Little Big Man

LITTLE BIG MAN – a serial novel by Travis Creel

CHAPTER NINE – TOPS AND BOTTOMS

Previously: Alex and Matti were part of a group of thirteen captives given two hours to form six pairs of partners for anal sex, with the leftover thirteenth man to be castrated. Matti convinced a random contestant, Utah, into teaming up with them, with the idea that the three of them working in concert could subdue and subsequently subjugate three others, one by one, locking them into stocks where they would be easy prey. The first to fall into their trap was New Mexico, but instead of finding two others, Matti double-crossed Utah, making him their second victim. Moments after Alex had finished breeding New Mexico, the powerful Wyoming dragged in Alabama ("Al"), with whom Alex and Matti had developed a friendship. Torn between pragmatism and loyalty, they declined to intervene and let Wyoming go ahead and violate their friend, which would at least keep him from being the odd man out. Surprisingly, that turned out to be another physically strong contestant, Texas.

[Author's note for non-American readers: the term Cheesehead, first used in this chapter, refers to residents of the state of Wisconsin, which makes a lot of cheese. Affectionately adopting this nickname, some fans of the Green Bay Packers, an American football team, attend games wearing hats shaped like a giant wedge of cheese.]

ALEX: TUESDAY, JUNE 7, MORNING AND AFTERNOON - ATLANTIC OCEAN

I was racked with guilt over what I had done – and hadn't done. I had committed and facilitated rape. My reward': I was officially a Top'. And New Mexico and Al were officially `Bottoms'. From now on, it seemed, as they had told us that in the coming days we would retain the same sexual role we had played last night.

I didn't sleep much, mostly due to the guilt. But partly – and I know this will sound weird – because I had nothing to wear. I've always slept in SOMETHING – pajamas as a kid, then a T-shirt and boxers. When they released us for the night, it was like we were expected to go about our normal business – return to our cabins, brush our teeth, climb into bed, and sleep. Only I had no clothes to do any of that in, and to climb between the sheets in the nude felt unnatural.

I did sleep eventually, only to be awakened by a nightmare:

Approaching a clearing in the woods, I heard a voice crying out "Help me, help me". I saw a man, stripped naked, in stocks. I approached him from behind and thought, "I'm going to fuck you." He must have read my thoughts and yelled out, "Don't fuck me, Alex, please don't fuck me!" I said, "Sorry, pal, I have to," and the man answered, "I'm not your pal, I'm your brother!" And I realized it was my brother Adam. Which jolted me awake, my heart beating a hundred miles an hour.

Adam, whose death I was responsible for. Was raping New Mexico like killing my brother – was that what the dream was saying? Or was it worse? Adam's death was an accident. Fucking New Mexico was by choice.

It was light out and I lay in bed, restless, until the monitor sounded reveille and displayed that it was 8:00, breakfast at 8:30. Jeez, that's not much time, I thought, but then realized I wouldn't have to spend any time dressing.

I hopped into the shower – this time, at least, there was no problem getting out – wrapped a towel around my waist, shaved and brushed my teeth. Still wearing the towel, I headed out of the bathroom, but the moment I passed through the doorway there was a loud BEEP as if I had set off some kind of alarm.

The BEEP was immediately followed by a voice that must have come from the monitor:

TOWELS MAY NOT BE REMOVED FROM THE BATHROOM.

What? How did they know I was wearing the towel? The voice was followed by a repeating BEEP BEEP BEEP – loud enough to make you want it to stop – which did stop only when I re-entered the bathroom.

Where I heard: THANK YOU. LEAVE THE TOWEL IN THE BATHROOM AND PROCEED NORMALLY.

Fuck. This was Orwellian. Big Brother was watching me. I looked all around the bathroom and spotted no cameras, but I knew they could be disguised. Reluctantly, I unwrapped the towel from my waist and returned it to the towel rack. I walked, unclad, to the main part of my cabin, where there was an explanation of sorts on the monitor.

CONTESTANTS MUST REMAIN NUDE AT ALL TIMES. TOWELS ARE TO BE USED ONLY FOR DRYING THE BODY AND MAY NOT BE WORN. FUTURE VIOLATIONS WILL RESULT IN PUNITIVE MEASURES, WHICH MAY INCLUDE LOSS OF STATUS.

Loss of status? I had status? I was a prisoner, totally under their control – I didn't even have any fucking CLOTHING, what kind of status could I possibly have?

Oh. I was a Top. If I lost status, I could become a Bottom.

Fine, I won't wear the stupid towel around my waist anymore.

