When Opportunity Knocks

                                                            

 Welcome to Devil Dawg Donnelly's.  Though I have posted this story on other site's, this is the only place I will be posting original artwork along with the story.

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                                                                  Ulf Raynor

                                                                CHAPTER ONE:

 

 Well, that just happened!

Matt McCormick had just come from Coach Chuck Myers office after he had asked him to meet him there after his fourth-period phys ed class.

Normally, Matt didn't like anything that took away from his lunchtime break, which always followed his fourth-period gym class. But the coach had promised it wouldn't take long and true to his word, it hadn't.

Not that it really mattered to Matt, he certainly didn't mind being invited into the coach's inner sanctum. It had afforded him at least a few minutes of alone time to ogle the coaches more than ample physical attributes.

And ample they were! At six feet five inches and probably pushing a good two hundred forty or more pounds of pure solid muscle covered densely in dark brown fur from nearly head to toe, he was a walking talking wet dream come true to an eighteen-year-old gay high school senior like Matt.

Matt couldn't begin to recount how many times he had yanked his crank to lurid, mentally constructed late-night fantasies involving the twenty-eight year old, ruggedly handsome, hyper-masculine prime alpha stud, but after that meeting, he was certain he was going to be adding to the list later that evening when he was at home and alone in his room.

Even now, as he exited the gym and began his trek across campus to his next class, he couldn't seem to get the coaches visage out of his head, those full, thick lips, the large brown narrow set eyes, his broad chin, complete with sexy cleft and of course the thick, heavy protruding brow, the slightly offset wide flat nose, that had obviously been broken and poorly reset at one time, which only seemed to add to the masculine mystic and allure that permeated throughout the man.

Matt could feel the all too familiar expansion in the crotch of his bluejeans as his imagination continued to reconstruct the coach in his mind's eye, as he now pictured his massive chest tightly stretching whatever T-shirt he had managed to squeeze himself into, and the tuft of chocolate brown hair that always seemed to escape the neckline and of course those massive bulging shoulders and his huge, thick, muscle corded arms and large hands that Matt could only dream might one day caress or hold him tightly.

As much as Matt enjoyed all those features about Coach Chuck, what really made him weak in the knees was his lower half, those incredibly profuse meaty thighs and those broad hefty calves, two sturdy tree trunks that melded perfectly into the twin massive mounds of his protruding bubble-butt that always seemed to overly stretch any garment he wore, which was almost always either a super tight pair of gym shorts or overly taut sweat pants.

Of course, all these things paled in comparison to the always, ever-present humongous bulge in his straining crotch.

Matt often wondered if what lay underneath was real or whether the coach was stuffing his crotch with either a large grapefruit or a small melon, either way, despite all the coaches other majestic physical attributes, the first thing anyone, with a pair of working eyes, would notice, was that hefty, beefy protuberance between his legs.

Still, it wasn't how much the coach mentally pushed all his buttons that had fueled his imagination, it was the deal he just struck with him that now had Matt all worked up. After all, it wasn't every day that someone handed him a deal that was too good to resist, and if everything panned out the way the coach had agreed to, then one of Matt's lifelong fantasies was about to come true and put an end to an overly lengthy dry spell that would culminate in not only Matt getting laid but would afford him the opportunity to do so at the expense of one of his lifelong nemesis and bullies, James Hatcher!

That name alone invoked a myriad of feelings and memories, some good, but most, pervasively bad, dating back as far as junior high school, seventh grade to be precise.

For quite some time Matt had been coming to the realization that unlike most of his friends, he wasn't developing the same interest and curiosity they were regarding girls; he felt nothing when a group of his buds had huddled together to gawk over the naked images of women in a porn mag one of the guys had stolen from his father's stash.

At that age, Matt had just thought that he might be a late bloomer, that those attractions would come in their own time, but that all changed one Friday afternoon, right after gym class and he had hurried up changing and had just passed the showers and was rounding the corner to where the toilet stalls and urinals were when he saw James Hatcher standing in front of one of the sinks, combing his short-cropped dirty blond hair.

Matt had seen James, otherwise known as Hatch by his jock friends, many times before this, mostly when he was picking on some kid or another and just generally being a complete and utter asshole.

Physically, there were two things one first noticed about Hatch, he was big for his age, not fat, but beefy or what Matt would later come to call, thick, solid.

Matt was sure this was mostly due to him being a farm boy, but also in part to his near single-minded focus on sports, especially football.

His other physical attributes? Well, to say that Hatch was particularly good looking wouldn't have factually been correct, he was ruggedly handsome enough, though he had rather thin set lips and a slightly upturned smallish pug nose, topped by thick brows and two bright blue eyes that seemed as vacuous as the space between his ears.

But, what Hatch lacked in intelligence, he more than compensated for in absolute willful stupidity, which was only surpassed by his self-absorbed arrogance and the firm belief, that because he was bigger and stronger, he was better than everyone else, so much so, that he frequently demonstrated his prowess through physical intimidation.

Sadly, as fate would have it, at the very moment Matt had been passing by, and Hatch stood there, naked as the day he was born, casually combing his hair at the sink and fully exposed to Matt's line of sight, that for the very first time, Matt felt what a growing number of his buddies had felt toward girls, except he was now experiencing it looking at Hatch.

It literally hit him like a ton of bricks, culminating into his openly, doe-eyed, mouth gapingly ogling of Hatches prodigious and ample genitals and the light patch of pubic hair above.

Unfortunately for Matt, Hatch noticed him too.

It wasn't bad enough that Matt first came to the realization he was gay by seeing a naked James Hatcher, no, the often harsh mistress of fate also decided that she would share his moment of self-realization with the one person least suited with the shared burden, resulting in the issuance of those six words that would haunt him for the rest of his young academic life: "What are you lookin' at faggot?"

It still amazed Matt, that after all the years following, and the countless times he had heard Hatch and his jock bros hurl that epitaph at him, and the years following, making him the brunt of a ceaseless barrage of innuendos and stereotypes, until finally growing bored at such an easy target, especially after he publicly came out as gay, that just the remembrance of that one moment and the many more that followed, still made his face blush and the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

But as fate would have it and as he had already posited, she was a cruel mistress, it now seemed likely Coach Chuck Myers would become instrumental in a little tit for tat.

High school football ruled in rural Kansas, truth be told, there was little else in lieu of entertainment to be had, especially in the small community of Avalon.

But a year and a half ago a small scandal, that had ultimately led to the resignation of both their former football coach and athletic advisor and the school vice-principal. It had rocked their small community when it was revealed that the former coach and the vice-principal had been "fixing" the grades of players so that they could academically meet the established requirements necessary to qualify to play on the Avalon Stallions football team.

Currently, at was the start of Matt's senior year, and while his social life had up till now been fairly nonexistent due to his status as the only out gay guy in the school, Matt had chosen to devote himself to his studies and had earned himself a perfect 4.0 average throughout high school and was well on his way in earning several scholarships that would cover nearly all his expenses at pretty much any top-level college or university he might apply too.

Matt had spent his time wisely, building his credentials, and had even garnered a part-time job working as a lab assistant to a local pharmaceutical lab under the guidance of the noted and brilliant scientist Doctor Mikal Ventrov, the biological engineer who led the company experimental division, who, for the last five years had been working on what he labeled as a biological enhancement formula for the US government in direct co-operation with the Pentagon.

It was this connection that had brought him to the attention of Coach Myers.

The coach, as it turned out, had served in the Marine Corps and was part of a voluntary participation program through the Pentagon that worked under the guidance of Doctor Ventrov.

It didn't take long, during their conversation, for Matt to deduce that when the coach said volunteer participant he meant literally that, he didn't assist Doctor Ventrov in the lab, he was a test subject and judging by Coach Chuck Myers's current physical state, the good Doctor's experiments seemed to be heading in the right direction.

After having figured that out and by his positive reaction to it, Coach Myers then laid out what he and the Doctor wanted from Matt if he chose to participate and co-operate.

First, Coach Myers had reassured him, that there was nothing nefarious going on here, his job as coach for the school was legitimate. He had finished his tour in the Marine Corps and had decided to stick around to continue helping with the next phase of the Doctor's work and had taken the job as a coach to help supplement his income.

It wasn't until after he started working at Avalon high school that he had seen a potential side perk that might both profit the Doctors secret but voluntary test program and the potential physical benefits the participants might garner.

Which brought the coach to the crux of their meeting and him making Matt an offer that was not just too good to be true, but nearly impossible to refuse.

                                                             <<<<O>>>>

As he had sat there, on the small, worn brown leather couch that sat against the far right side wall of the coaches office and the coach moved to sit in the chair behind his desk, first stopping to close the blinds to the large window that overlooked the football teams locker room. Matt couldn't help but enjoy the pervasively strong masculine scent that permeated and suffused the room, most of which, he guessed wafted through the side door that allowed the coach private access to the locker room.

He hadn't seen anyone in the locker room, but obviously, the coach didn't want prying, curious eyes or ears disturbing their conversation.

After finally taking a seat and folding his hands on top of his desk, a serious look of concentration subsuming his facial expressions, Coach Myers laid it all out for him.

He revealed his connection to Dr. Ventrov and the Doctor himself suggesting that he might enlist Matt's aid in the next planned phase and test trials of their latest volunteer's, in part because of his familiarity with the participants, that, and Dr. Ventrov felt that Matt was best suited to the task because of his working knowledge of the nature of his work.

Matt, of course, was a logical safe choice and his co-operation would mean not having to explain the persistent appearance of one of his other lab assistance presence at the school and though they weren't doing anything that was illegal and the four volunteers were fully aware of what they might expect from their involvement, what the Doctor had planned for Matt hadn't exactly been made clear, and would differ from their own participation.

At first, Matt had wrongly assumed that Dr. Ventrov had wanted his assistance in documenting results or possibly administering and tracking the supplements and dosages given each of the volunteers, and while he did want his help with that, he also wanted Matt to volunteer for a side project that would go hand in hand with the one planned for the four other subjects.

Matt had been cautiously dubious as Coach Myers explained the nature of the experiment, but Coach Myers tried to assuage his trepidation by explaining his own experience with the Doctor's treatments.

Two years ago, when he first began the initial trials and started a steady regimen of diet and exercise, all under the close supervision and direction of the Doctor, Coach Myers had weighed in at one hundred and seventy-five pounds and stood a height of five feet nine inches, in the course of just six months, he had grown and developed to his current size and status and had maintained it even after the cessation of the supplements.

The coach had told him that the initial formula used had some *minor* unexpected side effects, ones the coach seemed somewhat awkwardly reluctant to elaborate on while assuring Matt that the Doctor was hopeful, the latest incarnation of the formula would curtail some of those effects.

Visually, Matt could see the benefits that the supplements had on Coach Myers and he had been twenty-six when he began taking them and Matt had to wonder, that if it had that kind of effect on a fully grown and developed adult male, what kind of effectual outcome might they expect from younger males still in their developmental growth phase?

The coach had just smiled and said that was why this time around, they were going to proceed more cautiously and with lower doses.

He also revealed, they were less concerned with the potential growth as they were the increase in testosterone levels, something he himself had experienced and was now attempting to control through diet, exercise, and calming yoga meditation; which led him into Matt's participation.

The Doctor believed that because the increased production of testosterone was key in the developmental changes, that what they really lacked was a method in controlling or focusing that natural aggression, thinking he had finally come up with a viable solution, one that would dovetail nicely with the Pentagons expectations and potential usage of the supplements on new recruit volunteers.

Their focus had been solely on creating bigger, stronger fighters with increased stamina and drive, and while they had successfully achieved that goal, what they now lacked was a way to focus all those qualities and still maintain order and control.

As the coach rightly observed, what good was all the improvements if those changed by it were uncontrollably flying off in constant rages, or worse yet, defying orders?

It had been a particularly difficult conundrum and one the Doctor wasn't sure how to correct without removing all individuality of the test subject.

The Pentagon had been clear, the American people would never approve of their tax dollars being used to create an army of mindless, aggressive automatons out of their sons, fathers and brothers.

The idea for the solution had presented itself just a few months ago, while the Doctor had sat at home pondering his methodology and wondering if perhaps he should just scrap the project and start from scratch while a show on the animal planet played out across his TV screen.

The topic of the show had been the effects of pheromones to control or illicit certain behaviors between various animals through the use of scent alone.

It had been a eureka moment for the Doctor's research and that was exactly where they saw Matt coming in.

Doctor Ventrov had created a series of supplements and injections that would alter Matt's pheromone output and allow him a level of conscious control over it and hopefully, through it, over the other test subjects as well.

Matt, of course, had been completely dubious about making experimental changes in his body's chemistry and was, at the time, doubtful and reticent about his participation. That was until Coach Myers handed him the four folders on the other test subjects and he noticed the one right on top immediately: James Hatcher!

Having studied the effects of pheromones in his online college interim biology course, he knew the various and potential ways pheromones affected a plethora of species. They could induce fight or flight, some could transmit fear or even anger, but the most pervasive use of pheromones was the seduction of potential mating partners. Sex pheromones were common in most species including humans, though to a smaller degree. But Matt thought, what if....?

Matt knew it was juvenile to be concentrating and imagining James Hatcher submissively on his knees obeying his every command, but the thought stuck on replay in his head as he continuously pictured exactly that.

He didn't know or care if Coach Myers knew about his long association and history with Hatch, but the more Matt thought about it, the more he realized, that there was no way he could ever pass up the possibility of humbling the likes of James fucking Hatcher!

                                                              <<<<O>>>>

The weekend following Matt's meeting with Coach Myers, found him repeatedly going through the four folders of the perspective test subjects and of course, he quickly noticed that each of them were all close buddies to Hatch and each in their own way, to various degrees, had participated in Hatches relentless taunts and torments of not only himself but anyone else they deemed weaker or inferior, which was pretty much everyone.

Six feet one inch Lance Coleman was like the poster boy of what most would consider good looking, he was slighter of build than the others, something Matt would have dubbed a swimmers build, hairless, smooth and toned body, oval facial shape, blue-eyed, high cheekbones, short but perfectly quaffed golden blond hair and medium-full pouty lips. All in all a striking angelic-like appearance that belied his true nature, with a mouth that would make a drunken sailor cringe.

Five feet eleven-inch Hunter Milsbane was the dark-haired one of the quartet, who generally kept his head buzz cut, but seemed to always have a bad case of five o'clock shadow. He was a bit stockier than the others and had a fair amount of body hair for his eighteen years of age and his thick-lipped, larger than normal mouth and extra-wide flat nose and protruding heavy brow with a rather shallow forehead, made him the more thuggish looking of the group. Other than his dimwittedness, he seemed the least rowdy of them all. Matt was pretty sure that had more to do with his inability to grasp anything that extended beyond his own nose, empathy being a concept beyond his comprehension and he was far more likely to parrot what his buds said or did.

That left Steve Ramsey, or just Ramsey as most people addressed him. What could Matt say, at six feet four inches, Ramsey was stacked like a brick shit house and was probably the only one that spent more time in the team weight room than Hatch himself.

Of all the others, Steve probably came closest to Coach Myers in sheer body size and mass.... Ramsey's muscles seemed to have muscles and as the lead fullback on the team, he had no physical equal and always seemed to mow through any competition.

Of the four, he was also more Matt's type, look's wise anyway. Short cropped, light brown wavy hair, that he usually kept shaved on the sides, usually clean-shaven facially, but with a light covering of body hair except around his genitals and butt crack, where it seemed to grow unusually dense.

Steve also had a rather squared, blockish sort of head shape, with a wide chin and squared jawline with full pouty lips and dimples that made his face light up whenever he smiled, unfortunately, that wasn't very often.

His green, close-knit eyes, betrayed a steely, stern coldness, which, when coupled with his deep, gravelly voice, could intimidate even members of his own group. If there was a natural leader among them, Ramsey would easily be the observational pick, even Hatch seemed wary of him.

From Matt's perspective though, he was the one he had the least amount of interaction with. His attitude seemed more dismissive than belligerent. It was like he tolerated the others and was more likely than not to walk away or ignore them as they tormented or teased others, but he also did nothing to curb their behaviors either, which in Matt's book, made him no better than the rest of them.

There was one extra thing that set Ramsey apart, other than his massively muscular body, and that was his cock and balls, which Matt had caught a glimpse of, only once, and that had been over the summer when his best and only real friend Talia Brooks had practically twisted his arm to come hang out at a keg party her older brother was throwing while their parents were away visiting their mother's grandparents for a couple of days.

There was a large pond on the property and after dark, a number of the party-goers had thought it a good idea to go skinny dipping.

That had seemed the cue for both he and Talia to split and as they attempted to make their way back to her car, a number of the guys came shouting and streaking out of the side door of the small cabin, butt ass naked and Matt had practically walked right into an equally naked Steve Ramsey.

The light from the dusk till dawn light lit the entire area up and Matt got a very up close and personal look at Ramsey's junk when he practically bowled him over on his ass.

Talia, of course, shouted all sorts of profanities at him, and being both a little drunk and slightly surprised by the ferocity of her verbal assault, he had absentmindedly stood almost directly over Matt, before leaning over to pull him up on his knees, leaving Matt in the precarious position of having his face practically in Ramsey's fully exposed crotch.

It was a sight he would not soon forget!

The piece of meat that dangled pendulously between his legs had to be at least as thick as a Redbull can and hung nearly halfway, completely flaccid, down his thick, slightly hirsute thighs, draped over a pair of large lemon sized balls.

Matt could have stayed there forever staring at his meaty member had Talia not shoved Ramsey backward, screaming accusatorily at the top of her lungs: "Get your fucking dick out of his face asshole!"

He remembered how Steve had just shrugged his shoulders, before veering off around him, chasing after the others, before disappearing in the dark as he sat there, dumbfounded while Talia hurled obscenities after him.

As he sat there at his desk in his bedroom, remembering that, albeit, awkward moment, Matt couldn't help but notice the substantial bulge growing in his own sweatpants and he fought the urge to whip it out and stroke it, but fully aware that either his Dad or Mom or worse yet his older brother could come barging in at any moment.

Not that they did often, at least not his parents, but his brother often did, though usually through the shared bathroom door that conjoined their two rooms together.

Boundaries and privacy were two unknown quantities, where siblings were concerned and his older brother Brian lacked any sense of propriety or modesty.

Thankfully, being in college, Brian didn't normally spend a lot of time at home these days, this being one of the growing rare occasions he wasn't out with his girlfriend Merissa.

His brother wasn't a bad guy, a bit thick at times and sometimes a little skittish at any kind of physical contact between them especially after Matt came out as gay, not that there had been a lot of that between them beforehand, but it was still noticeable and a smidge awkward at times.

Matt always found that rather amusing considering Brian was a wrestler and that a good portion of his college tuition was being paid in part by a scholarship he had earned during high school.

Still, the thought of his brothers sometimes skittish behavior when they accidentally touched or brushed against each other, was completely comical considering he seemed to have little or no regard about parading around naked or nearly so, seldom even closing Matt's side of the bathroom door when he either went to take a leak or a shower.

Matt didn't really mind though. Over the years, like everything else, he had just gotten used to it.

                                                             <<<<O>>>>

Monday morning had come around faster than Matt would have thought and as three o'clock drew nearer and his sixth-period science class came to a close, Matt had begun to wonder if the coach had either forgotten about Matt or had decided against going through with the project altogether.

Matt knew, that despite the coach's claims and Dr. Ventrov's assurances, that what they were doing couldn't exactly be on the up and up, and he had begun to wonder if maybe they had reconsidered his involvement or that of the other four.

If what the doctor asserted came true and he was indeed able to greatly enhance the physical performances of the four football players, Matt had to wonder if that was in the best interest of those around them and he couldn't help be a little concerned about, not only his own safety but that of the other students attending Avalon High.

For most of the day, one phrase kept replaying over and over in his head: "Absolute power corrupts absolutely." and seeing as who the coach and Dr.Ventrov had selected, it didn't actually instill him with confidence that what they were doing wouldn't or couldn't backfire in the most horrible of ways.

After the three o'clock bell had rung and he stepped out of the classroom and headed toward his locker, Matt felt almost kind of relieved he had made it through the end of the day without hearing from Coach Myers.

As Matt finished uploading his backpack with the various books he would need at home later to do his homework, his thoughts turned toward Talia, who had asked him at lunch if he wanted to hit their favorite downtown bookstore/coffee shop and check out their latest releases.

