Flight 12

Flight 12 – a serial novel by Travis Creel

CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT: THE THREE TASKS

Previously:

• Seth arrives underground and reunites with Abe. He knows that he will be asked to do three tasks, all necessary to effect The Project. Sean has told him to perform the first two, to lure them into a false sense of security, but to refuse the last, which would actually launch The Project.

• Three heads were to roll on the 31st – Jordan, Miles, and Augie. When Harry volunteered to replace Jordan on the block, and Barry agreed to sacrifice his cock, the physics reprieved all three. Barry (who thought HE was saving Jordan) agreed on the condition that his cock would be restored after launch; he received assurances that it was 100% guaranteed, although simulations gave him only a 56% chance of retaining his manhood.

• The physics also required one of The Twelve to be shot by arrows. Tim was selected for this fate.

• Ian has been told that if he returns to Alphaworld, a memory will be implanted into his brain of a year in jail in Martinique, to account for the time he was away from Cleveland.

• • • • • • • • MONDAY, DECEMBER 31, EVENING * * * * * * * *

THE THRONE ROOM - SETH

Several lieutenants tied up Abe and Ian, making sure the two pets' wouldn't be going anywhere while I was performing my tasks'. Sean, I noted, was now dressed in more than underwear and socks – he had apparently borrowed one of Percy's flowing gowns, the better to distinguish himself from the lieutenants, who were nude. His demeanor toward me was gruff, like a lieutenant, but then I caught him winking at me in a private moment. This was all for show, he was trying to convey, I'm really on your side.

But was he?

They led me to my post-coital shower, where several coiled hoses hung from hooks on the wall; I expected they would soon be pumping water up my back channel, but I was only required to clean myself externally. The sensation was quite wonderful: After a month of bathing only in a cool stream, jets of hot water cascading over my body felt like heaven. I allowed myself the luxury of enjoying it before facing . . . whatever it was I was to face.

But stray thoughts disturbed my reverie. How was Jasper coping without balls? Was Paul still imprisoned by that jockstrap? How was Tim adjusting to life as a bird? How had the reunions gone – Augie and Jordan, Vic and Miles? Had the trip to Hamishland altered the relationship between Gary and Ray – had one of them emerged as the sole occupant of that body?

All that paled in comparison to the one thing that truly mattered: Abe. Was that rapturous moment of congress the last we would have in this universe – or ever? Would he survive the day? Would he survive the next year? Would he do so only to slowly succumb to a dreadful disease? Or could we possibly have decades of blissful co-habitation ahead of us?

And what effect – if any – did my actions today have on the answers to those questions?

Hamish, perhaps concluding that I was dawdling in the shower, ordered an end to it. Once dry, I was escorted to the White Room, the place to which a penis garden had delivered me nineteen days ago.

It looked different. The foam-rubber floor was now hardwood. A pair of handcuffs was suspended from the ceiling. On the floor were shackles, feet apart. Obviously, someone was to be spread-eagled there, like a St. Andrew's cross without the cross. I was okay with it being me, as long as it wasn't Abe. Lieutenants rimmed the room, either to provide security in case I rebelled, or just to revel in the entertainment.

A huge screen descended from the ceiling. A man's face appeared on it – a Latino in what appeared to be his early thirties, quite handsome, authoritative in manner.

Two lieutenants pushed me forward, to a spot facing the Latino; I could see my image on a monitor behind him, and could hear a modicum of background noise – there were others with him watching the events in the White Room.

• Good evening, Mister Herrick.

• Good evening, Mister Zürich.

• Zürich?

• A semi-rhyme. Besides, isn't that where you are? I know you're in Switzerland, Zürich is where all the business is, isn't it?

• Actually, we're in St. Moritz.

• Ah, lives of the rich and famous. I presume I'm talking to the famous Jesús.

• You are, but we can't talk for long. Betaworld is unstable here beyond a short period of time, so your activities will be taped and transmitted to us on the hour so we can observe how you are fulfilling your obligations.

• So are you just here to give me a pep talk?

Jesús smiled.

• Something like that. We've spent years of our lives invested in you.

• Years of mine, too. Arranging for my wife to kill herself. Abducting my children.

• Setting you up with the love of your life.

• Which you now threaten to deprive me of if I don't do exactly what you want.

• There are times when individual sacrifices must be made for the greater good.

• Is that what you call it – the greater good? Splitting the universe into twelve pieces?

• Oh, dear. Someone HAS been talking. But let's not waste time on the ethics of The Project.

• Wise decision on your part, as there don't seem to be any.

• Let's talk about the pragmatics. If you follow our instructions, you and Derisian will be reunited. If you don't, Hamish will execute him – permanently. And don't doubt for a minute that he'd do it – Hamish has already relieved several men from the burden of carrying heads on their shoulders.

