Disclaimer: despite the punny title, this story is NOT based on any comic book title, character or property. It is an original piece of fiction and any resemblance to people, places or events is unintentional.
This is a reality similar to our own; a universe of infinitive possibilities, of extraordinary powers and incredible circumstances. The SEX Men is a group of amazing agents who use their abilities against a powerful enemy. This time, the enemy has a new plan...
The SEX Men Vol. 02: The Sext Class Issue 04: December's Dirty Little Secret
A STORM COMING
Matt was running late.
The SEX Men had planned a Hogmanay party to celebrate the new year and he was still at home. Literally everyone else was at the Racetrack already: Angelo, Cyrus, Jeffrey, Jay, Milo, Steve and Hugh.
It was a long time since Matt had looked forward to the last day of the year – the threshold to another. Today was Michael's birthday. His son would have been sixteen. Matt still felt the pain of losing him but he felt a kind of hope, acceptance and peace that he hadn't thought possible. So, he was going to enjoy the revels. And also alcohol.
Matt had showered and changed, pulled on his jacket and heard the doorbell ring just before he was about to leave. It was evening time on the last day of the year, who would be calling?
Matt walked out into the hall and opened the front door to see Jethro Renton-Mass.
Matt tensed with his hand wrapped around the edge of the door – ready to slam it or wrench it wide open depending on if he needed to evade or attack. There were no weapons that Matt could see.
"Hello, Matthew," Jethro addressed him pleasantly.
For an enmity that had endured for many years, they really didn't have that many face-to-face conversations. However, Jethro had a habit of talking to Matt like an upperclassman would to the dirt on his shoe. He spoke to Matt like a Jehovah's Witness or a Mormon – friendly, but haughty, with a hint of condescension.
"Jethro. You want to come to our Hogmanay party?" Matt asked sarcastically.
"No thank you," Jethro replied.
"What do you want?" Matt asked bluntly.
"Where is he?" Jethro asked – his tone both affable and stringent.
Matt tilted his head; he was trying to keep up, but... what was this man doing here? Who was the who he was asking about?
"My son. Where is he?" Jethro pressed.
"How would I know?" Matt replied, feigning a disinterested shrug.
Finding Raphael was very much something Matt was interested in, but his motivations were different form Jethro's.
"Oh, but I think you do," Jethro insisted. "I have searched for him for two and a half months without a sign of him. He can't just have vanished... unless someone helped him?"
"I don't know what you're talking about," Matt said but he sensed Jethro didn't believe him.
"He came to you, I think. He must have. He rejected me and came back to you," Jethro said bitterly.
"Back to me?" Matt responded. "Jethro, he's never been here. I've never even met Raphael."
"Raphael," Jethro laughed humourlessly. "Don't play games with me, Matthew. By now, Angelo must have told you."
Angelo?
Matt's eyebrows knotted as he gritted his teeth and sighed with frustration.
"Told me what, Jethro?" Matt said exasperatedly. "Why are you so convinced your son is here?"
"Because he's your son! Because his name isn't Raphael, it's Michael..." Jethro revealed.
Impossible!
Matt wanted to throw up. The whole world was spinning.
Impossible!
"Angelo hid my son from me and then hid him from you... I assumed he told you?" Jethro said maliciously, relishing Matt's pain at the revelation.
"No..." Matt said. "No..."
"Oh dear. If I'd known Angelo hadn't told you, I'd have broken it to you more gently," Jethro said with pleasure.
"You... you're lucky," Matt said, struggling to breath.
"Lucky?" Jethro asked blandly.
"If I had the time, I'd kill you where you stand," Matt promised.
The sky at night filled with threatening and violent clouds. A flash of lightning was followed by a flash of lightning. A storm had emerged from nowhere that would have the Met Office confused forever. Matt's mood was literally thunderous! Cyrus would have said: raise your words, not your voice; it's rain that grows flowers, not thunder.
But Matt didn't want to talk.
"A storm is coming," Jethro said and he knew why.
Matt stepped out the door, slammed it behind him and pushed Jethro out of the way.
"Why don't you have any time for me, Matthew?" Jethro goaded.
"Because I'm going to kill Angelo!"
NINE DAYS EARLIER
SMELLS LIKE TEEN SPIRIT
People literally moved away from him when he sat down.
OB pretended not to notice, but he did. He had been wearing the same school shirt, trousers and blazer for 14 weeks (excluding the midterm holidays) without washing them once. It was finally the last day of term – it would be Christmas in three days – and the hex or curse or whatever it was Timmy had put on him was supposed to expire now.
"...that's the only school uniform you should wear from now until the Christmas holidays."
That's what Timmy had said his first week at Grey Manor High School; before the football team knew what he was all about and what he was capable of. None of them had believed he could make them do things, not really. Not until it happened to them personally. Watching friends embarrass themselves could be explained away but one by one they were all finding out. Sean, Caleb and Hayden, Oz... OB and even Seth.
Sean had wet himself in his football kit (Grey Manor Football Club had still signed him) before showering with his school uniform on and then stripping in class. Sean had tried to warn his friends which is how OB and Seth had earned long-term jinxes.
Caleb and Hayden had kissed, jerked and sucked each other in a movie theatre and made stains on the seats that the cinema still couldn't get out. Their friendship since had been weird ever since; the things they'd done were bad enough, but sharing the details had been even worse. They couldn't stop themselves. They tried to warn the others that Timmy was "fucking mental," but was it a warning or an omen? Timmy had wanted the bullies to know they were being picked off one by one.
Oz had live streamed himself shaving all his body hair off. So many people watched it on Now!Watch that it trended before it got taken down, but only after 15,000 views. Everyone knew there was illegal copies of the scene floating about on social media – you didn't even need one of the dodgy platforms to find the big black dick flash at the end of the video.
