Daemon Way

Teacher

Chapter Fifty-Four

"Ravi?" asked the policeman as he leaned over and read the name on the boy's name tag.

"Yes sir?"

"What sort of name is that?"

"Ravi is the name of one of the Adityas, one of the sun gods. It is a fairly common name in India, and an honourable one."

"Yeah, well this is America, not India. When immigrants come to this country they should adopt American names." The boy wanted to say he hadn't come to this country, and nor had his parents. Both of his parents had been born here, right in Riverside actually. He knew better than to say anything however.

"And the American God," added the cop with the buzz cut white-blond hair. "Worshipping the sun for fucksake, what next?" Ravi wanted to point out that there were many gods worshipped in America, and if he meant the Christian God, He could hardly be called American, but again, he knew when to keep his mouth shut, and this was one of those times.

"That a boy name or a girl?" asked the other cop.

"Boy," Ravi responded tensely as he felt his heart rising in his chest. The sixteen-year-old knew where the cop was going with that question. "It is short for Ravindra."

"Sounds like a girl's name." The cop looked him up and down critically. "Hard for a man to tell with that long girly hair and effeminate hairnet."

"It is the law to wear a hairnet when working with food." Ravi knew he shouldn't have said it, but he could not help it.

"Oh right. And I'm sure you obey every one of the laws of this country."

"Yes sir."

"That's good. It would be a shame to see you thrown in jail. A pretty boy like you would be real popular," observed the cop with the buzz cut.

"Of course I suppose your kind wouldn't mind that," the cop with the red hair said with a scowl.

"Ravi, you are needed in the back," interceded an older man who ran the til. "Of course there is no charge for the donuts, officers, nor the coffee," he said with a respectful nod of the head.

"This some sort of bribe?" the redheaded cop asked although they'd not been paying ever since the shop had opened up and they'd begun stopping there for their daily donut and coffee.

"Oh no. It is our simple way of saying thank you for the honourable job you do protecting us."

"Yeah, well, it's a thankless job, but we enjoy it." Glancing at each other, the two smiled and taking the donuts and coffee, headed out the door.

"Jesus, are there no white people left in the service industry?"

"Freaking foreigners have pushed them all out. Problem is those diaper heads will work for less and kiss your ass for letting them."

"That boy behind the counter would make a lot of money selling his ass. With those eyes I thought for sure he was a girl."

"Probably gives it away free. You know how promiscuous these East Indians are."

"Probably gives it to the old man at the til and his father and uncles besides. Those people don't know the meaning of incest."

"Just having him touch my coffee cup gives me the creeps." He sniffed his coffee. "Surprised everything doesn't smell like curry."

"Fuckin' diaper heads."

"Yeah."

"So, what say we swing over to Sixteenth Street Mall and see what crimes are happening today."

The two cops smiled. They knew each other well. It was a short drive over to the mall, just far enough to give them time to finish their coffee and donuts.

"Lord in Heaven, will you look at that!" the senior of the two said as they approached the mall. "It's what, four, four-thirty, and the twinks are already out selling their bodies."

"He looks familiar. We bust his ass before?"

"No 3; we've never caught him doing anything, except the day we took those two girls over to the Economy Inn to teach them a lesson, and we were sort of preoccupied then," the redheaded cop observed with a grin.

"Oh yeah, now I remember. You know, that was a great idea you had. Haven't seen those two little whores on the street since."

"Sometimes a man just has to take things into his own hands," Eric responded smugly and grinned at his play on words. The two men laughed. Yes, they knew each other very well.

Two months had gone by since the two cops had taken it upon themselves to administer a little of their own justice on two twinks flashing their stuff, but that wasn't the only reason they hadn't seen the two young teens hanging around the Sixteenth Street Mall since. It had been a big factor for the first three weeks, and then just as Molly and Trang had begun getting over their fear and humiliation, other things had come up to occupy them so they didn't have as much time to spend there. When they did, they had Billy's pimps and pushers keeping an eye out so they could warn them if the two cops were in the area. They were also providing the same service for Anton. He was after all about to become Billy's brother-in-law.

"Maybe it's time we did the same with this boy," Eric observed.

Mike looked at the twelve-year-old posing there on the street corner, his tight, tattered jeans revealing his crotch and his tight young butt, his saucy eyes scanning the street for potential johns. "I dunno, man. I mean fucking those two young girls was one thing. They were asking to be laid, and that young gook would've had her cherry cracked any day so why shouldn't it have been by a real man? But a guy, and a twink besides, that's different. I don't think I could, physically you know. Just the idea of two guys together 3;"

"What are you going on about, man? I wasn't thinking of fucking him," Eric interjected. "Lord in Heaven, there's no fucking way I could get it up with another man, and certainly not with a kid. What I was thinking was taking him aside and roughing him up a little, you know, showing him what we think of fag boys, maybe threatening to cut off his dangles if we find him selling himself again."

"Oh, yeah, now that I can agree with."

"Lord in Heaven, man, did you really think I meant fuck the little cocksucker? What sort of man you think I am?"

"Well, not that type, for sure. That was why I was confused," Mike lied. "I mean, I just couldn't see you doing that sort of thing." He wrinkled up his nose in disgust.

To tell the truth, Mike Polanski knew his partner's temper and volatile nature and could see him doing almost anything. They'd been partners now for three years, ever since Eric had returned to the force after taking a three-year stint over in Afghanistan, and driving this particular beat for two of those years. You learn a lot about a guy when you spend eight hours a day five days a week with him, more time than a guy spends with his wife actually. He knew Eric hated fags more than anything else on this earth, even more than spics and niggers and all the other foreigners that had invaded America, more than the drug pushers and the addicts, and way more than the teenage hookers plying the streets. He also knew Eric was one who saw no problem bending the law when it came to dealing with such trash, and didn't shy away from getting physical when one had to. The trash they dealt with every day weren't even human so roughing them up was justified. Hell, he felt the same. That was why they were great partners. Their superiors knew it too. That was why they'd paired the two of them up.

Spotting the cop car approaching him, Anton quickly stepped back from the curb where he'd been flashing his wares and tried to look natural, as natural as a twelve-year-old goth boy with spiked hair, black lipstick and eyeliner, and brass rings in his lower lip and the corners of his eyebrows can look. As the cop car slowed, he turned and started walking. The thrift shop was closest but the owner didn't like him coming in there. Nor did the guy at the pawn shop two doors down. The old Chinese couple at the corner grocery didn't mind him, and he could always buy a pack of gum or something, but that was at the end of the little strip mall. He'd never get that far.

"Hold it right there sonny!"

He was tempted to tell the cop he'd hold anything the cop wanted anywhere he suggested, but he knew that would not be a wise thing, and especially not these two cops. They were bad news. He slowly turned and looked up at the two officers. They were both tall and muscular, and not bad looking for older men, something that Anton had a lot of experience judging. They'd probably been quite handsome as teenagers. The redheaded one was the taller of the two, six foot two [1.88m], two hundred and twenty pounds [100kg] of muscle, with green eyes, and square chin. His partner was just over six foot [1.80m] and was probably twenty pounds [10kg] heavier, but that was packed into abs and pecs, not stomach. His white-blond hair was trimmed short in a buzz cut and you could see the disgust in his deep blue eyes.

"Is there something I can do for you officers?"

"I don't think we're your type boy."

"My type?" Anton asked, feigning innocence.

"Don't play ignorant with me you faggot whore," the bigger of the two men and obviously the one in charge snapped. "Now get in the car."

"I wasn't doing anything."

"And we're going to see to it that you continue not doing anything. Now get in," Mike ordered, grabbing him by the back of his shirt and shoving him toward the car roughly.

"What is it that you want?" Anton asked as he glanced about fearfully.

"What we want is the likes of you off the street," Mike said as he pushed him into the back seat of the cruiser. "What we want is to send a message to every little faggoty bitch and every pedo john just what will happen to them if we find them doing business on our beat."

"But I wasn't 3;"

"Just shut your pie hole faggot," Eric said as they pulled away.

Anton looked out the side and back windows nervously, and as they pulled into an alley a few blocks away he looked about even more nervously. This was not good. The two cops were about to get out when a beat-up old car pulled up at the end of the alley behind them. A black guy in his early twenties got out. He paused, lit up a cigarette, walked part way up the alley and went into one of the back yards. The cops waited a moment and then opened the doors. Two teenage boys, Hispanic from their looks, came around the other end of the alley, kicking a tin can. They clattered down the alley, past the car without so much as a look, to the next street. Glancing at each other, the two cops were about to get out when a white kid on a bike came around the corner and took a short cut through the alley.

"Lord in Heaven, what is this, Grand Central Station?" grumbled Eric as the kid biked by. They waited again. "Well, looks like we might have a few moments of privacy."

"Hey, if it's privacy that you were wanting, you should have said," offered Anton. "There's a motel just a few blocks away. The Economy Inn. I 3; well 3; that is 3; they 3; well I bet they have a vacant room this time of day. You know, if you wanted to get some privacy, just us." The look on his face made it clear just what he was offering, and his stammering didn't fool them that he wasn't a regular at the Economy Inn.

"You know, that's not a bad idea," Eric said as he closed the door and started up the engine. "A nice, private room where nobody can interrupt us, so we can have a nice long talk." He glanced at Mike and the two smiled.

"Yeah, sure. I'd love to talk to you two," Anton said. "I especially like to talk to guys in uniform," he added, emphasizing the word talk. In his short time on the street he'd heard it called many euphemisms. Sitting in the back of the cruiser, he could not see that the smoldering in the cops' eyes was of anger, not lust or he wouldn't have been feeling so smug.

