Flight 12

Flight 12 – a serial novel by Travis Creel

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT: THE THING WITH FEATHERS

Previously, at the Phallic Tower:

• Sean has Stimulever activate a penis garden, then lures Augie onto it, sending him back to Hamish.

• The physics' require the (Beta-) deaths of all left-siders. Vic strangles Al, and Sean pushes Theo off a cliff, but Ian is hiding Stan, and lies to Sean about it. Sean catches Ian in the lie, but decides to play along, hoping that Stan's survival will be enough to disrupt the physics' and cause The Project's failure.

• As a result of the attrition conveyed in the above two bullets, only Seth, Jasper, Tim, and the inhabitants of Gary's body still reside at the Phallic Tower (along with Ian and Sean).

• We don't know much about Tim, do we.

Underground:

• Paul and Dai, captured early, have developed a relationship.

• Harry bares his soul to Jordan after learning that even underground he is not to lose his virginity.

• Jordan discovers he likes being Barry's sub.

• • • • • • • • THURSDAY, DECEMBER 20 * * * * * * * *

THE PHALLIC TOWER – SETH

Jasper and I had seen a figure wildly waving his arms and legs from atop what we knew to be a giant dildo spearing his ass. It was too far away to identify the flailing figure, but only two people were unaccounted for: Augie and Theo.

Jasper had seen Sean leave with Augie. And here was Sean, returning alone. As Ricky Ricardo would say, Sean `had some splaining to do'.

• You said the penis gardens were turned off.

• (Sean) They were.

• But they're on now.

• Temporarily. I'll make a phone call and get them switched off. I can't risk you getting captured.

• A phone call. . . . You can contact them.

• I can contact them.

• And yesterday, when Stan disappeared, the penis gardens were switched on?

• It was necessary.

• And Theo? I don't see him around.

• It was necessary.

God, why was I still turned on by this man? He was a goddamned liar.

• That wasn't Theo, though, was it? That was Augie.

• . . . You saw that.

• I saw that.

He looked at me. I could see the wheels turning in his head. He took a deep breath, then returned my gaze with one that was either sincere or a first-class imitation. I wish I knew which.

• Yeah, that was Augie. . . . I had to do it, Seth. You don't understand the pressure I'm under. It's like the time five years ago, with – you know.

• Are you going to try to justify kidnapping my boys again? And driving my wife to suicide?

• No. I can't justify that. No one could justify that. Explaining is not the same as justifying. I'm just telling you, the pressure on me right now is unbearable. I have to make choices, Seth. I have to give them enough to satisfy them.

• Even if it means lying to me.

• . . . I'd prefer to think of it as protecting you from the truth.

• I'm not Tom Cruise and you're no Jack Nicholson. I can handle the truth.

He paused again, looked down at the ground, then looked up and sighed.

• Okay. You're right, Seth. I owe you the truth. Stan, Theo, Augie – they're all underground. I got Ian to lead Stan there; Theo and Augie I did myself. They had to go back, Seth. If they stayed up here, I'd have to kill them.

• Like you killed Al.

• Vic killed Al. But yes. There are things about The Project that you don't understand.

• (I'd say just about all of it.) I'm all ears.

• The thing is . . . I love you, Seth. I always have. I love you so much that I'm willing to give you up. I know you'll only be happy with Abe, and so I have to do what I can to make you happy. And that means making this Project succeed. Because if this Project doesn't succeed . . . I don't want to tell you what that means. For Abe.

• He'll wind up with you.

• No, actually he stays with you. But . . .

• Go on.

• He'll be dead by the end of the year.

That stopped me in my tracks.

• . . . How?

• You don't want to know. . . . Seth, I love you, but I'm smart enough to read the tea leaves and know you don't love me back. If I can't have you, at least I can make you happy, give you your Abe. If The Project succeeds, you'll be happy with Abe and I'll smell like a rose to Stimulever. It's not win/win, but it's as close as I can come. So, I must do what I can to make sure the Project succeeds, even if it means unethical things like tricking Augie into a penis garden.