Lance and Landon were still waiting for their turn, but the twins had kissed each other in a Now!Watch video that everyone in school had now seen. Not just a queerbaiting tease either, but a full on tongue-filled kiss. You could see strands of saliva when their lips parted.
Seth hadn't cum for nearly 15 weeks now. Seth wouldn't talk about it, but OB had been there when Timmy had hypnotised him (or whatever it was). OB couldn't imagine what it must be like.
"You will edge yourself every day between now and... May next year. You will not cum. And then you're going to do something for me or you will never, ever be able to cum again."
OB felt sorry for Seth, but not as sorry as he did for himself.
OB's uniform was gross. The shirt was stained, grubby and creased. Over the months, bits of breakfast, lunch and snacks had fallen on it; dribbles of water or Pepsi, or sticky fingers had glanced the fabric. There were pit stains and three pinhead drops of blood on the collar from a shaving cut.
Meanwhile, the trousers were also tainted though the black fabric hid a multitude of sins.
OB, and the rest of the football team, were still venerated or feared enough that people didn't outright ridicule them. However, they all knew people were talking about them behind their backs. Oz's sensational exposure had led to a school meeting. Sean's antics had been whispered about for weeks. OB's revolting uniform was tolerated by his team out of solidarity, but almost everyone else in the S6 cohort avoided being around him.
OB was smelly and repulsive.
As soon as the bell rang to signal the end of the school day, OB headed for the exit. He didn't wait for any of his friends because he wanted to go home and change. OB felt totally disgusting in the uniform and he was contemplating burning it.
The walk from school to the town centre took five minutes, but OB was walking fast. There was a steady stream of school traffic, but the rush hour hadn't started yet. The main road through town used to be nose-to-tail until they built a by-pass, but the traffic still picked up at peak times. OB took the same route every day.
From school to the town centre (5 min), along the main road (6-7 min) and up the boulevard (10 min). The street was actually called Boulevard Avenue; it was a broad, tree-lined street popular with driving instructors and horse riders. In fairness, there was a horse riding school and livery yard at the top of the boulevard. OB lived in the third house along a road perpendicular to Boulevard Avenue. All in, OB could walk home in about twenty minutes from school, or fifteen minutes from the town centre.
OB was contemplating getting a steak bake from the bakery, but last time he did someone muttered that he smelled like rancid meat. He was furious and embarrassed and hadn't been in since. Just ahead, OB spotted Timmy.
OB marched towards him.
"I suppose you've had your fun?" OB snarled at him.
"Me?" Timmy said innocently.
"Trying to humiliate me by making me wear the same uniform for three months?" OB sneered.
"Succeeding, I should think..." Timmy responded dryly. "Succeeding at humiliating you."
OB clenched his fists. He really wanted to punch Timmy in the face.
"Where's your boyfriend?" OB asked.
Cole was at the airport because he was having Christmas with his aunt and uncle in Australia. If he had known sooner, Timmy might have planned the conclusion to OB's humiliation earlier. Timmy could still have fun though – in fact, without Cole looking over his shoulder, Timmy could be even nastier. Timmy was making good progress in his relationship with Cole. Cole felt happier and more relaxed than he'd ever felt at school. Cole had a friend, his bullies had stopped antagonising him, the bullies were facing hilarious comeuppances and he had powers. Superpowers!
"Cole isn't my boyfriend. OMG, like, do you really think he likes me in that way?" Timmy asked facetiously.
"We're going to fuck up, you know," OB threatened.
OB hadn't really processed how angry he was about Timmy's little trick. The football team were all so busy pretending he wasn't even worth their effort that they had missed something; Timmy should be put in his place and reminded who ruled the school.
"Who's we? You're on your own, you fucking dimwit," Timmy retorted.
OB shoved Timmy hard in the chest and Timmy staggered against the shop window behind him. Timmy wasn't hurt, but OB could fix that. The bully took a menacing step forward.
"Don't do that again," Timmy warned.
OB found himself backing down immediately. Unspoken words halted him in his tracks to the chagrin of those who had to walk around him as he stood in the middle of the pavement.
"I told you to wear that stinking uniform until the Christmas holidays," Timmy snapped. "You want to wear it until Easter?"
No, Timmy couldn't do that to him.
"No!" OB's face paled. "No, don't do that to me."
The poor bully's face was wretched at the very thought. But Timmy wouldn't do that to him.
"I'm only joking, OB. You can go," Timmy replied.
"Really?" OB asked sceptically.
Timmy nodded and OB managed to take one step before Timmy laughed and OB turned to see what was so funny.
"C'mon, you don't think I was going to let you off that easy, do you? Nice try, but it's not Christmas," Timmy said.
Timmy and OB both looked sideways at the shopfront windows filled with Christmas stock.
"Bad example," Timmy added flippantly.
"Why are you helping that loser?" OB asked.
It was perhaps the first sensible thing he'd said.
"It's all about power. He has it and I want it," Timmy admitted. "Cole is going to help me and my team and when he chooses to join us..."
Timmy sounded manipulative and controlling (he was), but he had to admit that Cole really was an interesting boy. Timmy liked Cole a lot more than he had expected to. It didn't change what needed to be done, but Timmy could almost regret manipulating Cole.
Cole's powers weren't an obvious choice for the repertoire of political manipulation, but think about it. Imagine the sex scandals they could create, imagine the men they could control, imagine the careers they could ruin.
"Anyway, don't worry your pretty little head about it. In fact, forget I said anything," Timmy demanded.
"Why are you helping that loser?" OB asked.
"None of your fucking business," Timmy replied. "Anyway, I'm as good as my word. I said that was
the only school uniform you should wear from now until the Christmas holidays."
"Yea," OB nodded miserably.
At least that was all over now.
"It's the Christmas holidays now," Timmy said. "So, take it off."
OB's face said it all: what?!
Timmy put no imperative behind the words, not yet, but the look on OB's face told him that the bully knew what was coming.