When Mike entered the office of the Economy Inn, he didn't have to say anything. It had been two months since he had dropped in around the same time in the afternoon for a room, but he was not the sort of man one easily forgot, and the clerk at the desk was very good at knowing whom he should remember and whom he should not. He handed the policeman the keys to Room 137 and wished him a pleasant stay. That the clerk was assuming he was renting the room for the same reason as the twink they'd picked up was obviously thinking was fine with Mike. Made it easier all the way around. He and Eric escorted Anton to the room.

"So, what would you like first?" Anton asked, turning on his charm. "I bet you like to play rough."

"You have no idea how rough," Eric said as he unbuckled his holster and laid it on the wobbly night table out of the kid's reach and began to remove his tie. "Why don't you drop your pants and bend over the back of the chair there," he suggested as he unbuckled his belt and removed it and Mike removed his holster and then his tie. The two tied Anton's wrists to the seat of the chair with their ties so he was standing on his tip toes, his stomach bent over the back of the wooden chair.

Mike drew back and swung the belt without holding back. Anton yelped, and it was no act. His buttocks stung like hell. "How old are you, you little faggot?"

"Twelve."

"Twelve? Lord in Heaven!" The belt cracked again causing Anton to yelp once more. "How many fuckin' men have you picked up?"

"I don't know."

The belt smacked his backside again, leaving a long red welt. "Lying little snot. How many?"

"Ten, twenty." The belt cut through the air and hit his tender backside with a loud whack. "Okay, fifty, maybe, maybe seventy."

"Fuck!" Eric snorted in disgust.

"Then I guess you'll get fifty, maybe seventy lashes, one for each filthy john you've picked up." So much for honesty! Anton screamed out loudly as the belt hit again, because of the searing pain, and in the hopes someone would hear. His backside was burning.

"Jesus Christ, look at that," Mike observed.

"What?"

"The kid is liking it. Look, he's getting hard."

It was true. Anton was boning up, despite the fear and the pain. Now that the cops had noticed, it began to swell all the faster. Being humiliated was a major turnon. The two cops were not the first to whip his backside with a belt. The daddy-punishing-the-faggot-son was a common fantasy he'd come to find out from selling his body on the street. Eric looked at his cock with disgust and working up a thick gob, spat at it. It hit his swelling little cocklet and oozed down it and over his hairless, still maturing balls. His cock sprang up fully extended in response to the feel of the slimy warm spit and the humiliation of having his organ spit upon.

"Filthy little queer," snarled Mike as he grabbed Anton by his spiked hair and jerking his head back spit in his face. "I can see where we're going to have to get serious." He slapped him across the face, jerking his head back.

"Yes, please," Anton pleaded. "Punish me." He said it sincerely, but he knew this was no play acting this time.

"Jesus, I've nev 3;"

Eric was interrupted by a loud knock on the door. "Officers? Officers? I am sorry to disturb you, but there is a man out here who needs help." The voice was young, high pitched and with an accent.

"What sort of help?"

"My car was parked out front," said another voice, a deep, African-sounding voice. "Someone has broken into it and stolen my stereo."

The two police officers looked at each other and rolled their eyes. "All right. One of us will be right out," Eric called out. That someone would rip off a stereo in broad daylight and with a police car in the lot didn't surprise them, not in this neighbourhood. That a guy parked in the lot of a sleazy dump like the Economy Inn at five in the afternoon would have the balls to call on the police on the other hand was a surprise. There was only one reason a man would be in the hotel at that hour of the day. The guy couldn't be all that bright, but then the clients at the Economy Inn probably weren't. They glanced at each other again and Mike indicated he'd go. Opening the door just enough to slip out so the two men outside couldn't see Anton, he was surprised to have it suddenly flung open and not two but a half dozen men swarm into the room. "What the 3;"

"Well, well, you boys don't waste any time do you? Already got your bitch boy bent over and his pants down, you nasty old buggers." It was the same voice as the one they'd heard a moment ago. The man was a nigger, with the body of a wrestler and an ugly face to match.

Eric glared at the speaker. His size and ugliness didn't frighten him. "Just who do you think you're talking to?"

"Two sadistic pedo cops who get their kicks beating up an underage working boy," the man who'd spoken replied.

"This isn't how it looks," Mike replied as he stepped toward the night table.

"Oh, it never is how it looks," one of the other men said, another nigger, this one tall and slender with a scar across his left cheek. "Now don't you move another inch or you'll lose your fingers." He pulled out a wicked looking knife and looked coldly at Mike. The cop was experienced enough to know the man meant business. Another one of the men, a small, agile Mexican-looking man, slipped around Mike and picked up the two revolvers. A couple of the other men began to untie Anton.

"What is this? Blackmail?"

"Strip," said the first nigger, obviously the leader.

"Let's cut to the chase. You got us. What do you want?" Eric asked, buying them time. He was no rookie, and he knew he and Mike had to be careful.

"I want you two to strip."

"Now just a 3;"

The man who had picked up the guns pistol-whipped Eric with one of them, and as the cop lunged for him, the others quickly grabbed him. Thrusting Eric and Mike against the wall they pinned their arms and legs.

"Now let's get this straight," the leader of the group snarled behind Eric. "There are two of you, and seven of us, not including your boy toy."

"He's not 3;"

Taking a two-foot [60cm] hard rubber stick from his belt, the man jabbed Eric in the small of his back. "I talk, you listen. When I want you to speak, I'll pull your chain. Like this." He grabbed Eric between the legs from behind and yanked hard. Still recovering from the pain in his back, Eric didn't react, but he'd remember. Nobody touched him down there, especially not a man, and especially not a stinking nigger. "Now, you're outnumbered, so just do as we say, and things will go much nicer for you. Understand?" Eric glared at the wall. "Understand?" the man asked, jabbing him in the back again.

"Yes," he replied reluctantly

"Good. Now strip, both of you."

"You know what sort of trouble you're going to be in assaulting two police officers?" Mike asked as he began to remove his jacket.

"Two police officers about to have a romp with a little underage boy," the man added.

"That isn't 3;"

The man swung the stick, clubbing Mike on the back of the head. "Don't matter. Now if I don't see two whitey bare asses and two sets of bare balls by the time I count to ten, the next swing with this club will be between the legs. One 3; two 3;"

The two men reluctantly removed their jackets and began to unbutton their shirts. As the man continued to count, they tried not to be obvious as they stopped with their shirts and hurriedly unzipped their pants and pushed them down, along with their boxers just as he reached ten.

"So, whatcha think?" the big nigger asked Anton as he spun the two men around.

"Not bad," Anton said as he looked at Eric's cock. Actually, it was a nice size but he wasn't about to give the man the satisfaction of hearing that.

"Sit on that chair and spread your legs," the man ordered. Eric hesitated and as the man raised the club he reluctantly sat. "Go ahead, enjoy yourself. You earned it," the man said to Anton.

Anton immediately knelt down and reached for Eric's dangling meat.

"Get your fucking hands away from that," Eric snapped as he slapped Anton's hands away. His comment was rewarded with a whack to the side of the head and a poke in the gut.

"Hey, we're not to damage them," said the tall nigger with the scar.

"That's going to be hard not to do if this one doesn't wise up."

"I think you are the ones who need to wise up," Eric retorted despite his position. "You have any idea what you're getting yourself into here?"

"Did you have any idea what you were getting into the day you decided to rape those two little thirteen-year-old girls that were just having a bit of innocent fun?" the man said. Eric and Mike glanced at each other. There was no way they would have related what was happening at the moment with that incident two months ago.

"That what this is about? What are you, their pimp?"

"No. This little weekend is courtesy of a friend of theirs and from their 3; ah 3; movie producer," the man said, to the chuckles of several of the others. "They didn't particularly like hearing you shoved your peckers up their private playgrounds. So they asked us to help them fix it so you never do that sort of thing again."

"I doubt very much if his was the only pecker up the playground of the one I had," Eric retorted. The gook had been a virgin, but that probably just meant she was getting it up the ass or going down on men. Asian girls preferred it that way. "Now, wise up. Those two little whores aren't worth it. Besides, you really think you're going to get away with messing with two policemen?"

"And you wise up, you arrogant prick. You really think if we thought we had a worry about getting away with this we'd be doing it? You really think if we thought you could cause us any trouble at all we'd let you see our faces?" Neither man had thought of that in the heat of the altercation, and now that it had been mentioned they had enough experience to know that they were in big trouble. It also slowly dawned on the two men that it was strange it had taken whoever was behind this two months to seek their revenge, and even stranger that it was the very day they'd decided to take their second street hooker to the Economy Inn. "Now you just sit back and let this boy have some fun."

Anton once again reached out, and this time took Eric's limp organ in his hand, distracting the cop from his present thoughts. Eric tensed but didn't do anything. Anton slowly pulled back the foreskin. Eric inhaled deeply, but not with pleasure as he glared down at the young boy. He was going to pay for this, and not just with a paddling of his backside. If the boy liked getting fucked up the ass he'd show him what it was like to get fucked by a real man.

Telling Mike to lie on his back on the bed, the leader nodded for one of the men who had been keeping to the back to step forward.

"You!"

Ravindra Shankar smiled down at the man as he sat down on the edge of the bed and reached out and ran his index finger along his jaw. Mike tensed as the boy continued down his neck to his chest and ran his fingers through the man's coarse chest hair and over his nipples. He played with them for a while, squeezing his fleshy breasts and running his fingertips over his nipples, causing them to become firm. They had been especially sensitive this past month and responded instantly. "You have very soft breasts," Ravi said softly with an appreciative smile. "So nice to touch. You and I are going to have a very nice time."