• So everyone I rescued is back underground.

• Other than Ian and Al, yes.

• Is there ANYTHING ethical about what you've done?

• Whoever said ethics were straightforward?

THE PHALLIC TOWER – SEAN

Whoever said that, indeed? I told a multitude of lies just then. But when I said I wanted him to be happy, I was speaking from my heart. I do want him to be happy – with me. And, for reasons of my own, I need The Project to fail.

I've told everyone that if The Project fails, they're in for a year of misery. And so I have to perpetuate that lie to Seth.

I have to tell him I want the Project to succeed, when I am working to accomplish the very opposite.

I have to tell him Theo is underground when, in fact, he's dead.

And then there's Stan. I have to tell Seth he's underground. I have to tell Hamish he's dead. When he's actually being hidden somewhere by Ian. Imagine, lying twice about a man I don't even know or care about, who's married to a woman!

I have mixed feelings about all this – genuine mixed feelings. Ethics AREN'T straightforward. I just lied about the facts, that's all.

Facts don't matter. Emotions do.

One thing I told him IS true – if the Project fails, Abe WILL be dead within a year. I'm not a cold-blooded murderer, but I'll make an exception in the name of love. It will look like an accident – I'll make sure of that. Sean O'Hara will morph into Consoler-in-Chief. Seth will turn to me for comfort. Eventually he'll realize that I'm where he belongs – and that his true calling in life is to be my naked slave.

UNDERGROUND – AUGIE

I was expecting my punishment for escaping to include a shower stall filled with shit. But, to my surprise, they didn't seem intent on harsh retribution: I could sleep in the dormitory with the other guys, who were happy-sad to see me – other than Ed, who merely looked annoyed. I learned that every day he loses several teeth – which at least are restored the next morning.

I'm sorry for Ed, but we're all subjected to some form of abuse. I have my painful enemas. Paul can't remove his jockstrap; when he urinates, it dribbles out onto the floor – which he has to clean with his tongue. Dai is milked past the point of exhaustion. Vic is forced to carry heavy objects while blocks of concrete are suspended from his balls; I'm amazed they haven't been torn off. All of us are beaten and all of us are fucked – or so I presume. Whenever the subject turns to sex, Harry goes silent. I guess he's even more embarrassed about it than I am.

I'd dreaded seeing Jordan again. Last night, I happened to pass by his cell. Barry, Hamish's dog-slave, was lashing Jordan's butt with a bouquet of twigs – I think you call it a birch? In any case, he was drawing blood, and I wanted to intervene, but then I heard Jordan call out, "More! More! Harder!"

"I'll do you harder, bitch," was Barry's reply as he threw his switch aside and started to manipulate his cock. "Right up your ass."

Jordan seemed to find this prospect not at all disagreeable; I was so disgusted I hurried back to the dormitory.

• • • • • • • • FRIDAY, DECEMBER 21 * * * * * * * *

THE DORMITORY – PAUL

Augie's return reminded me of the movies in the Final Destination series, in which a group of teenagers (why was it always teenagers?) survive an event which should have killed them, so death tracks them down one by one, in a series of grim `accidents'. Message: you can't escape death.

Augie had escaped, only to be recaptured. Message: you can't escape Hamish.

Of those I'd met at the Phallic Tower, only those whose birthdays had yet to come were still on the surface. I didn't know who was next, but the birthdays were all prime numbers – which meant the next arrival would be on the 23rd. Sunday. Today was Friday.

This filled me with despair. There was no escape. But Dai had a different perspective on it.

• Look, Paul, this could all be good.

• Explain how being raped and beaten every day is good.

• Our capture is necessary to bring about this Project thing Harry and Vic told us about. Supposedly, if it works, we'll be spared from a year of misery. At least that's what this guy Sean told Augie.

• The key word in what you just said is `supposedly'. Who is this guy Sean, anyway? Is he the head honcho? Is he Hamish's boss? How can we trust what he says? We've never even met him.