Neither of them could afford the prices of new books, but they were always adding older ones to the bargain bin section and they were usually successful in finding at least one or two books of interest, that, and it was always a hoot hanging out with Talia.

Talia was like a perfect blend between Velma and Daphne from Scooby-Doo and she had often made a similar comparison about him concerning Freddie and Shaggy and they had even taken to calling her little blue Chevy Trailblazer The Mystery Machine.

Though neither of them was particularly interested in solving mysteries or dealing with the supernatural, Talia had a way of making even the most mundane task of her day seem like some great adventure, which was in keeping with their number one mantra: "What we don't know, we'll make up!", which was usually followed by Talia adding: "Only the names have been changed to persecute the guilty and of course the people we don't like, at any given time."

It was with that thought of seeking Talia out, that he closed his locker door only to be startled by the presence of Hunter Milsbane glowering vacuously back at him, as he leaned against the locker right next to his: "Coach said to fetch ya and bring your ass over to the gym PDQ!" he finally blurted out, before turning and stomping down the hallway toward the general direction of the gym, not once bothering to look back to see if he was following.

He stood there for a moment, staring after the disappearing form of Hunter Milsbane, still torn between saying fuck it all and going in search of Talia or heading to the gym, and then who knows what.

One thing did occur to him however, Coach had said, that it was Doctor Ventrov's intent to enhance and heighten Matt's ability to control his pheromone's, believing that eventually, Matt would then be able to control or at least strongly influence the other four and knowing who these particular four were and mindful of the bullshit they were already capable of, there was no way he could ever just allow them to run amok all hyped up on the doc's supplements without at least trying to level the playing field, that is if it worked at all.

                                                         <<<<<O>>>>>

"Earth to Matt!" He heard his lifelong best friend Talia Brooks muse as she waved her hand in front of his face in an attempt to draw him out of his own head.

It was Friday and Matt's mind was focused on one thing right now, waiting for that three o'clock bell signaling what was rapidly becoming one of his favorite chores, measurement day!

As he sat there in the school commons, absentmindedly nibbling on his half of the BMT sub that Talia had brought to share with him for lunch that day, he found it near impossible to focus on anything other than the task awaiting him after classes ended. Still, he tried to will himself back to the present and take in whatever Talia had been rambling on about.

"I'm sorry Talia, my heads all over the place today." he offered in lieu of the real reason he was so distracted.

"It's that after fucking school project again isn't it?" the disdain in her voice was unmistakable: "Seriously Matt, I know ya got that major drool thing happen'in for the new coach, Mr. Hunky MacHump-a -lot, but is it really worth it having to stomach even five minutes being around that walking talking douche-bag Hatch and his band of knuckle draggers?"

The sad part about what she was saying wasn't that she was just right, but that despite being true, he was still looking forward to it.

"It's not as bad as you think Talia, the coach is pretty good at keeping them in line." That was an exaggeration of course. While it was true Hatch and the others did manage to barely keep a lid on their usual tactics, the moment the coach would step away, their true nature would surface and almost always at his expense. But, after a month of their bullshit, Matt was either growing a thicker skin or what they thought just mattered less and less to him, either way, it didn't put a hamper on his enjoyment of his Friday duties.

Matt watched as Talia just shrugged her shoulders, and rolled her eyes at him before she thankfully let it drop and changed the topic: "As I was saying earlier, while you were zoned out in La La land, Blake Wiley was asking questions about you yesterday afternoon, while I was getting my tires rotated at his dad's shop."

Blake Wiley was of course the school gear head who worked at his dad's auto repair shop right on the outskirts of town. He was also Captain of the school baseball team, a bit of a loner socially and what Matt would have defined as your stereotypical man's man, the strong silent type, and most definitely not someone who had ever shown even the slightest bit of interest in him, or had ever shown that he even knew Matt existed, not in all the years they went to school together. Then again, what guy did?

Matt being gay, made him pretty much social poison among guys his own age, especially those he went to school with. He knew the unspoken bro code would have called into question any guys macho cred, if they so much as even acknowledged his existence as anything other than the school homo, let alone being seen hanging out with him, so it shouldn't have come as any surprise to Talia when Matt just responded with a simple: "Bullshit!" before quickly adding: "Its more likely he was buttering you up, because he knows we're best friends, just so he could earn brownie points." Matt scrunched his face up into a mocking kissy-face, concluding: "He's just another, in a long line of guys, just trying to get into your pants baby girl."

Talia punched him in the shoulder playfully before responding quizzically: "Is that why he was asking if you have a boyfriend or was seeing anyone?"

Matt just stared back at her dumbfounded, certain that she had just misinterpreted what he had actually said and putting her own spin on it. He loved Talia, but he also knew she was prone to hyperbole at times, plus, he shared two classes with Blake, even sat right in front of him in his fifth-period world studies class and he had never even so much as said boo to him, in all this time, why was now different?

"I still call bullshit Brooks and I might also add, its not very nice to tease your best friend like that," Matt said, giving her a stern scornful look.

Talia just glowered back at him, before mockingly responding with a hint of feigned indignation: "I guess that's it then, no point in you tagging along with Blake, Roger, and I when we go to the drive-in tonight."

Matt knew Roger Westlake was Talia's on again off again, go-to booty call, and quasi boyfriend, but he couldn't imagine why Blake Wiley would ever agree to something like that, especially if he knew Matt was going to be tagging along.

"Now I know your full of crap!" Matt blurted suspiciously, growing a little irate, certain this was some sort of setup because she had deluded herself into thinking someone like Blake Wiley would be on board with this, making Matt wonder if he even knew who she was trying to fix him up with and only being able to picture it all ending in total disaster with Matt's utter humiliation when her cack-handed machinations and matchmaking came boiling to the surface.

"Only one way to find out gay boy!" Talia concluded as she stood up to make her way back to the school building, smiling wickedly as she turned her head to look back over her shoulder at him: "Be ready to go by seven, that's when we'll be picking you up." she laughed as she walked away, stating just loud enough for him to hear as she walked away: "And for gawds sake, wear something nice for a change."

                                                            <<<<O>>>>

The rest of Matt's afternoon seemed to drag, he had even thought to try calling Talia's bluff by talking to Blake himself during their fifth-period class, but as he entered the class and headed toward his desk, Blake seemed preoccupied talking to the girl behind him and one of his buds in the other row beside them.

Not once, did Blake even take a sideways glance at him as he hovered by his desk, trying to build up the courage to just say high, but, before he could even stammer out a greeting, Mr. Kline, their teacher told them all to quiet down and take their seats and then proceeded to drop a pop quiz on them and Matt never even got out so much as a grunt the entire period.

Downtrodden and even more certain than before that Talia was full of it, Matt had zoned completely out during his sixth period.

It wasn't until he had entered the gym weight room and began gathering the tablet and measurement devices he used to electronically document the personal data Dr. Ventrov required, that his mood began to slowly shift.

There was just something about running his hands over the sweaty flesh and hardened muscles of four hyper-masculine guys, that just seemed to melt away whatever other problems he might have troubling his mind.

Still, he had whipped through both Hunter's and Lance's weekly physicals and was nearly finished with Ramsey's measurements, before the close-up sight of Ramsay's bloated, overstuffed jockstrap pouch finally distracted him enough to bring his head back down out of the cloudy morass that consumed his thoughts, that and Steve's deep gravely voice: "You 'bout done down there, I really want to hit the showers so I can get out of here."

The unexpected jolt of Ramsey's voice, as he knelt before him, his hands wrapped around one of his huge oaken thighs with a tape measure, made his left hand jerk away slightly, fully brushing the back of it against his overstuffed, sweaty jock, forcing him to blush and mumble a quick apology, and chancing a lookup into Steve's usually icy glare, but not this time.

Ramsey actually cracked a small smile back at him before stating: "It's kewl bro, just don't be do'in that to much. Here lately I've developed a bit of a hair-trigger and it don't take my boy parts much to rev 'em up and I don't think you want that happenin' while you got your face so close to 'em."

Matt was about to respond when the last of the four subjects entered the room, marking his presence by declaring boldly: "You're forgetting who you talkin' to bro?" Hatch high-fived Steve as Ramsey stepped over allowing Hatch to assume his place, glaring down at Matt with a huge sneer on his face, adding: "Fag boy here would probably love nuthin' more than coping a feel of that big ol' cunt wrecker of yours."

As Matt blushed furiously, he watched peripherally as Ramsey headed down the hall toward the shower room, laughingly stating over his shoulder as he did so: "If I don't get laid soon, he might just get the opportunity!"

Judging by the way Hatch was talking, Matt knew he could assume the coach was otherwise occupied and there was a slim chance of him overhearing Hatch's homophobic bullshit; something Coach Myers had made perfectly clear he wouldn't tolerate out of any of them, when Hatch had made the mistake, during their first meeting, over a month ago, when upon seeing him there with the coach, asked: "Why is that homo part of their group?"

Despite the coach's warning, however, Hatch still found opportunities to make his feelings known, that very moment being a perfect example.

Still, Matt had a job to do and whether Hatch took it seriously or not, he did, as he picked up his tablet and started running down the questionnaire James had to answer so Matt could fill in his responses.

Luckily, Hatch seemed to settle down as they ran through it all, giving his usual pert, short answers, without the usual snarkiness.

They had just finished up, and Matt went to grab his tape measure when Ramsey came back, and after quickly dressing and telling Hatch to give him a call later, he exited leaving the two of them completely alone for the first time since this all began.

Matt tried to be as nonchalant as he could as he began taking and documenting the various measurements, and as usual, being impressed with the substantial gains in both muscle size and density.

All of them had shown great gains in size overall, noting that each, in varying degrees had not only been packing on muscle, but all of them had even begun to grow in height as well, with Ramsey and Hatch gaining the most.

The Doctor had speculated that it might have something to do with both of them spending more time working out than the others.

Matt had changed too, nothing like theirs, but he had noticed a distinct increase in his olfactory senses, smells had become far more distinct and identifiable and detectable over greater distances.

His chest had expanded a little and of course, the first thing that was noticeable was the size and firmness of his butt, something both his Mom and Dad had made comments on, his Mom wondering if maybe he was working to hard and his Dad defending him, winking at him from across the kitchen table as he explained how boys his age tended to grow in spurts to his concerned mother.

There were other things too, but they were harder to pin down and Doctor Ventrov seemed reluctant to hazard a guess, leaving Matt with the dubious and distinct feeling he wasn't exactly being completely straightforward about what he knew or suspected. Still, Matt had to say, he felt pretty damn good overall.

Matt had just finished measuring Hatch's inside arms length and chest diameter, which he had trouble reaching around without practically hugging him when Hatch chuckled slightly: "Bet you just love having your face buried in my sweaty T-shirt don'tch'ya?"

Trying to just ignore him, Matt dropped down on one knee, trying to avoid eye contact as much as possible. It wasn't that Hatch was wrong, it was just that there was no way Matt was going to admit to it.

Feeling a certain tension building between them, Matt decided it was probably best to just get this over with as fast as possible, only needing Hatch's thigh and calf measurements and his inside seem length.

As Matt encircled his right calf with the measuring tape, he began running the monthly totals in his head.

Overall, for both him and Ramsey it was like they both had proportionally expanded a total of a little over an inch. Not just in height, but girth as well.

Hatch's calf had measured just around eighteen inches at the beginning of the month, the same as his biceps, but now it measured at nineteen and a quarter, again, the same as the biceps. Even his chest had increased in girth by the same factor.

Hatch's overall height went from 6 feet exactly to 6 feet one and a quarter inch and his weight had jumped from two hundred and two pounds to just shy of two hundred and fourteen, all of it appears to be solid muscle.

Matt had also noticed that the number of weights they used in the gym had gone up substantially, as well as the number of reps they each did.

Pondering the stats and the current growth ratios, Matt almost subconsciously had wrapped the cloth tape around the widest part of James's thigh, his one hand resting flatly against his firm muscle taut skin as he entered the numbers with the other into his tablet.

He let the one end of the tape drop to the floor as he clasped the other end between his thumb and forefinger and maneuvered it up Hatch's inner thigh, right up to where his taint began.

Matt could feel the bulging heat of Hatch's bloated jock pouch press against the back of his hand and as he looked from the floor measurement to the one that met his crotch, Matt's eyes finally took in the fullness of Hatch's jockstrap.

He didn't mean to stare, but to a gay guy like Matt, the sight was nearly hypnotic.

Matt was no virgin, he had fooled around with a couple of guys before, even went as far as getting fucked for the first time this last summer, during their family's yearly vacation trip to the beach.

But neither of the guys he had ever fooled around with, were built anything like Hatch, or any of the other guys in the program, and judging by the growing bulge in Hatch's now straining pouch, they hadn't measured up in another significant way.

Hatch's snarky, mocking voice quickly brought him back to reality: "Like whatchya see faggot?"

The reddening blush that swept across his face didn't stop there, it felt like his entire body now flushed a rosy crimson as he chanced a quick glance into the steely blue eyes staring icy daggers down at him, a lascivious smirk on his face.

Matt's first instinct was to pull away and climb to his feet and pretend nothing had really happened, but before he could make a move, Hatch's right hand shot down and caught his left wrist, the one still holding the end of the measuring tape: "I think you should take one more measurement." Hatch insisted, pulling Matt's hand closer to his crotch.

Like a moth to a flame, Matt watched as Hatch used his other hand to pull back the pouch of his straining jockstrap.

Jerking back slightly, as the contents of his jock plopped out into full view, his thick rigid meat nearly slapping against his chin. Matt gawked at it in mesmerizing fascination.

From the bulbous, fully exposed, nearly lavender-hued glistening glans to the veiny thick shaft, right down to the girthy base, Hatch's dick was a work of wonder.

Not even in his favorite porn vids had he ever seen such an impressive display of pure, unadulterated masculinity on display. The thing pulsated and throbbed visibly with each beat of his heart, causing Matt to lick his lips subconsciously in anticipation, his mouth watering with desire and with an unquenchable hunger and need to wrap the velveteen tip of his schlong with his already gaping lips and swaddle it with his wet tongue.

Matt could feel Hatch draw his hand closer to his prick, felt it as he wrapped Matt's fingers around his beefy shaft, his fingers barely meeting around its girthy rigidity: "Stop droolin' fag boy and measure it." he heard James growl, deep and throaty, his voice thick with lust and need.

Obediently, Matt found his hands shakily moving, almost of their own accord as he pressed the tape end against the top side of his shaft, right against his hairy groin, and stretched it out to the palpitating, helmet-shaped tip, his hesitant, stammering voice pronouncing the results with a nearly hushed, reverential solemnity.

Matt's mental image of himself, kneeling there, like some novitiate postulant, worshiping at the altar of Hatch's divine, unapologetic masculinity, made his entire body shudder and quiver, not just with nervous anxiety, but with a profound hunger and desire to please the possessor of such a nearly divine sepulcher of pure phallic perfection and virility.

Somewhere, deep within his rooted subconsciousness, Matt's mind had correlated his being gay with the first man who had made him realize that he was, and despite his experiences since, or maybe as a result of it, kneeling there at Hatch's feet, his big pulsating nine and a half inch dick firmly grasped in his left hand, felt like it was the only place he had ever wanted or was meant to be.

Matt was suddenly brought back to reality as Hatch jerked away from his grasping hand, spouting contemptuously and with a sadistic chuckle: "Silly faggot, don't you know, dick's are for chicks!"

It was more of a declaration than a question, but it still caused him to blush furiously with embarrassment as he watched Hatch spin around, whipping off his sweat-stained T-shirt and pealing out of his jockstrap before grabbing a towel out of his locker.

Matt awkwardly shuffled to his feet, not knowing if he should be angrier at Hatch or with himself and still trying to decide which was more prevalent, when Hatch whirled to face him as he threw his towel over his shoulder, arrogantly regarding him up and down, like he was appraising and assessing his handiwork, before boldly proclaiming: "I'm hittin' the showers, if you a good little faggot, I might let you wash the sweat off my balls."

With that, he tossed Matt a bar of soap he had pulled out with his towel, before turning once again, and cockily sauntering down the dimly lit corridor to the communal showers.

Matt stood there for a moment, his mouth agape as he tried to summon a witty, sarcastic retort, but being unable to muster so much as a stutter or anything other than a frustrating groan as he stared after him. Even worse, he still felt compelled to follow after him, to give in to his baser need, wants and hunger, to satiate the burning desire deep within, that still yearned and called for him to sacrificially offer himself up in token submission to a physically superior male.

Inexorably, Matt felt his body pull him toward the shower room, subsuming his reason and sense of self-preservation, regarding each shaking step forward an aching act of traitorous submission in what he knew would be an admission of subservience to a bloviating despot who would do nothing more than heap one abusive demand after another on him in a never-ending cycle of use and abasement, fostered only by an innate and hedonistic hunger for physical and carnal gratification at the hands of a sadistic, facile throwback whose pervasive, an egotistical ideology that gleaned him the superior alpha male worthy of the supplication and worship of those he deemed inferior.

Matt knew all this, felt it with every fiber of his being, yet still, his feet moved him obediently toward it, drawn like the lamb toward sacrifice and the potential slaughter of what was left of his dignity.

Rounding the corner into the main shower, Matt instantly caught sight of Hatch in all his glistening glory as a steady spray of water cascaded over the majestic bounty of his muscular form.

As he timidly approached, the bar of soap in hand, like an acolyte seeking absolution through punitive communion with his deity, he waited, with bated breath, to perform his penance through the emulation and adoration of the living embodiment of masculinity that baptized himself in spouting gust of water made holy and sanctified by the absorption of the sweaty patina that adorned his sacred flesh in a musky, virile vestment.

"Ya just gonna stand there gawking ya stupid fucking queer..." Hatch sneered, the right corner of his mouth drawn up into a sardonic grimace as he side-eyed him from over his right shoulder, his back to him, adding: "Or are ya gonna scrub my back like a good little faggot?"

Matt fought the urge to lash out at him as he watched his hands dip into the water to wet the soap Hatch had given him, before he tentatively touched his upper shoulders, where they joined his bull-like neck and began gently massaging, with his soapy fingers, spreading it out across his broad muscle rippling back.

In those few moments, where his nimble digits danced over Hatch's firm but yielding flesh, kneading the swollen muscles of his statuesque perfection, Matt lost himself in the performance of his task, realizing, at that moment, there was nothing else he would rather be doing, even as he knelt down to run the gathering creamy froth with the palms of his hands over his rock hard glutes and oaken thighs.

Matt could feel his own cock pulsate against the straining fabric of his workout shorts as he lovingly molded his hands over the glorious mounds of Hatch's buttocks, building his courage, before allowing the edge of one hand to slip between his slightly furred crack until his lubricated fingertips grazed provocatively over the tight puckered ring of his anus.

Instantly, Hatch swung around, his fat, turgid cock slapping against Matt's left cheek with a resounding thud as Hatch glowered down at him, his face contorted into a wicked grimace: "Paws off the turd factory dipshit..." Hatch cautioned, his voice a mixture of mild amusement and stern severity, before reaching down and yanking Matt to his feet and shoving his face into his right armpit: "For that, you can lick the stink right out of my pits with your fucking tongue!"

He knew he should have been repulsed, but the heady musk of Hatch's hairy pit wafted into his nostril's causing his eyes to nearly roll back into his head at the initial intake of his pungent aroma.

Bereft of choice and an unquenchable need to savor the smells that washed over and filled his senses, Matt found himself mindlessly obeying as his tongue darted out and began swabbing his hirsute cleft.

After a few moments, Hatch yanked him back by his hair, and practically spat in his face: "I think fag boy likes my stink dont'ch'ya?" Again, it was more of a declaration than a question, ending with Hatch concluding: "Good thing I got another one for ya to enjoy!"

Hatch practically rammed his face into his other pit and began grinding his mouth against the coarse hairs, commanding him to lick it nice and clean.

Matt did as he was instructed, both appalled and completely turned on by both his gruffness and the heady masculine stench of his hairy sweat trench, lapping ferociously, licking away and swallowing the preponderance of pungent perspiration.

After a few minutes and seemingly satisfied with his performance of his duty, Hatch laughingly pulled him back, his face a mask of lascivious mockery as he shoved Matt down on his knees before reaching over and shutting the showerhead off while still maintaining his fist full of Matt's hair in his large hand.