"What? No. No way," OB replied.
"You should take it off now, don't you think?" Timmy asked – again with no authority.
OB whimpered as he looked around the main road; the cars headed to and from the school to collect students, the people clocking off for Christmas, the commuters and shoppers headed who knew where. The pavement was primarily populated by students from Grey Manor High School but there was a handful of adult pedestrians.
"Please don't do this to me," OB pleaded because he knew what Timmy was going to do.
"OB, take off your filthy uniform right now," Timmy ordered. "Dump it in the trash. Then walk home."
OB had no control over himself as he stepped on the heels of his shoes to pull each one off and stepped onto the pavement in his socks. The ground was dry and not too cold – the freezing temperatures usually didn't arrive until January. It was 7 degrees (Celsius) and entering civil twilight so the light was getting low but it was not yet dark. OB lifted his feet to remove his socks.
Standing barefoot on the footpath attracted a few odd looks.
OB's feet had a few sprouts of hair around his big toe and the centre top of his foot. His bare ankles sticking out of the bottom of his trousers were a sign of things to come; not quite hairless, but sparce and feathery hairs that made his lean legs look boyish rather than manly.
OB dropped his schoolbag on the ground and shrugged off his school blazer. Without the blazer, the contamination his OB's shirt was even more obvious. It was dirty! Although it wasn't freezing cold, it was too cool for just shirtsleeves and OB felt the effect though the thin shirt. It was about to get even worse.
OB dropped his blazer in front of him, so it landed on top of his shoes and socks. He was removing his tie and people started to notice something was going on. Mostly it was students from school who smirked and laughed in disbelief. The tie landed on top of the pile in front of him.
"Timmy, please let me stop!" OB begged.
"Is your mobile in your schoolbag?" Timmy asked casually.
"Yea. And my wallet and house keys," OB responded.
It answered all the questions Timmy needed.
"I'll bring them to you," Timmy offered magnanimously.
OB unbuttoned the top two buttons of his school shirt before changing his mind without knowing why. His hands moved to his waist where he unbuttoned and unzipped the grotty black trousers. OB pushed them down to his ankles and pulled them off. The trousers went on the top of the pile. Stood in his boxers and his shirt, OB felt very vulnerable. Students from school were watching and crowding around, which at least partially shielded him from the traffic. Except for the double decker bus that passed where people on the top deck looked at him in disbelief.
There was a complicitness in the behaviour of students from Grey Manor High School; they did not interfere in OB's strip tease just as they never intervened when Cole or any other student was being bullied. They stayed on and watched.
They watched as OB pushed his boxers down, stepped out of them and dumped them on the pile of clothes. There were some hoots and cheers, whistles and giggles.
OB's shirt covered most of his thin, peachy and smooth ass. Full frontal, his dick almost peeked out, but it was hidden by the bottom of the shirt and by his pubes. His penis was about two inches long with the foreskin representing a third of that. OB's balls were a hairy nest sitting underneath the dinky little penis.
Finally, OB pulled his shirt up and over his head and tossed it on top of the pile. OB wished he could cover up, but his hands wouldn't do it so everyone on the street could see his bare ass, his short and limp penis and his balls. OB scooped up all his clothes, including his shoes and walked to a bin at the edge of the footpath. OB was facing the road where a few cars beeped the horn and stunned faces looked at his exposed genitals. OB stuffed everything into the bin, just as Timmy had commanded him to.
OB was now completely naked and barefoot in the street in the centre of his hometown.
HOME (NOT) ALONE
It was like a waking nightmare. A walking nightmare because OB was about to walk home like this. Walk! OB wanted to run, but he knew he wouldn't be able to.
"Can I put shoes on?" OB implored.
"No, I don't think so," Timmy replied unsympathetically.
"I'll get arrested!" OB looked aghast.
"No you won't. Public nudity isn't actually illegal in Albion," Timmy reassured OB.
"But everyone can see me naked!" OB responded.
"I know. And your penis is so pathetically small," Timmy sneered.
"It... it's not," OB whined.
"And your classmates are recording you," Timmy pointed out.
"No!" OB objected to no avail.
OB had once helped to stripped Cole after a football game. They had held him down spread eagled while Seth kicked the ball between Cole's open legs. The way Timmy saw it, OB and the others were lucky Timmy had held back.
"Then you better get going," Timmy agreed. "Walk, don't run. Don't cover up."
OB obeyed. He started walking, with the crowd parting to let the naked boy pass. They could not believe they were watching a seventeen year old boy walk through town, totally naked and barefoot. OB couldn't believe it either. He couldn't cover up! Why wasn't he at least covering his penis?
Everyone was looking at him. Some people were recording him.
The cars passing beeped their horns and a bus full of people crowded around the path side window to watch him nonchalantly stroll along the main road. OB tried to work out how long he'd be exposed like this for; a few minutes on the main road itself and then ten minutes along the boulevard. Nearly fifteen minutes of public nudity.
His dick looked pitiful because of the flurry of pubes that covered most of it and his chest was lean but only sported a few hairs in the centre. The teenager's feet felt the rough, gritty texture of the pavement as he walked along. Every shop window he passed resulted in ogling eyes and disbelieving faces.
The betting shop, the café, the restaurant, the opticians, the pub, the other restaurant, the hairdressers, the dentist, the travel shop, the pharmacy, the charity shop, the budget health and beauty store, the other café, the letting agency, the lawyers, the funeral arrangers...
The last two were places OB considered visiting; the lawyers to help him if he was arrested and the funeral arranger for when he died of embarrassment.
People saw him coming and lifted phones to take pictures. Others filmed or snapped shots of his lovely ass. A few followed, but most were too perturbed by the display. Even his classmates who were no strangers to the football team being humiliated were too unsettled to tag along.