• He has to know what's what, Paul. I don't know if he's in charge of Stimulever or just a cog in the machine, but he's powerful enough to have brought Miles and Jordan to the island.

• Speaking of which – why DID he bring them here? They weren't even on Flight 12.

• Paul, Paul, eyes on the prize. The Project is supposed to launch at the end of the month. We just have to put up with this nonsense until then.

• And then what, Dai? We go back to Alphaworld? I'm in Virginia, you're in California. Do we get together? Do we even know each other exists over there?

• I've been thinking about this. I don't know if this is possible, but we could ask.

• Ask what?

• I'm relying on their ability to conjure up whatever they need when they need it. Like food, for example.

• What do you want them to conjure up?

• Tattoo equipment.

• . . . ??

• The Mayer brothers are tattoo artists. They wrote some kana on my chest when I was at Stanford.

• Yes, you never told me what it said.

• It said `champion cocksucker'. As soon as I realized that, I had it removed. Anyway, what if we asked them to tattoo each other's names onto our arms. If we found ourselves back in Alphaworld we could read them and know about each other.

• If I saw the name `Dai' on my skin, would I know what it meant?

• What if it said "find Daisuke Omi, San Francisco". You'd do it, wouldn't you? Just to find out why it was there?

• This reminds me of that movie Memento. That didn't have a happy ending. Anyway, even if they had the equipment, they'd never let us do that.

• What do we have to lose, asking? You have to have hope.

• Dai, the only thing that gives me hope is your presence with me now. I have you for ten more days. After that . . . I'm scared. I don't want to lose you.

• We just have to hope we can stay together after that.

• Hope.

• Emily Dickinson called hope `the thing with feathers'. It can fly, Paul. Maybe we can fly, too.

• Dai, you say the sweetest things. You – and Emily Dickinson – give me hope. The thing with feathers. And I hope . . .

• . . .

• I hope . . .

• . . . Yes?

• . . . God, I'm tearing up.

• It's okay. Go ahead.

• I hope you know that I love you, Dai. Because I do.

• I love you too, Paul.

• So then kiss me, you fool.

That occupied us for the next forty-five seconds.

• . . . Dai?

• Yeah?

• If we do fly . . .

• Yes?

• Let's make sure it's not on Zen Tropical Airways.

• Roger that.

THE PHALLIC TOWER – IAN

So far, things had gone according to plan – Sean's plan. Harry and Vic had surrendered to dodecagons, Augie had been recaptured, Al and Theo were dead. And Sean had miraculously agreed to allow me to keep Stan alive, and even lied to Hamish about it.

The bulk of my obligations were done for a while – the only big one left in the next week was to send Tim down. That was to occur on Sunday. Since the dodecagons (which I had yet to see) could reportedly move, I was relatively confident that Tim would find one – if he ventured away from the tower.

Why anyone would venture away from the tower on his birthday was beyond me. Yet, one after the other, they had. They'd known early on about the danger the dodecagons presented, and still had succumbed. Harry and Vic had even gone willingly, despondent over their respective failures of leadership and morality.

What would motivate Tim to leave the nest? I wondered what made him tick. He was an artist, I'd learned. He'd done two tours of duty in Afghanistan, then had come home to St. Louis to become a sculptor specializing in birds. Recently, he'd been commissioned by the Audubon Society to do a series of sculptures of a variety of woodpeckers – he was that good. Even so, he was barely scraping by financially, three-dimensional art not being a high priority in the Midwest in the post-COVID era.

I knew Tim was gay, but he never mentioned any past relationships. I wondered about that.

FLASHBACK: TIM (AFGHANISTAN) – eight years ago

His name was Shahbaz. He lived in a small village in the north. We had driven the Taliban out of the town, which we now occupied. I guess we thought of ourselves as liberators, but we were the foreigners, weren't we. The Taliban were at least their own countrymen. Those who wanted to protect the freedoms of women and girls welcomed us, but there were plenty of fundamentalist men who didn't see Taliban rule as such a horrible thing.