Mike shuddered with revulsion but said nothing as the slim brown fingers continued to squeeze and palpitate his chest. It was soft, and flabby. He'd noticed that over the past month, and concentrating on exercises for his pecs and abs down at the gym had just seemed to make it worse. He'd also noticed Eric was having the same problem. There were some things you couldn't change with age but he was surprised it was happening to them so soon. Hell, he was only thirty-six, and Eric only four year's older.

As the boy continued down over his abdomen, which had been getting flabbier too he hated to admit, he quickly forgot about his chest. One hand continued down and began caressing the inner side of his thigh, sending spasms of arousal through his groin and through his cock which had begun to swell with the stimulation of his nipples. The other hand cupped his large, dangling balls and rolled them in his loose, hairy sack just like he liked to do when he jerked off as a teenager or now on those occasions when his wife was not in the mood. One thing he'd never been able to get his wife to do was to play with his balls during their foreplay. His cock began to swell even faster as a result of the boy's touch, and as he concentrated on his swelling flesh and willed it to stop, it did just the opposite.

Jesus, what was going on? He wasn't that sort of guy. He dared dart a glance over at Eric, hoping the man couldn't see what was happening to him. To his relief Eric was looking in the other direction, away from the bed, and he quickly turned his head and stared at the wall, giving Eric the same courtesy, but he'd had time to see Eric was having the same reaction to the pervert kid kneeling between his legs and although he was no longer looking at it he could still see the image of Eric's thick cock slowly expanding below his thick thatch of curly red hairs.

Eric was looking the other direction, but not out of courtesy to Mike. He'd looked over at his partner for the same reason his partner had looked at him, to see if Mike could see the embarrassing reaction that was occurring between his legs, and in doing so he'd seen Mike was having the same problem as he was. That was a surprise, but also a relief to see he was not alone. The down side was that the sight and thought of his naked partner getting an erection had caused his own cock to begin hardening all the faster, and was the real reason he'd looked away. It hadn't worked, just as it wasn't working for Mike. He could not block the image of Mike's slowly expanding cock from his mind any more than he could stop his cock from responding to the stimulation of having Anton gently stroking it.

As the perverted kid held his semi-erect cock by the base and stuck out his tongue as he bent over it, Eric wanted to swat him on the side of the head, but he knew there would be little point. There were six of them watching. They could easily tie him to the chair. At least this way he had a chance. One lax moment and if he could snatch his revolver that the stupid wetback had foolishly left on the little round table in the corner of the room, then the shoe would be on the other foot. For now, he'd have to bear it. After his stint as a soldier in Afghanistan, he could bear anything. He grimaced as he felt Anton's hot, moist tongue run up the length of his cock, from base to tip. That was filthy. He was a good, decent Catholic boy. He wouldn't even consider a woman doing that to him though he knew there were a lot of men who fantasized about getting a blow job from a woman, and he personally knew more than a couple soldiers who'd taken their frustration and anger out on both the women and men in Afghanistan by making them do just what the boy was doing to him.

Anton swirled his tongue around the sensitive rim of the exposed knob, causing the man's cock to grow firmer. Normally he did everything he could to prolong getting a man aroused, not just because it gave the man more pleasure, which was always his goal, but also because it gave him more pleasure also. The twelve-year-old could play with cock all night. His orders for today though were to get the cops off as fast as he could, as often as he could. That was all right. He knew by the third or fourth shot most men the cops' age took forever to shoot. He had a lot of cock licking and sucking ahead of him! Besides, from the scare the cops had given him, he was even less motivated to bring them any pleasure at all.

It couldn't have been more than twenty minutes, but it had seemed three times as long, and really, he hadn't been in any real danger, just as Billy had promised him. This had of course all been a set up. The cops were lazy, especially on a Friday afternoon, and followed the same routine, including the four o'clock donut and coffee followed by the cruise past the Sixteenth Street Strip Mall. His part of the plan had been simple. Attract their attention, and use his charms to get them to take him to the Economy Inn for a bit of action where Billy's 'acquaintances' would take over, and his reward would be all the cop dick he could handle for the rest of the afternoon.

The problem had been that he hadn't expected them to be so rough, nor to take him into the alley before he had a chance to proposition them. But, as Billy had promised, he was being watched, and the interruptions in the alley had been quickly implemented when things hadn't gone as planned, giving him the chance finally to say what he'd supposed to have said back on the street corner. Thank heavens for cell phones and Billy having alerted the neighbourhood in advance incase his many friends and clients were needed. Relieved it was over, Anton licked Eric's dick with renewed vigour, soon bringing him to full erection.

Ravi had the same success with Mike. Standing up, he slowly and seductively removed his clothes. "Now, for to reward you for getting such a nice stiff on, I have a very special donut for you mister policeman," he said with a smile, purposefully thickening his accent and choosing his words. Mike looked at him blankly, not comprehending what he meant. Turning around, Ravi wiggled his compact, brown buttocks at him, and reaching around, he pulled apart his smooth ass cheeks and revealed his just as smooth brown pucker. Throwing a leg over him so he was straddling the prostrate policeman and facing him, he began to lower himself.

"No way! No fucking way! You're not getting my dick up there you filthy pervert!" Having the fag boy suck his cock was one thing, but sticking his cock up the boy's shit chute? No way! He stuck it up his wife for Chrissake! How would he ever be able to do that again after sticking it up such a foul place? He reached out and pushed the boy up, cringing at the feel of the boy's smooth skin.

Seeing his moment of opportunity, Eric leaped from the chair and dived for the table where their revolvers had been left. Of course their captors knew his intent and were on him immediately. As they tackled Eric, Mike twisted around to make his own grab at anything he could use to fight back. The struggle was fierce but brief, two cops against six men who'd been selected for their strength and their hatred for cops being no real battle at all. It was not long before Mike and Eric found their bruised and battered bodies tied down, Mike back on the bed and spreadeagled with wrists and ankles tied to the four corners, and Eric tied to the wooden chair with his arms wrapped around the back and his ankles tied to the legs. The men had brought ropes just in case.

The blood that had surged to their leg and arm muscles soon returned to their crotches with a little coaxing once again by Anton and Ravindra, and once again the two men found themselves erect. Eric could only curse and twist helplessly as Anton went down on his long, thick cock, delighting in it far more than Eric was delighting in having the goth boy go down on him. It was filthy and perverted, a guy doing that to another guy. Even worse, he was just a kid, not even a teenager yet. Lord in Heaven he didn't even have hairs yet. Despite his revulsion and humiliation, pleasure throbbed between Eric's legs, fighting for equal attention from his brain, and his loose, dangling nuts slowly began to swell in response to the stimulation of his dickhead. Pleasure and revulsion mixed as he strained to hold back the inevitable, as his cock throbbed and his dickhead burned with the same pleasure as it did buried between his wife's legs. The thought of a boy sucking on what was created only for a woman to feel sickened him and caused his skin to crawl, and the thought that he was about to release his seed in the boy's perv mouth instead of inside a woman as God had designed filled him with revulsion. That was what his brain said, but his stiff, swollen cock was pulsating and burning with the pleasure only a man can know.

Mike was feeling the same as Eric. Getting him erect again, Ravi had once more straddled him, and reaching down behind him, he'd grasped the man's stiff pole and had slowly lowered himself on it. The man had tensed and grimaced as he felt his rigid cock slowly being engulfed by hot, moist flesh, not unlike how it felt when he entered his wife, but this was perverted and filthy. His cock was penetrating another man, a teenager, up that filthiest part of a person's body. Never had he felt such revulsion nor so filthy as he felt the boy slowly descend on him until his entire cock was buried up his asshole.

And then the boy had begun to rise up and sink back down on it with a steady rhythm, slowly riding him, his asshole constricting and relaxing rhythmically just like his wife's cunt did when he fucked her. And like when he fucked her he felt the growing pleasure throbbing through his stiff cock and the tingles of arousal sparking through the knob and the pressure building up in his loins. He tried to deny it, but it was bringing him pleasure. Mike closed his eyes but he could still see the teenage boy riding up and down and the smile of pleasure on his fag face. He could no more block out his image than he could block out the boy's laboured breathing.

He was about to shoot his load, not up his wife's vagina, but up the shit hole of a teenage boy, a filthy, brown-skinned diaper head. The revulsion and the shame combined with the throbbing pleasure and the anticipation as he fought to hold back what no man can. With a gasp of dismay and pleasure and a shudder of revulsion and the ultimate ecstasy a man can feel, he shot off his load as sitting beside the bed his partner did likewise. Holding back as long as they could, they both shot off forcefully, increasing their pleasure. It seemed like they were never going to stop spurting. It had been a long time since they'd come so violently with their wives.

"You're one hot ride," Ravi said with a smile as he finally slowly eased off the man and bent over and gave him a kiss, the final humiliation.

"And you got one sweet-tasting load," Anton said, standing up and kissing Eric, his lips slimy with Eric's cum. It did not taste sweet to Eric.

As the two boys stepped back, two of the men stepped forward and slipped cock rings about the still stiff pricks of the two cops, cutting off the flow of blood out of their turgid organs and keeping them erect. Waiting for fifteen minutes, the two boys approached again, this time switching partners. Kneeling down between Eric's legs, Ravi removed the cock ring and began to lick the man's swollen, aching organ, expertly running his tongue up and down the shaft and teasing the tip of his cock with his tongue until he teased out a droplet of pre-cum. Smearing his lips with the sticky, clear juice, he stood and kissed Eric, forcing his lips against the man's and smearing the man's own pre-cum over his lips as he strained helplessly against his bonds. He resumed licking the man's aching cock until he coaxed out another clear droplet, which this time he flipped up with the tip of his tongue, and then forcing open Eric's mouth, touched the tip of his tongue against Eric's. Although only sixteen, Ravindra Shankar was very skilled at making love to another of his sex, having been introduced to the Kama Sutra and many other ancient writings of his country on the art of making love by his uncle many years ago when his interest in other boys first became evident.