Including Harry. Poor, poor Harry. And Leo. And Piers, whom I had failed to free when I freed Theo.

• It's that simple, Herrick. Three tasks. By the time we speak again, I expect you to have completed the first one.

And then the screen went blank, depriving me of the opportunity for any kind of response. I looked at Sean, who wasn't providing any helpful visual cues. He'd told me to do the first two, but not the last. Jesús had threatened Abe's life if I didn't comply.

I had projected bravado that I wasn't at all feeling. But I had to keep up pretenses. They had me by the short hairs and they knew it, but I couldn't look weak in front of them.

• (Hamish) Just be a good boy and obey, Herrick. If you don't, Stefan has permission to terminate Derisian in any manner he finds pleasing. He told me once he'd always wanted to skin a man alive. Perhaps you'll give him that chance.

There was activity at the door – two lieutenants were bringing in a man whose head was covered in what looked like a medieval combat helm. Despite the attempt to obscure his identity, I knew instantly who it was – I would have known simply by the musculature of his chest or his back, or by a glance at his legs, his ass, or his junk. Any one of those body parts would be sufficient for me to recognize him. Each naked body was distinctive, and I knew them all intimately – inside (in some cases) and out. But in this case it was even simpler – he was too tall to be anyone other than Tim. A human Tim, no longer a bird, which was a relief. But I was nervous about why he was here – I didn't want to seriously damage Tim . . . or kill him.

They fitted Tim into the restraints, facing away from me. Smack in the middle of his back was painted a big black circle. Portions on the side of his torso also seemed to be marked.

• (Hamish) Don't hit the black sections. Or his head.

Hit him? Hit him how? With my hands? With a whip?

My answer came moments later when Ian entered, on all fours, holding a bow in his mouth. Not a bow like you might find on a violin. Not a bow like you might find on a package. A bow like you might find in Robin Hood's hands. And hanging from Ian's neck was a felt quiver, replete with arrows.

A bow and arrows. Don't hit the black sections. Were they serious? I was supposed to shoot Tim with arrows?

I was. Hamish explained that the preference was to keep him alive, so I shouldn't hit him in any vital organs, especially his heart, lungs, or liver. I counted the arrows in the bucket – twelve. (What else?) Another of Harry's twelves.

• What if I miss?

• (Hamish) You shoot again. You have to hit him twelve times.

One of my P.E. classes in college was a weird amalgam of archery and bowling. I signed up for it for the bowling, but I enjoyed the archery. I got pretty good at it – but that was nearly ten years ago, and I haven't touched a bow since then.

To avoid vital organs, there was only one place to aim – his ass. If I missed high, it would still only penetrate his lower back, which should be safe. If I missed low, it depended where. If I was lucky, I'd get his thigh; if I was unlucky, the arrow would sail between his legs – or even skewer his balls. Depriving Jasper of his testicles had been excruciating; I had no desire to create another eunuch.

I mounted the bowstring in the nock and drew the arrow back. I steadied my hands the best I could. Still, it seemed like the bow was shaking in my hands, courtesy of my nervousness.

I took a deep breath, and let fly, closing my eyes a half-second after release. I didn't want to see where it landed. I heard a cry of pain. A sound which normally would have made me wince, but in this context filled me with relief. I had struck him. One down, eleven to go.

I opened my eyes. I'd gotten lucky. I'd hit him in the lower thigh, barely an inch away from missing him altogether. I apologized quickly to Tim and reloaded. The second shot landed just below the kidneys, still missing his ass. He yelled, as much in shock at the impact as in pain. Tim was a soldier; he could take it.

I improved. Seven of the remaining ten shots struck the targeted buttocks, with none missing him completely. Tim's reaction grew less vocal as he adjusted to the sensation of metal piercing his flesh. Still, the pain must have been significant; the arrows had penetrated an inch or so into his body.

One shot in particular had caused him excruciating pain. With his legs spread-eagled, his buttocks were pulled apart, and shot number ten went right up his asshole. It hadn't gotten as far as coming out on the other side and skewering his junk, but his sensitive rectum was in far more agony than the meat of his fleshy rump, where most of the shots had landed.

Sean, who appeared every inch the pawn of Hamish, congratulated me on my accuracy. What happened now, I wondered. To pull the arrows from Tim's body would be agonizing as well. But that's what happened, Tim yelling violently with each extraction. Sean explained that if they didn't remove the arrows, he would wake up tomorrow morning with them still embedded in his body.

I wanted to talk to Tim afterwards, but they hustled him out quickly before we had a chance to exchange more than glances. Mine conveyed guilt. His conveyed forgiveness. He was a soldier, he was doing his duty, he understood his role – and mine.