So there was tension in the village. In an effort to reduce that, the captain had assigned us each a family to adopt', to get to know personally in hopes of warming our way into their hearts. I was fortunate: my' family was actually grateful for the arrival of the Americans, having suffered grievously under the Taliban.

Shahbaz was eighteen. He lived with his mother and two younger brothers in a shack that passed for middle-class here. His older brother had been hanged for having publicly expressed heretical ideas. His father was in hiding – in Uzbekistan, it was hoped. His mother had hidden her education from the Taliban - she knew English and had taught it to her sons.

His father had taught Shahbaz the art of falconry, a tradition in his family for generations. His name, Shahbaz proudly informed me, meant `Royal Falcon'.

I was immediately charmed by the eight hunting falcons the family owned, Shahbaz's pride and joy. Falcons were expensive on the open market, but his family had raised them for generations – generations of birds. He had two prize Saker falcons, a breed valuable enough to be smuggled out of the country and sold in the Emirates or Saudi. In addition, he had three Northern goshawks, a pair of merlins, and a single Peregrine he was hoping to find a mate for. As he displayed them, his face beamed with light. I was supposed to be focused on the majestic bird perched on his arm guard, but all I could see was his handsome face.

I noticed him gazing back at my not-quite-handsome face. The expression on his face didn't change. It was then that I knew. When I asked him about the village girls – at eighteen he was prime marriage material – his face clouded over, a source of embarrassment.

Ah. The village girls don't interest you, do they. He looked at me and instantly knew that I understood – and we instantly knew we had something in common. The love that dare not say its name, they once called it. It wasn't love, it was just attraction, but it still dared not say its name. `Don't ask, don't tell' had been reversed, but it was still not acceptable in my unit to be openly gay. The prospects for Shahbaz were non-existent. What the Taliban would do to a homosexual was not something I wanted to contemplate.

He let me don one of his arm guards and a merlin hopped onto it and perched, to my astonishment. Shahbaz was delighted, saying that she didn't normally respond to strangers. Afterwards, as he removed the guard from my arm, our arms touched, and then our torsos. A chill went up my spine – the good kind of chill. We turned and looked at each other. He put his hand on my hip. I put my hand on his ass.

He stiffened, possibly in more than one way, looked around quickly, and ushered me into a barn where the family kept some goats and a pair of cows.

• If we catched . . .

He didn't need to complete the sentence. Even with the Taliban gone, there was religious fervor in the village. It would be more than disgrace and dishonor – it could mean flogging, banishment, prison – or worse, depending on the severity of the `offense'. We kept well out of sight of anyone entering the barn. I ran my hand over his face, a charge running through my body as I felt his stubbly chin. He sighed with pleasure, and before I knew it he had wrapped his arms around my chest and pressed his lips against mine.

We did not have sex. The risk was too great. For both of us, but especially for Shahbaz.

That being said, we did strip off our shirts. The feel of his skin was just too stimulating to avoid. I nibbled his nipples, he licked my armpits. We inhaled each other's manly aromas, and did everything we could, short of dropping our pants and inserting our privates into each other.

• Well, well, well, what have we here?

I froze. I knew that voice: my sergeant.

I could be drummed out of the service. It didn't matter that "don't ask, don't tell" had been reversed, he could invent a charge and make it stick. Two months ago, he became convinced that a Pfc named Rob Littleton had stolen money from him. Unable to substantiate his suspicions, he fabricated a story about Rob assaulting him; Rob was soon stateside and given a dishonorable discharge. He could do the same to me.

• Aren't you going to introduce me to your friend, Fallon?

If I was nervous, Shahbaz was apoplectic. His very life was at stake if news of this got to the wrong people. I knew that Sergeant Penn Ayers could see the fear in both our faces.

• I – uh – Sarge, this is Shahbaz.

• (Penn) You're half-dressed, Shahbaz. Let's correct that.

• (Shahbaz) I sorry, sir.