Anton meanwhile removed the cock ring of his partner and straddling him as Ravi had, he slowly lowered himself onto the upright pole. He pushed out his abdomen and opened his anus wide as the man's thick, long cock slowly penetrated him. It was more slender and shorter than Eric's but still a nice sized cock and bigger Anton knew than most men had, though small compared to Bob Moser's. He slowly began to ride the man, delighting as much in the pleasure pulsating around his rectum as in the look of disgust and shame in the man's eyes. He was not sure what the cop had done to get Billy angry, nor what the ultimate plans were for him, but he'd been told to bring the two cops pleasure that they could not deny, and he was good at doing just that. Bringing pleasure to other guys was all he could think of anymore. He tightened his sphincter as he drew up, squeezing the man's thick cock as it eased out of his hot, moist hole, and then he relaxed it as he sank back down. From the look in the man's eyes, he knew the man was feeling pleasure between his legs and he smiled down at him knowingly, adding to the man's angst. He knew the disgust and shame the man was experiencing feeling pleasure from having sex with another guy. He'd once felt that way too. In a way, considering the man's attitude and disgust with him, he was glad that he was causing the man some upset.

Upset was putting it mildly. Mike and Eric were filled with repugnance over what was happening to them, and with humiliation responding as they were, especially in the presence of the other. They were also filled with desire and throbbing, erotic pleasure, and once again the two cops fought the inevitable, and once again they shot off a copious and delightful load with a mixture of pleasure and of revulsion, the one accenting the other. To their dismay, the cock rings were slipped back on the moment the two boys got off.

The third time, again after a short fifteen minute break, Ravi once again approached Eric and Anton approached Mike and the rings were removed. The resumption of the flow of blood as fresh oxygen was brought to their aching, turgid flesh, brought a tingling pleasure like they'd never felt before. The boys caressed the chests of the two cops, again commenting on how soft and pliable their breasts were, but rather than taken as complements their comments reminded the two dejected men how firm and muscular their chests used to be. The two boys sucked and licked their sensitive nipples until they were hard once again, and the cops' cocks were twitching and jerking with arousal once more. They continued to arouse the men, licking their erect nipples and running their hands along their loins but avoiding their genitals until the two men were tense and squirming with the need to get off and pre-cum was oozing out of the slits of their wagging cocks.

"Well, well, eager to get off another load, are we?" Ravi said with a genuine smile and a twinkle in his deep brown eyes. "Getting to be a real man-loving queer, aren't we honey?" he said, putting on his best mincing queen imitation and again laying on his East Indian accent. "How would you like to have a piece of ass this time for a change?" Two of the men stepped forward and undid the bonds tying Eric's wrists and ankles and Ravi dropped to his hands and knees and wiggled his compact, smooth butt at him.

Eric glared at him with pure hatred. Fuck his butt? Yeah, he'd fuck his butt. He'd fuck him silly until he cried with pleasure no faggot could imagine. He'd show him how a straight man fucked. He dropped to his knees and placed the tip of his cock against his asshole, and of course Ravi eagerly opened up and allowed the man to penetrate him. Eric grasped his smooth hips as he sank his cock in. The fucking faggot was loose as an old slut, which was no surprise, but he didn't have any average size cock, and it was likely way larger than any faggot cock that had ever been up the teen's ass, so though he entered him with no difficulty, the boy's sphincter did squeeze tightly about his throbbing, aching cock, tighter, he had to admit, than his wife's cunt had ever squeezed it.

His cock was throbbing and aching, eager to get another load off despite having shot off twice in the past forty-five minutes. He began to ram his cock in and out of the boy savagely, angrily, like he'd fucked the thirteen-year-old whore in this very room two months ago. He would show the boy what it was like to get fucked by a real man. He grunted and snorted as he rammed his cock in and out of his body, delighting more in that he was taking the boy than he was in the pleasure throbbing between his legs. Finally he would get his revenge for what the stinking raghead had done to him.

Anton had meanwhile removed Mike's cock ring and the men had also untied him. He went down on the man's thick cock, the knob and shaft smeared with shit and ass-slime from his ass and from Ravi's, and glistening with the two loads of cum the man had shot. Anton didn't mind. The filth and perversity added to the pleasure. As Mike watched, he felt a sense of perverse pleasure seeing the faggot tween eagerly licking his filth-smeared organ. The boy was sick, and it gave him a sense of revenge as he watched, knowing the boy was licking up his own shit and that of the other faggot bitch in the room. The best part of it was that the cock-hungry little faggot thought it was he who was getting the revenge.

The pleasure of seeing the boy performing the filthy, perverted act combined with the pleasure once more throbbing through his cock, and this time he didn't hold back as he once again felt the pressure developing in his loins. Shooting his jism would be icing on the cake so to speak, adding to his revenge for the humiliation and revulsion the boy had caused him. Mike closed his eyes as he concentrated on the building pressure between his legs and on the throbbing of his cock. Revenge was going to be sweet. With a sigh of pleasure, physical pleasure with the gushing of his seed and mental pleasure of having his revenge, he filled the boy's mouth with his third load as beside him he heard his partner grunting and snorting as he filled the other queer's ass.

As the two cops gasped for breath, their faces flushed with the exertion of having three orgasms within an hour and with the pleasure of their third ejaculation, the two boys exchanged positions. This time they did not wait for the flush of pleasure to subside, nor for the two men to recover. Nor did they bother slipping the cock rings back on the two stiff, red cocks.

"I do so love a man in uniform," Anton said sincerely as he pushed Eric onto the bed beside Mike and once again wrapped his slender fingers about his cock. "And I especially love them out of uniform," he giggled. "I bet your wife has never brought you off four times in one night." He knew from the look in Eric's eyes that he was right, and that the mention of his wife and that fact didn't exactly please the flushed, dazed cop, which pleased Anton tremendously. Served him right for the scare the cop had given him. "That's because women can't admire cock like a guy can. They have no idea what having a stiff, aching cock between your legs is like, or how to please it," he continued, badgering Eric's numbed mind with his prattle as he slowly stroked the man's numb cock. "You do like the way I make your fuck pole feel, don't you?" he asked, looking down into Eric's eyes seductively. Again he knew the answer from the look in Eric's eyes, and though there was hatred and guilt and shame and denial there, there was also the look of desire and of pleasure that a man with a stiff cock being gently stroked cannot hide.

"And you like what I'm doing too, don't you?" Ravindra asked as he similarly looked down into Mike's eyes as he also slowly stroked the man's aching cock. His large, hairy balls were drawn up tight under his swollen cock, and as Ravi ran a fingertip over them the man flinched with the pain while his cockhead ached with the desire to be stroked. "I know your wife has never made you feel as good as you do right now," he continued as he lowered his head and swept his long, shiny black hair over the man's knob, the foreskin having been pulled right back so his knob and the sensitive skin below were exposed. His knob and the skin below it were a crimson red from the ceaseless attention and constant flow of blood into the turgid organ. "Or your boys," Ravi said. Mike's eyes flared. How the hell did the kid know he had boys? "Maybe when we are done I should pay them a visit and teach them how to please a man so when their daddy comes home they can help him relax after a long, hard day's work, and give his hard a long night's workout," he grinned.

"You filthy bastard," Mike managed to say. "If you so much as touch my boys 3;"

"Let's sixty-nine," Ravi said. "Suck my cock while I suck yours and I'll reconsider if I should pay your boys a visit. Michael Junior is eleven, isn't he? Just a year younger than Anton here," he said, nodding toward Anton. "Bet he's got a nice cock, just like his ol'man. Bet he can come all ready. I know some boys who can come as young as ten. Little Stan has a few years yet. He's just seven, isn't that right? Lots of time to learn how to please his daddy."

"You filthy pervert, if you 3;"

"Beg for my cock," Ravi interrupted. "Let's hear you beg for it, unless you'd like Stanley to be brought over here and you can hear him beg for it." Mike glared at him. "Now com'on, say please."

"Please." Anything to keep them away from his sons.

"Oh come, come, you can do better than that," Ravi said, putting on his mincing queen act and emphasizing his accent again, knowing both irritated the man.

"Please," Mike said more sincerely.

"Please what?"

"Please 3; sir."

"No, no," Ravi laughed. "I'm not into slave-master scene. I'm no sadist like you two boys. What I meant was please what do you want?"

"Your cock."

"Now, say them together, and louder, and like you mean it."

"Please, I want your cock."

"And want do you want to do with it?" Ravi asked teasingly. This cop was so going to regret his attitude toward him.

"I want 3; I want to suck it."

"Now all three parts together."

"Please, I want your cock. I want to suck it."

"And do you want me to suck yours?"

"Yes, please, suck my cock." Anything to stop them from hurting his boys.

Ravi swung around and straddled the man in a sixty-nine position. Mike stared up at the long, slender, brown tube and the shiny black hairs. East Indians had thick bushes. Filthy, oily thick bushes, above their filthy brown cocks. He slowly opened his lips and reaching up and grasping the teenager's hips, guided Ravi back and down. He slipped his lips over the boy's dangling cock and closed his eyes and began to suck. Anything to keep his boys out of this. Ravi let him suck for a long time, enjoying the pleasure rippling through his knob as his cock began to swell, and even more enjoying the awkward efforts of the cop and the knowledge how repugnant the cop was finding his first time at sucking cock. He finally wet his lips with his tongue and went down on the cop's cock.