DMITRI: We didn't have cameras in the cabins. We did, however, embed chips in the fabric of the towels. And we had sensors at the doorways, so we could detect when the towels left the bathroom.

ALEX: A few minutes later, there was a knock on my door. I froze in panic, then realized that a maroon wouldn't knock; it was probably Matti, whom I didn't want to see. Matti reminded me of what I did last night – what WE did last night – and I wasn't ready to talk about it yet.

I admitted him and was about to tell him that but was distracted by the stupid grin on his face.

• Oh, you're not dressed – should I wait?

What? You're making a joke? Seriously? I was annoyed.

• Matti –

• I found this suit that I got on my birthday, I thought I'd wear that. Come to think of it, you look fine with what you have on. I think this is a come-as-you-are breakfast anyway.

His smile was so infectious that I couldn't hold on to my anger. I didn't respond in kind, I just nodded and said, "Let's go." He picked up on my ill humor and didn't try to force any more jollity on me.

I was nervous about breakfast. Would some new indignity be heaped upon us? Or upon the poor guys we had victimized last night? What would we encounter?

We encountered a room full of nude men. Well, half full. I quickly realized that while Wyoming and the other Tops from last night were all present, the guys we had fucked were not. Which was a relief. I did not want to have to face New Mexico, Alabama, or even Utah this morning or anytime soon. But I did wonder where they were.

But if the guys present at breakfast were all Tops, there were some reassuring sights. Del was there, and Rhody, and Noisy. Matti and I sat with them, noticing the absence of Del's friend Pennsylvania.

It was one of the quietest group meals I have ever experienced. We were all-too-aware of what we had done to avoid the fate we had doomed others to. The five of us wanted to be in close proximity, but without speaking. Comraderie without communication.

It was too soon. We were still in shock. And hanging over everyone's head was the question, "What next?"

And the ultimate question: "Why?"

As fearful as I was about what the answers might be, I wanted them, and I wanted them now. It looked like that was not going to happen but then DeJuan Brooks materialized.

• Good morning. Congratulations, Tops, on your victory last night. The Bottoms' breakfast is not this nice. (Smile, one that chilled to the bone.) Oh, we fed them. But no ham, no eggs, no pancakes. They don't deserve it. They're losers.

Visions of a repast out of Oliver Twist wafted through my head. I imagined Alabama and Utah sitting down to a meal of thin gruel. I wouldn't put it past these guys.

• I have two items to communicate. First: you have the day free except when you are called. There's a schedule on your monitors. Second: you have been assigned new cabins. All Tops are on Deck 3. Bottoms are on Deck 2 – appropriately, underneath you (snarky smile). Since you no longer have personal items, it doesn't really matter what cabin you are in. You will find your name on your door panel.

And that was that. No answers, no clues as to what was to befall us today – or what was to befall the Bottoms.

My new cabin was again at the end of the corridor – but on the port side of the ship. Wyoming was opposite me, above my old room. I was immediately above where West Virginia had been. And next to West Virginia had been Texas.

Texas. I had openly disliked the arrogant redhead from the first. But I wondered what was going through his head now. He was neither Top nor Bottom. His status was Eunuch, or would be after his surgery this morning.

I shook off the mental images that invoked and entered my cabin, where I found a schedule on the monitor.

AT THE FOLLOWING TIMES REPORT TO THE GYMNASIUM:

SUNDAY AFTERNOON TOPS – 10 A.M.

SUNDAY NIGHT TOPS – 12 NOON

MONDAY AFTERNOON TOPS – 2 P.M.

MONDAY NIGHT TOPS – 4 P.M.

Which meant that Matti and I were free until four o'clock. And Del and Rhody and Noisy were free until two. So the five of us could hang out together – if we wanted to. But I needed some alone time – or at least I thought I did, I wasn't entirely sure.

I surveyed the new cabin. The view out the window was all blue sky and blue sea, calm and boring. But – what, ho – there was a coffeemaker. I guess being a Top had its perks (pun accidental). As little as I had slept, I could use more coffee. I fixed a pot and, as it was brewing, sat on my bed and watched the ocean go by.

The coffeemaker had just gurgled to a halt when there was a knock at my door. Oh, shit, Matti, not yet. Just wait, please? Give me some space.

I palmed the door open.

• Matti, I'm not ready.

• My name is Minnesota, and we've got to talk about this.

• . . .

• Can I come in?

• (shrug) Yeah. I just made coffee. Want some?

• Thanks. Black.

• I didn't sleep very much last night.