Tim was a good guy; I hoped that what he endured had earned some positive benefit for us both. What would The Project mean to Tim? I realized I had never asked him about his love life – did he have one? Was there someone waiting for him in St. Louis? My relationship with Abe wasn't the only one in limbo. Augie and Jordan (if they could reconcile). Ian and Stan (if Alpha-Stan survived, Vic and Miles. And, it seemed, Paul and Dai. All of their fates lay in the balance, as well as Abe's and mine.

My first task complete, I wanted to return to the Throne Room to check on Abe. Instead, I was forced to wait in the White Room until there was activity on the screen, when once again I was presented to Jesús, who looked pleased.

• Hamish informs me you have completed the first task. We will watch the video of it while you begin the second task, which you should enjoy. It involves sex.

Two lieutenants dragged in a padded bench, followed shortly by Dai. Having bragged about how I could recognize everyone from their naked bodies, Dai's bore a surprise – a tattoo on his shaved abdomen. It looked like they'd picked up on his affection for Paul and had taunted him by tattooing his name onto his body. No, wait – it wasn't a tattoo. It was burnt in. Those bastards.

His mouth was full of a ball gag, which prevented him from communicating with me. Which was a shame, because there was much I wanted to ask him. They draped him over the bench, his golden orbs on glorious display, ripe for plunder. My cock sprang to life. I don't know whether it would have in a normal atmosphere, but here on the island, I was raring to go at the slightest provocation. And Dai's sexy ass was more than a slight provocation.

Dai's ball gag was soon partnered by one stuffed into my own mouth. Just to make it clear there would be no communication between us. It having been years since I'd worn one (courtesy of Sean), I'd forgotten how it made me drool – involuntarily. I looked around expectantly for the lube, and saw Hamish smile – the same wicked smile he'd given when I'd asked if I'd ever see Abe again.

• Dry, Herrick.

With the ball gag in my mouth, I couldn't even lubricate his hole with saliva. This was not going to be fun for either of us. I approached the Japanese-American's prostrate form, those gorgeous melons making my cock tingle with excitement. Words being removed from my list of options, I could only communicate with my hands. I patted him lightly on the back, rubbing his shoulders reassuringly and then running my palms lightly over the twin mounds that so excited me. I wanted to say, it will be okay, Dai, I care for you, even though I'm going to have to dry-hump you.

Finally ready, I lowered my body over his, positioned my cock behind his adorable rosebud and paused, letting him feel my rod nestle against his anus. I mumbled something that was supposed to sound like "Here goes" and thrust forward.

It was tough to get in. I pushed, hard, until I had driven my shaft well up his underused rectum. It gripped my cock tightly, rendering me much greater pleasure than it was rendering Dai. And then I started fucking. As my generous member scraped the sides of his anal canal, he grunted in discomfort, but the sensation on my cock was nothing but pure joy. Even dry, Dai was a great fuck. He was wasting his time as a top, he could bottom for me any time.

I plowed him for several minutes, working myself into a frenzy, feeling his solid, sexy body underneath me in a way that only drove me to further ecstasy. It was like fucking Abe – his body felt so good next to mine. The tension in my cock grew and grew until I knew I was going to explode – and I spewed what seemed like a pint of semen into Dai's ass. It wasn't, of course, but I had a good nine spurts before running out of juice, grateful for having completed the second task.

Foolish me. I hadn't yet completed the second task.

THE THRONE ROOM – ABE

• Ian, are you there? I can't see you. Can you hear me?

• I'm here. I can see you. I'm just tied up, I can't move.

• What do you think's going on?

• Sex.

• I mean about us. Twelve universes. Sean said the Project was twelve universes. Percy says I have to die in this one in order to be alive in The Project – but I thought that meant back in some kind of improved Alphaworld. But now there's supposedly twelve worlds – which one will I live in? Will Seth even be in the same universe with me?

• Maybe you'll both exist in all the universes. Maybe Stan and I will, too. Maybe I should want this Project to go through – if I return to Alphaworld with some fucked-up memory of a year in jail in Martinique, why would I ever try to find Stan?

• I just want to go back to Cleveland and be with Seth, just like we were. Alphaworld. That's all I want. I can't count on finding Seth in twelve universes. In any of them.

• I know what you mean. It feels wrong to trust Percy and Hamish and root for what they want.

• We can't trust Sean. We can't trust Percy and Hamish. I only have one place to put my trust, and that's in Seth. I have to trust that ultimately, he'll do the right thing.

• And if he doesn't - ?

• Maybe we'll both stop existing.