OB was mortified to be seen nude like this, but he finally turned off the main road. The only thing he could think about was how everyone in town, half his fucking school, could see his bare ass and his penis. It was probably a good thing he hadn't thrown a boner because then he really might have been arrested, but at least his cock would have been impressive. His erection was 6.8 inches but the only thing people saw was a prawn sized willy.
Walking up the boulevard there were fewer cars and fewer people but the loss of density just made his barefoot and bare assed appearance all the more obvious.
"Are you ok?"
OB hadn't really been paying attention. He had been walking on autopilot. The person who had asked lived next door. His name was Ben and he had a border collie called Andy; he was in his thirty and was looking at OB like he was insane.
"I'm... I'm fine..." OB said.
"Did someone do this to you?" Ben asked.
"No. It was a dare," OB said.
It was a what?
Timmy had obviously made sure he wasn't getting the blame. Even if OB tried, he wouldn't be able to say Timmy had made him do it. OB would be able to tell his friends, so they knew another one team had been marked off the list. Five down, eight to go.
"I stripped naked in town and walked home," OB added.
"You took off all your clothes in town?" Ben asked with a laugh.
"Yea, on the main street," OB responded without shame.
But he felt shame! OB was ashamed! This wasn't a dare. He hadn't chosen this. Why was he saying it was a dare? The answer was obvious – Timmy had implanted this excuse.
"What if people took pictures of you?" Ben asked.
"I don't mind," OB asserted. "It's not a sex thing. It's harmless. I'm only naked."
"Can I take a picture of you?" Ben ventured.
Ben knew it was wrong. His intentions were less asexual than what OB had just proposed. But the totally flaccid teenager was just standing nude in the street and he looked totally harmless, like a nudist at the beach. Ben loved public nudity pics and embarrassed naked males.
"Sure," OB said.
Sure!? Fuck!
Ben took OB's picture with the schoolboy keeping his hands at his sides.
"See you later," OB said and then walked on.
OB had reached the top of the road and turned into his own street when he remembered he had no house keys. Dammit! OB looked behind him and at the corner of the street, sauntering along and eating a sandwich, was Timmy. Timmy raised a hand in friendly acknowledgement.
"Hey, OB," Timmy said casually.
"Hey? Fucking give me my house keys," OB insisted.
Now he was home, OB was able to cower in his garden and tried to hide his privates.
"I thought you might do something in exchange for me carrying your bag," Timmy said.
"Do something for you?" OB snarled. "Like fucking what?"
"A blowjob," Timmy shrugged.
"Go to hell," OB snapped.
"Walk back into town," Timmy replied.
OB started walking.
"No, please. Timmy!" OB cried out. "Timmy!"
"Stop," Timmy said. "I won't make you suck me off, OB. You can choose to do it."
"It's not much of a choice if you're going to make me humiliate myself if I don't agree," OB countered.
"That's true," Timmy agreed unsympathetically.
"Why are you doing this to me? To all of us?" OB asked.
"Because I know that you and your friends, the entire football team and coach Eric, spent years bullying Cole. You spent years humiliating him and treating him like dirt. You spent years making him do things he didn't want to do," Timmy replied. "Did you ever make him suck your cock, OB?"
Timmy asked without authority and OB answered without speaking. The guilt writ on his face said it all.
"Well then, that's why I'm doing this," Timmy added. "Cole is my friend now."
OB shivered in his back garden. He was naked and cold and shrunken – humiliated and defeated. Timmy stepped close and tickled OB's balls with his hand. OB's dinky little dick was cold as Timmy rolled it between his fingers. Timmy was still dressed in his school uniform but he dumped his schoolbag and OB's bag which contained his wallet, phone and keys, on the ground.
Timmy unzipped his trousers and pulled his dick out. It was semi-hard already.
"I won't make you, remember. Kneel down," Timmy said.
OB's are feet were filthy from the walk home and now his knees were dirty as he knelt in front of Timmy's dick. OB rubbed it between his thumb and fingers until it thickened and then he used his whole hand to jerk Timmy's stiff cock. Timmy grinned a he was masturbated by the straight boy, but he didn't even need to encourage or prompt OB because the nude teenager leaned forward and wrapped his lips around the head of Timmy's cock.
It tased weird! OB had never sucked a cock. It was a warm, firm, pliable, rubbery tube of flesh. The taste was salty-sweet. OB bobbed his head up and down on the cock, unable to believe it had come to this.
OB had always consoled himself that when they made Cole do things at lest he was a poofter. Cole was gay and liked cock and ass. It was the rationale of a teenager who knew how wrong it was and it always had been. The slurping noise filled OB's ears as Timmy's cock oozed and was made wet by a combination of saliva and precum.
"You're not bad at this, OB," Timmy reassured him.
"OB?" asked a voice.
OB stopped sucking and looked to see Ben watching him. His neighbour had seen him naked and now sucking cock.
"Oh fuck!" OB said, wiping his mouth. "This isn't what it looks like."
"It looks like your sucking a boy's dick," Ben said.
"Then it is what it looks like," Timmy said.
Timmy put out a general air of compliance; a subtle little voice that quelled the resistance of the man and the boy. OB turned and resumed sucking while Ben watched.
"I'm Timmy. And you are?" he asked.
"Ben, his neighbour," Ben said.
"You should record him," Timmy said.
OB squeaked, which was hard because his mouth was so full. Ben pulled out his mobile and stared filming his naked boy neighbour sucking boycock. Timmy grinned because this was one of his favourite things. Manipulating men and boys until they didn't know what was their own thoughts and what was fake. Timmy was about to step things up when his own phone rang.
Timmy dipped into his pocket and looked at the display: COLE C.
"Hello?" Timmy answered while OB continued to blow him.
"Hi Timmy," Cole said. "I just got sent a video..."
"Oh? Is it the one of a cat yawning?" Timmy asked.
"No," Cole laughed. "It's the one of OB stripping naked in the street."
"Oh, that one," Timmy replied.