"Ya did such a nice job on my pits, I've decided to let ya do the same thing to my big ol' hairy balls..." Hatch said coyly, as he plunged Matt's head into his crotch and began rubbing his bloated nads against his nose and mouth and generally grinding them all over his face, his fat dong bouncing suggestively against the top and sides of his head as he did so: "Do a good job fag and I might give ya big reward!" Matt heard him chuckle, just as he reached down and gathered his nutsack between his forefinger and thumb with one hand and forcing Matt's mouth open with the fingers of the other and stuffing his plum size testicles into his mouth.

"Ya look like a fucking chipmunk." Hatch chortled as he appraised his handiwork, staring down at him with his icy cold blue eyes, baring his teeth in a toothy, wicked smile: "Clean 'em real good and I might let you become my official ball washer, wouldn't ya really like that Matty?"

Hatch didn't wait for a response, not that Matt could with his mouth stuffed to near bursting with his bull sized balls stuffed into his overstuffed orifice, instead, he just tightened his hold on the hair on the top of his head and nodded it up and down in faux agreement, musing haughtily: "I knew you'd see it my way, all you fags dream about being able to suck the sweat off a real man's balls."

Hatch started laughing again as he ground Matt's face into his hairy groin as Matt did the unthinkable, by finding himself responding and doing exactly what Hatch commanded; licking and sucking the prodigious gonads subsuming his mouth, gulping down mouthfuls of spit with a few strands of ball hair and residual testicular perspiration.

Matt couldn't explain why he was doing it, any more than he could explain why his own dick was throbbing in the confines of his shorts. All he knew for a certainty was that he couldn't stop himself and probably wouldn't, even if he could. There was just something about both the person he was with and his disjointed recognition that this was the guy that made him realize he was gay in the first place that seemed somehow fitting. Dovetailing his past with his present in a sort of cathartic, mutual acceptance of who and what he was.

Matt sucked obediently, swabbing Hatch's balls with broad, almost loving strokes of his tongue, enticing them to relinquish their pungent muck and allow him to swipe it away in gulping swallows until they were perfectly clean of all but his drooling spittle.

Hatch had taken to resting his upper back against the cool tiles of the locker room shower as Matt adoringly worshiped his huge nuts as the otherwise silent room echoed faintly of their increasing moans and satisfying groans.

After an indeterminable amount of time passed by, Hatch looked down at Matt, haphazardly plucking his now tight, swollen, spit-soaked balls from his still suckling mouth.

Grunting his satisfaction, Hatch mused: "Now that we know what a good ball washer you are, let's see how good you are at knob polishing pussy lips."

Matt didn't have time to protest, he barely had time to draw a deep breath before James jabbed the blunt end of his drooling phallus past his lips and into the back of his throat causing Matt to gag instantly at its invasive girth.

The head alone was about as thick as a large lemon and it ground tightly against his uvula, crushing it tightly against the roof of his sinus cavity, blocking all air intake.

He tried to pull away from the invading organ, but Hatch had a vice-like grip on the back of his head and neck holding him securely in place as he continuously poked and fished around using his massive glands, to find purchase into the awaiting depths of his esophagus.

In the end, all Matt could do was to latch onto and tightly grip the massive steely mounds of James's buttocks and squeeze as hard as he could, just as Hatch found its opening and plunged to the balls into his spasming throat.

Hatch groaned from somewhere deep in his chest, issuing words like a rolling rumble of grunts: "Damn faggot, no girl has ever been able to take my fat dick down her throat before, if I knew what a good cocksucker you were, I'd been pounding my pud down your fuckin' sweet mouth pussy years ago!"

His words met with only gurgles and coughing grunts as Matt struggled for air, knowing full well the only reason he couldn't hurl the last vestiges of his lunch, was because Hatch had his entire throat blocked with his bloated staff.

Undeterred by Matt's feeble protestations, Hatch began a slow rhythmic motion, pulling the helmet-shaped head of his dong just to the back of his throat, allowing only the thinnest of a wisp of air to be sucked past it before plunging back into its fullest depths with Hatch incessantly grinding his wiry pubes against his lips and nostrils.

Hatch's speed slowly picked up and it wasn't long before he was practically slamming his pelvis against Matt's overly stretched lips, smashing his nose into his furry pubes with each inward thrust.

"Gawd dayam, you fuckin' queer you can suck a dick!"James growled furiously, stepping up his tempo and an endless stream of profanities: "Mutha fuck fag slut, take it bitch."

Matt was too lost in his own head to pay him any notice, a semi could have crashed through the wall and it would have had less impact on him as Hatch's pile driving pecker had as he incessantly ravaged his mouth and throat, leaving Matt to feel like he was nothing more than a rag doll in the stalwart youths oral rampage.

Without preamble or warning, after a few grueling minutes, Hatch slammed a final time into his esophagus, his turgid rod tensing and pulsating as his big balls ground against his chin.

Matt chanced a look up Hatch's heaving abdomen, and through his watery eyes he could see his head thrown back and his mouth wide open, his face a howling silent grimace as the first blast of jetting jism splashed into the deepest depths of his throat.

The thick ropes of hot sperm nearly scalding the delicate membranes of his oral cavity as it gushed forcibly into his gullet, Matt did his best to gulp his viscous goo down as fast as possible and just as he thought he was going to pass out from a lack of oxygen, he felt Hatch's tight grip on his head lesson slightly as the near-endless flow ebbed to a steady drool from the tip of his palpitating glans, pulling back slowly until the wide girth of his coronal ridge popped past his constrictive cavity until only the massive glans remained in his mouth.

Matt sucked in deep breaths through his nose as he continuously suckled the still drooling head of Hatch's dong, finding he was actually savoring the tasty pungent starchy mix of sweet and salty juices.

Once again, Matt chanced a brief glance up Hatch's torso, his eyes meeting James's just as a broad evil grin split his face and a snarling retort escaped his twisted curling lips: "Did ya think I was done ya stupid faggot?"

His words barely registered to Matt as Hatch's grip once again tightened on his head and Hatch rammed Matts face into his hairy crotch, his legs stepping over Matt's shoulders as his massive muscular thighs crushed his head between them and Hatch began relentlessly pounding his burgeoning schlong rapid-fire into his mouth.

Matt was forced back until he rested on his forearms, all the while Hatch jack-hammered into his aching throat and esophagus, kneeling down into a crouch, using the full force of his hips and thighs to pound relentlessly into his ravaged maw.

There were no thoughts left in Matt's head, he was nothing more than a sucking hole wrapped around Hatch's raping dick, plundering in abject wanton abandon as he assailed him yet again in a steady stream of profanities: "Gawd dayam fukin' queer faggot eat my fuckin' cock like the little fukin' pussy ass homo you really are!"

Matt responded with a never-ending stream of frothy gurgles as Hatch bruised his lips and chin with the might of his pounding steely pole and the jaw-jarring smacks of his tight engorged balls.

"You fukin wanted this you pole smokin' pansy, now take it like the cock goblin' little queer as faggot you've dreamed of being since you first laid eyes on my fukin redneck alpha dick!"

Hatch might as well have been speaking in a foreign language as far as Matt was concerned, all that mattered to him was the joyous rapture he felt at completely surrendering to his violent berserk frenzy.

Matt felt like Hatcher was pouring his strength, his passions into him and it made him swoon into a deep fugue-like state, the raw swollen tissue of his abused and ravaged throat was transformed into the perfect sheath for James's stabbing fleshy sword as Matt's membranous oral tissues salivated copiously, gushing around the base of his massive six-inch girth to flow into a heaping puddle of frothy mucous down his chin, throat, chest, and sides, to finally pool on the tiled floor below them.

Matt wasn't the only one who felt it, Hatch sensed the very moment Matt completely surrendered to him, the very instant his mouth succumbed and became the pussy mouth he had willed him to be and it clicked something deep and primordial throughout his consciousness, an animalistic release of pure and unfettered, carnal dominance that exploded from the base of his swelling cock to explode in a maelstrom of rocketing blast that sent his body into a quivering, shaking mass of uncontrollable ecstasy, reducing James Hatcher into a mumbling, blubbering mass of mindless euphoric bliss: "My fukin' pussy ... my fag hole... mine ..." he repeated over and over again as wave after tsunamic wave of jetting jizz erupted from his fleshy canon, practically pissing cum into the suckling recesses of Matt's all-consuming mouth.

For what seemed like minutes, Hatcher deluged Matt's throat with torrents of thick, ropy, hot sperm, nearly twice as much as the first time, his balls a tight pulsating mound of contractions, dredging their depths of every single drop of virile, potent seed stored within to blast within the confines of the undulating sheath of Matt's pharynx.

Time seemed to stand still as they succumbed to their various roles, each filling his portion to the completion and fulfillment of the other and as the last dregs of seminal juices belched into Matt's suckling maw, a completely sated James Hatcher, slowly began to extricate the glistening expanse of his softening schlong, until the bloated head slipped from Matt's mouth with a resounding pop that echoed off the tiled walls of the Avalon Stallions locker room showers.

With Matt staring wantonly back up at him, still smacking his lips hungrily, James Hatcher reached down and patted his head like he would a pet dog: "Damn fine blowjob cocksucker..."He huffed, in between gasp for breath: "Who knows, if you keep being a good little faggot, I might let ya do it again."

Matt didn't doubt that part in the slightest, he knew that despite all the macho bluster, now that Hatch had a taste of true passion, he'd be back again and again and before long, with what he suspected now, there would come a time that James fuckin' Hatcher would beg him for his services.

Matt forced himself to his feet and began stripping off his soiled clothing, noting the gooey mess in his own shorts when he shot his load while Hatch assaulted his throat that second time and as he turned the shower on, he watched peripherally as Hatch exited the shower room, shouting over his shoulder: "Don't drop the soap faggot, save that for next time."

Matt just shook his head, a faint grin on his lips as he heard Hatch chuckle all the way down the corridor, back to the locker room.
 

                                                              CHAPTER TWO:
 

 

 "You're gonna smoke a turd in purgatory for that one beeyatch."

Matt was freaking out as he hit send on that last message, responding back to his future ex-best friend Talia Brooks who had just texted him to join her at lunch, that she had news about his *lover boy* Blake Wiley.

It had been five days since that bizarre *double date* when she had fixed him up with Blake Wiley last Friday.

It had gone pretty much as he had expected it to. Actually, that wasn't true, he hadn't really fully expected Blake to even be there, and though it had been a rather complete shock when she showed up at his house Friday, a little after seven PM to pick him up, that he found Blake Wiley was indeed sitting in the back seat of the Mystery Machine giving him a rather subdued, half grin and a "hey wuzzup" as he slid into the back seat next to him.

As for the rest of the evening? Awkward couldn't begin to describe it.

By the time they made it to the drive-in, found a spot to Talia's liking, and got settled in, he was already feeling like the odd man out, and not having a clue what to say or how to fit into the constant banter between Blake and Roger, who continuously talked about slammed out rice burners with slush boxes compared to full stick growlers with phat ass-end cans.

It got to the point that he thought that maybe Roger should have been sitting where he was since he and Blake seemed to have more in common and with far more interest in each other than either him or Talia.

An observation Talia seemed to share causing her to finally groan loudly: "Bored now!" right before getting out of the vehicle and asking Matt if he wanted to hit the concession stand with her so the boys could have some *quality time alone to seal their bromance.*

It came as little surprise when the guys filed in right beside them, with Roger throwing his arm around Talia's shoulder and offering up a tepid: "Sorry babe" while leaving Matt and Blake to walk pensively a few steps behind them.

Matt had hoped the awkwardness would end between him and Blake when Blake ordered a large tub of popcorn for the two of them and a couple of soft drinks. But despite Matt's best efforts to strike up a conversation with Blake, all he seemed to manage to get from him was a few grunts, a couple of uh-huh's, and a few furtive, side-eye glances for his trouble. That was, until later, during the middle of the movie when their hands accidentally met in the popcorn tub, and instead of yanking his hand away, as Matt had half expected him to, they sort of tentatively lingered, just long enough for Matt to realize it wasn't just incidental, which was confirmed when Blake set the half-empty tub down on in his lap and rest his left hand right up against Matt's.

To Matt's chagrin, they actually did the side by side pinky dance thing, before Blake's hand gently crossed over his right hand and gripped it gently.

The sheer juvenile adolescent ridiculousness of it kind of both amused and endeared him to the fiddly unwieldiness of the situation. That and the fact, during the entire thing, Blake either feigned a deep interest in what was happening on screen at the time or he was genuinely engrossed by the two teenage female leads discussing how stupid boys were.

Either way, Matt doubted either Talia or Roger could have told anyone what the movie was even about since they seemed far more interested in sucking each other's faces and groping each other, rather than who did what in the B grade dramadey playing out right in front of them.

Though little else happened between him and Blake that night, it was still far more than Matt had expected. He would have considered it at least a minor plus if it wasn't for the fact that Blake seemed to go right back to ignoring him every day at school, despite him making several attempts's to engage him in casual conversation in their two shared classes, where he was met with the usual "uh-huhs" or "Did you say sumthin'?" if he bothered responding at all.

Hardly indicative of someone who was supposedly interested in him, and more than perplexing when Talia had told him Blake said he had a good time and was up for doing it again sometime.

"Thanks, but no thanks..." Matt huffed in-between bites of his baloney and mustard sandwich during lunch Wednesday afternoon while sitting across from a very animated and vexed Talia who was trying her best to get him to agree to a second date with Blake.
"Did you ever stop to think that maybe he's just really shy?" Talia fumed back at him, before adding: "It's not like you have other boys lining up at your front door dude."

Wishing she would just drop it, Matt retorted: "If Blake wants a second date then he can ask himself" adding with a hint of annoyance in his voice: "Minus the live sex show chaperones this time around, thank you very much!"

"Well, at least I'm getting some, which is more than I can say for someone else I know!" Talia bristled back at him, throwing all the side-eyed shade she could muster.

Matt had to catch himself from nearly spouting his after-class experience with James Hatcher back at her, realizing what a really bad idea that would have been if she even slightly suspected what had transpired between them last Friday.

Which was something else that was annoying Matt. He had encountered Hatch several times that week and not so much as a peep out of him about what they did, not even his usual demeaning banter he always found a way of snidely slipping in when the coach wasn't looking during their afternoon workouts.

"Well excuse me for not being as big a ho as you are Ms.Thang." Matt chuffed back at her.

Talia burst out laughing: "Who do you think your kidding, you'da had half the dicks in this school if they weren't all so afraid of their buddies thinking they were big ol mo's for do'in it."

Matt just grinned back at her before noting glibly: "Right now, I'd settle for just one."

Frowning slightly, nodding her head, Talia queried: "Then why not give Blake one more shot, what do you have to lose?"

Matt looked down at his half-eaten sandwich, shaking his head side to side, before looking up at her: "I've already stated my conditions, Talia, I'm not going to change my mind about this, no matter how many times you bat your eyes at me."

Talia slammed her right hand down on the table, before grabbing her books and getting up: "Then I guess I better get to work plying my charms on Mr. Wiley then!" offering Matt one last wink and a cocky smile before heading off, back toward the school.

                                                             <<<<<>>>>>


The afternoon droned along as per usual. If Talia had *plied her charms* on Blake Wiley before their fifth-period social studies class, they had been ineffectual, evidenced by his usual lack of acknowledgment of his very existence.

The fact that Blake wouldn't even make eye contact with him when he said hi as he went to sit down in his usual spot right in front of him, had rubbed Matt the wrong way that afternoon, and instead of sitting there, he decided to go across the room to the far side and take up a vacant seat in front of one of the windows, and began enjoying the view, not even bothering to glance over to see if Blake had even noticed the change.

It was while sitting there, staring off into the distance, lost in his own thoughts, that Matt slowly became aware of the subtle changes in himself.

Normally he would be obsessing and judging himself over something like Blake ignoring him, and while he didn't know whether it was a result of the very visible changes his body was undergoing due to his new exercise regime or the cumulative effect of the supplements Dr. Ventrov had been giving him, it seemed Matt's whole outlook was changing, and things like Blake Wiley ignoring him, as usual, just seemed somehow less important.

By the end of his fifth-period class, as far as Matt was concerned, it was Blake's loss and he wasn't going to waste his time giving it another thought.

Matt's newfound sense of self-confidence continued right on through the rest of the afternoon, even into his workout routine after classes.

He didn't usually do much in the weight room with the rest of the guys, preferring the more aerobic ones the coach had set up for him, but today's boost in self-esteem had motivated him to try out a couple of the weight machines the four other guys weren't using at the time.

It was while he was trying out the seated leg curl machine that he noticed all the other guys had stopped and been checking him out, that is until he stopped to stare back at them, causing the four to break out laughing before returning to their own routines, with one exception...

James Hatcher sat right across from him using the lat pull-down machine, pumping away shirtless, covered in a thick patina of sweat, wearing only a loose pair of red gym shorts as he smiled back at him with his usual cocky sneer supplanting his facial expressions.

The difference today, however, Matt stared back, all the while daydreaming how much better the whole scenario would be if Hatcher was completely naked while he pumped away at the overhead bar.

To Matt's surprise, a few seconds later, Hatch scooted himself to the edge of the bench and while never missing a beat as he furiously pumped at the lat bar overhead, he had spread his legs wide and thrust his crotch over the end of the bench causing his cock and balls to flop out through the leg hole of his skimpy shorts, fully exposing his large, hefty genitals to him, all the while leering lasciviously back at him.

Matt didn't even give the pretense of looking away, he continued enjoying the view, taking it in, grinning back at Hatch, licking his lips suggestively as he also continued to pump away at the leg machine, thinking all the while he would enjoy nothing more than crawling across the floor right now and not only stuffing his fat, limp dick into his mouth and suck it to life, but also imagined himself licking every drop of sweat off his glistening, muscular jock bod.

But, as luck would have it, Coach Myers chose that moment to come sauntering into the room, clipboard in hand and announcing loudly it was time to wrap things up and hit the showers.

By the time Matt thought to shoot a look back at Hatch, he had already tucked his junk away, out of sight, and seemed to have lost all interest as he proceeded to completely ignore Matt altogether, making a beeline for the locker room with the others.

Matt was so horny, he was half tempted to follow after them while trying to imagine some way he could corner Hatcher alone and stuff that big dick down his throat and suck every drop of nut juice out of his big bloated hairy redneck balls.

But once again, Coach Myers had other ideas and motioned for Matt to join him in his office.

Matt could barely contain his frustration as he nearly stomped his way after the coach, stopping only long enough to snatch up a towel to dry his sweating brow with, before tossing it over his shoulder and resuming his trek to the coaches office.

Without even bothering to shut the office door or seek permission to sit down, Matt plopped himself unceremoniously onto the leather couch of to the side, where he usually sat when they had one of these little confabs.

If the coach had noticed his agitated state, he was choosing to ignore it as he rummaged through some paperwork on his desk looking for something, leaving Matt to study and enjoy the sight of the muscle stretched fabric of his white pullover short-sleeved shirt and skin-tight, dark blue, mid-thigh poly-blend shorts, from behind.

It still amazed Matt, that such thin fabrics could contain or restrain from view the steely chords of such primed and massively pumped muscle, and for the second time that day, he found himself wondering what it would be like to crawl over to someone on his hands and knees and worship at the altar of his sublime masculinity, wishing for nothing more than to rip those clothes off for the presumptive offense of daring to conceal such sculpted perfection.

As the coach leaned across his desk in his continued search, his huge glutes, hamstrings, quads, and calve muscles bulged obscenely, practically beckoning Matt to bury his face between his melon-sized, massive bubble-butt and lose himself inside his musky, hirsute trench.

Once again and all to quickly, Coach Myers interrupted his sordid reverie by whipping around suddenly and thrusting a folder in his direction, before leaning his ass against his desk with his arms folded over his chest while his ruggedly handsome face stared down at him with a cocky half-grin: "Things have been progressing so well, the Doc and I've decided to start expanding the scope of the focus group to include the entire senior football team next semester."

Matt knew, without looking at the list in the preface of the folder, that it would expand their number to twelve in total, and while coming as no surprise, he did find himself wondering once again, how they were expecting him to keep a handle on all these guys when he still couldn't even engage the four they had in a simple conversation.