THE WHITE ROOM – SETH

They took Dai out and brought in Ed, tossing him over the padded bench. The knight's eyes shot daggers at me. I had to assume that he had been used sexually down here – and fairly often – but on the surface Ed had been a homophobe and a self-described straight. It was obvious to me that none of The Twelve were exclusively straight, but I had no sense of how often Ed's ass had been violated.

It was a nice ass for a forty-nine-year-old man. And I had to fuck him dry as well, against which he vehemently protested, both vocally and physically. While Dai had complicitly lain there awaiting his sodomization, Ed wriggled and struggled and had to be tied down before I could penetrate him.

But penetrate him I did – not as delightfully as I had Dai, but still with a lot of satisfaction – for me.

THE DORMITORY – PAUL

• (Harry) Calm down, Paul. I'm sure he's fine.

• It's the last day of Betaworld, Harry. They don't need us anymore. They've killed all the left-siders, do I have any confidence that Dai is still alive? Or that any of us will be alive tomorrow?

• (Augie) If they wanted to kill us all, why did they spare Harry?

• (Vic) Maybe it was just too early in the day. This whole thing seems meticulously planned.

• (Harry) They said that none of us had to die. Me, Miles, Jordan, Augie. That was their wording: None of us had to die.

• So why did they take Tim and Dai and Ed? Maybe the rest of us do have to die.

I was about to find out. Anthony appeared at the door.

• (Anthony) Paul. It's time.

• (panic) Time? My time? Is my time up?

• (Anthony, grinning) You'll find out.

• (Jasper) That has to be the least satisfactory answer in history.

Hugs – final hugs? – to everyone still left in the dormitory (Harry, Augie, Vic, Gary, Jasper) and then I left with Anthony. Anthony's grin was reassuring. He had hopes of connecting with me back in Richmond when this was all over, so if I was about to meet an untimely end, he wouldn't be grinning.

Anthony ball-gagged me and led me to the White Room, where I was stunned to see not only Hamish, Percy, and a bunch of lieutenants, but a man I had not seen in almost three weeks. What was Seth doing here? Had he made a second futile attempt to rescue his boyfriend Abe? I hadn't really gotten to know Seth much before I was zapped down here nearly a month ago, but I knew he was important. He and I had both lost our clothing – or, in my case, most of it – while asleep in the Phallic Tower. Only I'd been confined in a jockstrap ever since.

With the gag in my mouth, I couldn't say anything, and neither could Seth, similarly costumed. I saw him glance at my ass in surprise, with Dai's name burnt into my body so that I wouldn't forget him once we were back in Alphaworld. If I survived the day. If he did.

They bent me over a bench and it was clear that, despite the promise of no sex today, there was going to be sex. Without lubrication, as it turned out. Fortunately, my ass had stretched enough to accommodate Seth without too much difficulty, and once he got in, it was pretty smooth sailing. I did like getting fucked, and Seth was good at it.

They'd told Harry that normally they fuck a guy just before they behead him. So was this my pre-execution fuck? Was Dai already dead? Would I ever see him again? These were the thoughts passing through my cranium as Seth's generous member was pummeling my rectum.

Seth's semen flooded my bowels and he withdrew. Now what? Seth's mouth might be gagged but his hands were free, and he gave me a thumbs up. I wasn't sure what that meant – I was a good fuck? Dai was okay? Or just saying `keep your spirits up'? No idea. I was hoping for a combination of all three.

Then Hamish took center stage. Uh-oh. Was he about to announce my execution? Was he simply going to usher me out of the room? Was Seth to do something more to me? None of the above.

• (Hamish) Herrick. Remove Eton's jockstrap.

Excuse me? The jockstrap that I've been wearing continuously for the last three weeks? The one I cannot possibly remove?

It caught Seth by surprise as well. He stepped forward, embraced me in solidarity, and then lowered his hands to my hips and tugged on the waistband.

I felt movement. I adjusted my legs to spread them wider and noted the sensation with delight as I felt my personal chastity cage slip off my hips and slide down my legs to the floor. I lifted my legs, one by one, as Seth pulled the confining garment completely away from me.

I didn't know what to feel. I looked down at my cock to make sure it was still there. Yes, I was intact. I touched it. Having been imprisoned for the past month, it slowly elevated simply by my touch – and the overcharged sexual atmosphere that pervaded this island. It was tingling so intensely I wanted to whack off right then and there. I couldn't believe my nightmare – or this aspect of my nightmare – was over.

But maybe it wasn't. They had removed a jockstrap from me before – the one I had arrived with – only to have it replaced with another. Was history about to repeat itself?

A dreadful thought struck me in the chest. There was one thing they could do that was worse than making me wear Leo's skin. Dai . . .

No, there couldn't be time for that, surely. But was he - ?