Timmy put a finger to his lips to signal that neither OB nor Ben should talk and then put his hand on the back of OB's head to control his oral workmanship. For a lad who had never sucked cock before, OB was doing a great job.
"I can't believe you did that to him," Cole commented.
"I'm sorry you missed it," Timmy chuckled.
"No, Timmy... I mean..." Cole hesitated and Timmy felt his mood darken. "I mean, it was really... I think it went too far."
"Oh?" Timmy replied tersely.
Timmy pushed the back of OB's head until his cock was deep in OB's throat. The boy squirmed as he coughed on the cock with his nose buried in Timmy's pubes. Saliva and precum were leaking from his mouth and onto his chin and Timmy's balls as it all spilled out.
"I'm grateful for everything," Cole hastened to add. "It's just... OB was naked in public and he looked like he was going to cry."
Timmy cursed Cole for being so soft hearted. Where was this when they filmed Oz shaving himself? It was the distance between them; Timmy couldn't massage Cole's conscience and the boy had the space to really think about what was going on.
Timmy eased his grip on OB's head and looked at Ben. The man was still filming the boy sucking cock; OB's eyes were watering and Timmy loved the thought of the man having pictures of naked boys on his phone like a disgusting pervert.
"Ok, Cole. Maybe you're right," Timmy said as he unrepentantly pumped his groin in and out of OB's face.
"Really?" Cole asked.
Really? OB's face lit up. Timmy shook his head at OB.
"I'll lay off them. Maybe they've all learned their lesson now?" Timmy added.
"Yea. I hope so," Cole replied.
"Listen, I have a friend cumming any second," Timmy chuckled.
"Oh sure. Merry Christmas, Timmy," Cole said.
"You too. Have a great holiday," Timmy responded and then hung up. "Well, fuck me. Now what do I do?"
Timmy pulled his dick from OB's mouth and shot cum in his face. OB hadn't been expecting it and he hadn't realised how hot fresh cum was. Perhaps it was because his skin was so cold? It was December and he had been naked for half an hour. It was getting darker now and OB wished it had been this way when he'd walked home.
"Get over here," Timmy said to Ben after stuffing his sloppy cock back in his school trousers.
Ben approached and looked sheepishly at OB. He had just been filming his next door neighbours son and he felt terrible for it.
"You like schoolboys?" Timmy asked.
It was all part of his cruel game; mix the minds of men until they didn't even know if they had thought their own thoughts. Sometimes even Timmy wasn't sure.
"Yes," Ben replied.
"Pull your bottoms down," Timmy told the man.
Ben complied and proffered his penis in OB's back garden.
"Use your phone to film him sucking you," Timmy said to Ben and then turned to OB. "Make him hard."
Ben couldn't stop himself training the viewfinder on OB just as the teenager reached up to touch his neighbour's dick which was not quite flaccid. Timmy watched the live action and glanced occasionally at the screen to see how the tawdry scene was unfolding. The man next door recorded everything as the naked boy stroked his neighbour to full erection. It was a very nice seven inches. Timmy played with the unfolding scenario, pushing ideas without speaking.
"Oh yea, OB... put it in your mouth," Ben said.
"I don't know if I should Mr Lockert," OB replied with heart-breaking uncertainty.
"Just a taste. There's a good boy," Ben cooed.
OB looked scared as he leaned in and tentatively licked Ben's cock. Ben laughed at the sight on his phone; the hesitant oral approach was about to become full-throated.
"I always think about you in your little school uniform when I imagine you sucking me," Ben found himself saying. "But this is even better."
"Please, I'm only seventeen," OB said into the camera.
"If only you were a few years younger," Ben replied, stroking OB's chin as he pressed his cock against OB's lips.
OB opened his mouth and Ben pushed his cock inside. Timmy filmed the man as he face fucked OB for several minutes, keeping up a disgusting litany of encouragement.
"If only your dad could see you."
"Do you want to pretend I'm your daddy?"
"Imagine if your friends knew what a good cocksucker you are."
"Show me your pretty eyes while you suck it."
OB's face was captured perfectly in the frame by the man filming his neighbour sucking his cock. Timmy had missed the feeling of being unleashed. Catering to subtly so that Cole wouldn't be horrified had nurtured Timmy's ingenuity and he had several ideas for the future. However, just letting rip with filth was fun too.
"Sometimes I see you in your bedroom," Ben said.
OB's lips, tongue and throat were taking Ben closer to orgasm with every passing second.
"There was one time about two years ago when I was fixing my roof," Ben continued. "I could see you in bed. You were naked and you had hardly any hairs down there. You were beating off the cutest little dick."
Was that true, OB wondered or a lie that Timmy had made him say? OB's free hand had grabbed Ben's ass while he took the cock as deep into his mouth as he could.
"Oh, I'm gonna cum... let me cum in your mouth, OB," Ben said.
OB kept sucking until he felt the squirt of saltiness coating his tongue. It was thick and claggy.
"Open your mouth. Show me my cum on your tongue," Ben said.
Ben filmed the naked teen as he opened his mouth for Ben to pull out and display the sludge of semen that was scooped into his tongue.
"Oh, boy. I'm going to make that my screensaver," Ben promised. "You eat that now. Swallow it all."
The man filmed OB as he closed his mouth and swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing in a way that made clear he had gulped it down.
"Good boy," Ben said patronisingly while patting OB's head and ending the recording.
"Give me your phone," Timmy demanded.
Ben handed Timmy his phone; Timmy selected the clips that Ben had filmed sent them to himself.
"Keep the recordings," Timmy said as he shoved the phone back at Ben. "You can watch a seventeen year old suck your cock."
Ben didn't want to keep them.
"See you at school," Timmy said dismissively and walked away.