Shahbaz managed to mumble that, as he looked around for his shirt. But Penn stopped him.

• (Penn) No, boy. That's not what I meant. You're half-dressed. Let's see you un-dressed.

Shahbaz's eyes widened to the size of quarters.

• (Shahbaz) Un . . . dress?

• (Penn) Get out of those jeans, boy. Fallon can't keep his little love nest all to himself. Get the rest of your damn clothes off or I'm going to shoot one of your birds and roast it for dinner.

If there was anything more humiliating than being naked in front of a lusty American stranger, it was losing one of his falcons and having to explain it to his family. Shahbaz fumbled at his zipper and, shivering, slipped his jeans down to his ankles and stepped out of them.

• (Penn) Very nice. Keep going, boy. I can't fuck you through your panties.

• (Shahbaz) Sir, please, I –

• (Penn) Don't play innocent, Shahbaz. You were going to do it with Fallon, weren't you?

• Sarge, we weren't. We were just . . . you know, touching, that's all we were going to do.

• (Penn) Well, Fallon, you're a man, aren't you? Men do more than just touch a boy's tits and sniff his pits. They fuck. And this boy wants to get fucked, don't you, Shahbaz.

• (Shahbaz) No, sir, if I – they kill me if – I never –

• (Penn) Your ass or your birds. You decide. You give me your ass or I shoot every single one of your precious falcons. And maybe your little brother as well. Now bend over that railing, Sarge is taking you for a ride.

After Sergeant Penn Ayers deprived poor Shahbaz of his virginity, he ordered me to follow. I couldn't imagine what Shahbaz was thinking – whether it was a horrifying, painful humiliation or a dream fulfilled – but my brain was as racked with guilt as my cock was thrilled with his velvety insides. I fucked him well; the carnal pleasures were unbelievably rewarding. And I hated myself for enjoying it so much.

• Now, get this straight, Fallon. You and I are going to come back here as often as we want – as often as I want – to share this boy's lovely ass. As long as he keeps his mouth shut, we'll just keep this among ourselves. Oh, one other thing. You're going to be my special friend. I've been looking for a faggot to service me and you're it. You'll report to my quarters every evening and we'll find out how good a cocksucker you are. I'll bet you're an expert.

I wasn't sure that was an accurate description, but I was not a complete novice in the art.

• And if I choose, I'll do you up the ass like we did this boy. And you'll surrender willingly – if you want Shahbaz here to live. Understood?

• Yes, sir. I understand, sir.

• Twenty-two hundred hours, Fallon. Tonight.

THE WOODS – IAN

Tim and I had taken the opportunity to bathe while filling the water bottles for the diminishing group. Of course, walking back to the tower afterwards only dirtied your feet again. So it goes.

On the way back, I noticed something float down and land on Tim's head. While many of the trees were deciduous, and there were leaves on the ground, I'd never seen one actually falling and landing anywhere.

I was about to point out that he had a leaf in his hair when I looked more closely. Leaves weren't gray.

It was a feather.

• Tim, you have a feather in your hair.

• (smiling) Yeah, right. That's like a fifth-grade trick. And not a very good one.

• No, I'm serious. There's a feather in your hair.

• Ian, there are no birds on this island. So how could there be a feather in my hair?

• I don't know, but there is.

I reached over to pluck it out of his hair, but when I grasped it and pulled, it slipped out of my fingers every time.

• Ow! Stop pulling on my hair.

• I'm not pulling on your hair. I'm pulling on the feather.

• You have a weird sense of humor, Ian.

I left it there until we returned to the tower. Gary – or rather, Ray – walked over to us.

• (Ray) Interesting hairdo, Tim-o. I know you have the hots for birds, but where'd you get the feather?

Tim stared at him, then turned to me.

• Did you tell him to say that?

• Tim, I've been telling you, there's a feather in your hair.

Seth, overhearing, turned to the one person who might be able to explain.

• Sean, get your ass over here and tell us where this feather came from.

Sean seemed as surprised as the rest of us.