THE WHITE ROOM – SETH

I held Paul's jockstrap in my hands – the one they had told me was made from human skin. Paul looked an odd combination of relief and anxiety, perhaps anticipating something worse to come. I was glad to relieve him of this burden, and furious of the actions that had prompted its necessity.

I took two steps forward and flung it toward Hamish, hoping to strike him in the face. He caught it, of course, and tossed it back to me.

• Put it on, Herrick.

Ah. Now I was to be a prisoner of the unremovable jockstrap. At least it meant that task number two was over – there could be no more sex if I was confined inside this – well, let's call it fabric for civility's sake.

I lowered the garment and started to step into it.

• Not that way. Backwards. You must wear the skin of young Niemann. But you still have more fucking to do.

Terrific. A symbolic donning of another man's tragedy. Was I responsible for that, in some way? Was this some kind of hair shirt that I was to wear for penance? I didn't see how. Leo's misfortune was brought about by his own impetuousness; I'd played no role in it.

I looked over at Sean. He gave me an almost imperceptible nod. I switched the jock around and stepped into it, the cup now covering my crack and my cock still open for business.

They led Paul out, still bearing a rigid erection, though his face was still filled with anxiety. I didn't know where they were taking him, and neither did he. I hoped it was nowhere dreadful.

I decided to opt for false cheer as my façade.

• So, who's next? Percy, care to bend over for me? Haven't fucked you yet.

• (Hamish) Neither have you fucked your next target.

And who would that be?

THE EXECUTION CHAMBER – BARRY

I had to trust Hamish, didn't I? I'd been with him for a month now, and, while he had been intermittently cruel, he had never lied to me, so far as I could tell. So when he informed me that Switzerland had confirmed that I would regain my cock tomorrow morning, I had to trust him. It was a huge risk – but if I didn't do it, Jordan would die. And the fat boy would have gotten the chop as well. He was sacrificing himself for Stapleton, but I was outdoing him in the nobility department – I was saving two lives – Jordan's and Miles's. At the cost of – the most precious possession I had. Yes, that was noble of me.

And so I laid my pecker down on the block of wood and Stefan chopped it off, which was more painful psychologically, to see it lying there, separate from me, than the actual physical pain – which was intense enough, thank you.

Bleeding down here seemed minimized – even heads were severed without a lot of mess, they tell me – and a bandage over my stump seemed sufficient to keep me from losing very much blood.

I demanded to see Jordan afterwards, and was thrilled to see that both he and King were still in existence. Neither had balls, but that made us comrades in eunuchdom, I guess.

I passed on the news that due to my largesse their heads had been preserved. I related how I had dramatically stopped Harry's execution – and that Hamish was checking to see if they would need to chop him later. I had no idea how that had come out. I hoped he would survive; Jordan was fond of Harry, and I didn't want to see Jordan hurt. And I must admit that Harry's fat ass might have provided me with a good fuck, had I not been interrupted a half-inch into the process.

Jordan worried that if Harry WAS spared that they would revert to their original plan and behead Augie. This whole life-and-death thing seemed to be a zero-sum game, but I was hoping there was a way for everyone to survive. With our respective genitalia restored.

Miles was anxious for news of Vic, of which I had none. As I was about to respond, two lieutenants showed up and marched me to the White Room. Where I found Hamish, Percy, several lieutenants, and the two men I had met on the surface – Sean O'Hara and Seth Herrick. The latter wore a ball gag and a backwards-facing jockstrap. His rod was stiff, and I wondered if I was going to have to suck it.

No. I was to be fucked by it.

THE WHITE ROOM – SETH

I stared at him. The man had a pair of dangling balls but only a stump above them, covered in a bandage. Gagged, I couldn't ask the questions I wanted to. I made do with gestures, pointing to Barry, then my cock, then him again: What happened?

Hamish interpreted my body language correctly.

• The physics, Herrick. It required a sacrifice from my pet doggy. He desired to spare young Murdock from losing his head. He didn't know that Murdock had already been spared when Mancini volunteered to take his place.

He expected me to be stunned by that news. I wasn't, having already been informed by Ian. But the reaction came from Barry. And, oh yes, he reacted. They hadn't gagged him, so it was quite verbal.

• (Barry) WHAT? Jordan was already spared? That's what Mancini was doing there? I thought you were offing him instead of Stapleton.

• (Hamish) We were, as you so inelegantly phrased it, `offing him' to replace Murdock – but it also relieved us of the obligation to behead Stapleton.

• So I did this for NOTHING?

• Don't feel bad, Barry. Without your action, King would be `persona sine capite'. That's Latin for –

• I don't give a rat's ass what it's Latin for.

• Person without a head. But relax – when The Project launches, you have a fifty-six percent chance of getting your cock back.

There was a silence.