Timmy left the seventeen year old with his thirty year old neighbour; left them to figure out how to deal with the knowledge that OB had sucked cock and Ben had allowed a naked schoolboy to do it. This was how Timmy got his thrills – ruining lives a little at a time. It had given Timmy an idea for how to get things back on track with Cole. If Timmy waned Cole to choose evil, to join him, to become more like him, to become less weak, to become less of a doormat... Timmy was going to have to ruin his life.
Just a little bit.
NINE DAYS LATER
HAPPY BIRTHDAY
Christmas had been a strange time for Michael. Jack and Neil shared the house with another three guys who were all at university together. They had all gone home for Christmas and Jack had invited Michael to come with him; the trouble was, Michael was in hiding. He could hardly rock up at Jack's parents and eat turkey and roast potatoes. They would recognise him, as Jack had recognised him.
Jack already thought, and now had confirmed, that Michael had somehow healed him three and a half years ago. It had been a miracle. Jack's parents still thought he was dead and Jethro was still looking for him! If Michael had gone to Jack' parents for Christmas , they'd act like they had seen a ghost and it was simply too big a risk.
Michael wished he could have gone home to his own parents. To tell Matt and Cyrus he was alive. Instead, he spent Christmas Day all alone in Jack's house.
Five days later, Jack came back and so did the rest of the housemates. The lads were all used to Michael being around; they had stopped questioning why a fifteen year old boy was staying with Jack for the last five weeks. Their main concern was the landlord finding out and charging them extra.
It was now Hogmanay, the day before New Years Day, and a very special day for Michael.
Michael was wrapped up in Jack's arms and it felt nice. Nery nice. Michael was working on a semi-boner that he hoped Jack wouldn't notice. Or maybe he hoped Jack would notice? Now he was sixteen, maybe Jack would look differently at Michael and kiss him? Or other things?
Jack unwrapped his arms from around Michael and grinned at him. Jack was in need of a haircut and his mop of fringe nearly covered his eyes. Jack had pretty eyes. Michael smiled at him which made Jack chuckle.
"What?" Michael asked.
"Nothing. You are too cute," Jack said.
Jack leaned in and kissed Michael's forehead just as Neil walked into the room. Neil was Jack's best friend who was nursing a perfectly healthy crush on Jack and an unhealthy suspicion of Michael. He was also jealous of Michael and Jack spending so much time together, Michael sleeping in Jack's room, Michael getting little forehead kisses from Jack...
"Oh, I have something for you," Jack said enthusiastically.
"For me?" Neil asked.
"Not you, you. I meant Michael," Jack happily skipped out of the room while Neil smiled.
The moment Jack was gone, the smile vanished. He threw daggers at Michael.
"There is something really weird going on with you," Neil said.
Michael sensed danger.
"My ribs and hand magically healed," Neil said.
"Probably just wasn't as bad as you thought," Michael said reasonably.
"Joe said he spilled boiling water on his hand..." Neil started to say.
"He's very clumsy," Michael interjected.
"And the blister faded overnight after you looked at it," Neil continued.
"I have a good bedside manner," Michael explained.
"Since you moved in, Kevin said the scar from his stoma reversal has vanished and Leo's top surgery scars too," Neil said in an accusatory tone.
"Well sure... but what about their emotional scars?" Michael said glibly.
"What about Jack kissing you?" Neil said bitterly.
Michael held Neil's gaze. Their relationship was adversarial and Michael wasn't helping. He knew Neil was jealous and had even commented on it. Why was he continuing to be acrimonious?
"I'm hiding, ok?" Michael confided.
Michael revealed this because making enemies would only risk exposure. He couldn't continue to risk Neil asking awkward questions or putting something about it on social media. Buying Neil's sympathy was a price worth paying. Moreover, Michael liked Neil when he wasn't being a massive bellend.
"I'm hiding from my father. I had to leave home and I can't go back," Michael elaborated. "And as for your pain and the scars... I can't explain that."
Playing stupid seemed the best course of action with those suspicions. Afterall, this was `the real world' where most people neither knew about nor believed in superpowers.
"Happy birthday to you... happy birthday to you..." Jack sad as he re-entered the room and didn't read the mood. "Happy birthday dear Mi-chael. Happy birthday to you."
Michael felt depressed to be turning sixteen and he had no family and no real friends. Jack was trying his best though. Jack hadn't really owed Michael anything – they barely knew each other when they were kids so it was an act of supreme generosity that he'd taken Michael in.
"It's your birthday?" Neil asked and Michael nodded.
"Now, there was a slight problem with the cake," Jack admitted.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY MICHELLE – WORLDS' BEST SISTER
"The apostrophe is in the wrong place?" Michael asked.
Jack, Michael and Neil laughed at him glossing over the more obvious fact it wasn't his name on the cake.
"Well, that! And you're really more like a brother to me," Jack asserted.
Neil's eyes lit up with this comment.
"Oh, I need to get a knife," Jack said and thrust the cake into Michael's hands. "You, make a wish."
Michael blew out the candle and looked at Neil through the smoke.
"What did you wish for?" Neil asked.
"That you'd hurry up and kiss Jack so you can stop looking at me like you hate me," Michael replied as he set the cake down on Jack's desk.
"I don't hate you," Neil said but he was blushing at being called out. "You think he'd want to kiss me?"
"Not sure. Mind reading isn't my thing," Michael admitted.
"I'm sorry if I've made you feel like that," Neil added. "I've not always been very sympathetic."
Just then Jack breezed back into the room.
"Ok, I have a knife and I'm not afraid to use it," Jack said. "What did you wish for?"
"That you' hurry up and kiss Neil before another year passes," Michael ventured.
Jack and Neil looked at each other. Michael hadn't been certain the feelings Neil had been reciprocated, but there was only one way to find out.
"Oh. Yea. Well..." Jack said as he cut the cake in half.
"I'll have a big slice, please," Michael said.
"Right," Jack replied and slid half the cake onto Michael's plate.