"That looks like fun," Anton said. "You wanna try it?"

"Yes," Eric said flatly. "Yes, I would," he said more sincerely. He wasn't going to humiliate himself by begging like Mike had. He certainly wasn't going to give the kid the chance to mention his children. If they'd gone to all this trouble to set them up, the kid had to know he had two girls.

"No hesitation at all, huh?" Anton said with a smirk, knowing full well that the man had agreed only because he knew he had no choice. "Knew you to be a closet faggot the minute I saw you," he lied.

So instead of being humiliated by being made to beg for the kid's cock and to ask the kid to suck his, he was being made to look like he wanted it, like he was a fucking queer. Eric wanted so much to respond, to deny the kid's accusation, but as Anton swung around and dangled his stiff little three inches [7½cm] in his face, he instead reached up and grasping the boy's slender hips drew the boy's crotch to his face. He knew how that looked, but he also knew to disagree with the boy would be useless, and was what the boy was hoping he'd do so he'd have him in a lose-lose situation. Well, he was too smart for that. Besides, the sooner he got this over with the better.

As he began to suck on the tiny, slender tube, he felt the twelve-year-old go down on his cock. Feeling the boy's tongue slip along the rim of his knob and the electric shocks shoot through the blood-engorged and by the fourth time super-sensitized flesh, he could not help but arch his back with the exquisite combination of pleasure and pain. Swearing he would make the boy pay for what he'd done to him this afternoon, along with the rest of the bastards, Eric sucked on his slender cock with a ferocious determination, venting his anger by savagely sucking on the boy's cock as if he was trying to suck him inside out through his cocklet.

"Lookit the queer suck," observed one of the men. "He really is a closet fag."

The man could have said that just to egg him on, but Eric figured the man's mentality was probably such that he believed what he'd just said. Well, let the man think what he wanted. When he got out of this, he'd see that each and every one of the bastards got what was coming to him. He had their faces memorized by then, all six of them, and he'd track them down no matter where they tried to hide, he and Mike whom he was sure was going to be just as eager to get his revenge for this indignity. What they'd done to those two thirteen-year-old sluts two months ago was nothing compared to what was going to happen to this group of bastards.

He worked his lips up and down the twink boy's slender cocklet and sucked on it just as the goth boy and his faggot friend had done to him. The boy's cock felt velvet smooth and so slender compared to his own, which at the moment was throbbing and aching like it had never felt before. It had been many years since he'd come off four times in a row, and that had been using his own hand back as a young horny virgin teen. Even back then his cock had never felt so swollen and so inflamed as it did now. As he felt the boy's hot breath blowing into his hairs and the suction on his knob increasing, he inhaled deeply with the pleasure and with the pressure building up between his loins. As disgusting and perverted as it was, it was exceedingly pleasant, more pleasant than any act of sex he'd ever engaged in, even more pleasant than fucking his wife. Never with her had his cock felt so swollen, and never had he ached so badly to shoot.

Mike was just as eagerly sucking on the teenage cock of the slender East Indian boy who was sucking his. He'd never come four times in a row in his life and as the combination of pain and pleasure throbbed and ached between his legs and his cock felt as if it was being skinned layer by layer, he could not believe how delightful that sensation was. And as the teenager trembled and inhaled sharply he wondered if he was feeling the same pleasure having his cock sucked. It was probably even greater, the kid being a faggot and all. He could see how a man could lust for another man given how he was feeling. He gave his head a mental shake. What was he thinking? He was no fucking queer. Yet, he could not deny the pleasure pulsating through his swollen cock.

As Mike inhaled, the spicy, exotic fragrance of the boy's sweat filled his mind and he felt an ache of lust deep in his chest and a tremor of arousal pass through his body and he wondered what his crotch smelt like to the boy. It was an erotic odour, the scent of the East Indian's balls and cock, a combination of a strong cheese and fish, an exotic aroma of southern Asia. As he thought about it, the boy's cock had an erotic taste itself, not unlike the way it smelled, and that thought caused the saliva in his mouth to flow in double time. As he swallowed the teenage-cock-cheese-and-fish-flavoured spittle he quivered. His cock ached so badly to get off a load he raised his hips off the bed and groaned in desperation and in ecstasy. The married man and father of two grimaced as his tightly swollen balls ached with unbelievable pain, complaining they'd already shot off three rounds and could shoot no more.

They could of course, as could Eric's. The two cops were not that old, and they were healthy and physically active. Of course it took them much longer to come this time, as Anton had known, but they did come, and it was as hot and stimulating as it was excruciatingly painful. Their jizz was thick and burst out like a hot lava blob rather than spurting and their piss-slits burned with that sweet, pleasant pain that only a man can know. At the same time, the two boys came, Anton's young twelve-year-old jism thin and watery, and after an afternoon of exotic play, so copious and with such force that it filled Eric's mouth and flowed out the corners of his mouth, and Ravi's cum creamy and slimy and even more copious and spurting with even more force as only a horny teenage boy's can. The four of them trembled and gasped openly with the delight of their orgasms, heightened by the pleasure of their partner's climax also, something the two boys had experienced many times but a first for the two cops. At the same time the two macho, white cops were acutely aware to their embarrassment and shame that their immense pleasure was being witnessed by six men, two niggers, a Mexican, an Asian, and two rough looking white dudes that looked like stevedores. Of course they did not know that it was all being captured on film by the hidden cameras in the room.

"Glad you really enjoyed that," the Asian said as he hovered above them. The room was spinning and their eyes blurry with the strain of their last climax. "Cuz that's the last ejaculation you're ever going to have."

The two men lay there, their chests rapidly rising and falling, their breathing loud and laboured, the taste of cum filling their mouths and the smell of cock filling their nostrils. In their exhaustion and confusion they could not decide if the taste and smell were nauseating, or exhilarating. The room was spinning around faster now and they felt so weak-loined as they lay there and began spinning too. They were twirling round and round in a big whirlpool, a big black whirlpool, a whirlpool that tasted of cum and smelled like cock and that they were being sucked into, deeper and deeper. Standing at the edge of the whirlpool and bending over and looking into it with bright blue-green eyes was a young angel, dressed in white, a gold halo about his head, and a gold band holding back his wavy, reddish-brown hair. He was smiling down at them and speaking to them but his lips were not moving.

Chapter Fifty-Five

As Cory stared down at the two dazed, drugged cops he thought back to the conversation he, Billy and Juan had almost two months ago after they had discovered the rape of Trang and Molly by the two cops. Billy had been particularly angry.

"The fucking arrogant sons-a-bitches! Who the fuck do they think they are? They have no fucking idea who they've fucked with." To Billy all women were bitches who were placed on earth for one purpose and one purpose only, and that was to please men, and he saw the two thirteen-year-old girls no differently, but they were his bitches, and you didn't mess with what belonged to Billy Dean. That his uncle had cracked Molly's cherry and had introduced her to the womanly duty of spreading her legs for a man was no more than nature taking its course. The girl had been flashing her pussy around town enough that someone sooner or later was going to do it, and there was nobody better to introduce a young girl to the fine art of fucking than his uncle Eli, unless it was Billy himself. It had also been perfectly natural and justifiable that Molly and her best friend Trang later service the nerds that they had been teasing and putting down, just as given their personalities and God-given sweet, innocent looks, it was only natural and justifiable that he had big plans of turning the two girls into porn stars.

Getting screwed by two macho cops on the other hand was neither natural nor justifiable. The girls had been doing no wrong, and in fact flashing their thirteen-year-old pussies and budding teenage tits at old codgers who couldn't get it up anymore and at their classmates who had no chance of ever seeing a girl's tits or cunt never mind making it with a girl, and their teachers who got no reward for putting up with a school full of hormone-crazed teenagers five days a week was doing them all a favour. It wasn't anything they deserved getting raped over. Billy had little liking for cops, and he had even less liking for bad cops who figured because they had a badge and a uniform they could break the laws they were supposed to be upholding. He had least liking of all for cops who intruded into his territory and played with his toys without his permission.

"Oh yeah, dude, those two whities need to be given a lesson," agreed Juan. Like Billy, he had no use for cops who abused their position, and in particular for these two bigoted white extremists who looked at him and any other coloured person like they were dog shit. That one of them had taken Trang's virginity particularly angered him. The taking of a young girl's cherry was a very special occasion.

"Given a lesson? They should be given cement shoes and tossed in the Santa Ana, that's what should be done with the honkies." With Billy's gang connections, Cory knew that could very well be a possibility.

"No way man, death is too good for the arrogant bastards," disagreed Juan. "They need to be taught some humility. We should get Aris Pandoppolis to ship them off to some Arab country where they can become eunuchs for some sultan's harem. Surrounded by luscious dark-skinned young beauties all day and not having the equipment to do anything with them would serve those two right." Considering their strong racial prejudices and their macho attitudes, Cory had to agree that would be particularly suiting. Aris Pandoppolis had warehouses on the docks in LA that were rumoured to be used for illegal imports and exports overseas besides his legal business.

"Hell, they should be castrated and sold to some Arab prince to be used as his boy toys. I know there are Arabs who have a thing for white guys."

"That would never work. They're too ugly," observed Cory as he tried to imagine the two cops bending over for some handsome, dark-skinned Arab prince.