• Did you say fifty-six percent?

• I did.

• You told me a hundred percent. You said it was guaranteed.

• . . . I lied.

• Fifty-six percent? FIFTY-SIX FUCKING PERCENT?! I wouldn't have done it for goddam fifty-six percent!

• I know. That's why we had to lie to you. Relax, Barry, it's better than fifty-fifty odds. And now, Barry, Herrick here is going to fuck your ass.

My body language tried to communicate: Why him?

• (Hamish) He's one of The Twelve, Herrick. You have to fuck all of The Twelve at least once. Well, those that are still alive.

I considered for a moment. I'd never fucked Dai, Ed, or Paul before – they'd gone underground before I received my daily sex mandate. Tim, Vic, Jasper, Augie, and Gary had each submitted to me over the course of the last two weeks. The others were dead.

Barry would be the last one. The end of Task Number Two.

Barry's protests were vociferous, particularly when he discovered he wasn't getting lubrication. But into him I went, and in-and-out I went. He didn't care for it at all, but I had a good time. If Barry, not Abe, was to host my last orgasm in Betaworld, then I was going to ride Barry for all he was worth. I felt sorry that he no longer had a penis, but I had to assume the 56% projection referred to his fate under The Project. If I sabotaged it, he'd revert to Alphaworld, where he'd surely be fully endowed once again.

Two tasks down, one to go – the big one. I was anxious to find out whatever it was. The one Sean wanted me to refuse. Meanwhile, they removed the cockless Barry from the premises and ungagged me, which was a relief. Having my jaws forced apart for the duration had made them stiff.

• So, Hamish, what's the third task? The critical one, the one that will launch this precious Project of yours, the one that will split the universe into twelve pieces, which I am, for some reason, supposed to want to happen?

• (Hamish, smiling) What makes you think you're done with the second task?

• Because I've fucked all of the Twelve who are still alive.

• No you haven't.

And they brought in Harry.

THE DORMITORY – HARRY, earlier

• (Vic) They should have come for another of us by now.

• (Ray) Maybe they're not going to do us all.

• (Augie) Just four of us? Why should they stop at four?

• The first four captured were Paul, Dai, Augie, and Ed. That's who they've taken, except they took Tim instead of Augie.

• (Jasper) You were the next to go down.

• If whatever they're doing involves sex, they're not going to take me.

• (Gary) Why not?

• They want to keep me a virgin.

• (Ray) You seem unhappy about that.

• Well, . . . yeah. It's kinda something I wanted to happen.

• (Ray) Shit, you shoulda told me. I'd have done ya. I'm so horny, I'd fuck Mahatma Gandhi.

• (Gary) No, you wouldn't.

• (Ray) Well, no, he's dead. His ass was too skinny anyway. But Harry, sure, I'd do Harry, no problem.

Uh, thanks. I guess.

And then Uri came to the door. . . . Uri. . . . URI!

• What are you doing here?

• (Uri) Collecting you.

• (to the dorm) Relax, guys, whatever they did to the others, it wasn't fucking them.

• (Uri) Don't be too sure about that.

• Oh, maybe I get to watch. Fun.

Uri shepherded me down the series of corridors that led to the White Room. Where I saw, well, everybody except the people I most wanted to know about. Sean, Hamish, Percy, and most of the lieutenants were there. But no Dai, no Paul, no Ed, no Tim. Were they dead? Was I about to go on the chopping block for the second time in a day? Stefan was present, but there was no chopping block and no axe. Instead, there was a padded bench.

And there was Seth Herrick with an erection. And an astonished look on his face.

• (Seth) Harry! You're alive!

• Yes, thanks to Barry. A real Deus ex Machina moment. I'd tell you about it, but I don't think that's what Hamish has in mind right now.

• (Hamish) No, what I have in mind is some fucking. Mancini, you're about to get your wish.

I stared at him. My wish? He knew damn well what my wish was. It involved bending over something like a padded bench. It involved an erect cock. And in my wildest fantasies, it involved Seth Herrick.

• (Seth) I'm going to fuck you, Harry.

The six most wonderful words in the English language. "I'm going to fuck you, Harry."

He – gorgeous hunk of a man Seth Herrick – was going to fuck fat, worthless Harry Mancini.

Or was he? They'd stopped Barry before he got more than a half-inch inside me. They'd brought me to the Christmas orgy like I was to participate, then made me just watch. Every day I watched Dai get milked dry without ever getting to place that cock inside my mouth, or anywhere else. Was this another cruel joke? Lucy pulling the football out from under Charlie Brown's foot, causing him to fall flat on his ass?

For the second time today, arms seized me roughly, forced me to my knees and draped me over something. Only this time it wasn't to place my head on a chopping block. This time it was to position my ass in prime position for fucking.