• Probably a minor glitch in the programming somewhere.

He didn't seem all that concerned.

JORDAN'S CELL – JORDAN

After meals, sex and discipline were done for the day, we could relax in our cells; we were even free to roam the facilities as long as we were back in our cells by Lights Out, around ten.

Last night, Miles had unloaded to me, ambivalent about Vic; their reunion the previous day had unsettled him. He revealed that his relationship with Vic had been at the instigation of his true love – Sean.

SEAN?! This blew my mind. Miles and Sean?? When we were together in Aruba, neither of them had given the slightest intimation of a private relationship. (I thought Sean had the hots for ME.) Miles confessed the whole thing, even that he had fed his friend Nick key information that enabled him to hack Stimulever's website. I couldn't discern his motivations, but Sean, charming as he was, was definitely an operator. Miles agreed and said it had made him realize that maybe his feelings for Vic were genuine.

Miles didn't come over tonight. I hoped he was with Vic, exploring those feelings.

Instead, I was with Harry, whose presence always buoyed me, though I think it was Harry whose spirits most needed buoying. He was so down on himself, disturbed that his particular torture was to remain a virgin, while everyone else was having regular sex. Granted, it was brutal, involuntary sex, but it was still something Harry fantasized about.

As usual, he was bruised from the small of his back to the back of his knees, the lieutenants having thrashed his oversized buttocks and thighs into something resembling hamburger.

I was trying to comfort him, our heads on each other's shoulders as we embraced, when Augie burst in.

• So now you're making out with Harry? Screwing the pooch not good enough for you?

I broke the embrace.

• What are you talking about, Augie?

I knew Augie was back – news spread quickly that one of the escapees had been recaptured.

• (Augie) I'm talking about how I never realized what a slut you were.

• (Harry) Augie!

• (Augie) Stay out of this, Harry. This is between Jordan and me. Jordan, who masqueraded as a girl. Jordan, who pretended to be a virgin saving herself for our wedding day. Jordan, oh-so-pure Jordan, who begs Hamish's pet dog to hit her harder and fuck her ass.

• I use masculine pronouns, Augie.

• (Augie) You know what you use, Jordan? People. You use people. You used me and now you're using Fido and for all I know you're using Harry.

• (Harry) That's enough, Augie!

But it wasn't.

• (Augie) I told Seth that maybe God's plan for you was to make me realize that I'm gay. Well, good job, mission accomplished! Now maybe part of His plan is to make me realize that I've been a sap. Maybe it's time I stood up for myself. Maybe it's time I told certain people just what miserable excuses for human beings they truly are.

I didn't expect what came next. Harry got up and pushed his hands hard against Augie's chest.

• Get out, Augie.

Augie shoved back.

• The heck I will.

For a moment, I was afraid it would devolve into one of the world's most improbable fistfights, but Harry paused, stepped back, and decided to de-escalate the situation.

• (Harry) Look, Augie, you've been hurt, I get that. So has Jordan. So have we all, in our own ways. You don't think I'm hurting? I'm hurting, Augie. Ask Jordan if you don't believe me. But this isn't about me. This is about humanity. This is about respecting another human being. I don't know whether God has a plan for you or even if God exists, but I do know that we shouldn't be judging people without trying to understand them. Being down here has helped Jordan understand some things about himself – maybe they're things you don't approve of, but they're not mean-spirited things. If he enjoys getting flogged, and getting drilled by Hamish's dog-slave – well, I'll confess, Barry's got a nice big cock, I wouldn't mind tasting it myself. Does that make me a slut? Does that make me a bad person? No, Augie. It makes me human. Like Jordan is human. Like you are human. Jordan wasn't trying to hurt you – now or before. All the lying – was to avoid hurting you. In retrospect, it wasn't the wisest thing to do, and Jordan knows that, but his heart was in the right place. He's a good person, Augie. You're a good person. You can both make peace with this.

Augie stood there, shaken. And chastised.