• Me neither.

• Don't just stand there, sit down. You can't drink coffee standing up, it looks weird.

• We're both stark naked and it's the standing up part that looks weird? Anyway, I feel funny sitting on your furniture naked. I might fart or something.

• I'm as naked as you are and I'm sitting. Anyway, it's not my furniture.

• Point taken. Now, let's talk. Why are you angry with me?

• I'm not angry with you.

• No? I involved you in my dirty little plan without telling you.

• How could you tell me?

• So what are you angry about? Be specific. It's the only way you'll get past it.

• What I did to New Mexico.

• You would have preferred to have been the one in the stocks.

• No, of course not.

• So why blame yourself?

• It doesn't make it right, Mat- Minnesota. Jeez, I don't want to call you that at a time like this. Do you suppose they're really listening?

• I have no idea but I'm not taking any chances. They're nobody to fool around with. Which is exactly the point. They're in charge. You had no choice. I've studied economics, Wisconsin. In economics there's a concept called a zero-sum game. That means if somebody wins, somebody loses. All the pluses and minuses cancel out. What they did to us last night was a zero-sum game. No matter what you did, there were going to be six guys getting fucked in the ass. You couldn't have saved New Mexico. All you could have done was get fucked yourself. This is not the time to be Sidney Carton.

• Okay, that's New Mexico. What about Alabama?

• You think we should have saved him.

• We could have. Together we could have.

• So are you mad at me about that?

• I might be if I'd said something and you said no. But I didn't say a word. I just stood there and let it happen. Worse – I helped put him into the stocks.

• As did I.

• As did you. But –

• No `but's, Wisconsin. Think about what was going on when we saw him being dragged into the gym. We had just spent an incredibly tense period setting up this plan and waiting for someone to come along. So our nerves were already shot by the time New Mexico came by. And then we had to beat up New Mexico.

• We didn't have to –

• Yes, we did. And then, after fighting him, we had to subdue Utah. Even that was difficult – he got away and we had to chase him down. And then we had to fuck those guys. Yes, we HAD to fuck those guys. And that took a lot of energy when we were already physically exhausted and emotionally traumatized. I knew that what we were doing was the best way of protecting both of us, but it WAS hard, Wisconsin. Don't think it was easy for me, it wasn't. When Wyoming came in with Alabama, I was spent. Physically and emotionally. You were, too.

• Yeah, I was.

• Do you know what it would have taken to save Alabama? We would have had to get into another fight – and Wyoming is mad strong. Utah was tricky enough, you want to take on Wyoming? Can you imagine, even with Alabama helping, how hard it would have been to get him into those stocks so Alabama could fuck him? Like Wyoming said, Al's ass was a goner, either way. Either Wyoming fucked him or he got gang-raped and castrated. We were doing him a favor, Wisconsin. That's why I helped Wyoming.

• I suppose you're right.

• It was Darwinian selection, pure and simple. Survival of the fittest.

• Survival of the wiliest.

• I'll take that as a compliment. Unless you meant to insult my fitness, in which case I am mortally wounded. Anyway, if anyone should feel like a piece of shit this morning, it's me. And not because of Alabama, because of Utah. Alabama lost out on Darwinian selection. Utah lost out because I snookered him.

• Survival of the wiliest, like I said. I don't feel that bad about Utah. He's an asshole. He's the one who snickered when Indiana's balls were brought out.

• You shouldn't feel bad about Alabama either. Feel bad FOR him, yes. But you are not responsible for that. It's a zero-sum game. I would feel guilty if I invented the rules, but I didn't. They did.

• (nodding, reluctantly)

• You're not a bad person. You're a good person who was forced to do a bad thing. In my eyes, in fact, you're a terrific person, one of the best. You need to know that, Wisconsin – you're one of the best.

I cannot tell you how much I needed him to call me `Alex' at that moment. A name is superficial – a rose by any other name and all that – but it was important. Calling each other by our state names was denying friendship in some way, it was putting distance between us. Which, I knew, was exactly what they wanted. They didn't want us close.

But it was too late. At that moment, I felt as close to Matti as I had felt to anyone ever. His last speech had made me cry. I was confused, I don't know why I was feeling what I was feeling, but I was totally overcome with emotion and it wasn't all just relief at having been pronounced an acceptable human being.

Matti came over and sat next to me on the bed. He put his arm around me. Our torsos touched. It was the first time my bare skin had touched his bare skin, other than in a handshake. And I needed more of it.