Michael took the half and laughed at the grotesque portion size. The laugh was infections and soon they were all laughing.
"You really are the best sister," Jack added.
"And what am I?" Neil asked.
Jack took Neil's hands and kissed his lips. In all their years of friendship, they'd never fooled around and never suggested they might have romantic feelings for each other. In retrospect, it was obvious.
"The best kisser?" Jack offered.
"Smooth," Michael said with a mouth full of cake.
"Happy birthday, Michael," Neil said at last.
"Thanks. And a happy new year," Michael replied.
HOURS TO GO
"I mean, isn't sleepy so much cuter than tired?" Milo asked.
"All I know is, I am so sleepy of your bullshit," Jay replied with a chuckle.
Jay and Milo, Steve and Hugh, and Jeffrey were all lounging around the Racetrack's recreational area. Jay's friends at university had invited him to a New Years party but he's chosen the team over that. So too had Steve and Hugh; they had chosen the SEX Men Hogmanay party over a university party because Hugh wasn't great with crowds or loud noise.
As it was, Hugh had his earphones on to mitigate sensory overload. Or Milo, as he preferred to be called.
Angelo and Cyrus had been in and out of the party. They felt that six or seven hours to go before the bells struck midnight was too early to start the festivities.
"I'll eat something to give me energy," Milo insisted.
"You've already eaten a dozen sausage rolls in the last half hour," Jay said.
Milo shrugged because his mouth was too full of pastry and pork to speak.
"Overeating will make you fat," Hugh said tactlessly.
"Not that Hugh means to fat shame," Steve hastened to add. "A person can be any shape they want."
"What about a pentagon?" Milo asked hopefully.
Outside, night had fallen but the sky was a deep blue that seemed to be illuminated by the stars and the moon. The night was cold but dry, cloudless and clear. If the sky wasn't darkening, it would have been perfect for watching the fireworks go off.
What none of them knew was that the fireworks were going to be metaphorical.
THE END OF THE WORLD
In the office adjacent to the recreation room, Angelo and Cyrus were half watching a movie while discussing Jethro and Timmy. From what they knew, Timmy had left De Burs Airforce Base months before Jethro shut it down. Timmy appeared to be working on recruiting someone from the list of known nu-men.
Angelo was of the opinion that recruiting from the list themselves would only escalate things with Jethro further. Moreover, the team was rowdy and unmanageable enough already. For now, Angelo advised caution and distance. In time, they would need to deal with Timmy's recruitment efforts, but for now they feared innocent people would be hurt if they got involved.
Timmy was, after all, unstable and unpredictable.
Suddenly, outside the windows, the sky seemed to darken which took some doing because it was already nighttime. The sky was already dark except for the moon and the glow of the stars. But, it got darker. As clouds moved in and the rain began to lash the ground, coming down in torrents of violent water pellets.
"Is there a storm coming?" asked Cyrus.
Angelo's face became one of destitution.
"Oh no... it's this one," he said.
"Hm?" Cyrus turned to him.
Angelo went quite after that.
"Angelo? What wrong?" Cyrus asked – freaked out by the mournful silence.
Cyrus knew Angelo received memories form the future. What did he know and what did the weather have to do with it?
Suddenly, there noise inside the Racetrack. It was deafening. The doors crackled with energy coming from just beyond it. No, not just energy. Electricity. Lightning. Thunder. The door exploded inwards, set aflame by the lighting that emanated from a silhouette beyond the threshold. The lighting was violent, angry and uncontained.
And then the moment Angelo had feared.
"Bastard! You fucking bastard! Bastard!" Matt screamed as he entered the office.
Matt couldn't have controlled all the electrical discharges even if he'd tried and he wasn't trying.
"I'll never forgive you for this, you son of a bitch," Matt spat. "Never! I will never forgive you for what you did to us. Bastard! I am going... to kill you, Angelo!"
Matt was striding fast towards the back of the office where Angelo stood prepared and impassive and Cyrus wore an expression of shock and bewilderment. What was going on? Cyrus had never seen anything like this – he didn't know Matt was even capable of this. The lighting was concentrated in his hands but crackled from his head and shoulders, his arms and his legs; radiating from his angry eyes and furious expression.
"Traitor! Bastard!" Matt raged.
Angelo trembled, knowing he might actually die in a moment. But, he wasn't scared of dying. He was scared of being hated. He was scared of Matt being his enemy.
"I'm going to put a lightning bolt through your fucking head!" Matt cried – and he was crying.
Cyrus shot at him.
Matt put a hand to his ear – the bullet having passes so close that it singed his helix.
"I don't know what's going on Matt, but you better slow down," Cyrus warned.
"You won't defend him when you know," Matt said through gritted teeth.
"Know what?" Cyrus demanded; his gun still sighted on Matt.
And Timmy controlled him to do this, maybe?
"Tell him," Matt snarled at Angelo.
Angelo said nothing.
"Tell him!" Matt demanded furiously.
Angelo dropped his eyes in shame.
"Tell me what?" Cyrus implored, lowering his gun.
"Fucking tell him," Matt pleaded breathlessly.
Angelo still said nothing.
"I had... I had to hear it from Jethro, Angelo," Matt trembled. "From Jethro Renton-Mass, can you imagine? There was nothing worse than feeling this way in front of him!"
"Matt..." Cyrus said but he didn't know what he wanted to ask and still Angelo remained silent.
"Tell him Angelo... Fucking tell him, you coward!" Matt begged.
But he couldn't.
Angelo couldn't tell them what he'd done. He couldn't even begin to explain why or how he had covered up Michael's regeneration. He could never justify, to Matt and Cyrus's satisfaction, why he had lied to them and hidden their son's survival from them. Angelo had robbed them of all those years together.
Behind them, the SEX Men arrived: Jeffrey, Jay, Milo, Steve and Hugh stood in the fractured threshold. They had been roused by the disturbance and seeing Matt as its source, they didn't know what to do.
