hot breath landed on his right ear.

“You know what they say about curiosity and the cat?” Amber whispered. “Me, I prefer to skin the cat, alive.” Even as he spoke, Amber did not let up on teasing Jay, instead massaging his testicles alternatively. It felt oddly good. “Why don’t you do your job, and let us in?”

Jay could feel the gaze of many settle on him, waiting for him to say something. He took a moment to compose himself. Why would this young man bother to ask him for permission? Neither Gabrielle nor himself had the physical strength to oppose his forced entry. Could he then be afraid of some form of reprisal? If so, what? He spent a few more moments mulling through the different possibilities, but eventually concluded that the proximate causes didn’t matter, as long as his underlying fear was real. Once more, Jay cleared his throat and began to speak.

“Good sir, please explain the compressed timeframe between your birthday and the awarding of the Class C and D licences.”

Upon hearing yet more probing questions, Amber’s face contorted in anger. He seemed ready to administer his next series of ‘skinning’, but fortunately words had found its way back to the tongue of Amber’s older companion. He placed a hand on Amber’s, and it seemed to calm him down.

“Let me explain,” said the older companion in a hushed, slightly irritated tone. “I got this fine gentleman here, shall we say, practice driving in the countryside of a foreign land. As for the test scheduling, let’s just say that I was owed a few favours.” He twirled the black membership card in his fingers, as if for emphasis. “Will this explanation suffice, young Master?”

Having been presented a plausible justification to admit entry, Jay took the opportunity to back down with inner glee. Finally, this scuffle could be drawn to a close. He motioned for Gabrielle, who remained in a state of shock at the events that transpired.

“Amanda, will you verify this good Sir for entry?”

It took visible effort on Gabrielle’s part to regain professional composure. She nonetheless saw to the discharge of one of her duties, and fished out a red ink pad and a piece of paper. That left Jay and Amber in awkward company, both eying the other, quite like a lone wolf in a tense stand-off with its prey, the stag. But unfortunately Jay was at an uncomfortable disadvantage, with his vulnerable male appendage betraying his true feelings of the situation. If Gabrielle found that disgusting, she surely didn’t show it when she turned over to address Jay, to signal to him the completion of formalities. But if Amber found it disgusting, he did not hesitate to act the contrary. As he began to depart for the nightclub, he moved to whisper once again in Jay’s ear, before following it up with a slap on his buttock:

“Watch your back, cat.”

Jay saw the last of Amber for that night: a sadistic wink from him and the mirage of a broad and well-built figure disappearing into the entrance hallway. The rest of the night was spent recovering under the gentle care of his colleagues, who saw to the disinfection of his eye, subsequent bandaging and hospital admittance. The prognosis excluded long-term damage, though prolonged recovery of eyesight was expected. He was to put on an eye patch over a protective cover, to avoid disturbance to natural recovery, and to spend the next week resting and avoiding strenuous activity. That week Jay spent on mulling over that ‘Amber’. He wondered if it was his real name. What was surely real, was his imposing stature and arousing scent. Merely thinking about it led Jay to masturbate involuntarily. If only he was as good-natured as his colleagues. Jay would be sure to fall head over heels for him.

Before long, Jay was up on his feet and running about in the nightclub. But much has changed for Jay. The muscle hunks that frequented his workplace no longer attracted much attention from him. Instead, he would from time to time stare at the hallway from within the nightclub, wondering if Little Hercules would ever show up again. This momentary listlessness seemed to have caught the attention of every staff on the floor, whose middle names seemed to be Perceptive. One day, after shift, the owner pulled him aside to talk.

“Look, Joshua boy, who my staff date is not my business. But this ‘Amber’, ain’t worth tangling over.”

The owner went on to recount some discomforting statements and events he’d heard from the duo during the night he spent recovering. Exchanging of photographs of individuals with their names tagged, over hushed whispers like ‘by the twenty-first of December’, or the handing over of scroll casings, followed by ‘deliver the loot to 32 Smith Square’. Shady patronage was par for course in his bar, mused the owner. But three observations unnerved him. Firstly, the sight of an unnaturally well-developed young man whose youthful look did not quite support his claim to majority was jarring, and not one the owner had seen in his decades running the nightclub. Secondly, this ‘Amber’ was clearly a homophobe, judging by the violent disdain he’d show at anyone who took a pass at him or looked upon him with lustful anticipation. Yet, he’d eye them, even the staff, with a gaze similar to that of a hunter and his prey, as though the men in his bar represented tasty morsels unknown to human eyes. Lastly, he found staff accounts of the transient red hue in his irises distressingly inconsistent. Some could not perceive any sort of hue. Those who did varyingly reported feelings of lust, ease, charm, and envy. The one consistent account was the loss of concentration, however momentary, when staff locked eyes with the mysterious young man. The owner found all these most disturbing, and concluded this ‘Amber’ was not someone to whom any human should draw close.

It was trustworthy advice from a well-respected aged man of wisdom, and Jay knew it would be his loss not to take heed. Try as he might, however, his impression of Amber the stocky lad was indelibly seared. Not once could he masturbate without the intruding fantasy of Amber flexing his thick arms, or of checking out his blocky abs. Days would pass with Jay craving the warmth his stocky embrace would provide, daydreaming about the large bulge that seemed to defy human biology, ever so gently distorting the thick layers of clothing above it.

No truer was the saying to Jay: ‘Absence makes the heart fonder’. But Joshua’s grandmother would point him to another: ‘Be careful with what you wish for.’

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