I reached around him and embraced him fully. His chest and my chest were locked together, his hard hairless chest against mine, skin against skin, and the warmth of it felt so good, it was like no other hug I had ever had in my life. It was more than a hug, it was like we had merged into one being.

And then he kissed me.

I wasn't expecting it, I don't know if he was expecting it, it just happened. His lips just found mine and pressed against them and my mouth opened and I was kissing him back, our tongues finding each other and dancing. Electricity coursed through every nerve in my body and I hugged him tighter and moved my arms all up and down his bare back, wanting to touch every inch of him. And every part of me was stimulated – yes, I mean every part. Matti had an erection as well.

We broke and kissed again, and broke and kissed again, and he gently pushed against my shoulder and I let him push me down onto the bed. And he lay his chest on top of mine, but his lower half off to the side so that my legs and genitals were still uncovered. He put his hand on my thigh, moving up toward my groin and I wanted him to keep going, I wanted him to touch my balls, I wanted him to touch my cock, I wanted him to grab hold of it and I would grab hold of his and –

Wait. What the hell was going on? The events of the last day had thrown me completely out of whack, to the point that I was confusing my friendship with Matti with something more than that. I am not gay, and what just happened was an aberration, it was just a normal reaction to a physical stimulus, and not a gay thing at all.

But Matti had reached the opposite conclusion.

• Well, Wisconsin, guess this means I'm gay after all.

• Not gay. Bisexual. They said we all had some gay in us, but it wasn't dominant. Maybe just now that part in you came out.

• Interesting choice of words, came out.

• It doesn't change anything. It doesn't mean that we're gay. Maybe 4%, 5%, not more. This was just the 4% having its moment.

• Wisconsin, do you feel bad about . . . what just happened?

• No. Because what just happened . . . wasn't really . . . real.

• It was real for me. Wisconsin, I've felt something special about you since the first time I laid eyes on you in your Speedo.

• But you didn't think you were gay then, did you?

• I was confused. I guess I've had those feelings before, but I've also had them with women, you know? And those were the ones I wanted to believe because it was more socially acceptable, even today. It never really worked out with girls, but I've had sex with them. I've never had sex with a dude. And then you came along and . . . I wanted to. Did you want to?

• No. I don't know. I mean, I don't think so. You say you were confused then – I'm confused now. I mean I've always admired the male body, but, you know, like in a Roman statue kind of way –

• That's what you get for being a World Studies major –

• But I never thought about making it with a guy. I mean, I don't think I did. Okay, there's something different about you. I'm happy being around you. But that just means we're friends, right? Nothing sexual about it. We got carried away just now because we're lonely and depressed and in a hopeless situation.

• So you don't think we're gay.

• No.

• It might be better if we were. I mean, if we're going to be forced to have sex with guys, then it's good to be gay. You might as well like it while it's going on.

• Yeah, well, Matti – I did like it while it was going on. That's one of the things that kept me up last night. I hated what I was doing to New Mexico, but . . . it felt good.

• I liked it, too. I have a confession to make. Last night, when they first told us about the sex – I wanted to do you.

• I would have let you if it meant saving both of our balls. But then –

• But then they said that once a Bottom, always a Bottom, and I couldn't do that to you.

• I couldn't do that to me, either. So I didn't offer.

• Is that the only reason? If we were back home, would you want to have sex with me?

• Jeez, Matti – Minnesota. Don't make it sound like I'm rejecting you.

• Although you are.

• You're my best friend – I want to be around you all the time. I'm just not gay. Despite what just happened.

• . . . (suddenly, artificially buoyant) I think I've figured it out. Why you're rejecting me.

• You have?

• Anti-Finnish bias.

• Yes, that's it. Anti-Finnish bias. Because of the way you Finns lie.

• Horizontally.

• But you'd better watch your hands, buster.

• I don't know, Cheesehead, maybe you're as much as six or seven percent gay.

• Six, maybe. Never seven.

Grateful that he had managed to maneuver the conversation into a banterable moment – and grateful that my erection had subsided – I sat up and kept the mood light.

• Let's go to the pool.

Matti endorsed the idea and so off we went. In the corridor, I saw Rhody exiting his cabin.

• (Matti) Hey, we're going for a swim. Want to join us?

• (Rhody) I don't know. I've never skinny-dipped before.

• (Matti) I'd never skinny-breakfasted before today. No time like the present, Rhode Island. Swimming au naturel is the only way to go. Especially when there's no alternative.

Rhody, who looked down in the dumps, gave what looked to me like a brave smile, and agreed. He swam less energetically than Matti and me but professed to have enjoyed it.