• (Augie) . . . You're right. I'm sorry. I'm – I'm still struggling with this, and I'm looking for someone to blame. And I guess that's you, Jordan. And I'm . . . so go ahead and fuck whoever you want. I guess I shouldn't be jealous anymore. I guess that's what it was about, jealousy. I . . . I'll leave now.

• You don't have to, Augie. You can stay, we can talk about this.

• (Harry) I'll get out of your way.

• (Augie) No, no, I . . . I think I need to go somewhere and be alone for a bit. Jordan, maybe we should talk later, but I don't think I'm ready. And Harry, you're right – Jordan is a good person.

Harry, you're a good person, too. Bless you. You've given me hope.

I wish I could find a way to give you hope, too. But how?

• • • • • • • • SATURDAY, DECEMBER 22 * * * * * * * *

THE PHALLIC TOWER – JASPER

I woke at dawn. I could dimly see the sleeping forms of Seth, Ian, Sean and Gary/Cody/Ray. Tim's wedge was unoccupied, but I wasn't alarmed; his birthday wasn't until tomorrow, so he was probably just out for a call of nature.

I surveyed the naked bodies sprawled out on the tower floor, and marveled at their beauty. My cock sprang to life, as it so often did; when Tim returned, I'd sneak out for a morning wank.

There was Seth, his spectacular body laid out before me, his massive cock dangling between his legs. There was Ian, compact and fit, his cock tempting me to take it in my mouth. And there was Sean, brawny without being showy like Seth, his cock listing to one side, nearly as impressive as Seth's.

The only cock I couldn't see belonged to Gary, who was sleeping on his stomach. Which was the proximate cause of my emerging erection. His sturdy torso, with the well-formed back of a swimmer, led down to a pair of hams that I craved. Gary was on the tall side and perfect bubble-butts were more common in shorter men; taller men's butts often tended toward a more oval or rectangular shape. But Gary's buns were iconic in their roundness, a pair of ripe cantaloupes welded to a human body.

I'd now gone three weeks without sex. Hear that, Doctor Faraday? At least, three weeks without intercourse. I still wanked twice a day; otherwise I'd be sporting a 24-hour hardon. But some of the most tempting targets of my lust – Paul, Dai, Leo – had been early departures. Of those who remained, Gary's ass had assumed the role of the land of Israel to my Moses-on-Mt.-Sinai – a place I was allowed to see but not enter.

My hand hovered near that irresistible ass as his back heaved slowly up and down. I got distracted for a moment, and my hand landed on his right buttock; before I knew it, I was stroking it. It felt so smooth, so warm, so erotic in my hand.

Naturally, it woke him up. I quickly withdrew, wondering whether to cover up my transgression with a fib or an apology. It would depend upon which version of him I had awakened.

No apology proved to be necessary. He didn't mention the hand on his ass. But I could see by the expression on his face that he was worried about something. Which meant he was Gary – neither Cody nor Ray would display that amount of anxiety.

• Jasper.

• Yeah, Gary?

• . . . What day is it? How long have I been away?

• It's Saturday, Gary. The 22nd.

• Saturday? Last I remember, it was Wednesday.

• Then I guess it's been three days.

• Jasper.

• Yeah?

• Where is everybody?

I deduced the source of his anxiety. Cody and Ray had dominated the last couple of days, during which our population had been diminished by five.

• Wednesday was Vic's birthday. Did the dodecagon – ?

• I'm afraid so. There . . . have been a lot of changes, Gary. Augie's been recaptured. Al, Stan, Theo – they're all gone, too. It's just you, me, Seth and Tim. Tim's here, he's just outside, probably taking a leak. And of course Sean and Ian are here, too, you can see them.

• I don't trust them.

• Those are probably good instincts, Gary.

• . . . Jasper?

• Yeah?

• . . . Did you . . . did you touch my rear end?

• (Oh, shit. He did notice.) Uh, yeah, Gary, I did. I'm sorry.

• No, it's all right. It . . . it felt nice. I wish . . .