The coach must have guessed what he was thinking, responding, before he could even vocalize his concerns: "The Doc's follow-up evals have revealed you've nearly reached the threshold where he feels you should now start being able to exert some low-level controls. I've decided to start you on some one on one meditations with each of the guys in a secured room I've set up in an old equipment supply storage next to the weight room, so you can practice on your focus and see if you can hone and develop your skills.

After handing him the folder, Coach waved him off toward the open door as he swung around to his desk to take a seat, indicating their meeting was over, and as Matt got up and crossed the room and nearly made it through the doorway, the Coach shouted after him: "I've scheduled Hunter for your first session tomorrow directly after your classes, so be prepared to stay over a little longer than usual."

Matt felt a little surge of anxiety sweep over him at the thought of being sealed alone with Hunter Milsbane in a supply room and began to wonder if maybe, just maybe if he hadn't bitten off more than he could chew.

                                                                <<<<<>>>>>


Laying there spread across his bed, absentmindedly tapping the eraser of his number two pencil against the tip of his nose, studying the various mental focus techniques outlined in the folder the coach had given him, Matt nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt and heard the sound of his buzzing phone next to him.

Snatching it up quickly, knowing full well there could be only one person who would be calling him at nearly six-thirty in the evening, he didn't even look at the flashing name on the screen of his cell phone: "Hiya Talia wuzzup?" he mused, as he still perused the tantric guide section of the folder, before nearly shooting his phone hand fully out at the loud screech emanating from his phone: "What did you do to Blake?"

Matt scrunched his nose up, giving his phone a quizzical stare as he flipped it to speaker mode, responding: "I didn't DO anything..." he began, adding quickly: "Other than change seats in our fifth-period class after he completely ghosted me after I said hi to him."

"Did you ever think he might not have heard ya dipshit, cause he was pretty upset when I talked to him.." she paused for a second before adding: "He thinks you hate him, said you charged right out of class afterward and wouldn't even look at him."

That was rich, Matt thought to himself, rolling his eyes before saying: "Talia, he's ignored me all week long, never saying so much as boo the entire time, if he's upset by what I did, then that's just to f'ing bad"

He could hear her huffing over the phone, building up to one of her usual rants: "Listen, Talia, I'm busy right now and I am so over this whole Blake BS, so unless there's something else you wanna discuss, I'm gonna get back to it."

Matt knew he was giving her the bums rush, but he also knew that if he stayed on the phone with her, she would try to guilt-trip him into agreeing to whatever she was cooking up in her little matchmaking scheme and he just wasn't in the mood for it and just told her he'd see her tomorrow, saying goodbye and hung up.

He hoped she wouldn't be too pissed, but he also needed her to respect his boundaries. As far as Matt was concerned, the whole Blake thing was settled but he also knew what Talia could be like when she built up a head of steam and he found himself wondering if that's exactly what was happening with Blake.

At this point, he could just imagine her getting it in her head that the two of them would make a cute couple and so now she was doing her level best to push Blake into something he didn't really want and the poor guy was just feeding her lines just to get her off his back.

Either way, he was done, dusted and over it all, and had better things to do with his time than to pine after some straight guy Talia had in her head she could fix him up with.

Luckily, his dower thoughts were interrupted when his brother, who had just made it home from wrestling practice, came bounding up the stairs to his room, and as usual, was making enough noise for a herd of rampaging elephants.

Matt knew that his brother's arrival would soon signal dinner time and he decided to turn the lights out in his room, lay on his bed, and take a few quiet moments to practice his meditation/focus exercises.

At first, he didn't know what to concentrate on. The instructions in his folder had said to visualize a certain, desired behavior and try to picture his chosen target acting out the selected action.

The problem was, he didn't have anyone to focus his attention on, at least not until his brother flipped on the light to their conjoined bathroom, and turned on the shower, adjusting it to his desired temperature, before stepping back, with his back to Matt, who could see most of what was happening through the half-opened door to his room, and began stripping off his clothes, and shoving them into the laundry hamper.

Typical of his brother Brian to be oblivious of his surroundings, especially where their shared space was concerned, so Matt didn't see any harm in attempting to use his brother as a guinea pig for his initial test run.

Starting out, he tried to picture his brother doing jumping jacks, concentrating as hard as he could, squinting his eyes, and picturing his brother obeying his mental suggestion, willing his brother into action.

Nada, of course.

Matt watched his muscular naked brother, from a nearly perfect three-quarter point of view, as he proceeded to nearly straddle the toilet, holding his limp dick in his right hand as he let loose a hard stream of piss that splashed into the white porcelain bowl noisily.

It was then he recalled how the meditation/focus literature suggested starting with something simple, suggesting something basic like anger, sadness or fear.

Laying there, while looking at his brother's broad muscle rippling back and his large tight glutes and thick slightly hairy thighs, did elicit one strong emotion. One not mentioned on the list of suggestions, but one that was just as primordial and instinctual as the others. Lust!

Or more precisely, horniness. Matt had that to spare and was probably the easiest one to concentrate on since it was something he experienced more than anything else, especially after spending the latter part of his afternoon picturing James Hatcher's prodigious endowments dangling suggestively off the edge of the Lat bench earlier that afternoon.

The image was practically etched in his mind's eye in clear vivid detail and it was his desire to stroke Hatcher's fat dick to full erection that he pictured now, pushing his will into the ether that spanned the short distance between him and his brother, willing his lusty desire to sexually stimulate himself at his unsuspecting brother.

As his trickling piss came to a close, Matt half expected his brother to just veer off and jump into the shower, none the wiser to what Matt felt was merely wishful thinking on his part. That was when he noticed his Brian still hadn't moved from his spot.

In all the years they had roomed next to each other, Matt had never seen his brothers erect cock, let alone witness him jacking off, but as he continued to picture and focus his will to that aim, he nearly gasped with surprise when his older sibling began doing just that.

He didn't exactly have the best perspective from where he lay, but he could see the motions his brother's right arm was making and knew exactly what it was he was doing, made doubly so, when Brian threw his head back, his eyes closed, thrusting his hips out as his right arm squeezed in tightly to his side and his body began to jostle with the furious motion of his unseen right hand.

Matt could feel his own cock begin to erect in his pants, straining against his bulging fly as the head of his cock peeked out above his waistband only to drool out a dollop of pre-cum against the fine, blond hairs of his treasure trail.

He resisted the urge to undo his blue jeans, choosing instead to use his mounting lust to will his brother to turn around and sit on the toilet, spread his legs wide, and stroke his meat to completion.

Seconds later, Matt got his second big shock of the evening, when his brother did just that.

As cock's go, Brian's was almost as impressive as Hatcher's, though uncut like his own, compared to Hatches trimmed hood.

His sibling was very much like a younger version of their Dad, though not as hairy. He did have a nice smattering of fur on his chest and belly and of course over his forearms, thighs, and calves; a nice light chocolate brown like their Dad's, unlike Matt who took after their mother, which meant he was golden blond, and slightly curly.

Brian had what Matt called a Roman-style haircut, nearly buzz cut on the sides and only a little longer on top, combed toward the front with really short messy bangs, just like that guy in that Gladiator movie that Brian liked so much.

At six feet one inch, he stood a good two inches shorter than their Dad, but was broader and more muscular, though their dad was no slouch either, having been a football player in his day, both in high school and college, and had since tried to maintain his physical appearance as best he could, working out with their Mom five nights a week in the small home gym they had set up in the basement.

It's where Matt would work out a couple of times a week after school, though not to bulk up like his brother or Dad, just to keep himself toned and in shape.

Matt heard his brother begin to moan a little more loudly and could tell by the way his thick thighs began to tense and his toes began to curl, that Brian was getting close to an orgasm.

It was then, that Matt wondered if he had actually willed this into occurring or whether it was just a lucky bit of happenstance, before deciding to give it a go, just to see if he could *turn it off* now that his brother approached that point of no return.

Picturing it in his head once again, imagining it like the shutting off of a running spigot and willing it across the room at his brother, concentrating as hard as he could, he was left dazed and confused when Brian suddenly grunted in near frustration as his once burgeoning phallus began to flop and flail with lessening turgidity before finally releasing his now, nearly limp semi, grunting his disapproval and jumping into the shower.

Matt lay there, in the dark, trying his best not to believe what had just happened, certain it had to have been some fluke coincidence, while simultaneously knowing it wasn't.

Either way, Matt had little chance to debate the matter as his Dad hollered up that dinner was nearly ready and Matt had scuttled as fast as he could out of his room before his brother pieced together that he had just watched him jacking off in the bathroom mere minutes ago.

Later, as they sat at the table in the kitchen finishing up the dinner their Mom had prepared, Matt had concluded, that if Brian had suspected he had observed him pounding his pud, he was certainly doing a good job pretending to the contrary, noting to himself, that he was certain his brother lacked that kind of subtlety, being more the bull in the proverbial china shop type.

Mentally allowing himself a sigh of relief, Matt had nearly finished his meal relatively unnoticed, when his Dad suddenly asked: "So, how's that new after-school project going Matty?"

He hated it when his Dad called him that, hell he hated when anyone did, but when either his Mom or Dad did, it almost automatically made him feel like they still viewed him as some little boy instead of the eighteen-year-old, Five feet eleven-inch high school senior he actually was.

"It's going okay and the extra cred should look good on my college application forms, " Matt stated, trying to sound optimistic about his future plans, though he still really wasn't quite sure what he wanted to do yet.

"Well, I for one feel much better about you doing this than working part-time over at that pharmaceutical lab on weekends, god knows what you could be exposing yourself to working over there." His mother piped in, reinforcing her displeasure at his choice of part-time employment.

His Dad reached over and gripped his shoulder: "Well whatever that new coach has you doing, keep it up, 'cause it sure hasn't hurt your body any son." his Dad noted, as his grip loosened and he began casually massaging his shoulder muscles, which was far more physical attention than his Dad had shown him in quite some time.

"I'm still getting paid by the lab though, Dr. Ventrov is just counting my after-school project as lab time since it sponsored and overseen by them and the doctor, and Coach Myers has been pretty hands-on the entire time as well," Matt assured them, hoping to dispel any of his mother's concerns.

His Dad's hand came up to brush the back of his fingers over Matt's right cheek lightly, before winking at Matt suggestively: "Let's hope not too hands-on, especially with my boy."

Matt had to nearly physically prevent his jaw from dropping as he stared wide-eyed at his Dad, blushing furiously nearly head to toe while trying to decide if it was his Dad's caressing fingers on the side of his face or the overtly sexual undertones of his observation that troubled him the most at that moment.

Just as he thought he must still be lying on his bed having some weird dream, he watched as his brother Brian stood up, the near-perfect outline of his half-hard cock bulging obscenely, tenting the sheer nylon fabric of his workout shorts and moving to his side, his crotch mere inches away from his face as his hand came up to ruffle Matt's hair declaring boldly: "Don't worry Pops, I'll keep a good eye on my little bro, I won't let nuthin' bad happen to him!"

Brian concluded his statement by running his hand down the back of Matt's head and began gently massaging the back of his neck as his swelling bulge continued to grow until he was certain he could feel the heat radiating off of it against his cheek.

Matt's gaze swiftly shifted toward his mother as she moaned across the table and began fanning herself profusely with her hands and looking more than a bit glassy-eyed before positing: "Is it suddenly getting really warm in here 'cause I feel like I'm soooo ... hot....right now!"

Matt was nearly floored when she turned to bat her eyes at his Dad demurely, before raising herself up slowly, twisting her body and suggestively running her hands down over her breast to her hips.

It suddenly dawned on Matt what was happening, causing him to shove away from the table and mumbling something about forgetting he was supposed to meet Talia somewhere and made for the kitchen door and a quick escape into the cool, early evening air.

"Lessen one.." Matt huffed to himself as he panted for breath, his heart still racing wildly over what had just happened: "Don't flood the house with sex pheromones, when you don't know what you're doing!"

Matt walked around his neighborhood block several times, at least as long as it took for it to get dark enough for the street lights to start coming on, before making his way back home.

He quietly as possible entered through the kitchen door, noting the dirty dishes still on the table though there was no sign of anyone around.

Trepidatiously, he made his way to the foot of the stairs and peered into the living room, where he knew his parents usually congregated after dinner, but saw that it was oddly empty, and deciding to just go ahead and make a quick, but quiet as possible dash to his bedroom, where he swiftly shut his door, while not turning on the lights in fear of alerting any of them to his presence.

After successfully putting his phone on charge Matt sat on his bed while taking in the eerie silence that permeated his room.

Slowly, as his ears adjusted to the preternatural quiet, Matt began to be able to make out the distant moans, groans, and squeaky bed noises emanating from his parent's room and though it wasn't completely beyond the scope of reason that his parents still engaged in such intimacies, he did find the timing more than a little suspect considering what had just happened earlier.

He also found himself wondering if his brother Brian was still feeling the effects of what he was now sure he had caused earlier and found himself sneaking toward the bathroom they shared. As quiet as a church mouse, he moved toward his brother's partially opened bathroom door to peer into his darkened room and finding his brother lying prone on his bed, butt ass naked, the lower half of his body awash in the rising moonlight beaming through his open bedroom window.

He could not only hear his brother's heavy breathing but see its cause, as Brian was furiously pounding his nine-inch, uncut cock with one hand while pulling and squeezing his egg-sized, bloated balls with the other.

Matt didn't know exactly how long his brother had been pounding his pud, but judging by the glistening pre-cum dripping down over his fingers into his matted, wet pubes, it had to have been for some time, maybe as long as he had been out circling the block.

He found himself wondering why it had taken Brian so long to cum, while simultaneously hearing his parent's lovemaking reach a fevered crescendo and linger there interminably when it finally dawned on him. His final attempt at controlling Brian's libido had been to stifle his release but not to quell his desire or need for sex.

Matt found himself aghast at the notion that Brian and his parents were now stuck in a continuous loop of mounting passion and desire but refused the ability to achieve release as per his final pheromonal command.

Matt knew what he needed to do at that moment and concentrated as hard as he could, picturing the bliss of orgasm and the satiation it would bring.

It took a minute or two, enough to make Matt fear it wouldn't take hold at all. But, as the moments passed, he heard the cessation of his parents squeaking bed and their satisfying groans just as Brian reached his own climax.

Matt watched his brother's muscular, sweating body tense almost from head to toe as his fist pumped a final time before gripping the base firmly between his thumb and forefinger as long thick ropes of pearly cum began to jet from the tip of his pulsating cockhead to splatter and cover his upper torso in stringy strands of viscous sperm and semen.

He could actually see the contractions of his big balls as they continuously jettisoned their contents out the end of his throbbing, jerking dick until Brian's entire upper torso was nearly covered in a patina of gooey, potent ball juice.

Fearing discovery, as the last few spurts of cum dribbled out into his already slick pubes, Matt hurried back to his own room, shutting his bathroom door before quickly stripping and jumping into bed and under the covers.

While Matt silently prayed that his last push had finally ended the raw passions he had unwittingly released on his unsuspecting family, a wave of relief washed over him as he heard his brother stirring in the bathroom as he once again started up the shower and began noisily bathing himself.

As his trepidation faded and the fear-induced adrenaline that had coursed through him most of the evening finally dissipated, Matt slipped away into his slumbering thoughts, where he dreamed of things yet to come.

                                                              <<<<<>>>>>


Thursday morning brought a whole new set of problems for Matt. First, he woke up with a persistent nagging headache and one of those insatiable hunger cravings that nothing seemed to satisfy.

He treated the first by downing some Tylenol and a couple of glasses of OJ with his breakfast and the second with frequent, in-between visits to the school vending machines, trying everything from mixed nuts to granola bars and powdered donuts and while the combined variety seemed to lessen his headache somewhat, his cravings persisted, up to, and including after lunch.

Talia had been no help either, being still peeved he had shut her down the night before: "It's my job, as your best friend, to kick your complacent ass into gear." she began, after plopping herself down right in front of him, at their usual lunch spot, right after their fourth-period class.

"I absolutely refuse to let you pass by this great opportunity with Blake, just because you're such a negative Nelly."

Matt scarcely listened to her but tried to feign interest, despite still being preoccupied with the events of the previous evening still fresh on his mind.

"Listen, Talia, I don't want to argue with you about this..." Matt began, trying to reason with her only to be cut off mid-sentence: "Then don't!" she blurted, continuing: "Just promise me one thing, don't shut Blake out, I seriously believe he just gets so nervous around you, he can't think what to do, let alone what to say...." She paused, reaching over to grip his hand before continuing: "Just give him some time to work up to it okay, that's all I'm asking you to do dude."

Matt just sighed, shaking his head: "If I agree not to ghost him anymore, will you let this drop and just let it go in whatever direction it goes?"

Talia thought for a moment, a slight grimace on her face as she shrugged her shoulders: "I'll stop pestering you if you promise to cool your heels, quit being so pessimistic, and agree to go out with him again if he asks."

Matt considered it for a moment, realizing that the only way he was ever going to get her off his back was by agreeing to something he was certain was never going to happen anyway, to be an acceptable arrangement: "Your such a pesky cunt ya know that?" Matt chortled, giving her a nasty look.

"I'll take that as a compliment asshole, only because it's oh so true!" she giggled, tossing one of the baby carrots she had been munching on and smacking him right on the forehead with it.

They finished out their lunch in relative peace, hitting all the usual gossip topics before parting for their next classes.

Matt kept true to his word when he entered his fifth-period social studies class and took his normal seat right in front of Blake Wiley, though he didn't try to make eye contact with him or engage him in social pleasantries.

The class pretty much went along at its usual boring pace, right up till the bell sounded ending their fifth-period class.

As Matt gathered up his notes and shoved them into his social studies book and rose to make his way out of the classroom, he felt an unexpected tap on his shoulder, only to turn his head to make brief eye contact with none other than Blake Wiley, who stood there nervously regarding him, before shoving a folded piece of paper into his hand, nodding sheepishly and mumbling: "Gotta go." before hurriedly scurrying off to into the hallway and disappearing into the crowd of passerby's.

Matt clutched the paper in his hand until he reached his locker and switched out his books for his next class, before unfolding it to peruse it's content.

"Matt, sorry if I've been really screwing things up, but I've never done anything like this before. I'm still trying to get my head squared away and hope you can be patient with me... if that's kewl with you, just shoot me a text..." followed by his number.

Matt regarded his short note for a moment, before realizing he was smiling and whipped out his phone, punched in Blake's number, and typed out a quick message: "Lunch with me and Talia in the quad tomorrow, no expectations."

Matt just made it to the door of his sixth-period class when his phone dinged with his reply: "I'm down with that" followed by a winky face emoji.

Grinning from ear to ear, Matt shoved his phone back into his pocket while pondering whether one of Talia's harebrained schemes might actually pay off after all.
After his sixth-period class, Matt found himself growing more anxious as he approached the gym for his extracurricular duties.

Having debated with himself throughout the day about whether he should mention the incidents from the evening before, Matt ultimately ruled against that notion, pushing it from his mind, not really wanting to drag his family into it any more than he already had.

He was however looking forward, with minor trepidation's, at what he might achieve once he was alone with Hunter Milsbane behind a closed door.

Of the four guys, Hunter probably had the least amount of brainpower and was more of a follower amongst the group than any of the others, usually differing to Hatcher or Ramsey for guidance and leadership.

The coach had told him they would be alone in the new meditation room and Matt wondered if that also meant they wouldn't be monitored while in there and would rely on his personal written and oral observations as was the case with his Friday evaluations.

He found himself actually being rather pleased to hear, that to ensure their privacy, as well as keep them from the curiosity of the others, Matt would be expected to keep the door locked until their session was over and that Matt would be the one who determined the length of each private session, just so long as it didn't extend beyond an hour, which was when the coach had to have the weight room available for the rest of the team after football practice.

The best news of all was that the coach himself, during that time, would be out on the field running drills with the three others and the rest of the football team, at least until four o'clock. Matt had decided that at first, he would try some of the suggested and recommended control options, instead of the one he had practiced on his brother. Though he didn't completely rule that option out, it actually depended solely on how well he was at garnering any significant results from the listed options.

As they entered the room for the first time, Matt was actually rather impressed. He didn't know exactly what to expect but he hadn't really pictured an old equipment storage room looking the way this did now.

The ten by fourteen-foot room was sparsely furnished, with only a couple of padded dark blue mats in the middle of the floor, butted end to end. The room itself had been freshly painted a light grayish color which coordinated with the mid-tone gray slate tile of the floor.