After the swim, we headed to the rec room and found Noisy playing a little one-on-one with another Black guy, District of Columbia. He invited us to join them and we corralled a sixth person, Puerto Rico, into making it a three-on-three. Matti, Noisy, and Puerto Rico against me, Rhody and D.C.

I was the worst of the six of us. Noisy and D.C., with skills honed on urban playgrounds, were the best. Rhody turned out to be a surprisingly good sharp-shooter from outside and we kept it close, but Noisy was just too good and we wound up losing. Maybe it was because Noisy had no reluctance to bump up against the rest of us, playing defense as if we were all fully clothed, while the rest of us were a little too conscious of our nudity.

Lunch was tense, as there were only a dozen of us in attendance, the tops with afternoon `appointments'. Noisy, D.C., Del and Rhody were all in the 2:00 group, and their nerves were showing. They were all friends at least to some extent, and they were competing against each other. Rhody in particular was on edge. As lunch came to an end, he asked if he could talk to me privately.

I said sure, made my excuses to Matti and went with Rhody. He didn't want to go back to his cabin – "too depressing" – and he didn't want to go into one of the more public spaces where other guys would be around, so we found a spot on the port side by the railing. A maroon approached and handcuffed us to the railing, explaining why:

• Security. Can't have you falling overboard. Raise your free hand when you want to leave.

I could see Rhody was troubled, and waited until he was ready to talk. He was having difficulty forming his words, and then suddenly blurted out a sentence:

• Wisconsin, am I a terrible person?

Matti would have answered something like "Yes, horrible. Worst person ever to come out of the state of Connecticut. . . . You're not from Connecticut? Oh, well, you're not so bad, then."

But being me, I said, "No, of course not."

• I feel like one.

• Because of yesterday.

• Wisconsin, I raped a guy.

• So did I. Am I a terrible person?

• No! No, I didn't mean that! You're a great guy, Wisconsin. You're – you're like my best friend here.

• Rhody, everyone we just had lunch with raped a guy last night.

• I know that. I know that. But . . .

• But?

• . . .

• Hey, it's okay, it's me, I'm your friend, you can tell me.

• This was the worst part.

• It's all right, you can tell me.

• . . . I liked it. I mean, I didn't, but I did. I can't –

• Look, I just had basically this same conversation with Minnesota this morning. We all liked it, at least some.

• If not for these cuffs, I'd be tempted to jump over the railing and end it all.

• Now you're talking crazy. What good would that do? Talk to me. Tell me what happened, and I'll tell you my story. My story is pretty fucking bad, Rhody. You're not the only one feeling guilt this morning.

• But –

• Just tell me about it. Get it off your chest.

• (Pause.) Okay. I mean, okay, I've got this hard-on, right? That wasn't my fault, they gave it to me, but I had this raging hard-on, my cock was raring to go, I was horny as hell.

• As you said, not your fault, they injected us, we all got an erection.

• Only it seemed like the granddaddy of all erections. I wanted to shoot my load so badly. And I was a coward. I didn't want to get fucked. And more than anything I didn't want to get fucked over and over again, which is what –

• Yes, I know. I had the same –

• So I saw this guy standing by the railing, wondering what to do. Right here, at this very spot. And I decided right then and there that I would take him. He didn't seem to notice me – he was staring out to sea. I was far enough away I couldn't tell who it was until I got closer and saw that it was Maine. I'd exchanged a few words with him, you know, fellow New Englander and all that, and he was a nice enough guy. Nothing wrong with him. He didn't deserve to be raped.

• Rhody, no one deserves to be raped.

• But I didn't care. I was so horny I just really wanted to fuck something, and Maine was something. I walked up to him and he said, `Hi." He fuckin' said, "Hi", like we were going to have a beer together or something. And – oh god I hate this moment – I thought, man this is going to be easy. And it was. I went up to him and said "Hi" back to him and then I put my hand on his shoulder and then I grabbed him around the waist and bent him over the railing. He was like, "Jeez, Rhode Island, what are you doing?" and I said, "What do you think I'm doing? We have to fuck or they're going to cut off our balls." And I told Maine that he had better just take it because I was going to fuck his ass. And he started to cry but he didn't fight me and so I started to fuck him. At first I was so eager to get in I forgot about the lube, but I had trouble getting in and so I greased him up and then I could. And the thing was . . .

• . . .

• . . . (starting to choke up)

• You don't have to –

• No, yes I do, yes I do. The thing was. The thing was – it felt fantastic.