There was a pause, long enough that I worried it was one of THOSE pauses.

• Stay with me, Gary. Keep the others inside.

• . . . I'm still here, Jasper.

• Good. Take your time. Compose your thoughts. Whatever they are, it's okay, okay? You're safe here.

• Am I?

• You're safe with me, anyway.

• . . . Suppose Sean and Ian are just pretending to be asleep.

• You want to go outside?

• No, I'll just . . . I think they're asleep anyway, from the way they're breathing.

• So okay, go ahead. You wish what?

• I wish . . . I wish I . . . could . . .

• . . . you wish you could . . .

• . . . have sex.

Oh, jeez, Gary. So do I. Do you see how I'm trying to hide my erection?

• Ray has sex, doesn't he?

The wistfulness in his voice was painful. Oh, Gary.

• He tried once with Augie, but he hasn't actually had sex that I know of.

• Cody?

• Cody's not interested in sex. He just wants to find his cattle.

• Ray's probably had sex though, somewhere else. Before, I mean.

• Are you wondering if you're a virgin, Gary?

• No, I'm – what I mean is that I don't really know what the others are up to.

• And you haven't had sex yourself, that you remember.

• . . . Not . . .

• It's okay. It's okay, Gary. Remember, you're here less than a third of the time. And it sees like whenever the topic of sex comes up, one of the others takes over. How could you NOT be a virgin? They won't let you.

• I suppose.

• Listen, Gary, you're doing really well. I think this might be the longest conversation you've had about sex without one of them pushing you out of the way. This is healthy, Gary. I want you to feel safe. I want you to feel like you can say anything you want to me, okay? I'll protect you.

• (relaxing a bit) You sound like Doctor Lapidus.

Ah. Doctor Lapidus. A psychiatrist, no doubt. The first time he's ever admitted that he's been treated by one. This was good.

• I'm not a doctor, Gary. Just a friend.

• Do you want to have sex, Jasper?

Whoa. Wasn't expecting that. Uh . . .

• I mean, you look like you do. You're . . . hard.

Maybe it was just an observation, and not a proposition.

• I . . . I'm hard a lot, Gary. I have an overactive sex drive.

• So it's not me.

It is you. And it's also just about anybody with an ass and a cock and balls. But at the moment – yeah, it's you. But what do I say?

• . . . Do you want it to be you?

There was another pause, another dubious pause. And then a sudden change in attitude.

• For corn's sake, Jasper, are you goddamn horny all the damn time? That's disgusting.

Shit. He'd morphed into Cody. Dammit, Gary, you came so close. You came so very close. But it was progress. It was a big step. I think Doctor Lapidus would be pleased.

There's hope.

THE PHALLIC TOWER – TIM (a half hour earlier)

No one else was awake; it was still dark inside the tower, which meant the sun hadn't come up yet. My mouth felt like cotton. It was a weird sensation.

It was always warm on the island, as well as humid, but the temperature seemed to stay in the eighties most of the time, and it didn't cool off that much at night. The tower, however, seemed to have its own temperature system, and, as we all slept (and lived) in the nude, we were perfectly comfortable – although pillows and mattresses would have been nice.

So why did I wake up sweating? And why did I feel like I was inside a pair of scratchy, footless pajamas? I was hot. And itchy.

It was pitch black and when I touched my chest I felt something weird. It was pitch black inside the tower, I couldn't see a thing. I knew what it seemed like, but that was absurd. I had to see for myself.

Fortunately, there was a handle on the door tonight, and I slipped outside, where there was enough moonlight to see.

I looked down at my body.

This was impossible. I must be in the middle of a weird dream.

But many weird things had happened on this island. Seth awakened unexpectedly nude. And another time with a knife in his hand. Our clothes vanished, bit by bit. Dodecagons appeared where they had not been before. Shit, the whole fucking tower had even moved across the island.

So add this to the list of impossible things that were possible in Betaworld:

My entire body was covered in feathers.

[COMING UP NEXT: CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE – BALANCING ACT]