The former fluorescent lights had been replaced with incandescent fixtures that allowed Matt to adjust the intensity of the lighting throughout the room.

For today's session, Matt had set the lighting down rather dimly before taking a seat in the center of one of the mats, in a cross-legged position facing inward and indicating to Hunter to do the same on the other mat, facing him.

Matt didn't actually know how much Hunter was made aware of what they would be attempting, if he was told anything at all, except to do as he was instructed. But Matt was also fairly certain none of them were cognizant of what the desired outcome that was hoped for, knowing full well that none of the four would have agreed to Matt controlling or influencing them in any kind of fashion, especially to the extent Doctor Ventrov and Coach Myers were expecting.

From the start, Hunter seemed put off, perhaps even a little annoyed by having to be there, and had no problem making his feelings known by repeatedly sighing and bulking disdainfully at every instruction Matt gave him.

He didn't dare question it though. The coach had made himself quite clear to all of them, that this was part of the program and anyone who didn't follow directions could kiss their spots on the football team goodbye.

Basically, Hunter was doing as he was told, he just didn't like it and probably would have preferred being anywhere else but there.

Matt had asked the coach if he could bring his cell phone with him and perhaps play some music to help relax and soothe as well as help them to focus on their meditations.

The doc had left no orders to the contrary so the coach didn't see why he couldn't and had readily agreed, at least for the time being to his request.

Matt had downloaded several instrumental pieces that were intended for meditation and Matt started up his playlist as he softly instructed Hunter on some deep breathing exercises.

He had told Hunter that was to help him cleanse and focus his thoughts, but in reality, it was to facilitate his intake of Matt's pheromone emissions.

Though they were both fairly equal in height, Matt sat there admiring Hunter's physique. He had told Hunter to close his eyes and keep them closed and focus on the music and his deep slow breaths and was taking the opportunity that afforded him, by admiring Hunter's hirsute body.

Hunter wasn't what Matt would call handsome; his ears stuck out from the side of his head a little more than was normal, both his lips and mouth were wider and fuller than average as well, he did have a rather attractive, upturned button type nose, though his nostrils spread out rather broadly.

His heavy brows and rather narrow eye set seemed to accentuate his pre-shortened forehead and lower hairline and his dark thick, nearly buzzcut hair and facial scruff stood out against his creamy pale skin.

Matt, having seen Hunter completely stripped down before in the locker room, knew that underneath his maroon football jersey and his loose-fitting satiny gold midthigh shorts, lurked a very muscular, hefty build that was completely matted in thick dark body hair, the kind one would just love running their fingers through.

Doing his best to suppress his growing arousal, Matt tried focusing on one of the prescribed alternatives in his syllabus.

He had crossed fear off his list fairly quickly and definitely didn't want to induce anger in Hunter, knowing that he would probably be the main recipient of any deleterious side effects incurred with that one.

Matt also had little interest in making Hunter sad or anxious and as his list of options began to dwindle Matt finally settled on one that was right up the alley of Doctor Ventrov's expectations...submission, or in this case submissiveness.

Picturing that in his head as he tried to focus and project his will outward, proved rather daunting, noting that there were several different ways one could submit, such as spiritually, physically, emotionally, but the one Matt chose was mental.

To that end, Matt attenuated his visualizations to acts of incontestable obedience and reinforced it with positive images of devotion and a sense of duty and trust.

Matt did this slowly, building it from the foundation up, like rows and layers of brick and mortar until his head practically swam vertiginously with the effort, before he finally pulled his consciousness back, opened his eyes, and studied Hunter for any sign of the efficacy of his handiwork.

Realizing quickly that just staring at Hunter wouldn't determine anything, Matt decided to test him by making minor suggestions, the first being...: "Hunter, why don't you get up and start running in place for me." Matt cooed suggestively, watching as Hunter's eyes slowly opened and refocused on him, a broad grin spreading across his face as he rose to his feet, announcing: "Sure thing Matt." as he diligently began running in place.

"Get this knees up higher Hunter, you don't want to half-ass it now do ya?" Matt taunted him playfully.

"Absolutely not Matt, you can count on me to give a hundred percent, every time!"

The sincerity in his voice left little doubt in Matt's mind that Hunter was being completely forthright, evidenced by his knees pumping higher into the air and looking to Matt for confirmation on whether he was doing it the way Matt thought he should.

Matt decided to test the limit of his control by issuing an instruction that served no practical purpose to his assigned task other than for Matt's own personal enjoyment: "Hunter, don't you think it would be better all-around if you stripped down completely while you do that, I think so anyway."

Matt had presented the command purposely open to interpretation by Hunter but codified it by suggesting that Matt thought it would be better, not that Hunter had to do it.

Hunter didn't pause, even for a second, he immediately started stripping off his clothes, tossing them willy-nilly until he was completely naked and resumed running in place as previously instructed before looking to Matt, questioning: "Is this better Matt, am I do'in it the way I should?"

Matt smiled to himself, enjoying every minute of this: "Yes Hunter that's better..." Matt paused for a second when a wicked idea occurred to him: "You know what would make it even better Hunter?" He asked nonchalantly.

Again, Hunter didn't even hesitate, asking enthusiastically: "I'd really like to know how Matt!"

Trying to keep his face free from expressing the jovial elation that permeated within his thoughts, Matt responded as deadpan as possible: "It would be totally better if you did it with a rock hard boner while you're tweaking your nipples and singing row row row your boat."

Without hesitation, Hunter's limp cock began to bloat and swell until attained its full eight-inch capacity in seconds as Hunter began singing and tweaking his nipples vigorously.

With a big smile on his face, he paused his singing only long enough to almost jubilantly declare: "You're right Matt, this is a whole lot better."

Matt smiled back at him, nodding his head in affirmation as he leaned back and enjoyed the view for a few minutes, before scooping up his phone and checking their time.

Noting that they still had about forty minutes to kill, Matt decided to indulge himself, even more, seeing no reason why he shouldn't take full advantage of the situation, while simultaneously pushing and testing Hunter's limits.

"You should stop now Hunter and lay on the mat with your legs spread wide and rest a few minutes." Matt again suggesting without ordering.

Without commentary, Hunter did exactly as Matt suggested, folding his hands behind his head and spreading his legs, fully exposing himself to Matt, asking quizzically: "Is this good Matt or should I spread 'em wider?"

Matt crawled over to him, getting between his spread legs, looking up his hairy, muscular torso as Hunter craned his neck to maintain eye contact, a look of anticipation in his eyes.

Matt gave him a faint smile, cooing suggestively: "You know, on further consideration, maybe it would be better if you pulled your knees up to your chest and reached down and spread your butt cheeks apart so your butthole can air out a little."

Obediently, Hunter did exactly as suggested, still arching his neck toward Matt, seeking eye contact and Matt's approval.

Matt hadn't planned on doing anything like this. In all honesty, he hadn't expected these kinds of results so quickly, but now that he had Hunter all primed and ready and they had time to kill, Matt thought, why waste it and the opportunity spread out so beautifully in front of him.

Matt looked Hunter right in the eyes and this time left no doubt what he wanted from him: "Hunter, what you really need right now is to have me finger your hairy butthole and suck your fat juicy cock."

Hunter Milsbane stared back at him for a moment, his rich brown eyes staring wantonly back at him.

Matt watched attentively as Hunter's right hand slid over his muscular buttcheek and clasped the base of his thick veiny cock and pointed it toward Matt's pouting lips before practically commanding: "You need to suck my dick Matt and don't forget to finger my bunghole!"

"Whatever you say, Hunter." Matt mused, bringing his wet lips to the tip of Hunter's eight-inch, helmet-headed schlong and tried engulfing the broad glans into his oral cavity, stretching his mouth to the fullest just to manage its bloated girth.

Matt noted, that while Hunter's dick wasn't as long as Hatcher's, it was a good bit thicker and more vascular, straining Matt's lips and jaws just to accommodate its circumference.

The glans alone almost filled his oral cavity and his lips had no longer stretched and crested the broad coronal ridge than Hunter thrust his hips up forcing it to the back of his throat.

Its girth prevented him from proceeding further, but Matt compensated by undulating his tongue against his exposed frenulum as one hand massaged his hairy rotund ball sack and his other rubbed his pucker suggestively, occasionally trying to push the tip of his middle finger into the virginal hole.

Matt had no desire to hurt Hunter, so he settled for the deep massage of his brown eye, lacking proper lubrication to pop that tight pucker open, deciding he would have ample opportunities to be better prepared.

Right now, more than anything else, Matt wanted Hunter's hot load. He wanted to taste it and savor it, unlike Hatcher, who had unleashed his entire load down his throat, past his taste buds.

Hunter's meaty, thick-fingered hands clasped Matt's head between them and began slowly pumping into Matt's mouth, until he was practically pounding his beefy knob against the back of his neck, raking it across his abused uvula and blocking his sinus airway.

Matt could feel Hunter's big gonads pull up tightly, growing denser as they started contracting and Matt increased his suctioning, knowing that Hunter was mere seconds from flooding his mouth with his creamy load.

Hunter's moans and grunts reached a crescendo resulting in a primal growl from deep with his chest, his fingers gripping Matt's head vicelike as his massive load traversed the finger-width tube of his corpus spongiosum to spew the hot dregs of his testicular juices into Matt's cum hungry mouth.

Hunter's thick, virile splooge inundated Matt's oral cavity, filling it to capacity as Matt greedily drank and choked on the copious fluids rocketing from his convulsing urethra until Hunter's tidal orgasm subsided and he finally relaxed his grip on Matt's head and collapsed in near exhaustion as Matt continued to savor the last belching drops of his thinning load.

With a loud lip-smacking pop, Matt finally withdrew the still bloated but softening pecker from his mouth, lapping the glans orifice with the tip of his tongue and finally licking the last sticky, pungent drops from his lips.

"Damn Hunter, that was mighty tasty." Matt groaned, grinning lasciviously up his torso, making eye contact.

Matt focused his mind again reinforcing and establishing his control over the stalwart youth: "From now on Hunter, I think you should save all your ball juice for me and make sure you check with me every day to see if want some."

Hunter stared at him glassy-eyed for a second: "Sure thing Matt, I can do that, no problem."

As Matt got up and helped Hunter gather his clothes and suggesting he get dressed, he gave Hunter one final bit of instruction: "I think it's probably best if you never discuss this with anyone else Hunter, this should be just between you and I understand?"

Matt smiled as Hunter pulled on his shorts and stuffed his half-hard dick away, looking up at him with his big brown puppy dog eyes and saying in all earnestness: "Of course, whatever you say, Matt, you can count on me."

Matt patted him on the head, ruffling his hair, all the while thinking: "One down, three to go!"

 

                                  

                                                              CHAPTER THREE:

 

 "That couldn't have gone better," Matt thought to himself. He had just finished lunch with Talia and Blake and though it had started out a bit awkwardly, that had soon faded, mostly due to Talia's good-natured ribbing and upbeat banter, they were all soon laughing and talking like they'd been doing this together for years.

Talia had been right about Blake. As he grew more comfortable with Matt and Talia's repartee, his veneer of shyness faded as well and he joined right in. He had even caught more than a few of their cultural references and even their stupid predilection toward Scooby-Doo comparisons. Their lunch had ended with Blake suggesting that Talia bring her Trailblazer by one weekend to his dad's shop and he could paint Mystery Machine on the side's just like the cartoon van and everyone agreeing that would be a real hoot.

The rest of the afternoon went by fairly quickly, with Blake even walking with Matt to their fifth-period class together and even continuing their conversation.

They had parted after class with Blake promising to call Matt later after he finished his part-time shift at his Dad's auto-shop that afternoon, leaving Matt in a much better frame of mind toward Blake than he previously had just the day before.

Sixth- period came and went uneventfully, his thoughts still dwelling on how pleasant his time with Blake had been during lunch and finding himself slightly hopeful that Blake would indeed call him that evening and noting humorously to himself how much he was now acting like a giddy, adolescent schoolgirl and wondering what Talia would say if she knew how he was feeling after only one lunch with Blake. He could just hear her voice in his head, taunting him with the schoolgirl comparison, imagining her asking him if he was now going to go write silly unrealistic love stories about sparkly vampires willing to sacrifice everything just to be with him.

If she only knew the real-life fantasy that was playing out for real right under her nose.

Matt had debated, multiple times, about letting Talia in on what was going on and the changes he had already begun to note in not only himself but the other four participants, but he had realized fairly quickly what a monumentally bad idea that would be, considering Talia's dad was the local sheriff. That, and Talia's penchant for solving mysteries and seeing conspiracies where there weren't any, in that, she totally lived up to the Velma Dinkley comparison, nerdy glasses and all.

Matt had been so deeply entrenched in thought, he had nearly forgotten about what day it was as he entered the gym and found that Coach Myers had already pushed his little crash cart of measuring devices and charts into the locker room as he overheard the Coach issuing final instructions to the other four participants in their little experimental group back in the weight room, before marching out, giving Matt a toothy grin and a nod and heading out to the football field where the rest of the team had started their daily practice drills.

The sudden elation upon remembering his favorite task of the week was just as quickly dashed as he entered the weight room pushing his cart when he caught sight of Dr. Ventrov standing off to the side silently, but studiously observing the other four participants in his experiment, going through their various workout routines.

Having no sooner entered the room, Dr. Ventrov motioned for him to join him as he continued to type away at the handheld device he almost always carried with him.

As Matt pushed his cart over to the doctor, he took a moment to regard his employer/mentor. The five feet nine inches Ukrainian-born man was almost the stereotypical personification of the studious, nerdy clinician replete with thick black-rimmed glasses and long white lab-coat and patent leather black shoes. His thick Russian accent belied his mastery of the English language and augmented the overall illusion of his mysterious foreign persona.

Physically, he was fairly nondescript; stark black hair with a side split coif, graying at the temples denoting his more advanced age, which Matt would guess to be either in his late forties or early fifties. His slight, rather slender build, offset his broad shoulders and of course his large bushy uni-brow framimg piercing blue/gray eyes, eyes that always seemed to look right through you whenever he spoke to someone directly.

The very same stare that was looking right through him now: "Before you begin today..." the doctor stated flatly, his voice soft and thick, his vowels rolling in his usual monotone diphthong: "You've done an admiral job in your documentation on the other test subjects, but your reports on yourself seem rather incomplete and deficient."

Matt had glossed over and in some cases even left out his interactions with both Hatch and Hunter, not to mention completely leaving out the episode he had at home involving his sibling and parents. There was no way he was ever discussing that night with anyone, let alone the doctor.

While trying to frame how best to respond, Matt's eyes had wandered past the doctor and caught Hatch glaring lecherously back at him with a big shit-eating grin planted on his face, obviously gloaming bits of their conversation and drawing his own conclusions as to what was potentially missing from his reports.

Nervously looking down at his own feet, his face flushing beet red at not only Hatch's lewd scrutiny but the doctor's watchful eye, he stammered quietly: "There were some things I thought were better discussed in person Dr. Ventrov, things I'm not comfortable discussing let alone putting on an electronic device where I don't know who might be looking at it."

Dr. Ventrov glowered at him for a moment, his mood unreadable as he silently regarded him before his eyes dropped, falling back to his pad and typing furiously, when he suddenly blurted assertively: "Perhaps Mr. Hatcher you should pay a little more attention to your assigned routine than eavesdropping on a conversation between me and my assistant, no?!"

The doctor's eyes never left his pad and Matt wondered if he had eyes in the back of his head since he was facing away from a now brooding Hatch.

"Sorry Doc, just taking a slight breather between sets," he mumbled, in a halfhearted tone, darting Matt a quick baleful grimace before turning away and resuming his workout routine.

Dr. Ventrov turned to him, drawing a couple of steps closer to Matt and leaning in slightly: "We'll discuss this more tomorrow at the lab." concluding with a nod of his head, indicating Matt should begin his normal task.

Momentarily relieved, Matt scurried away with his cart to begin his documentation of each member of the quartet, and as he began taking Ramsey's vitals, Matt's thoughts grew apprehensively trepidatious for his pending consultation with the enigmatic doctor.

                                                                               <<<<<<>>>>>>

"Seriously Matt, I don't know why you believe anything a douchebag like James Hatcher has to say about anything..." Talia huffed in annoyance as he slipped out the passenger side of her vehicle onto his driveway.

Talia had offered him a ride home after she had finished up with her after-school student news group meeting where she and a few others worked as reporters on the school's online news blog that covered the comings and goings on the school campus.

Matt had just discussed what Hatch had said about Blake at one point while he was running through his measurements and weekly survey questionnaire and Matt knew she was just trying to do some preemptive damage control: "Besides, I didn't know you were such a size queen..." she paused, her eyes rolling sardonically: "You know it's more about the motion in the ocean than the size of the boat." she finally concluded, looking at him as if trying to gauge his potential response.

"If you say so" Matt mumbled, shooting her an awkward glance before adding quizzically: "I just don't know why he would lie about something like that, what's in it for him?"

Matt knew he was making more of it than he should and he also knew how shallow it must look to his BFF; as if discussing Blake Wiley's penis size was the most important aspect about him at this moment.

Talia grinned wickedly back at him, retorting: "Maybe you'll get lucky enough tomorrow night to find out whether it's true or not when you two go on your first solo date huh?"

Matt couldn't help but shake his head at her tenacity and smiled back at her, giving her the finger as he shut the car door behind him.

He waved her off as she beeped her horn and pulled out of his driveway, leaving him to ponder what had turned out to be a very eventful day.

The house was silent, as he knew it would be. His mother had texted him that she and his dad were going out for dinner and drinks with some friends after work and wouldn't be home until late.

Matt knew his brother always hung out with a few of his jock buds after practice on Fridays and that for the most part, he'd have the house to himself for most of the evening.

Talia had a date with Roger Westlake, leaving Matt to fend for himself: "Homo alone" Matt smiled inwardly as he set his backpack down at the foot of the stairs and made his way to the kitchen, having realized he was suddenly hungry.

Dr. Ventrov had given him another dose of his supplement that afternoon before he left and for some reason, it always seemed to make him a bit ravenous afterward.

As he was searching through the frig looking for something to snack on, he felt the buzz of his phone in his pants pocket and swooped it out to answer it.

It came as no surprise when a bubbly and enthusiastic Blake chirped a cordial greeting into his ear.

They talked for a few minutes, mostly about how much they had enjoyed their lunchtime meet-up, concluding that they would have to do it again soon, while also discussing and confirming the particulars for their Saturday evening date.

Blake had insisted on picking Matt up instead of them just meeting up somewhere and concluded their conversation with Blake suggesting they grab a bite to eat somewhere and maybe catch a movie at their local movie theater; all of which was fine with Matt.

All in all, it seemed a rather stress-free plan for a first solo date and they ended their short tête-à-tête by wishing each other a good evening, which left Matt feeling hopefully optimistic about Blake's sincerity.

While still basking in the remedial glow of his impending date with Blake Wiley, Matt continued his search for something to settle the growling rumbles of his empty stomach before his search lead abruptly when he spotted the bananas sitting off to the side, next to the frig.

He had just finished slicing up one of the bananas for his atypical comfort food go too sandwich of sliced banana and peanut butter and had taken his first, satisfying bite as he once again contemplated what Hatch had told him earlier about Blake.

Apparently, Hatch had seen him, Blake, and Talia having lunch together that afternoon and was taunting him about seeing him *drooling* all over the high school baseball captain, remarking that someone like Blake would never be able to satisfy his *perverted homo cravings*.

Matt had done his best to just ignore his sardonic ramblings, but Hatch had persisted in informing him, in a tone that denoted he was doing him some kind of favor, that he had seen Blake many times in the locker room showers after phys ed and had checked him out once to see if the locker room rumors were true about him or not.

Hatch had informed him, that amongst his teammates, he was referred to as *Pencil Dick* behind his back and Hatch could verify it was true, stating he could barely keep himself from laughing in the guys face when he saw how tiny his dick was, holding up his own pinky finger and stating his digit was bigger than his manhood.

Matt had blushed furiously at Hatcher's malicious taunt, causing Hatch to guffaw loudly, almost doubling over in laughter at Matt's obvious discomfort. Thankfully, the coach had interrupted any further discussion by entering the weight room after seeing Dr. Ventrov off and ordering them to finish up before the rest of the team swarmed in after practice for their showers.