Or spanking. That was the more likely scenario. They wouldn't –

I felt hands on my ankles, yanking them apart. And then hands in my crack, making sure my hole was exposed. An enema, perhaps, forcing me to hold it in until I couldn't anymore and then spill out the effluvium onto the bare white floor, which they'd probably make me ingest. That was the height of their depravity, they weren't about to –

I felt something wet against my hole.

• (Hamish) Yes, we'll lubricate this one, Herrick. For all intents and purposes, it is his first time.

• (Seth) It will be okay, Harry. I'll be gentle.

Chills coursed throughout my body. Hamish might play cruel tricks, but Seth? Of course they could have been misleading Seth. Charlie Brown hadn't yet reached the football, he could still fall flat on his ass.

I felt Seths' finger probe inside, swishing the lube inside my nearly-inviolate shitchute. Then there was another dose of liquid against my hole, and another finger probing my rectum. I was in heaven. Seth's other hand was running lightly over my buttocks, soothingly, calmly, reassuringly. Sexily.

For the first time in my life, I felt like a sexy person. Maybe I wasn't, but I FELT like one.

I started to cry.

• (Percy) For God's sake, Mancini, he hasn't even penetrated you yet. It can't hurt that much.

Tears of joy, Percy, you don't understand that? My moral victory, the near-conquest of my ass by Barry, that had been so satisfying. And yet that now felt like a bunt single compared to a grand slam.

• (Seth) Ready, Harry?

• (Was I?!) Ready.

And then I felt his cockhead pressing against my hole. If I'd have died right then and there, it would have been satisfactory, just knowing that the cock of such a hunk, of such a nice, good man, was poised to enter my body, seconds later.

But I didn't die right then and there. And his cockhead didn't remain poised against my hole. A moment later, Seth Herrick's cock plunged forward. Into my ass. Into MY ass! God, it felt good!

THE WHITE ROOM – SETH

Harry felt good. I know there's a sense that fat people aren't sexy – and to some, they aren't, outwardly. But, face it, the inside of an ass doesn't have much to do with the outside of it. It's all psychological. Harry gripped my cock like he was hanging on for dear life. And my cock loved it. He knew to push out to grant me access and I took advantage, plunging in to the hilt.

I knew that, inexperienced as he was, he was feeling pain, but the groans he was omitting were not groans of protest. They were groans of ecstasy.

THE WHITE ROOM – HARRY

The next few minutes were the happiest of my life. The feel of his cock ramming up against my prostate, the rhythm of his driving, the pulsing, pounding, delirious pain of it all – the most welcome pain I have ever felt in my life.

I felt like a human being. I felt valued. I felt like all the years of suffering had been worth it, for this one moment. And even though I knew that Seth was being forced to fuck me, it didn't feel like an involuntary act, or an act of charity, as Barry's had been.

It felt like he wanted to make love to me. That's probably not what he was feeling, but it didn't matter. He made me feel that way. He spoke in gentle, soothing tones, he touched me up and down my arms and my back and my neck, and planted kisses on my neck as he drove himself deep inside me.

I thought back to a point hours earlier when Stefan was about to send my head rolling across the floor, and how Hamish had said they normally fucked a man before decapitating him. I thought – if they fucked a man WHILE decapitating him, that would be the perfect way to die: a cock buried in my ass, drilling the hell out of me. And if, at that moment with Seth deep inside me, they had decided to chop off my head, I would have been fine with it. Let me go out in a blaze of glory.

Taking Barry's cock in my mouth had been satisfying, and having it push past my sphincter for a few fleeting seconds had been a thrill. But I'd been kidding myself if I thought my life had been complete then. My life was complete now. They could take it, and I'd die happy – truly happy. I'd been fucked, and I'd been fucked by one of the sexiest men alive.

I never wanted it to end.

THE WHITE ROOM – SETH

Harry's eyes were wet. Hamish and Percy left the room, I guess to contact Jesús. There was no chance of my escape from the White Room – too many lieutenants standing guard. But it gave me a chance to talk to Harry.

His voice was cracking as he spoke.

• Thank you. Thank you, Seth. I can't tell you what this means to me.

• Harry, it was my pleasure. And I mean that literally. You were a great fuck.

• Don't say that.

• You WERE. You were, Harry. I've always told you, you undervalue yourself. And, like I said before, there's a guy out there for you. Maybe he'll be a chaser, maybe he'll just be a wise person who can see you for the kind of man you really are. You are a good man, Harry, inside and out – and when I say inside, I mean your soul but I also mean the inside of your ass.

Harry blushed with that last statement.

• Thank you, Seth. I know you're just being nice, but I appreciate it anyway.