"Cory's right," agreed Juan. "They're not good enough for an Arab prince. They're more suited for some bedouin tent on the edge of some desert town servicing stinking camel-herders who have come in off the desert for something different to poke than their camels."

"I dunno, compared to them camels would look good," Cory observed and the three of them laughed. To thirteen-year-old Cory anyone over twenty was old and desperate. To tell the truth, given their ages the two men were not bad looking, and being physically active, they had hard, muscular bodies that a lot of men would envy.

"Actually with their looks they'd make good dykes," Billy observed, thinking particularly of their size and weight and Eric O'Malley's square chin and Mike Polanski's broad face and wide nose.

"Actually, I know some stevedores that work for Pandoppolis who have girlfriends who don't look half as good as those two do," commented Juan, and they laughed again.

"You guys know anything about transformation?" Cory asked. The two of them looked at the thirteen-year-old in surprise. Despite all they'd been involved with together and as well as they'd gotten to know him in the past three months, he still surprised them with his sexual knowledge. "I read these stories, you know, about guys who mistreated their wives or women bosses or whatever, and they had the guys changed into women to become their sex slaves. That really possible?" The porn he'd read over at Jacob Schuller's had certainly made it sound like it could happen, and he was discovering there was a fine line between fantasy and reality when it came to sex.

"Yeah," replied Billy. "It's possible. It's called transgendered surgery or some shit like that."

"I met a transsexual hooker once. Fucking awesome bod with boobs like this," Juan said, gesturing breasts the size of watermelons, "and a cock like this." Billy and Cory laughed at the impossible size of the horse cock Juan would have them believe the hooker had.

They'd thought no more about it, but that had been the beginning. A couple days later Cory had mentioned the idea to Bob Moser as they followed Julius Gilles one afternoon out to a dirty, rundown playground in the Baldwin Park district where stray dogs tended to congregate and watched him make some new doggy friends as Bob had ordered him to after having a particularly bad day and being royally pissed off with Julius and arrogant do-gooders in general. For Julius, romping round the playground naked and sniffing butts and letting the mongrels fuck his ass, and doing his civic duty to keep the place clean by eating up the dog shit littering the place, was still a better alternative than his soccer team at rgab discovering a picture of him eating out Bob's ass, which was Bob's alternative.

Anyway, Bob got Cory in touch with Freddy Rabb, who attended the Royal Glencoe Academy for Boys where Bob had once taught and coached soccer. Freddy had admired Bob as a coach and had been angry when the Board had dismissed him, feeling even if the charge of messing around with guys was true it was no reason to fire him. He knew lots of guys who messed around together. Though the handsome teenager was the heartthrob of half the high school girls at the Academy's sister school, Gladys Harper Private School for Girls, and was no virgin, having lost his virginity to one of the cheerleaders who'd been so agog of his good looks and his popularity that she'd let him crack her cherry, he saw no problem with a guy if he was gay. It was no big deal.

He especially hated his father whom he knew had pressured the board into firing Bob and had threatened to withdraw his son from the school, along with his annual donation, which he made not so much because he thought highly of the school as it was a great tax deduction. As one of the top surgeons in Riverside that was a substantial sum. Besides, his father was an arrogant, pretentious snob who acted so pure and upright and so incensed over the immorality of the world publically not because he believed in any of the shit but because it was politically correct. It was the same reason he had enrolled Freddy in rgab besides of course the prestige having his son enrolled in the private school brought him. Meanwhile on the sly his father was regularly breaking the law, overcharging his equally snobbish and overly rich patients, falsifying his earnings to the irs, giving medical favours to his close friends or those in power he was sucking up to, and dabbling in illegal stem cell research, thinking he was going to make a major discovery that would be the cure for all of society's ills, medical and otherwise.

His father having an illegal supply that he couldn't very well report having losses from, it was easy enough for Freddy to get his hands on as much female hormone as Cory wanted, which Cory passed on to Billy who gave it to a friend of his and Juan's, Ravindra Shankar, who worked with his uncle at the Dunkin' Donut shop that the two cops visited regularly on their beat. Ravi hated the two cops for their racial prejudice and the way they looked down at coloured people, and for their homophobic attitude, sixteen-year-old Ravi being gay and proud of it and having come out to his family two years ago already. It was an easy matter to crush the pills and insert them into the filling of the donuts, and to stir them into the coffee.

While the cops were being fed their daily doses of estrogen and other hormones with names that meant nothing to him, Cory hung around the donut shop or other places they frequented, always out of sight, and broadcast feelings of comradery and friendship between the two cops, something that already existed and only needed reinforcement, along with subconscious feelings of something that went beyond male bonding, feelings that he was now after two months of such broadcasting ready to bring to the surface and expand upon.

"They're out of it," the leader of the group of six men who had crashed the hotel room at the Economy Inn announced as he bent over and opened the lids of one of the cop's eyes, interrupting Cory's thoughts. While in the final throes of their ecstasy, which was partly natural and partly enhanced by Cory through his headband, Cory having slipped into the room unnoticed by the two cops as they'd begun sixty-nining with Anton and Ravi so he could do his thing for their fourth and final climax, the first three being totally of their own doing, the cops had been given an injection of something to knock them out.

Packing the two cops out to the police cruiser, the group of them headed out to the home of one of the men in Baldwin Park. Doctor Rabb was there waiting for them. Freddy having mentioned his dislike for his father and his father's illegal research to Cory when Cory had asked for the hormones and had mentioned that Bob Moser had sent him, and Cory having mentioned it to Billy, it was an easy matter for Billy to convince the good doctor that if he wanted to avoid going to jail, that he cooperate. The fear of losing his licence, the thought of not being able to continue his research in which he was certain he was about to make a breakthrough any day now, and of greatest importance of all, the humiliation and loss of prestige if he was arrested, made Billy's proposal one that he could not refuse.

Laying the two naked men out on the tables that had been set up, he administered the anaesthesia and picked up the scalpel on the tray. The rest of them quickly left, their part in the revenge complete. For the next three weeks the men were fed intravenously as they drifted in and out of consciousness and the good doctor monitored their progress. He was a skilled surgeon and the operation no longer as complicated as it once was, and his two patients were strong and healthy, and, as he'd observed to Billy with some amusement, had a lot for him to work with. During those three weeks Cory dropped in to do his next part in the revenge too. In their drugged state, it was easy for him to probe their minds and to direct and influence their thoughts, much like a hypnotist does with the subconscious mind when he puts a person under, but

Cory also found it much more difficult to stay focussed, and to keep them focussed, as in their dream state their minds jumped from one thing to another, often with no relationship between the two.

He'd been using the headband for six months now so some things came easy, like linking a real memory or thought with a related one so that the related one was accepted as the person's own. That had been one of the first things he'd done, first on a conscious level with Goosey and his sons and later directly on a subconscious level like with Reverend Winthrop and Father Henry. Both cops were completely and unshakably heterosexual and had been all their life, even as children. They deeply loved their mothers and their wives despite the fact women see things differently from men and they didn't always understand that female way of looking at things. It was an easy matter for Cory to find and link those thoughts with his own thought that it takes a woman to really know and understand a woman, actually a thought both men also had and which he simply connected to their thoughts and feelings of love and sex and then repeated over and over each day so the idea increased in importance, a trick his great-grandfather had noted in his journal and one Cory had found many opportunities to practice.

Similarly over time he'd become more skilled at probing a person's mind, an ability his great-grandfather had not discovered and one he himself had first achieved without knowing or understanding the procedure back when he'd tried to read Goosey's mind for the answers to one of Goosey's dumb Physical Education tests, and had then accidentally done experimenting with his other teachers. He'd become so skilled at probing that he'd easily read Molly and Trang's minds during the orgy with his classmates over at Callie Dean's, and more recently Reverend Winthrop's thoughts about God and about his son while Cory was hiding in the recess in his church videotaping him.

So it was really not that difficult to probe the semiconscious minds of the two cops, though sifting through their memories and seeking out the snippets that he could use, and modifying those memories ever so slightly to incorporate new memories totally of his making did take time and was something he'd never done so extensively. Cory was motivated though, and his persistence paid off. Besides, some of it was fun, like discovering the cops' memories and thoughts about their foreplay with their wives and how their wives' tits and pussies felt. Those were so vivid and strong it was like he was laying there in bed doing it to their wives himself! The memory and disappointment of the many attempts to get their wives to touch them between the legs like they touched their wives and their wives' resistance was also very strong. Taking their thoughts about how good a woman's pussy and tits felt, Cory linked them to the idea that it took a woman to know how a woman thought and felt, just as only another man could really know what it felt like to have a cock and to feel horny, a thought fresh in the cops' memory from a similar comment by Anton while he was pleasuring them. It was easy to weave in that their wives found touching their cocks and balls distasteful, and the cops' macho belief that men touching men there was disgusting and immoral. Cory repeated the sequence of thoughts in his mind and pinged them to the two men who readily accepted the thoughts as their own. Touching cock and balls, bad; touching tits and cunts, good; men touching cocks disgusting, women touching cocks disgusted; men touching women good, women touching women good. You always saw women embracing and sharing their feelings Cory quickly pointed out when his last thought was met with opposition, which immediately quelled any resistance to the idea.

Other thoughts were not so easily connected. Both men admired their dads and wanted to be like them, and both admired certain traits of their mothers, like their tenderness and delicacy, their compassion for others, and of course their unquestioning support for their sons. While they admired those traits, they resisted Cory's thought that they wanted to be like their moms. That would make them effeminate, and that they definitely did not want. Cory could feel the resistance as he pressed the idea that to be like their moms, to be like women, did not make them effeminate, but he persisted and concentrated all the harder on the idea, gradually deepening the channel in their brains and reducing the resistance. When he tried the next step, pinging the idea that sex between people of the same sex, especially women having sex with women, was acceptable his thought was met with an immediate and even stronger opposition. There were some things that had been ingrained in their memories all the way back to their youth and would take a long time to reverse.