Though relieved the coach had halted any further needling by Hatch, Matt had slightly regretted not having time to follow through with his plan to get Hunter alone for a few private follow-up questions that had not been on his questionnaire while under the scrutiny of Dr. Ventrov's observant gaze. For his part, Hunter had been uncharacteristically silent, but Matt couldn't help but notice the prominent bulge in his gym shorts as he took his usual measurements.

Still waxing rhapsodically over that missed opportunity while munching the last of his sandwich, Matt was startled back to reality when the front doorbell chimed loudly throughout the otherwise silent house.

As he rushed to answer the door, he half expected Talia to be standing on the other side as he whipped it open, thinking she had doubled back to torment him further about being so worried about Hatch's earlier revelation.

It came as no small surprise, that who he found was the last person he was thinking about, grinning sheepishly back at him from the other side of the threshold. Hunter Milsbane!

"Hiya Matt." the stalwart youth beamed, grinning almost ear to ear, leaving Matt with a somewhat perplexed look on his face, while he pondered to himself how Hunter even knew where he lived.

"Um...Hunter, whatchya do'in here?" Matt asked skeptically, scanning him up and down as he appeared to be more than a little bit fidgety, shifting his weight from one foot to the next, all the while glaring at Matt rather glassy-eyed.

Hunter's face suddenly took on a more serious glower as he leaned in, his voice a hushed whisper: "Ya told me to check with ya every day Matt and said that we should keep it a secret, so I didn't say nuthin' at school."

Matt watched as Hunter tapped the side of his temple like he had said or done something clever, while simultaneously his eyes searched Matt's for confirmation he had followed his directions correctly.

Suddenly, the conversation they had the day before came rushing back to Matt, remembering how he had instructed Hunter to check with him every day to see if he wanted his load while emphasizing it would probably be best not to tell anyone else about their little arrangement.

A brief glance down at the bulging lump in Hunter's crotch was all the confirmation he needed to realize he had guessed correctly, causing a sudden rush of heat throughout his body as he blushed furiously from both embarrassment and no small degree of mounting desire.

Realizing Hunter was still staring at him expectantly, Matt motioned for him to enter, stepping aside to allow him access and quickly stealing a glance at the shifting twin mounds of his buttocks as he sauntered past him into the small foyer.

Still curious, Matt asked: "How did you know where I live Hunter?"

Speaking like it was the most obvious thing in the world, Hunter responded disdainfully: "I saw you and your girlfriend Talia leaving after school and just followed ya here."

Then, as if remembering that no one was supposed to know about their little arrangement, Hunter added quickly: "Don't worry Matt, I just drove past and parked down the road a bit so she wouldn't see me..." He paused for a moment, turning to face Matt, a nervous expression planted on his face: "Did I do something wrong Matt?" he asked quizzically, more than a hint of concern showing in his eyes.

Matt smiled back at him: "No Hunter, you did better than I would have expected, but from now on, do your best to check with me at school, just be discreet about it okay?"

Hunter's lips split into a toothy grin, obviously pleased with Matt's praise while promising him he would do his best to comply with his suggestion.

As Matt led him through the living room and up the stairs to his bedroom, he marveled at how complacent and obedient Hunter had become since their little session the day before.

It was now blatantly obvious that Dr. Ventrov's *supplements* were affording him some fairly serious influence, at least sexually, over certain people, but he had to wonder how widely that influence would extend and more importantly, how long would it last? Would Hunter be this agreeably from now on, or would it wear off after a while?

He had already proven to some degree he could alter previous instructions, he had managed to turn his influence off with his family the other night, having noted how they seemed back to their normal selves the next day...well... except for some rather awkward looks from his brother the next morning, which was understandable, since he had practically shoved his bulging crotch in Matt's face right in front of their parents at the kitchen table.

Matt had watched Hunter's behavior with his buds during their workout that afternoon and hadn't observed any change in his interactions with them, not that he said much anyway, noting to himself, that Hunter had always been more of a follower where they were concerned, rather than an instigator.

As Matt closed the door to his bedroom, shutting the two of them off from the rest of the world while still contemplating, and with growing anticipation, what kind of influence might he exert over someone like Hatch or Ramsey? Both have what Matt would consider prime alpha male attributes compared to Hunter or Lance Coleman.

Somehow, he just couldn't picture either of them standing in his bedroom like Hunter was doing right now, looking expectantly back at him, awaiting further instruction, while the lump in his tight blue jeans continued to expand and swell.

Confronted with his present circumstances, Matt pushed those thoughts to the back of his mind as he concentrated on the here and now, focusing his intentions on Hunter, willing his compliance, pushing his own mounting desires outward, more out of instinct and natural libido than anything else, that, and his growing hunger to suck Hunter's fat eight-inch cock now consuming what was left of his focus.

It was almost music to his ears when he heard Hunter groan, as he glared at him like a lion about to sink its claws into a cornered, helpless gazelle.

He slowly crossed the room and sat on the edge of his bed, motioning with his hand for Hunter to come stand before him and watched as he furtively approached him like some anxious but nervous virgin on their wedding night.

Matt's mounting passions made him grow impatient for his prize and he gruffly ordered Hunter to strip for him, as he leaned back on his bed, his feet still planted on the floor, propping his torso up on his elbows as he watched Hunter enthusiastically comply.

By the time Hunter shimmied out of his tightie whities and boldly stood before him, his thick eight-inch erection sticking nearly straight up, perpendicular to his abdomen like a steel rod, any previous hesitation Matt had felt completely evaporated. Hunter now stared back at him, with nothing but pure lust gleaming back from his glazed-over golden brown eyes.

Matt lay there for a moment taking in the sight of the hirsute muscular jock, who just a couple of weeks ago, he still counted amongst his adolescent tormentors. One of four people, who up till just last week, had for years filled his days with dread, just by their mere proximity.

At this very moment, Matt didn't care about any of that. What he needed now was to understand exactly how far he could push Hunter's apparent, newly found subservience and obedience, and as much as he wanted to wrap his lips around that fat eight-inch cock and suck every last drop of ball juice from his big bloated hairy balls, Matt fully intended to enjoy this moment, savor and milk it for all it's worth.

"You know what I would like right now Hunter?" Matt queried, staring lasciviously into Hunter's eyes.

He watched bemusedly as Hunter visibly gulped, their eyes locked together as the heated bond between them continued to mount degree by degree before Hunter finally managed to mumble: "Whatever it is Matt, you can count on me givin' a hundred percent."

Matt almost giggled at the absolute serious intent behind the tone of Hunter's enthusiastic response.

This all seemed too good to be true, but who was he to look a gift horse in the mouth. But Matt still needed to know just how far he could push Hunter before he would crack if he did at all.

"What I'd really like right now..." He paused, once again admiring the pale muscular build of Hunter's hairy body: "I'd really like it if you got on your knees and crawled over here between my legs and take my pants off!"

Up until now, everything he had ever had Hunter do was almost completely about Hunter's physical pleasure, he hadn't asked him to do anything that involved him touching Matt intimately and Matt felt that this might be the real test of his ability. The Doctor had said, they were hopeful that he would be able to exert some level of control over others, he had never said how far he expected that control might go.

The exalted feeling that Matt felt when Hunter almost instantly dropped to his knees and began shuffling across the floor on his hands and knees as he stared wantonly back at him as if obeying Matt was the only thing in the world that mattered to him right now, was a feeling beyond description and he had absolutely no intention of letting this opportunity pass him by. After all, what horny teenage gay boy would?! This was like one of his most lurid fantasies made manifest and he had every intention of enjoying the moment to its fullest.

Matt did his best to control his elation as Hunter pushed himself between Matt's legs and began unfastening the belt of his bluejeans and loosening the snap and unzipping the fly of his pants.

Their gaze locked together as Hunter tugged at the waistband and lifted his ass slightly to allow Hunter to pull his jeans down and finally off, along with his underwear.

Matt hurriedly tugged his own T-shirt off and tossed it across the room, not really caring where it landed as he returned his attention back to Hunter, who still stared up at him expectantly from between his spread legs: "Have you ever sucked a dick before Hunter?" Matt queried, a bit fearful of Hunter's response.

"No Matt, I'm not a homo like you," he said, more as a matter of fact than with any animosity or insult implied or otherwise.

He took it for what it was. He knew, that in the limited scope of Hunter's little social bubble, that was just the way they viewed things. Everything was black or white, devoid of nuance, and if you strayed out of that narrative, it was beyond their capacity to understand it, let alone accept it, so Matt took a different approach: "Have you ever done anything sexual with another person before?" he asked, leaving specifics open-ended and subject to Hunter's interpretation and limited mental faculties.

Hunter was the same age as Matt, eighteen, couple that with the fact that he was a football jock, his response rather surprised him.

He informed Matt that though he had a girlfriend and she had tried to blow him a couple of times, that the most sexual thing he had done to date was her sometimes letting him finger her and even go so far as to let him eat her out a couple of times, something he seemed to apparently enjoy a whole lot, judging by the gleam in his eyes at the lurid recollection.

Matt reached down, taking the base of his own cock in his right hand, between his thumb and forefinger, and pushed it straight up, until it stood perpendicular to Hunter's face and watchful eyes.

He knew that this was going to be the make-or-break moment of this encounter and become the benchmark for how he proceeded in the future with the others: "Do you see this Hunter?" Matt said, waving his hard six-inch dick slightly toward and closer to Hunter's mouth. Hunter just nodded, his eyes glued to Matt's turgid, bouncing phallus.

Matt smiled wickedly, enjoying the near hypnotic look in Hunter's gaze, before suggesting: "Why don't you just pretend this is a big ol' clit and lick and suck it, just like you do your girlfriends."

Half expecting Hunter to reject that notion outright and possibly kicking his ass for even suggesting it, he couldn't exactly say he was surprised when Hunter scooted slightly forward, bowed his head, and began licking the entire length of his cock with the flat of his tongue, swabbing it greedily in copious amounts of drooling spittle.

Impatient, Matt once again used his right hand to push his now wet dick upright as Hunter continued to lap at it hungrily.

Reaching down with his left hand, Matt grasped the back of Hunter's head and pushed his swollen dick against his lips until they timidly parted allowing his glans entrance into his oral cavity.

"Suck it, Hunter!" Matt groaned, thrusting his hips upward aggressively forcing more of his cock into his mouth.

Staring down into Hunter's golden brown eyes, he watched as he locked his lips around the middle of his shaft and began earnestly suckling like a baby calf on its mother's teat.

Using both hands now, Matt clutched Hunter's head between both his hands and began a rhythmic, slow fuck into the depths of his mouth until he felt the tip of his cock bump against the back of his throat causing Hunter to gag, sending ripples of pleasure emanating from the head of his dick, down his shaft and right up his spine.

Matt knew if he didn't back off quickly, he'd blow his wad too soon and Matt wanted to make this encounter last longer and see just how much further he could push his new redneck jock plaything.

Pushing Hunter's sucking mouth away from his palpitating pecker with a pop, Matt stood up and suggested that Hunter take his place on the bed, patting the spot where he wanted him to sit like he was some small toddler or a household pet.

Silently, but obediently, Hunter complied, his eyes still searching Matt's as if looking for his approval and praise for each completed task.

"That's a good boy!" Matt taunted, playfully reaching over and ruffling the short-cropped hairs on the top of Hunter's head, making the thuggish brute smile ear to ear, happy he had pleased Matt with his compliance.

Matt knelt down, pushing Hunter's muscular, hairy legs apart as he did so, then grasping the back of Hunter's thighs and pushing them upward until he had them forced against his equally hirsute chest and instructing Hunter to hold them there, while he leaned back to admire the twin globes of his spread eagle bubble-butt.

Hunter wasn't as muscular as Hatch or Ramsey, but he definitely had a nice plump ass and Matt took his time visually admiring it, savoring the hairy cleft between his cheeks and the pink circular pucker of his virgin anus.

Leaning closer, Matt ran his index finger up and down his trench, allowing just the tip to circle around his rosebud without actually touching it. The action stirred a moan from Hunter as he continued to crane his neck down trying desperately to maintain eye contact, his eyes growing more glassy and narrow as his finger swirled around the outer circumference of his winking hole.

"How does that feel Hunter?" Matt crooned softly, licking his lips and waiting for Hunter's response.

Absentmindedly nodding his head, Hunter moaned in what Matt could best define as a whimper: "It feels real good Matt."

Smiling wickedly Matt nearly snarled: "If you like that, then you're really going to love this!"

Matt dove forward, thrusting the tip of his salivating tongue into Hunter's musky pucker, wrapping his lips around the tight ring as he did so, probing forcibly into his taut rectal orifice until it parted slightly allowing him partial, shallow access.

Hunter groaned loudly, his strong ham-fisted hands shifting forward grabbing Matt's head between them and thrusting his butt upward to grind against Matt's lips and prodding tongue.

Matt could have easily spent the rest of the afternoon savoring the pungent flavor of Hunter's quivering, hairy butthole, but his raging boner screamed for attention and Matt knew exactly what it wanted.

It was just this last summer, during a camping vacation to an upstate park with his family, where he had met another boy, roughly the same age as himself.

The two had struck up a friendship and had soon figured out each other's long guarded secret, and had decided to explore their mutual attractions during extended hikes and shared tent sleepovers.

Matt had lost his own anal virginity during one of those encounters but had been to timid to push the other boy for a similar opportunity. That was something Matt fully intended to rectify with a now complacent Hunter Milsbane.

Rising to his feet and reaching for his bedside table drawer, Matt removed the small bottle of lubricant he kept there for his usual, late-night jack-off sessions.

As he squeezed the cool gel onto his throbbing, drooling cock, spreading it by gingerly fisting his erection in his gooey palm, Hunter glowered expectantly up at him, still holding the back of his thighs tightly to his hairy chest.

Matt considered swabbing some of the goo against Hunter's twitching virgin hole, maybe even slipping a finger or two up his butt just to loosen him up. But Matt decided what he really wanted, was for his dick to be the first thing that ever entered Hunter's manhole.

He wanted the first thing to spread Hunter's virgin ass-lips to be his hard greasy cock. The truth was, he wanted Hunter to feel every aching inch of his turgid pole as it plundered his deepest recesses.

Rubbing the tip of his dick against Hunter's squinting hole, Matt locked eyes with him and instructed Hunter it would be better if he reached down and spread his ass cheeks open for him, suggesting it would be easier to fuck him if he had an open target.

While Hunter obediently complied, pressing his thumbs on either side of his tiny hole and spreading the tight lips apart revealing the moist pink flesh inside, Matt groaned anxiously while still maintaining eye contact. Hunter grunted when he felt the tip of Matt's dick against his tender anal flesh: "Matt, ain't cornhol'in what homo's do?" he queried, concern washing over his facial expressions even as he continued to comply with Matt's instruction by keeping his hole spread open for him.

"You said you always give a hundred percent Hunter, are you saying you can't handle it?" Matt chided sardonically.

Hunter frowned as his brow furrowed in concentration and determined resolution: "I ain't no wimp Matt, I can take it and dish it with the best of 'em." adding quickly: "My paw didn't raise no pussy!"

Smiling wickedly down at Hunter, Matt smeared the pre-cum drooling tip of his cock against Hunter's fully exposed virgin hole, grinding his manly juices into its pink folds: "Then make your *paw* proud by proving to me you're the best at everything you do!" Matt growled before thrusting forward driving the head of his dick past Hunter's tight sphincter and sinking the full length of his six-inch cock balls deep into the depths of Hunter's rectum.

Matt stared down at him, watching as Hunter's face contorted into a mask of pain and determination, spreading his hole even more and grinding his ass lips against Matt's pelvis, completely dedicated to his assigned task.

As he pulled back and drove back into Hunter over and over, in slow deep dicking motions. On each downward plunge, Hunter would grunt and his balls would bounce. His fat hard dick twitch and jerked as the minutes passed by, while the sound of his grunts grew louder and louder until he was almost squealing like a stuck pig as Matt relentlessly pounded his pud into him.

At one point, as their coupling reached a fevered pitch, Matt slung forward until their sweaty foreheads pressed together, their eyes locked together as the tips of their noses bumped and ground together. Hunter, through tightly clenched teeth, growled: "Am I do'in it right Matt!" to which Matt responded by slamming his cock into his throbbing hole in one last pile driving, bone-jarring thrust and unleashed a torrent of sticky splooge into Hunter's hungry dick ditch, fully emptying the contents of his gonads balls deep inside of him.

As the heat of the moment faded into a serene sense of satisfaction, Hunter's legs lowered to the floor on either side of his torso, as Matt lay there on top of him, their bellies crushed together as he attempted to catch his breath and regain some semblance of his composure.

Matt pulled his head back to stare into Hunter's golden brown eyes. He resisted the urge to press their lips together, thinking that might be pushing it a bit to far for Hunter at this time, instead, he focused on the throbbing heat of Hunter's erection, still trapped between their sweaty bodies and with a quick grin, Matt slid down his body until his head was level with Hunter's crotch and began licking at Hunter's large, cum swollen testicles, swabbing them in his spit before sucking his entire hairy scrotum into his mouth and began sucking gently.

Savoring the slightly salty, musky taste of his bloated balls, Matt reluctantly let them plop from his mouth and licked his way up Hunter's veiny shaft, tracing his tongue along the wide tubular ridge until the tip of his tongue swirled around his sensitive frenulum, eliciting moans of approval from deep within Hunter's chest.

Matt knew, after giving Hunter's prostrate such a sound thrashing, that his cock must be nothing but a hair-trigger just shy of climactic release. Deciding to end Hunter's torment and to assuage his own hunger for more of Hunter's tasty loads, Matt plunged his mouth over his fat eight-inch dick until it smacked against the back of his throat, crushing his uvula against the roof of his mouth as he drove the thick, helmet-shaped knob even deeper into his esophagus and grinding his nose into Hunter's thick wiry pubes, where he gulped around his pulsating dick causing an undulating effect all along its palpitating length and girth.

As he had predicted, Hunter could not withstand the onslaught of his siphoning lip lock, and as his hands clutched the back of his head, Hunter's dick exploded in a fury of torpedoing splooge down his neck.

Volley after volley of thick ropy sperm inundated the fleshy sheath of his throat, filling it beyond capacity as Matt swallowed furiously to maintain and contain the torrents of thick, viscous cock snot spewing into his mouth as Hunter repeatedly pumped his big hairy balls against his chin and ground his lips into the coarse hairs surrounding the base of his schlong.

Matt gulped, again and again, amazed at the shear volume of Hunter's load.

He had thought Hunter came a lot the day before, but the deluge that inundated his oral orifice paled that beyond all comparison, forcing Matt to wonder at the difference a day made.

As the last dregs of his climax dribbled from his belching piss slit, Matt began to pull back slowly until the wet sloppy organ plopped from his slightly swollen lips to land with a resounding thud against his hirsute belly.

'Where the hell did all that come from?" Matt gasped, wiping his lips and chin with the back of his hand, staring quizzically up at a spent and panting Hunter.

Hunter's face contorted into a blissful but questioning mask: "Ya told me to save my cum for ya Matt" he stated, matter of fact as if that explained everything.

Puzzled, Matt pressed him further: "You didn't cum that much yesterday Hunter," he said observationally.

Hunter shrugged his shoulders, as he bent forward, carding his thick fingers through his short-cropped hair: "That's 'cause I had already jacked off 'bout three or four times before that." he concluded, his tone denoting his sincerity.

Curious, and more than a little surprised, Matt had to ask: "How many times do you normally jack-off in a single day Hunter?"

Again, Hunter shrugged, his eyes rolling upward as he pondered his response: "maybe five or six times a day..." Pausing for a moment, then adding: "Sometimes more, but usually no less than that."

A goofy smile cocked the right corner of his mouth as he scrunched his nose bemusedly: "That is until you told me to save it for ya Matt, so that's what I did...." A troubled look crossed his face for a brief second as he quickly stammered: "That's what I'm supposed to do ain't it Matt?"

Assuring Hunter he didn't do anything wrong, and to keep up the *good work* Matt proceeded to get dressed and encouraged Hunter to do the same.

It wasn't long after that, he was showing Hunter the door and telling him that he wouldn't be able to see him on Saturday, but he was to be a good boy and save it all for Sunday, exchanging phone numbers with him and informing Hunter he'd call him and let him know where and when they could *meet up.*

Hunter just gave him a serious look and stated once again and affirming that: "You can count on me Matt!" before walking away into the cool evening breeze.