And with that, Rhody started to cry. I put my arm on his shoulder, but he shook it off and faced away for a moment before he was able to continue.

• His ass – his rectum – just gripped my cock so tightly, and I was SO ready for release, I just fucked him and fucked him and the sensation was wonderful. And he was grunting in pain the whole time and I heard him and I just kept fucking him anyway because my cock had the better of me. I knew it was wrong but it felt so good. I just kept fucking and fucking until I shot my load. I was pushing him hard – he probably has a bruise in his belly from being pushed against the railing so hard.

I thought, yes, well I wonder what New Mexico looks like today, after Matti and I had punched and kicked him into submission.

• And then it hit me what I had done. The moment my load unleashed itself into Maine's guts I was hit with this tremendous wave of regret. And I leaned over on top of him – I was still inside him, I couldn't move even to pull out of the poor guy – and I started to cry. And Maine? He – he tried to comfort me. He actually tried to make me feel better. He told me it was all right, he'd gotten through it and it wasn't as bad as he'd expected. Of course, then I had to withdraw and he gave a little groan when my cock passed his sphincter. But now, Wisconsin – I mean he's going to get fucked more times.

• Don't go there. We're not responsible for what happens to them in the future. That's on them. That's on the Russians. And so was what we did last night, dammit. It's not our fault. It was self-preservation.

• At somebody else's expense.

• You shoot a guy who's coming at you with a knife and they don't send you to jail, Rhody. It's self-defense. You were saving yourself. Listen – you think you did such a terrible thing? Let me tell you what I did. And what I didn't do.

I related the events of the previous evening – assaulting New Mexico, turning the tables on Utah, failing to save Alabama. I left out the fact that the double-cross of Utah was Matti's idea and made myself sound like part of the plot. I didn't want him to dislike Matti for that. As I now came to realize, it was a brave thing Matti had done – and it had been done at least partly to save my ass – literally – and my balls.

• Minnesota called this a zero-sum game. He helped me a lot this morning, because I was feeling just as bad as you are now. There were going to be six winners and six losers no matter what. So thank your lucky stars that you were one of the winners and that Maine doesn't blame you for it, okay? And remember that probably all of us liked it at least a little. They chose us because we have a tiny bit of gay in us.

• Maybe more than a tiny bit. I mean, if I liked it that much –

• Rhody, we're not gay. We just have a wee something that allows us to enjoy the physical sensation of our cocks in a tight ass. Doesn't make us gay.

No, I thought, but what about kissing a guy and getting hard while he lies practically on top of you?

• Thank you, Wisconsin. Thank you for listening. I feel better now.

• Good. Now, they're going to call you in a few minutes, and I don't know what they're going to tell you to do, but if you have to fuck a guy, you fuck a guy, okay? And don't feel guilty about it. Just do it, like Nike says.

We signaled the maroon to release us from the handcuffs, and I walked him back to his cabin. Ten minutes later I heard them call his group to the gymnasium.

Two glacially slow hours later, it was my turn.

In the gymnasium, I saw only maroons and DeJuan Brooks. I expected to see New Mexico, Alabama, and the rest of last night's Bottoms, but they were nowhere in evidence. Neither were the stocks. Instead, there were six long tables, like those in the dining hall. And six chairs, three at either end of the room.

A pair of maroons emerged from the shower room, trailed by six naked Bottoms. The minute I saw dark skin, I knew they were not the same six we had fucked last night. There had been no African-Americans in our group, a fluke of the random draw, and two of these guys were Black. Alabama, Utah, and New Mexico were not among them. That was a relief. I did not want to look into any of their eyes.

The six Bottoms were split into two groups and seated in the chairs.

• (DeJuan Brooks) Good afternoon. We have six Tops present – Hawaii, Michigan, Minnesota, Nebraska, Wisconsin, Wyoming. And six Bottoms – Arkansas, Kentucky, Massachusetts, Missouri, New York, Ohio. Relax, boys – there will be no sex this afternoon.

I was relieved. The Bottoms looked even more relieved.

• But we have a problem. Our enforcers – what we understand some of you call `maroons' – are permitted to have sex with any Bottom at any time. But how can they tell the Tops from the Bottoms? Who are the men among you and who are the boys? Bottoms must look like boys. So they need haircuts. That's your job. Tops, choose a Bottom.

I found myself standing between Ohio, one of the black guys and Massachusetts, a white brunet with a neat goatee and a mustache. I picked Ohio as a maroon handed me an electric razor.

• (Brooks) All the hair on their heads. Now.