He'd come a long way in using the head band over the past six months, but there were still things he was just discovering and learning how to do, like how to trigger their memory of tastes and smells and how to plant his own so they'd think it was theirs, something his great-grandfather had said he'd done in his journal. That was easy for Isaiah McFarlane who got friends and neighbours to think they were biting into a lemon or an onion instead of a juicy apple. It was much harder when he didn't have the words to describe things, like how cum tasted. In the heat of their last ejaculation he'd managed to ping them with the idea that the taste of cum was good, but what it tasted like was another matter and had come out a jumble. Fish and cheese? Well, it was the best he could do, and it seemed to have worked.

Even harder was picking up another person's moods without feeling that way too, something else his great-grandfather had experienced and had attributed to the work of the devil and so had avoided. When he'd slipped into the room as they'd engaged in sex for the fourth and last time, their feeling of horniness had been so strong that it had been all he could do to stop from pulling out his dick and whacking it off, and when they'd come their sense of pleasure had been so strong, in part because it really was and in part because he'd been intensifying their feelings all the while they'd been having sex that last time, he'd had to break off the connection or he'd have creamed his underwear.

The idea of the ultimate revenge that they'd come up with had been awesomely wicked but to work required getting the two cops to make a major mental change, and that was the hardest part, especially in that it was something he'd never tried doing before, and nor evidently had his great-grandfather. He was really stretching his ability and his use of the band to new limits and he was beginning to think that changing their attitudes and beliefs was going to be impossible. Their prejudice against immigrants for example was so ingrained that the anger and repugnance whenever Cory triggered their thoughts of Ravindra were so strong that Cory tensed with anger and hatred himself and actually felt his stomach heave with revulsion, beliefs and reactions that he definitely did not have himself. Getting them to have an accepting attitude toward immigrants instead of hating them was a task he had doubts he'd achieve. As for changing their minds about beliefs like it was all right for women to have sex with other women, he'd have had an easier time convincing them to give skunks blow jobs.

An hour of intense concentration trying to replace their beliefs and attitudes with more supporting beliefs and values like he and Billy possessed left him with a splitting headache and so drained he couldn't even get up a boner before going to bed, and that was bad! Even worse, it was not just a day or two, it was every day for three solid weeks! When Doctor Rabb finally said his two patients had healed physically and no longer needed monitoring, Cory didn't care if they were ready mentally or not. Three weeks of not getting his nuts off was cruel and inhumane torture for any thirteen-year-old, and especially him. He pronounced them ready too.

Eric O'Malley stretched and yawned and sighed. It felt like he'd been asleep for days. Taking a deep breath and slowly releasing it, he ran his hand over his face and scratched his armpits as he usually did upon waking. Something was wrong. He scratched his left arm pit again, and then the right, and slowly rubbed his chin. He raised one arm and squinted at his armpit and then did the same with the other. He had no pit hair. He rubbed his cheeks. They were uncharacteristically smooth and soft. Rolling over on his side, he felt a pillow pushing against his chest, preventing him from totally rolling over. He groggily reached up and wrapped his fingers about it and pulled. The pillow seemed to be attached to him. He opened one eye. It was attached to him, but it wasn't a pillow. It was a tit. A nice, big, round, smooth, pink tit. He closed his eyes and took another deep breath. He'd been having a weird dream all night, but this was the weirdest part of it yet.

He slowly opened both eyes. Mike Polanski was laying beside him, mouth wide open as he snored contentedly and stark naked. At least it looked like Mike Polanski, but he looked younger and his face smoother, more like a teenage boy's than a man's, or more like a woman's. He slowly glanced down. It was not his partner of the past three years. The person beside him had Mike's face, but he had the upper body of a woman. He slowly lowered his gaze to the person's crotch. His groin was shaved, and what was between his legs was definitely a woman's. Hesitantly, fearfully, he dared glance down at his own body. Like the person beside him he was totally naked, and like the person beside him he had large, gorgeous tits, and wide hips, and a shaved groin, and a cunt. He shook his head violently. He slapped his face hard. If he was dreaming, the slap felt surprisingly real, and it didn't wake him up. He slowly sat up and looked around him.

It was a small room, maybe ten feet by eight [3x2½m], with only an exceptionally large bed, a night stand, two padded chairs, and a coat rack in the corner. A very large floor-length mirror extended almost the entire length of one of the longer walls. He slowly got up and paused to catch his balance. He felt very light-headed and wobbly, and top heavy. He looked at his image in the mirror, and moving closer, studied it, viewing his body from front and sides, trying to see his backside. It was his hands and his feet, and his arms and legs though hairless now, and his face, though smoother and younger looking, and his mind, but the rest was not his body. He slowly turned and looked down at the naked person on the bed. What was going on? He thought back to before he'd fallen asleep. The last he could remember was being in the motel room at the Economy Inn, him and Mike, sixty-nining with the two faggot boys. A surge of arousal shot up between his legs, up 3; up his 3; his vagina. Getting his nuts off with a guy, and a kid to boot, had been the most disgusting thing he'd ever done, and had been the most erotic, most pleasurable experience he'd ever had.

Mike stirred and slowly opened his eyes and stared up at him. The initial hazy, sleepy look turned to surprise and then bewilderment. Eric knew what his partner was thinking and what he was going through. Wait until he discovered his own body. Mike's look of shock, and of disbelief said it all. His partner didn't have to speak. Eric didn't know what to say himself, and nor did Mike. Mike slowly, tentatively touched his right breast, and then sat up and swung around to sit on the edge of the bed. He raised his right eyebrow in bewilderment as he looked up at Eric. That was Mike. He always raised his eyebrow like that when he was confused or uncertain, but this eyebrow was thin and manicured.

"I don't know, but I don't think we're dreaming ol'buddy," Eric observed.

Mike looked at him, and then down at his own body once again as if hoping his eyes had been deceived. "You think they gave us something, acid or something?"

"I don't think we're hallucinating."

"Holy fucking Christ!"

"Yeah."

"How'd this happen?"

"I dunno. What is the last thing you remember?"

Mike concentrated, and his face flushed a bright crimson. That was Mike. He always blushed easily, and his face turned redder than any man Eric had ever known. "What do you remember?" he asked, unable to bring into words the last events he could remember.

"Lying in a bed, smaller than that one, beside you, the two of us 3; the two of us naked, being forced to engage in oral sex with those two young queers, surrounded by a bunch of thugs and immigrants looking down at us, leering, smirking 3;"

"Yeah." Mike shuddered with the memory. Never had he felt so humiliated and so ashamed, so angry and hateful. "And then, after, after I shot," Mike said, struggling with voicing what had happened and how he had felt to another man, well, to his partner, whatever sex his partner was now, or whoever this person was before him, and struggling with the sudden surge of pure ecstasy and a desperate horniness the memory of that last climax brought, a horniness that made his 3; his 3; his cunt ache, "everything began to spin and get dark."

"And someone was looking down at us," Eric observed, struggling with the same feelings of ecstasy and horniness with the memory of that moment.

"A boy, very early teens, with thick reddish-brown hair and blue-green eyes, and a light shining about his head, like, like a halo," Mike said, calling up the details as if describing a perp, calling on his training as a policeman in a desperate attempt not to think of other things, like his body, desperate to prove to himself that he was still him.

"Hair was sort of longish, and held in place with a gold band about his forehead, a strange sort of thing with symbols of some sort," Eric continued, doing the same thing. He was thinking like a cop. He was thinking like he always thought, so it had to be him, his mind anyway.

"Yeah. And he was smiling."

"A strange smile, sort of knowing and sort of curious though, and comforting."

The look of an angel the two thought though neither was prepared to say it. Eric sat down and the two men sat there on the edge of the bed numbly. There was a limit to how much detail a person can describe, and a limit to how much being a cop could delay them from thinking of more pressing and personal questions. They cautiously looked at their bodies again, and even more cautiously stole looks at each other. Trying not to be obvious, Eric casually ran his hand up over his chest. He cupped his right breast and squeezed it, and then rubbed it. Mike followed suit, checking out his own boobs. He dared to run a fingertip over the large, dark nipple and he felt an immediate pang of arousal shoot through his chest, a pang even stronger and more erotic than when his own nipples had been touched by the East Indian faggot. The memory sent another shock of arousal shooting up between his legs, deep up his groin, deep up his 3; up his cunt. He shook his head. What did he mean by 'his own' nipples? What was he thinking? These were his nipples that he was touching that very moment. These were his breasts. It was too confusing.

"They feel weird," Eric observed.

"Fucking for sure." Mike didn't know what else to say. He slowly caressed the firm, swollen mounds, just as he caressed his wife's. He'd often wondered how it felt for her, to have boobs and to have them touched, and now he knew.

"It makes you feel good actually, touching them," Eric said as if he'd read Mike's mind.

"Yeah. I sometimes wondered what it felt like for a woman."

"Me too."

The two men sat there palpitating and caressing their breasts, cupping them and squeezing them. They were nice and solid, like their wives' used to be when they first married. Two months of breast enhancement drugs had resulted in the buildup of fat deposits and a softening of their broad pectoral muscles, causing their chests to become flabby as they'd noticed much to their dismay. Making tiny incisions under their arms where their breasts began, Doctor Rabb had easily removed those fat deposits and had inserted the silicone gel, stretching the loose skin to the maximum to give them the nice firm tits of a young, fully mature woman.