Matt didn't know exactly what time it was, but the darkness outside told him he probably didn't have long before either his brother or his parents returned home.

Not wanting a repeat of the other evening and not knowing what the residual effects of all the potential pheromones his and Hunter's little soiree might still linger, Matt rushed upstairs and opened his bedroom windows fully in the hopes of airing the place out sufficiently enough before anyone returned home.

Later, feeling fortunate that his parents didn't make it home until a little over an hour later. he decided to spend a little time studying the effects of pheromones on various animal species, noting many similarities between the hierarchical social structures of wolves and humans, especially in the male of the species.

He had read several online articles and concluded his evening inquiries by watching a video on the focus on science site about the similarities between wolf and human alpha males and though he found it all very interesting, the earlier events had left him more fatigued than normal and he soon found himself nodding off. That is until his brother made it home and began making his normal racket.

It was apparent his sibling was upset about something, as he slammed various things around noisily before finally entering their shared bathroom, starting up the shower, all the while mumbling something about: "That frigid bitch" and someone, who Matt assumed was his girlfriend Merissa "Not knowing how good she has it..."

Matt regretted not shutting the bathroom door to his room after airing the place out earlier, so he just closed his laptop and set it on his nightstand, and rolled over on his side, away from the open door, and quickly drifted off to sleep.

Normally, Matt didn't usually recall his dreams, or they quickly faded from memory upon awakening, but for some reason, his dreams had caused him to become more fitful that evening, culminating from the usual myriad events of his day, but his evening studies seemed to blend with his subconscious. His overactive libido created and blended an erotic, primal pairing in which James Hatcher lead the entire football team in pursuit of some prey deep in a moonlit forest, each of them naked and sweaty from the hunt.

Matt soon realized, that what they were chasing was him and he could hear their distant howls as they attempted to follow his scent through the wooded demesne.

He ran, near breathlessly as their howls grew more distant and he paused to catch his breath, wondering hopefully that he had given them the slip, when the sudden sharp crackling crunch of snapping leaves and twigs instantly drew his attention behind him, where a naked, fully erect James Hatcher glowered ominously back at him with two glowing blue eyes and a pair of sharp fangs exposed by the lecherous sneer baring his toothy grimace.

Matt felt helpless and cornered, too fearful to even consider flight as he backed up slowly against the cold, rough surface of a large tree trunk and sunk to his knees as the large growling muscular, and near bestial form of what had once been James Hatcher, slowly approached him.

Trembling and quivering, fearful for his life, he nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt Hatch's large callused hand stroke the side of his face, almost affectionately. He could hear the low rumble of words forming deep within Hatch's chest before escaping his lips in a deep, seductive, bassy baritone: "You are mine!" he growled, one thick finger lifting his chin delicately until Matt was forced to meet his lurid, glowing gaze.

He felt Hatcher's finger trace the outline of his pouting lips, trembled nervously as it parted them bringing his massive phallus closer to his open mouth as he snarled between clenched teeth: "You are my mate and you will submit to me."

Matt could feel the air grow thick around him, swirling with a scent he had never caught before. He felt it melt away his defenses as he opened his mouth wider to take the large bulbous helmet-shaped head of James's large cock between his twitching lips.

The wafting, musky odor permeating from James's crotch filled his flaring nostrils, subsuming all his resistance as the growing need to submit to his alpha suborn all other thoughts and needs.

His mouth begin to water, drooling spittle down his quivering lips as the tip of his tongue flicked out to suave and probe into the depths of his gasping piss slit.

Instantly, the pungent taste of stale urine mixed with the sweet nectar of his tangy pre-cum engulfed his taste buds and filled his consciousness with only one persistent desire. Surrender and please his alpha.

Consumed with wanton lust and hunger, Matt devoured Hatch's majestic fleshy scepter, driving it back into his narrow throat and beyond. Gulping it down in lurching spurts like a snake consuming its living prey, until he had devoured it all, sheathing it deep within is greedy cock gobbling gullet.

His eyes became two narrow slits as he began suckling the meaty member, grinding his overstretched lips against the wiry grit of his pubic bush.

He was nearly, completely lost into his lurid task, when a sudden, but gentle rustling brought him back into stark focus.

Matt's eyes fluttered open, the spell of his dream fading as he found himself back in his moonlight-dappled bedroom, lying flat on his back in the warm comfort of his bed.

He had barely shaken the effects of his lingering slumber when he felt the weighted motion at the foot of his bed.

With a start, Matt sat up, his heart racing as he realized someone was in his room with him. He nearly cried out when a large hand shot forward and clamped over his mouth and he heard the scolding hush of his brother's deep gravelly voice as he inched his way forward on his knees and into the murky faint light coming from the adjacent window.

Matt felt his brother's other hand press flatly against his chest urging him to lay prone on his back as his sibling continued to lumber forward, his knees and his bare muscular thighs splayed on either side of his torso.

Still groggy and confused by the sudden intrusion, Matt lay there in stunned silence as his brother withdrew his hand and moved to the back of his head, pulling it forward just as his body inched through the darkness and into the waning moonlight emanating from his bedroom window.

Matt let out a slight gasp as his brother's large drooling erection swung into view, butting against his chin leaving a strand of pre-cum connecting it from the tip of his palpitating cockhead.

Looking up his brother's muscle-rippling abdomen, past his rock-hard, slab-like pectorals, Matt's gaze locked on the lust contorted grimace of his elder sibling.

Brian's eyes, glassy but intense, narrowed and focused. His lips curled into a lascivious sneer as his large hand continued to pull his head forward until his face was shoved into his hairy crotch.

As he forcibly rubbed Matt's face all over his sizable genitals, Brian groaned in a hushed husky whisper: "I know you've been wanting this you little bitch and now your gonna take it!"

Matt didn't know what he was talking about, he tried to bring his hands up, to push his brother away and as his mouth opened to cry out for his brother to stop, Brian shoved his large swollen dick right past his lips and deep into his mouth.

His brother's hands gripped his wrist, forcing his arms apart as his hips thrust forward driving even more of his throbbing cock deeper into his oral cavity.

Brian's dick wasn't as thick as Hatch's but it was every bit as long and soon it was completely sheaved in Matt's esophagus and Brian's big hairy balls ground against his chin.

Matt gagged and sputtered but couldn't expel or dislodge the pulsating member and his continued struggles only seemed to elicit excited moans from his lust-consumed brother. His brother's superior strength easily subdued any physical resistance he could muster, and in his confused state, Matt soon had little recourse but to surrender to his brother's oral assault on his throat.

As his mind slowly cleared, Brian began a less forceful rhythm, rocking his hips forward and backward in a sort of seesaw tempo. Matt adjusted his intake of air in time with his outward stroke, sucking in the oxygen his lungs needed to sustain his efforts.

His once dry throat soon became slick with the copious amounts of leaking pre-cum oozing continuously from Brian's pulsating glans and Matt allowed the tension to drain from his body, relaxing his once straining throat muscles as his lips began to almost involuntarily suckle the massive, slowly pistoning dong, and after a few moments past, Brian released his wrist to grip the back of his head, to steady and center his target.

Matt had abandoned his struggle against him and as his desire for cock supplanted his minor disgust at his brother's incestuous oral invasion, his hunger grew with his brother's thrusting hips, who ramped up the momentum until he was nearly hammering into his mouth. With only the sound of his wet sucking mouth and the slapping of Brian's big egg-sized balls against his chin, Matt's hands gripped the twin mounds of his brother's muscular buttocks and kneaded them like bread dough between his squeezing digits.

Knowing that there was little chance his brother could sustain such an intense pace for long, he was soon proven right as the sound of his brother's rapid breathing suddenly stopped as did his thrusting hips.

Brian held perfectly still and Matt could feel the tight contractions of his large gonads against his chin and he knew his brother's inexorable climax was imminent.

Matt felt like Brian was going to crush his skull with the force of the grip he had on the back of his head as he ground every fraction of an inch of his nine-inch schlong past his lips right before the initial release of his explosive orgasm.

Though the amount of splooge rocketing from Brian's piss slit didn't compare to the one Hunter had shot down his throat earlier, it was no less vigorous and potent, spewing in rapid succession, inundating his oral cavity with thick, viscous masculine virility.

All Matt could do was gulp down the copious amounts as it spouted fountain-like from his pulsating knob; expanding and contracting with each voluminous volley of near molten jizz until the tidal waves of Brian's emissions slowed to a steady dribble of watery excrescence.

Matt gasped for air as his sibling yanked his still drooling member from his mouth and he caught a brief glimpse of its cum and mucous covered, glistening rock hard majesty before Brian roughly flipped Matt over onto his stomach.

With one strong ham-fisted hand, Brian shoved Matt's face into the pillow as he straddled his buttocks.

Thrusting on arm under Martt's hips, to lift his ass a little higher, he could feel his brother's burgeoning member slip wetly between his butt cheeks.

Brian leaned over him, his breath hot on the side of his neck as he growled into his ear: "We're not done yet you little slut, you belong to me and I'm gonna teach you a lesson you won't soon forget!"

The gruff sounds of Brian's words still hung in the air as he rammed the full length of his gooey schlong deep into Matt's tight ass.

Matt could barely hear his own muffled screams as Brian ground his dong into his ravaged, aching anus. To Matt, it felt like someone had shoved a red hot poker up his ass as waves of searing pain shot up his spine in torturous agony.

Brian's superior strength and weight, easily overshadowed any resistance Matt could have mustered, not that he didn't try, but each movement he made was quickly mastered by his brother and seemed only to drive his invading member deeper into the recesses of his bowels and adding to his discomfort.

Deep down, Matt knew the pain was only from the suddenness of Brian's actions, and even though he had only been fucked that one time before, it had been quite pleasurable, nothing like the throbbing ache he exp[erienced now.

It was true, that the only other cock to fuck him had been considerably smaller, Matt knew it was still more about the passion of the moment and his readiness for the encounter, that had allowed the much easier access.

The truth was, he had been more relaxed and comfortable, not blindsided and forced unexpectedly.

Knowing this, Matt tried to emulate what he had experienced that night. He tried willing his hole to relax and slowly, through the haze of his pain, his body finally, though slowly, began to respond.

Later, he would be thankful that Brian had been content to remain still while he had time to recover from the initial shock of penetration, knowing full well it was due solely to the fact his brother seemed temporally distracted by alternately nibbling at the nap of his neck and sucking on his earlobe as his throbbing, rock hard erection twitched and jerked of it's own accord deep inside his spasming hole.

He didn't know if his sibling sensed or felt his sphincter relax or whether he had just inadvertently timed the resumption of his assault, but by the time he started slowly withdrawing his rigid pole from his clinging depths, Matt had recouped enough to actually gasp at the unexpected pleasure of the suctioning sensation, aided by the jarring titillation of his prostrate by the raking flesh of his retracting dong.

Brian only pulled back a few inches before driving back into him and like a switch being flipped from off to on, Matt's hole practically screamed in exultation at the waves of pleasure that permeated from that simple, forceful action.

Matt wantonly thrust his hips back at Brian's groin, trying to recapture the full length of his turgid member. The once tortured lips of his anus gulping and sucking at the hairy base of Brian's cock, causing him to moan deeply against his ear: "Take it you little bitch, eat my big dick with that fucking pussy."

Brian didn't move, he didn't have to. His lurid moans and taunting, deep, sensual voice, seemed to unleash a cavalcade of repressed desires from deep within Matt's consciousness and Matt's body responded to his baser, primal urges, transforming him into the wanton, cock hungry whore he'd always known lay just beneath the cordial surface he normally presented to other's.

In an instant, his brother changed from the aggressor to the victim of his carnal passions as Matt ravaged his brother's cock repeatedly devouring it in blissful, reckless abandon, the force of his hips driving Brian backward until Matt was on his hands and knees, bumping and grinding noisily against his flaming phallus in a flurry of lurid grunts and whimpering groans.

Matt's overzealous intonations spurred Brian into action, forcing his hand over his younger brother's mouth to muffle his lascivious squeals, he yanked his dick from Matt's gooey hole and dragged him to the edge of the bed, bending his neck until his head hung over the edge.

Brian swung out until he had his feet planted firmly on the floor with Matt's head between his oaken muscular thighs, then drove his hard cock deep into Matt's mouth and began fucking the full length of his burgeoning pole into its wet sucking depths.

All Matt could do was choke and cough as Brian ravaged his throat, pounding relentlessly in and out, his hips a pistoning blur. Wads of thick spit and mucous belched between Matt's lips until the entire upper part of his face was covered in a mask of the viscous goo and sludge that dripped in gelatinous strands that puddled onto the hardwood floor beneath them.

Brian's relentless assault concluded in the only way it could. He slammed viciously into Matt's undulating, gagging throat and spewed torrents of sperm and semen down his esophagus, all the while grinding and gyrating the hairy base of his spewing dick against his bruised and swollen lips: "Swallow it all you fucking bitch!" Brian grunted in a hoarse whisper, as he continued to feed his younger brother the last spurts of his voluminous volcanic load.

Matt laid there, gasping breathlessly, gurgling through the prodigious and corpulent emissions of his brother's dripping wet dick, trying desperately to suck enough oxygen into his lungs when Brian ruthlessly flipped him around and grabbed his ankles and hung them over his shoulders before ramming his swollen raw, dripping cock back into Matt's sloppy asshole: "Don't poop out on me now bitch, we're just gettin' started." Brain snarled sardonically as he once again began to ravage Matt's rectum, pile-driving his dick relentlessly into the tattered maw of his quivering flesh.

He didn't know exactly how long Brian had fucked him. After the first hour, he had lost all sense of time and space. His mind drifted in and out of consciousness and the few times he did manage to regain some shred of awareness, Brian was still there, jackhammering into his numb, abused hole, drenched in sweat, his face a contorted mask of pure, unrelenting animalistic lust.

But as the hours passed, he woke to find himself alone, sprawled akimbo across his bed, covered in sweat, dry spit, and mucous and what he was sure was his brother's cum.

His sheets were wet and dank, and reeked of their musky, pungent, incestuous rutting, almost every muscle and joint in his body ached and his swollen asshole throbbed dully.

Despite his body's protestations, Matt hauled himself into a sitting position beside his bed, his foot landing in a puddle of gelatinous goo that made his stomach rumble as he fought the urge to puke at the remembrance of how it got there.

Matt forced himself to his feet and he stumbled his way toward the bathroom, his eyes squinting as he flipped the light on and made his way over to the sink.

As his eyes adjusted to the bathroom light, Matt cringed at his own reflection in the mirror. His lips were still slightly swollen and looked split in one spot, his face and hair were matted in dry spit and cum. His reddened eyes were like two dark recessed circles and his head throbbed like he had been on a drunken binge.

Matt practically crawled into the shower, cranking it as hot as he could tolerate, and allowed the warm soothing watery spray to cascade away the remnants of his carnal, incestual debauchery.

He knew that he should feel some sense of remorse for what had happened, but at the moment he only felt numb and fatigued. He slowly scrubbed at his body until every trace of his and his brother's coupling rinsed away and flowed down the drain.

Long after he was done bathing, he stood there, leaning against the tiled wall, and allowed the soothing waters to massage away his dull aches in heated watery bliss.

Feeling slightly better but still tired and listless, Matt exited the shower and dried himself haphazardly, and tossing the moistened towel into their shared clothes hamper.

It was then he noticed that his brother's door was partially opened, Cautiously curious, he quietly made his way to the door and peered through the crack.

Brian laid sprawled out, naked on his bed, his cock looked red and puffy, swollen from over use and still slightly distended, draping across his furry belly and streaked with dried cum.

Inexplicably, Matt felt his own dick start to harden and he couldn't seem to pry his eyes away from his sibling's exposed genitals and despite the rawness of his asshole and the scratchy ache in his dry throat Matt found himself drawn to his sibling's puffy tumescent dick.

Like a moth to a flame, he soon found himself kneeling by his brother's bedside his hand reaching for the base of his bloated wanger as he leaned his head over his groin, flopping the organ around in his fist like a long limp sausage.

A strong pungent odor wafted into his nostrils, reeking of stale cum. A stench like a musky locker room, rife with testosterone and ball sweat, and despite all that, his hand trembling and his lips quivering, Matt stuffed the entire tumefied member into his mouth.

Instantly his mouth filled with the acrid, sour taste of stale post-coital juices. Matt's eyes nearly rolled back into his head as his tongue savored and swirled around the corpulent flesh of his brother's dick, sucking and swallowing the pungent juices until it was washed clean in the salivating confines of his warm mouth.

He tried his best to suck a renewed vigor into his brother's cock as he pounded his own dick in his fist, but his best efforts only managed a slight stirring of the lumbering organ.

Close to the edge, in his hedonistic worship of his brother's phallus, Matt spits it out, letting it flop wetly against his belly and dove between his slightly splayed oaken thighs and sucked his prodigious balls into his mouth and began to suck away the sharp, tangy accumulation of dried and fresh testicular perspiration.

The heady musk of his brother's groin did the trick and as he relished the uniquely masculine juices, his own cock erupted all over the side of his brother's bed.

Long after his climax, Matt lingered there with his sibling's hairy gonads in his mouth, gently nursing them until they were as squeaky clean as his cock.

Slowly and reluctantly Matt allowed the twin orbs to slip from his mouth, but before departing, he kissed each reverently, while silently hoping he hadn't disturbed his brother's slumber.

Matt rose and looked down on his sleeping brother. He had always been impressed by his brother's physical achievements and despite the angst, he felt about what they had done that night, deep down, he hoped it wouldn't be their last!

                                                              CHAPTER FOUR:

Well, that couldn't have worked out better if I planned it!" Matt McCormick sighed in relief as he pulled out of the ReGen Pharmaceutical Lab research facilities parking lot, reaching over to the passenger side seat and patting the front pocket of his canvas bag travel case for his laptop, making sure its contents were still safely tucked away, feeling another wave of relief wash over him as he felt the faint outline of the two-pill pack cards contained within.

Of course, Matt wasn't discounting the luck or fate, as it were, that had presented this fortuitous opportunity. What were the odds that Dr. Ventrov would entrust him with the transfer of the very thing he was sure could alleviate a potential problem that had been troubling him since yesterday?

So far, his entire day had played out this way for him. First, was when he woke up, or should he say dragged his tired, sore ass out of bed.

He had spent a good portion of the previous night being relentlessly plowed by his brother Brian's tireless cock, even remembering how he had hoped at the time, that it wouldn't be the last.

What a difference a few hours made.

He had awakened, not only with a puffy, swollen asshole that was still gooey with the plethora of cum his brother had dumped up his hole, but he had a sore throat to match. Also, there was no small degree of incestual guilt knocking insidiously around inside his head.

Fortunately, and completely in keeping with his current train of luck, Brian had already headed out before Matt got up and while Matt still had to scramble to get ready for work, with no time for even a quick breakfast, at least he didn't have to face his brother in an awkward morning after situation. Though he knew, there was still going to be plenty of time for that later, knowing full well, that at some time, he and Brian were going to have to have some sort of discussion about it, but his current state of mind on the matter was to chalk it up to a one-time thing, one that he could never let happen again.

Matt had been careless, he knew that. As it were, Brian would have never done anything remotely like what they did the night before and that all of this was down to the changes Matt was currently undergoing and that his brother was just an innocent victim of circumstance; collateral damage as it were, at least until Matt could get his new abilities under more control.

All Matt could figure was that his older sibling had succumbed to him broadcasting strong sexual hormones while he dreamed of James Hatcher. And even though he had left his window open and his ceiling fan on to defuse the ones he had consciously used on Hunter Milsbane early that evening, he had forgotten to close his bathroom door, and since Brian never closed his own adjoining door, he had succumbed to his wafting pheromone discharges during his erotic dream. At least as far as Matt could figure.

Actually, what Matt was hoping for, was that Brian would feel as guilty as he now did and that he would be to embarrassed to bring it up and they could just both pretend it never happened. The little voice in his head told him that was highly unlikely and that he should be prepared for the eventuality that Brian approached him about it.

Either way, he'd definitely be more careful in the future, making sure he took whatever precautions necessary to prevent it from ever happening again.