• When we get to Alphaworld, I'll be there for you. Abe and I will come to Philly, we'll wave our magic wands and find you a guy.

• You waved your magic wand inside me today, Seth. That's all I really needed. And I don't know if we'll ever get back to Alphaworld.

• (Sean, eavesdropping and deciding to admit it) You will, Seth. If you do what you need to do.

If I decide that what I need to do is what YOU want me to do.

THE DARK ROOM – DAI

The dark room brought back uncomfortable memories – the dodecagon collapsing beneath my feet, landing – if that was the word – on a chair with a dildo lodged deep inside my ass, waiting for someone to release me. That was twenty-four days ago.

And now here I was again. After Seth fucked me, I was squirreled away in the pitch-black atmosphere of this intimidating room. But this time I was not alone. Ed was here. Barry was here. And best of all, Paul was here.

And best-best of all, Paul had been emancipated from his constant companion, the jockstrap. For the first time since I had fallen in love with him, his cock was accessible. Irony of ironies – in the total darkness, I couldn't see it. I could feel it though – in my hands it felt generous in size, relative to his height. It felt that way in my mouth, too.

Ed was scandalized, but Paul hadn't gotten his rocks off all month. And I was determined that when he did it would be down my throat. My lips curled around his cockhead, teasing the frenulum as he gasped in excitement. After being locked in its cloth – then leather – cage for weeks, he was ready to spew his load at the slightest stimulation, and the first batch of semen eased into my gullet in nothing flat.

I wasn't about to let him off so lightly, and surrounded his member with my mouth almost immediately after swallowing. I played it with my tongue, kissing it, licking it, caressing it, then diving in deep and taking the whole of it into my oral cavity, letting his balls bounce against my chin. He groaned his delight as Ed, cognizant of our activity but grateful that he was unable to visually witness it, scoffed his displeasure across the room. He wasn't amused when I suggested that he and Barry occupy themselves similarly while Paul and I were enjoying sexual congress.

• (Ed) If you think I'm going to stick that thing in my mouth, you'd be very much surprised.

• (Barry) If I did, I think you'd be the one who was surprised.

That cryptic remark went unexplained, and I assumed it was just Barry boasting about how big he was, as he had frequently done in the past. It was, as I recalled, larger than any of ours by a good bit, but in this blackness I could not see it to take another visual assessment of its length.

The door opened, revealing a shadow briefly before it closed again. A large shadow. A bulky shadow. A shadow that could only belong to one person.

• (Paul) Harry!

His entrance required a hiatus in the fellatio, but we could always resume once salutations had concluded.

• (Harry) Yes, it's me. Who's here?

• (Paul) Paul, Dai, Ed, and Barry.

• (Harry) Barry? - (Barry) Surprise. It turns out I'm one of the Twelve. You have me to thank for your survival, Mancini, it cost me a pretty penny – and about ten inches.

THAT cryptic remark went unexplained as well. I was wondering what was up with Barry – why WAS he here with the rest of us?

• They brought us all here because Seth just fucked all of us.

• (Harry) He fucked you? All four of you?

• (Ed) All four of us. So what are YOU doing here?

• (Harry) Same reason.

I was stunned.

• Seth fucked you?

• He did.

• I mean – really fucked you? In the ass? They let him?

• They did. He did.

• Wow, Harry.

• (Paul) How was it?

There was a pause and when Harry spoke, his voice was shaking, as if he was holding back tears.

• Best damn moment of my life.

THE WHITE ROOM – SETH

Jesús was once again on the monitor.

• (Jesús) It's five in the morning here in St. Moritz. But where you are, it's one hour before midnight. One hour before you, Seth Herrick, become literally the man of the hour. You have ably performed the first two tasks we have assigned you. Those you have fucked are comfortably in the Dark Room awaiting their fate. Tim is fine, recovering from his wounds. The others are back in the dormitory, hoping that you will do the right thing.

• Which is?

• Completing the third task.

• Which is?

Jesús looked intensely at me.

• You're not going to want to do this.

• Sean told me that. Let me be the judge.

• You have to do it anyway.

• That depends upon what it is.

• No. It doesn't. You have to do it anyway.

This was getting ridiculous.

• Jesús, just get on with it. Tell me what it is that I won't want to do, and then I'll tell you if I'll do it.

• Agree first, then I'll tell you.

• I may break my promise. Tell me.

He took a deep breath. He nodded to Hamish, who nodded to Stefan, who was waiting just outside the room. Stefan carried in a large wooden block, painted black, about two feet on a side, and placed it down in front of me. Hamish produced an axe.

• That block is for Derisian. You're going to behead him.

[COMING UP NEXT: CHAPTER FORTY-NINE – AND IF I DON'T?]