• (me, to Ohio) Sorry, guy. Gotta do this.

Ohio sat there stoically as I took the razor to his head and mowed a clean strip down the middle, the tiny curls of his hair wafting their way to the floor. I guess, compared to the events of last night, this was the least of the indignities he'd been subjected to.

I cut a second swath next to the first, and proceeded from there. In less than two minutes Ohio was bald, or might as well be. Next to me, Hawaii had rendered Massachusetts clean-shaven on his chin as well as the top of his skull.

Brooks then ordered the Bottoms up onto the tables, lying on their backs.

• Chest, arms, legs. You may leave their pubic hair, but everything else goes.

Ohio had a lot of tight curls on various parts of his body. It all came off. I ran the razor over his sturdy pecs, arms, washboard abdomen, calves and then – carefully – his thighs, realizing I'd hit some erogenous zones when I got close to the groin. And I was not anxious to get close to the groin.

• Turn over onto your stomach.

The young Black did not have a lot of hair on his back, but there was some on the back of his legs. And some in the small of his back, leading down to the cleft in his buttocks. This I was expected to remove. And then two maroons pulled his legs into a Y-shape, exposing the cleft so that I could see his asshole.

I was afraid of what was to come next, and I was right. Maroons circulated around the room with jars full of shaving cream. One of them deposited a dollop in Ohio's crack – and handed me a straight razor.

• Careful now, we don't want them to bleed – not from OUTSIDE the asshole, anyway.

Cautiously, I slid the blade of the razor along the cleft of Ohio's ass, smoothly scraping the walls of his crack. There was a washcloth lying on the table and I took it and wiped his ass crack, making sure there was no hair showing around his anus. Oddly, I felt proud of my work. His cleft was smooth and clean and I was surprised that I found the geometry of it beautiful. Brooks came around to check our work, and ran his fingers along Ohio's crack. The young black man quivered at the touch of fingers along the sensitive lining of his inner sanctum, but had no recourse but to lie there, as Brooks popped a finger briefly inside and then patted him approvingly on the ass.

But there was more to come. The Bottoms were ordered to flip over, once again lying on their backs, and once more a dollop of shaving cream was planted on them – right on their pubes. And a second one squarely on their balls.

• They must be smooth as boys. I do not want to feel any stubble when you have finished. And you must shave their cocks and their balls.

I winced and Ohio winced, but I set about my work, scraping his abdomen as cautiously as I could. I had to grab hold of his cock to keep it out of the way as I scraped clean the area north of it. With the washcloth, I wiped the area above his cock clean and turned my attention to his groin. Pushing his legs apart so I could get an angle, I put the razor at the base of his hefty black scrotum and stroked slowly in the valley separating his thigh from his balls, then repeated the action on the other side.

Finally, I had no choice but to guide the razor over the scrotum itself, and finally up the shaft of his generous phallus, which produced an erection.

• (Ohio) Oh, god. Sorry.

HE was sorry?

• (Brooks, with mock sincerity) Do be careful. You don't want to make a eunuch out of your boy.

Thanks. I didn't want that either.

• Although one pair of balls you are shaving now will be missing in few days. Dr. Haddad will make one of these boys a Eunuch later in the week. But please – that is his job, not yours. Let these boys enjoy their manhood. At least, for a few more days.

I had such hatred for DeJuan Brooks it was all I could do to keep the tension in my body from traveling down my arm to the hand wielding the razor. If I did not keep my emotions in check my hand could slip and do real damage to Ohio's nutsack. I fantasized about using the razor to attack Brooks and the maroons, but that scenario would only lead to gang-rape, an appointment with Dr. Haddad and maybe a one-way trip to Davy Jones' locker. So I managed to rein in my anger and focused my energies on scraping Ohio as clean as I could, including along his erect member, without cutting him.

I cleaned him off with the washcloth and felt around the area. I could still feel stubble, and so I gave him another go, until his skin felt as smooth as the proverbial baby's bottom. Ohio still had an erection, as did all of the other Bottoms in the room save one – the redheaded dude, Kentucky.

I leaned over Ohio's ears and said quietly:

• Think about dead kittens. Mutilated kittens, all bloody with their guts hanging out.

He looked shocked and completely disgusted but my words did the trick. Within seconds I saw his erection start to weaken and he was soft in less than thirty seconds. He looked at me with gratitude, realizing my intention. I just nodded to him.

Brooks ordered the Bottoms off their tables and made them parade in front of us.