They caressed their nipples and as they quickly grew firm they felt pangs of lust pass up their new vaginas. It was delightful, and like scratching a mosquito bite, they could not resist doing it again. As they concentrated on the strange, new feelings between their legs, feelings that were intensely pleasurable, they vaguely remembered lying on a table, a doctor beside them, inserting something between their legs, telling them they had to keep their vagina's dilated for the next week on a regular basis until they could stay dilated on their own, until their new vaginal muscles built up strength to function properly. They squeezed as they remembered squeezing to close their peeholes and to their delight they felt their vaginas close. They relaxed and squeezed again. Their vaginal muscles felt so much more powerful than the sphincters of their penises, and operating them brought them an even more intense pleasure.

Unable to resist, they slowly reached down and running their fingers over their shaved pubes they tentatively and tenderly ran their fingers over their labia. They shivered with the shock of stimulation and with the immediate swelling of their fresh new lips. As the good doctor had observed, the men had a lot to work with, and their foreskins made excellent material for the new cunt lips. Running their index finger along the slit, they thought of how good their wives' cunts had felt and how hot it had felt stroking them. They also recalled wondering what it had to feel like for a woman. Well, it took a woman to know how a woman felt, and now they did.

Inserting the tip of their index fingers inside their now throbbing and juice-slick slits, they slowly slid them up and down the shallow crevices. Striking their clit, actually the stub that was left of their penises, a new shock of arousal shot through their groins and their clits immediately grew hard. They fingered them repeatedly, recalling the sensation of having the rims of their knobs stroked and recalling wild it drove their wives when they touched that spot. It was similar to having their knobs stroked, which of course it should be being the same erectile tissue. Tentatively they eased their index fingers deeper up their vaginas, which had been constructed by coring out their penises and then turning them inside out to create the well they were now exploring. Blood rushed into the spongy tissue, causing it to swell. The two men quivered. So that was what it felt like for a woman to be penetrated. They slowly worked their fingers in and out, concentrating on the new feelings.

Glancing over at each other, they knew how the other was feeling and what the other was thinking without saying anything. It took a woman to know how another woman felt. They reached over and cupped each other's breasts, stroking them and caressing each other's nipples, bringing each other the pleasure they'd brought their wives hundreds of times, but now knowing the pleasure they were bringing. They took turns snuggling down and kissing and sucking on each others tits while they reached down and caressed each other's labia. It was so nice to be touched down there by another person instead of being the only one doing the touching as had been the case with their wives. Touching a woman down there was good. A woman touching another woman down there was good too. Their cunts were swollen by then, and each purposefully sought out the other's clit and stimulated it, sending shocks of pleasure through it. Just as men they'd known how each other felt, now as women they also knew.

As they felt the desire throbbing between their legs begin to increase, they thought of the delightful orgasm they'd had while engaged in a sixty-nine with the two faggot boys. It had been perverted and disgusting, but it had felt so good, better than any orgasm they'd ever experienced. Again without saying a word, they rolled over on their sides and assumed a sixty-nine position. As men they'd never consider doing each other, and they'd certainly never consider muff diving, but they were women, and women cared for each other and expressed their love for each other much more freely than men.

They were comrades once, fellow cops on the beat. They knew each other well, better than they knew their wives. They knew each other's wishes and desires, each other's fears and hatreds. They had a lot in common. That was why they were partners. That was why they were good cops. They had a lot in common now, their new sexual organs, their new feelings. The deep, subconscious love each felt for the other, the feelings Cory had implanted in their minds as they sat in their cruiser eating their cream-filled donuts and sipping their estrogen-laced coffee over the past two months at last came to the fore.

Eric stuck out his tongue and ran it over Mike's cunt, sending thrills through it as Mike did the same to him. He buried his face in Mike's crotch and licked and sucked. He wormed his tongue inside the slit and lapped at his clit, at her clit. He, or rather she, reached around and caressed Mike's smooth butt as she sucked deeply on Mike's cunt. She inhaled deeply, delighting in the womanly fragrance of Mike's cunt. Michael's cunt. Michaela's cunt. Yes, Michaela, and Erica, their new identities. The names fit their personalities, and their looks. They were the perfect names for two women standing at over six feet [1.80m] and weighing over two hundred pounds [90kg]. Erica drew back and looking up at her partner, she smiled, and twisting around, kissed her, her lips sticky with Michaela's cunt juices, and Michaela's lips tasting of her own cunt. They French kissed, worming their tongues inside each other's mouth as they'd wormed them up each other's cunt and they pressed their delightful, full tits against each other.

And then they reversed positions again and resumed licking each other, sucking on each other's cunt, striking each other's clit with their tongues, causing their hot, throbbing pussies to fill with juice until they overflowing and their hot, slimy juice was oozing down the inner side of their thighs. It was sheer delight to be a woman.

On the other side of the mirror Doctor Rabb smiled with pride. He'd never performed transgendered surgery before but the operations had evidently been huge successes. Their silicone breasts looked fantastic, better than the natural breasts of many women, and their labia and clits had clearly healed and were functioning as a woman's should, and from the copious and constant flow of cunt juices, so were their vaginas. As for their reaction to their sex change, and toward each other, both were a total surprise. He hadn't been told why he was performing the operation and he knew better than to ask, but you didn't have to be a rocket scientist to figure out under the circumstances in which he'd been called in that the two men had not been willing participants. He'd expected surprise, which he had seen in their faces, and perplexity, which he'd also seen, but he had not expected such ready acceptance, nor feelings of lust. If anything, the cops being heterosexual and macho, he'd expected those interests to have remained the same, except now directed at men. Of course in that the two had been physically attracted to women as men, it did make sense in a way that they'd still be attracted to women but now as women.

It made perfect sense to Cory. When Mike and Eric had reached their fourth and final orgasms with Ravi and Anton, he'd transferred the pleasure each was feeling to the others so that each person was not just feeling the pleasure of his orgasm but the pleasure of the other three as well, magnifying their pleasure by four. And, as the two cops trembled and bucked with their fourth ejaculation he'd pinged them with the idea that sex with the same sex was not a bad thing, and in their heightened sensitivity and raging emotions at that moment, they accepted it as a truth. How could they deny it when they were having the most pleasant and powerful orgasm of their lives? Cory had frequently called up that new belief during their recuperation these past three weeks, reminding them of the intense pleasure they had felt, reminding them it was the result of having sex with a person of the same sex, and extending the belief that sex between two women would be a good thing too. Now, as they were experiencing their first genital stimulation as women, he brought up those beliefs again, cementing the idea that sex between two women was good with the undeniable pleasure the two were feeling as their cunts throbbed and ached with a pleasure they'd never known before.

Calling upon his own experiences with his mother and with Antoinette, and adding the thoughts he had picked up from Molly and Trang the day they'd had sex with each other, he broadcast those feelings to the two men-women, reinforcing the idea how great their cunt juices tasted, like the sweet juice from freshly squeezed berries, and how delightful it was to be able to please each other. The first time he'd realized the extent of his ability to trigger tastes and to enhance moods had been that afternoon at Callie Dean's when Nick had engaged in his first threesome and Molly had frigged herself with the chicken leg. Now he blasted the two men with his new found power, instilling in them a lifelong taste for cunt juice and a profound love of a woman for another woman. He called up once again the comradery the two cops had felt and the subconscious feelings for each other that he had planted and now at the height of their sexual arousal and as the first wave of their first orgasm as women swept over them, he hammered home the rightness of the love they felt for each other and the rightness of the love and pleasure two people of the same sex can feel for each other.

Reprogramming their deeply held beliefs into totally opposite beliefs and rewarding those new beliefs with the greatest positive reinforcement of all, that of pleasure, and the greatest pleasure of all, that which throbbed between a person's legs, was a new and exhilarating experience for Cory, and though his first attempt was crude and rudimentary, it was working as evidenced by the lust with which the two cops devoured each other. They sucked deeply on each other's hot, throbbing cunt as the second wave of orgasm hit them. They gasped and groaned as they experienced the new delight, that of a woman's orgasm. They contracted their cunt muscles and relaxed them as wave after wave of pleasure pulsated through their groins, their cunts saturated with juice and flushed and throbbing with heat. The pleasure of their orgasms caused them to jerk their hips wildly and to grunt and sigh with open abandon. Wave after wave struck them, each taking them to a greater high. Their hearts were racing and their breathing laboured as they buried their faces in each other's hot, slimy cunt and sucked and licked in desperation, and Cory, his heart beating just as fast and his breathing just as laboured, shuddered as he felt his cum gushing up his cock and filling his underwear as he watched on the other side of the mirror. As they shuddered in the greatest ecstasy they'd ever felt, the two women recalled their powerful orgasms as men, and felt the overwhelming delight of a thirteen-year-old boy squirting off a load and they cried out with the terrifying explosion of their own womanly orgasms.

Billy and Juan could not believe what they were seeing. The two macho cops with their faces buried in each other's muff and their sheer delight in their first orgasms as women was beyond their wildest dreams. What was going to be even more delightful than turning the two macho men into cunt-loving dykes, was that while they would now have a burning desire for each other, they would always know and remember their achievements and the delight they'd once felt when they were men. Though they would long for those days again, that would be a life they'd never be able to return to. That was just punishment for the crime they had committed, far better than being eunuchs in some Arabian village serving stinking camel jockeys. And thanks to the marvels of modern technology, Billy and Juan had caught the momentous event all on tape so they could enjoy the occasion for many months to come.

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