"What the fuck?" said Jeffrey.
"Matt?" Jay cried and made to run forward but Steve caught his arm.
Steve could see the emotions of Matt and Angelo as explosions of anger, fury, and rage; as a shy and shameful fog of grief, regret and fear. They all stayed back, watching the unfolding drama.
"Matt! Tell me what is going on," Cyrus said gently but vehemently. "Tell me now, please."
"Cyrus..." Matt replied with tears streaming down his face. "I'm sorry, my love..."
Matt wished it wasn't him. Maybe he was a coward too because he didn't want to be the one to tell Cyrus the wonderful, dreadful truth.
"Michael's alive," Matt told his husband.
Cyrus hadn't been prepared for anything, but this stunned him beyond his ability to comprehend.
"Jethro told me. Raphael, his biological son, is our son... he's our Michael... and Michael is alive..." Matt told his husband. "Oh god..."
Cyrus dropped the gun in his hand, which clattered to the floor, and staggered back against the glass cabinet behind the desk. For a moment, he couldn't breathe.
"Cyrus..." Angelo started to say – finally breaking his silence. "I'm..."
Cyrus punched Angelo in the face.
Clocking him on the right side of the jaw, Angelo stagged against the desk, bent over it from the force of the strike. Then Cyrus grabbed the back of Angelo's head and smashed his face into the surface. Angelo's nose cracked, but didn't break. Not letting go of Angelo's head, Cyrus pulled it back and cast Angelo against the glass cabinet which cracked from the collision.
The cabinet smashed when Cyrus shoved Angelo into it and immediately grabbed Angelo and forced his back into the glass. When Cyrus let Angelo go, Angelo sagged but Cyrus struck him with a fist across his left jaw and then punched Angelo hard in the gut until he was breathless.
Angelo was winded and bent double. Cyrus grabbed him, lifted Angelo off his feet and threw him across the desk. Angelo hit the surface hard, dislocating his shoulder and bouncing off the desk and onto the floor on the opposite side.
Angelo landed on his back, trying to sit up but he couldn't. He dropped and could barely move. Meanwhile, Cyrus had strode around the desk, passing Matt who had relented his revenge to Cyrus. Cyrus was about to resume his attack, but Jeffrey was moving towards them. Jeffrey walked slowly but deliberately and only when Cyrus was about to kick Angelo across the room did he speak.
"Cyrus," Jeffrey said warningly.
He didn't need to shout. The room was encased in a disturbed silence.
Cyrus looked up at Jeffrey and stopped. He looked down at Angelo with pure hatred.
"If you apologise to me, Angelo," Cyrus warned. "I'll... kill... you."
From the doorway, the rest of the team felt powerless. Jay was holding Milo protectively – not because he thought his brother was in danger, but because he was scared. Hugh looked impassive, but he was perturbed by the insensible behaviour; he'd need Steve's help to understand it all. Finally, Steve was overstimulated by the ferocity of emotions emanating from Matt, Cyrus and Angelo.
Anger, depression, rage, guilt, shame, terror, fear, confusion, mania, helplessness, confusion, clarity, spite, grief, despair, sorrow, hate, fury...
"Cyrus?" Jeffrey said again.
Jeffrey's voice was gentle and warm; it was welcoming, embracing and protective. Cyrus seemed to look straight through his lover.
"Cyrus?" Matt said.
Matt's voice was cold, sharp and imperative; it was furious, incensed and potent. Cyrus turned to look at his husband.
Matt marched past Cyrus, but didn't stop. He passed Jeffrey too who said nothing even as Cyrus strode to follow. At the door, the team parted to let them go. Jay opened his mouth to speak, but chose not to humiliate himself. Matt wasn't going to stop for him anymore than Cyrus had stopped for Jeffrey.
Milo rushed into the room, breaking from Jay's embrace while he was distracted. Milo was the first one to embrace Angelo who was still on the ground. Milo threw his arms around the man who started to weep, and buried his face in Milo's neck.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," Angelo cried.
"I know," Milo said.
And he did. He really did. He could see all of it. Milo knew he shouldn't snoop in other people's memories but they had been virtually thrown at him. Angelo wanted to be forgiven.
Between the office and the main doors there were signs of Matt's tempestuous arrival. Scorch marks and burst doorframes from the violence of his search for Angelo. How had Matt driven here? Perhaps, his grief and outweighed his anger until it was time to unleash it. Outside, Matt opened his car and settled into the driver's seat while Cyrus got in the other side. They sat in silence for a moment.
"He was sixteen today," Matt said angrily.
"I know," Cyrus said desolately.
"He would have been sixteen today... would have been... that what I said this morning..." Matt tried to comprehend it.
"Matt, where are we going?" Cyrus asked. "How are we going to find him?"
His first had been a stupid question: they were going to find Michael!
"I don't know," Matt said tightly. "We can't trust anything Angelo told us about the search for Raphael."
Matt spat the pseudonym like poison.
"We will find him, won't we, Matt?" Cyrus implored.
"We have to," Matt massaged his broken heart.
They looked at the clock; it felt like the doomsday clock, but it would be New Years Day soon.
It was five hours to midnight.
It felt like the end of the world.
TO BE CONTINUED...
Thank you for reading. This was an especially satisfying chapter to write, I hope everyone enjoyed it.
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My stories so far:
https://www.nifty.org/nifty/authors.html#jforrester
Complete series: School Exhibitionism, The Symposium, The Embarrassment of Riches, Do As You're Told, A Series of Embarrassing Events, and Noah the Embarrassed Nudist.
Also: Anthology, and The SEX Men.
Short stories: Aiden's Accidental Autoerotic Assignment, Jogging Joe's Jaunty Journey, Peter's Past Posing Pictures, and Nightmares On Fig Leaf Street.
Ongoing, but on hiatus: Magnificently Mortifying Modelling Maladies.