• Excellent. Now it's easy to tell Tops from Bottoms. Dinner is seven o'clock. And then tonight, Round Two begins. There is still a competition, you know.

There is? Shit.

Afterwards, I asked Matti what he wanted to do and he said he just wanted to go back to his cabin and take a nap. I didn't want to be confined indoors, so I told him I'd pick him up for dinner at ten to seven. It was a beautiful day, so I headed for the sunning area near the bow of Deck 3.

I had never suntanned in the nude before, and I have to admit I found the sensation pleasing. I spread out on a lounge chair and let the sun roast parts of me that had never seen direct sunlight before. From time to time I turned over and let the sun's rays warm my ass. I wasn't worried about sunburn – I wouldn't be outside for long enough, and it was several hours past the hottest part of the day – so I pretended that sunbathing nude was a luxury instead of the only option available to me. A couple of other guys were there as well – one was Michigan, a member of my sex group last night. The other was a guy with hair so blond it was almost white; I heard Michigan call him North Dakota. He was one of the handsomest men on the ship, with an ass so shapely it put my `cute butt' to shame.

When I had had enough sun, I cooled off in the pool for just a minute or two and then went back to pick up Matti for dinner a bit earlier than I had said, so that I could have a conversation I didn't want to have with other guys around.

• Minnesota, what do you think's going to happen?

• I think we're going to dinner in about fifteen minutes.

• You know what I mean. Tonight. He said we're still competing.

• (Pause.) I think we're going to have sex.

• I thought we were going to have sex this afternoon.

• Me, too. That was awkward, to say the least. I didn't even know the guy I was shaving. I had to read his name off his forehead.

• Who was it?

• New York.

• So, `Round Two'. Another Sex Period like last night?

• Maybe, Cheesehead. Which is, to anyone who's listening, an acceptable way of pronouncing the word `Wisconsin', by the way. Well, it is. Sorta. Kindasorta. If you've ever seen a Packers game –

• Matti, be serious. Minnesota, I mean. Shit, I've got to stop doing that. If it's another Sex Period, we team up, yes? Go hunting together? Sorry, that sounds so Lord of the Flies, but –

• But that's what it is. This IS Lord of the Flies. Lord of the Flies with sex. Yes, we need to stick together. Wherever they send us – if they send us – we should meet by the pool.

• If we're in the same group. They like to change things up.

• What do you think they'll change? Blow jobs instead of fucking?

• I don't know. . . Matti?

• . . .?

• . . . Never mind.

• Penny for them, Cheesehead.

• Do you think they'll tell us what this is all about? Why they're doing this? What happens – ultimately what happens to us? They said we aren't going home, and some of us were going to live in Russia. Some of us, Matti? Some of us? What happens to the rest of us?

• (Pause.) I hate to say this, but . . .

• But . . . ?

• Remember when we first saw Dr. Haddad and the other doctors? We made a joke about them being Arab slavers?

• You think Dr. Haddad –

• Not him, no. But I think they're going to sell us as slaves, yes. What choice do they have? We have to disappear. They told us we were going to disappear. Either they kill us or they put us someplace where we'll never be found. Someplace that we can't escape from.

• Like a prison.

• Yes, like a prison, but why do this if they're going to throw us into a prison? What's in it for them? There has to be an incentive, a profit motive – on a micro-economic scale, they have to have enough benefit to them to justify the expense they're going to. Selling us would give them – if not a profit, at least the ability to reclaim some of their expenses.

• No, that makes sense. And Arabs because - ?

• Well, this is very biased and Arabian nights of me, but what part of the world do you think of when you think of eunuchs?

• Surely they don't do that anymore? I'm not sure they ever did, eunuchs to guard the harem?

• I don't know what they do anymore, or if they ever did, I'm just sayin' – why did they cut off those guys' balls?

• Because they're sick bastards and wanted to scare the daylights out of us so we'd behave.

• Yes, true, all that. But that can't be all of it. Isn't this a lot of money to be spending to indulge your sick sex fantasies? And all the other men on this ship, the maroons and so forth – are they all just sick bastards, too? Ship of perverts who get their jollies from cutting guys' balls off? No, they're contract employees, paid well to keep their mouths shut. And unless these four Russians have Bill Gates-type wealth, there's something else beyond getting their jollies tormenting us.

At that point, the TV monitor in Matti's room beeped and instructed us to be at dinner in five minutes.

• (Matti) Jeez, time flies when you're having fun. Fortunately, we don't have to change for dinner.

[COMING UP NEXT, CHAPTER 10: AN UNCOOPERATIVE GUEST]