Matt's second bit of luck that morning had been his mother letting him use her car instead of driving him to work. Though not unheard of, it was rarer than Matt liked, hoping someday, that he would be able to afford to buy his own vehicle once he had saved enough money. A little-used Subaru would suit him nicely.

That left his third piece of luck and probably the most fortuitous of all.

It had begun with the completion of his usual mindless data transfers on each of the four subjects (not including himself) he was responsible for and correlating that data for Dr. Ventrov, who was where he usually was, right across the lab at his workstation pouring over complicated-looking chemical analysis and breakdowns from the various other lab technicians.

Today, it seemed, was a little different in the fact his normally cluttered desk was now doubly so as it now also served as a temporary repository for the various bottles and pill cards that contained the experimental supplements the lab had developed.

As Matt would later learn, as he sat down next to the doctor, while he reviewed his weekly compilations and caught Matt eyeing the various supplements, that in fact, the various chemical analysis he was reviewing on his computer screen, were the compounds he had on his desk that was either to be discontinued or remitted for further study.

One, in particular, had caught Matt's interest. handwritten on the blank space provided on the pill card were the words "male enhancement."

At first, Matt took that to mean it was something like Viagra or any of the host of other male supplements meant to increase male sexual performance. But the sudden arrival of Coach Chuck Myers, who had overheard their discussion as he approached them, had made the jest that most men in the world would probably give their right arm for that one, pointing to the card Matt had been focused on.

His sudden appearance behind them had startled Matt at first, but his words stuck in his head as Matt regarded the clustered pack of cards contained within the rubberbanded bundle.

Each card had to contain at least twelve of what looked liked time-released capsules.

Matt initially laughed, thinking the coach was merely making a joke about it, but when Doctor Ventrov was suddenly pulled away by one of his assistants, Matt had all but decided to see if he could subtly push the coach for more information. But when the doctor suddenly got up and left with the assistant, Coach Myers had leaned in and half-whispered: "Just one of those bad boys doubles a guy's size, endurance, and output permanently. Can you imagine what would happen if that formula got out to the general public?"

The shocked look on Matt's face must have amused the coach causing him to chuckle as he patted Matt on the back playfully.

Matt chaffed at what he thought was merely a taunt from the hirsute, muscular giant causing him to retort tersely: "Oh, so this is what you took to make you the man you are today."

The smile faded from the coach's face, his gaze hardened and his brow furrowed: "This..."He stated flatly, no hint of humor in his voice: "...Is what they distilled from what they gave me. What I took was first-generation and far broader in scope...." his voice trailed off thoughtfully as if remembering something unpleasant, before concluding: ".... and severity."

As if someone had flipped a switch, the coach laughed again, a beaming smile that subsumed his handsome face as he reached across Matt and lifted another pack of bundled pill cards with the label MetaGen XI stamped at the top and tossed it in Matt's lap.

"That right there is probably more your speed kid, that's closer to what your buds are taken..." He ruffled Matt's hair jovially, adding: "though I think that versions permanent compared to what the doc's givin' the boys."

That revelation was news to Matt. All this time he had thought that the changes they were undergoing were meant to be perpetual, but if what the coach was implying were true, then all any of them needed to do, was to stop taking their supplement to return to normal.

Matt glowered at the bundle of pill cards in his hands, regarding them almost absentmindedly, noting not only the similarities to the ones he knew the guys took each week but the difference between the ones he took.

The coach seemed to pick up on his train of thought: "You do know, you're not taking the same thing they are dontchya?"

Matt just nodded his head without remarking. Dr. Ventrov had made it clear, that what they were trying to achieve with Matt was different from what they expected to happen with the guys on the football team.

But still, Matt couldn't help but wonder if taking this might help him achieve the coach's and the doctor's goals if he could approach them on a physically more comparable basis.

He had noticed that there were improvements in his own physiognomy, but nothing like what the other guys were achieving, and he couldn't help but think, that if he was just a little more physically intimidating like them...

It was at that moment the doctor returned and ended his and the coach's conversation.

Matt couldn't help but note a sense of agitation in Doctor Ventrov's mannerisms, something had obviously disturbed him as he seemed to fidget with the various prepackaged supplements on his desk, while simultaneously flitting his gaze between him and Coach Myers, who himself was regarding the doctor quizzically.

Abruptly, the doctor grabbed a small stainless steel cart next to his desk and began quickly loading all the bottles and packet bundles onto it before turning to Matt and nervously instructing him to take the cart down the hall to the storage room before hastily handwriting a note he thrust in Matt's hand that he was to present to the technician there.

Finding the doctors sudden change in mood somewhat perplexing, having never seen him act any other way than his usual stoic, clinical detachment, Matt swiftly shuffled the wobbly wheeled cart out into the main hall and veered off in the direction of the intersection that lead down to the indicated storage center.

As he approached his turnoff, Matt hazarded a glance at the content of the handwritten note that simply stated: "All contents to be incinerated immediately."

Almost instantly, upon reading the doctor's handwritten instruction, a plan was formulated in Matt's head, while simultaneously marveling at the fortuitousness of the moment.

Matt knew, that all the hallways in the facility had cameras that offered continuous surveillance, noting that there were few exceptions or blind spots, one of which, was a four-foot section, right after the turn-off in his current destination.

Timing would be everything Matt conjectured as he studied the contents of the cart, formulating a plan that could be rapidly enacted allowing for only the briefest halt in forwarding momentum.

Nervously, the palms of his hands sweating and his fingers shaking, just as he made the turn, Matt quickly plucked two blister-packed cards from two separate bundles and swiftly stuffed them down the front of his pants, nary missing a beat in his sojourn.

Matt did his best to be as nonchalant as possible as he finished his trek, handing off the cart and the doctor's instructions, before hastily retreating back down the way he came.

He could feel the cards shifting against his groin and feared they might make some noise that could alert someone to his first-time theft, all the while imagining just such a scenario and the immense amount of trouble he could potentially be in if caught.

He paused at the entrance to the lab and tried as inconspicuously as possible to adjust the blister packs more securely in his underwear without actually reaching down the front of his trousers.

It was as he paused there, that he could overhear the voices of Doctor Ventrov and Coach Myers heatedly discussing something that seemed to trouble both of them.

Matt wasn't prone to eavesdropping, but it was the nature of their conversation that piqued Matt's interest.

"Quit frettin' over it doc..."He heard the coach say: "That's why I left the Corps when I did, to limit the possibility of running into anyone I use to know prior to my liaison between the Pentagon and the work you're doing here. I assure you, no one I knew before that, could make the connection between the two."

Matt could hear the bluntness in the coach's voice, sensing he truly believed what he was telling Dr. Ventrov was the truth.

"I wish I shared your optimism, but you know as well as I do, that those in your past could and would wreak havoc on what we're attempting to do here, let alone expose the tenuous connections we have at the Pentagon. It has taken considerable effort and money to keep what we're doing under wraps and with this general poking around and asking questions, I'm not as sure as you are that our safety and the nature of what we're doing isn't already compromised. "

The doctor added sardonically: "Some of your people aren't as self-centered, naive, and stupid as I was led to initially believe."

Coach Myers chuckled, more out of disdain rather than finding what the doc said as amusing.

"Whoever this so-called brilliant scientist you were in contact with back in Ukraine was, while they may know their shit in regards to your little marginally sanctioned experiment, they certainly sold you a bill of goods where we're concerned."

"I have based most of my work on the intel my people garnered from that source and it has proven invaluable to our work here. We are so close to making the breakthrough we've hoped for, I'm certain of it!"

The doctor's voice had grown more animated, more emotional than anything Matt had ever heard from him before, and judging by the intonation of their conversation, Matt was beginning to realize, there was far more going on here than some pharmaceutical company making supplements to increase stamina and strength. But as disturbing as he found what the doctor was saying, it was Coach Myers's observations that truly gave him the shivers.

"So, you still think the boy is still the key don'tchya?" he stated, his voice sounding coldly analytical and matter of fact.

"You tell me, Mr. Myers?" Doctor Ventrov countered.

Matt waited with bated breath for the coach to respond and a cold shiver ran down his spine when he finally did.

"I can feel the pull, though it's not quite the same yet, it's growing." He paused for a second, but his next words nearly floored Matt: "I'm fairly certain he already has Hunter Milsbane wrapped around his little finger and I'm also sure, with a little effort, Lance Coleman will be next. Hatcher seems to be more resistant, but I can already see the cracks forming and I think if things keep progressing as they are, it won't be long before he's as compliant as the rest of them."

"Good!" Doctor Ventrov concluded, adding: "Then I see no reason why we shouldn't expedite the plan, I no longer feel that we have the luxury of time we once had and I would like to see this experiment to its conclusion before I am forced to return my findings back to my benefactor in Ukraine, I think he'll be most pleased with our results."

"I'm looking forward to meeting him" Coach Myers responded, though there was an almost imperceptible tint of hesitancy in his voice, a slight trepidation that Matt barely picked up on.

For the first time since Matt had met him, he heard Dr. Ventrov chuckle.

It was a chilling kind of laugh, something that obviously didn't come naturally to him: "Be careful what you wish for Mr. Myers, that day will come soon enough. Besides, not everyone in the world will be happy to know of his continued existence!"

It was at that time and almost on cue, one of the doctor's other assistance appeared around the corner from the opposite direction Matt had come from.

Thinking quickly Matt made it appear as if he himself had just returned, thrusting the door to the lab inward and stood there holding it open as he waited for the other assistant to enter before him.

Doing his best to pretend that what he had overheard hadn't shaken him, Matt did his best to behave as normally as possible, returning to his workstation, scooping up his tablet, and began fumbling through it like he was working or searching for something, being as nonchalant as possible, all the while his thoughts racing in near panic, torn between the insidious implications of what he overheard and the twin blister packs stuffed down the front of his pants.

He nearly jumped out of his skin but managed barely to contain it, when Doctor Ventrov suddenly called out his name.

Matt turned, looking up from his pad, taking in the two men he now regarded with more than a little trepidation and increasing skepticism. He feigned an inquisitive smile as he focused his attention on the Doctor, who, to Matt's relief, merely informed him they were done for the day and he was free to leave when he wanted to.

Matt just said: "Sure thing Doc" before scampering to set down the tablet he'd been using and scooping up his jacket, before loading his laptop back in its canvas carry bag.

He was just about to make for the door, when Doctor Ventrov called out his name again, just as his hand had touched the smooth surface of one of the double-wide swing doors.

Matt turned to face him, his mind racing as he imagined the worse...

"Sorry for the short day, but I'll get with you later this week. Coach Myers and I wish to discuss some changes we'll be implementing over the course of the next few weeks."

Matt just shrugged his shoulders, pretending a calm he truly didn't feel at the moment before stammering: "Okie doke doc, catchya later." before making a hasty exit, making only one stop to a public bathroom where he transferred the two blister packs to his laptop travel bag.

Now, as he pulled onto the main road, leaving the ReGen Pharmaceutical Lab behind him, Matt, more than ever, pondered the future, and even more importantly, his role in it.

It was obvious from the doc's and the coach's discussion, that nothing was what it seemed and Matt was growing tired of people thinking they could just use him any way they wanted. Well, two can play at that game, he thought to himself, patting the contents of the side pocket of his laptop travel bag.

If it was control they were after, it was control they would get, and all Matt had to do, was make sure it wasn't the type of control they expected!


                                                                    <<<<<<<O>>>>>>>


"This could get a bit tricky" Matt said to himself, as he sent his response to Hunter Milsbane, telling him what time he could come over and let him know to park in the alley where he'd meet him at the back door to his home later.

Matt's parents had just left a few minutes prior, stating they were going shopping and meeting friends for lunch and not to expect them back until around dinner time.

Brian, his older brother, had left earlier, much to Matt's relief, to spend some time with his girlfriend. Apparently, they had some sort of disagreement the day before and she had invited him to her dorm to discuss things, and Matt got the impression his brother was hoping they'd make up, and also didn't expect to be back anytime soon.

To be truthful, after his date with Blake the night before, he had been considering whether he wanted to continue things with Hunter. But, after having the night to sleep on it, he felt, that for now, it was probably in his best interest to try and keep Hunter on a short leash, thinking that in the short term, it might prove advantageous, though he wasn't exactly sure how yet, he wasn't ready to burn any bridges he might find useful in the future.

Hunter wasn't much, but right now, he was the only one that was truly exhibiting the kind of behavioral influence the coach and Dr. Ventrov had hoped would occur; which Matt also found troubling.

Even without knowing what he had overheard yesterday, from day one he had wondered why they would even want to achieve such a goal. His instincts, even before they started this, had told him that something wasn't quite adding up, and after yesterday he was more certain than ever there was far more to this than he had originally thought or had been presented to him.

It was a shame though, for the most part, he really liked Coach Myers. It wasn't just the fact he embodied everything that Matt considered made a man a stud, but he'd always given Matt the impression he was a stand-up kind of guy, someone who had been the underdog early on, much like the way Matt viewed himself at times, but had found his way through his adversity and come out on the other side a better person for it.

But now, he wasn't so sure. Which gave him all the more reason to keep whatever support he could muster until he could garner a greater understanding of exactly what he was dealing with, and to also redouble his efforts in pushing his fledgling abilities without revealing or drawing, even more, undue attention on himself.

For now, that meant keeping Hunter close, maybe even closer than he was now. Second, he needed to find out how the coach and Doctor Ventrov seemed to know he was influencing Hunter and why the coach thought that Hatch was too. That one had surprised him the most since he had seen no evidence of that himself. Quite the opposite. If anything, Matt felt more like putty in Hatch's hands than he ever had.

Did the coach know that he and Hatch had "hooked up" in the shower that time? Did he think it had happened because Matt had somehow influenced Hatch and made him act the way he had?

Matt couldn't just dismiss this idea. He had to face the reality if the situation, that despite the horrible way Hatch had treated him, he had in all truth and honesty enjoyed every minute of it.

It hadn't escaped his notice, that the reality of that encounter, the unsettling truth might all boil down to Hatch behaving exactly the way Matt had expected and worse yet, wanted him to.

If that was the case, then it only proved that somehow, someway, the coach had been privy to that encounter. Either that, or Hatch had been encouraged to do so, and or reported or bragged about it to either the coach or within earshot of him or to someone reporting to him.

More than ever, Matt was wondering if he should tell Talia about what's been going on. At least then he'd have someone else covering his back. His biggest fear in telling her was that somehow her father the sheriff might learn about it somehow, and that was the last thing Matt wanted to happen, especially after what he did last night, during his date with Blake.

In the shitstorm that his life was turning out to be recently, last night with Blake had been a much-needed oasis in the chaos enveloping his life.

From the moment he had picked him up, to the time he dropped him off and walked him to the front door of his house where he thanked him for a fun evening before swooping in and planting a quick first peck on the lips, saying goodnight, and promising to call soon. Even before driving off into the night leaving Matt swooning on the front porch of his house as he smiled and waved at him, like some giddy schoolgirl as he drove off into the night, Matt had been smitten with him.

Which made what he did during their date all the more morally and ethically dubious at best. Leaving Matt to now wonder, if he even liked the person he was becoming.

It was true, in his defense, at the time it had been done with the best of intentions. He truly thought his actions would help Blake, even if they didn't end up together.

But in hindsight, he could see, and he had to admit, in part, he'd also been selfishly motivated.

During the course of their evening, Matt learned a lot about Blake. How it was just him and his dad at home. That his mom and dad divorced when he was still a little kid and she just completely dropped out of their lives. That he hadn't truly appreciated the sacrifices his dad had made for him until recently. That, until he turned eighteen and became a senior, the only thing he had really focused on was sports and his passion for muscle cars. But now that he was older and his whole future lay before him, he now found himself more focused on the things that really mattered. Like spending time with his dad, helping him around his shop, and in general, just taking stock of his life and what he wanted from it.

He loved playing baseball, but now it had become more of a means to an end. As captain of the school team, there was a real chance at getting some scholarships to help with college, but that it depended on him keeping up his grade point average, something he had always struggled with.

Then there was the growing competition he faced from younger guys on the team, hungry for his spot. As well as other nearby schools with athletes just as hungry as he was for those coveted scholarships.

His dad did okay with the shop, and it kept food on the table and a roof over their heads, but there wasn't a lot in the way of spare capital, and if he couldn't keep his grades up and excel in his sport, he feared losing out the limited options open to him. It was why he was spending so much time at the gym recently.

The entire time he talked, Matt had two things running through his mind.

One was the continuous loop of Hatch's taunts about Blake's manhood and the other was Blake's own fear that he might not be physically or academically impressive enough to win those scholarships.

Matt knew that between him and Talia, being grade "A" students, they'd be able to help him with the academic stuff. But the thing that was troubling him now, was that he had allowed himself to believe he now held in his inside coat pocket, the answer to the other two problems and while they had concluded their evening together by stopping to get a bite to eat at the local burger joint and Blake had excused himself at one point to go to the bathroom, Matt had thrown all caution to the wind and reached inside that coat pocket and popped two pills out, one from each card, and without a second thought, slid both into Blake's half-eaten hamburger, then silently sat there when he returned and watched him scarf the rest down, all the while thinking he had just done Blake the biggest favor of his life.

That was until this morning when he woke up and realized what he had done was impetuous, and was now leaving him consumed by guilt.

It would be completely different if Blake had been given a choice and opted to voluntarily take one or the other, but that wasn't what had happened.

Either way, the choice had been made and whether it turned out to be a complete disaster or the best thing that ever happened to Blake, there was no turning back now, and the best thing Matt could do was be there for him no matter what the outcome.

Matt was brought out of his reverie by the buzz of his phone on his nightstand... Hunter had just pulled in out back. " Here we go" Matt thought to himself.


                                                           <<<<<<O>>>>>>


"Mmmm, that was so tasty!" Matt thought to himself as he knelt there on the floor beside his bed between Hunter Milsbane's muscular hirsute thighs, slurping up the last thick, gooey dregs of the second biggest load of cum he had ever swallowed. The first was the one he guzzled down prior to this one.

Matt had thought the load Hunter shot the last time they were together had been huge, but apparently, this Kansas farm boy had been holding out on him.

Matt's fist pumped Hunter's cock once again, milking the shaft from the base to the head of his huge, lavender-hued, helmet-shaped knob, twisting his fingers in a milking motion, like a maid milking a cow's udder, forcing yet another large goopy blob of viscous, potent sperm to ooze from Hunter's gasping piss slit for Matt to slurp up greedily.

As much as Matt wanted to dive back down on Hunter's still swollen, rock hard cock and suck him off a third time, something Hunter himself seemed very much hopeful for, he had a few questions that had been roiling around in the back of his mind all morning, even while grappling with Hunter's girthy pole stretching his throat and fully pushing the limits of his self-control over his gag reflex.

But the need to have some answers outweighed his hunger at the moment for more of Hunter's tasty testicular nectar. There should be more time for that after Hunter answered a few pressing questions Matt had.

Pushing back from Hunter's groin, and looking up past his hairy abs and chest, into those big doe-like eyes, Matt locked gazes with Hunter, who merely looked back at him with an expectant, vacuous longing and carnal expectancy for even more of Matt's oral talents on his rock hard throbbing farm boy boner.

Matt had to hand it to him, despite any of his other questionable attributes, Hunter was proving he was quite the malleable and potent, eager to please lover or fuck buddy as the case may be.

He knew, with just a little guidance, he could mold Hunter into a nearly perfect sex-machine. Loyal to a fault, even if that loyalty was ethically questionable.

Hunter was a follower, he lacked the mental fortitude and disposition or temperament to be left alone to his own devices. With Matt's help, he was certain he could fix that, and even more certain he could shape Hunter into quite the stallion, not that he wasn't already, but the potential was there for, even more, evidenced in the recent gains Matt had been noting, not only in Hunter but the other three as well.

In just the last two weeks Matt had noted the overall improvements in all of them.

In Hunter's case, he had grown over an inch in height. Where he used to be five feet eleven inches, he was now a little over six feet. And that growth didn't stop vertically. Everything else about him had expanded as well.

His chest was broader, his arms, thighs, calves, and neck thicker, even his cock and balls seemed larger, though not having grown at quite the scale as the rest of him, it was still very noticeable from the previous weeks.

As his eyes continued to assess the notable changes in Hunter's physiognomy, his need for answers pushed him to ask: "Hunter, has the coach or Dr. Ventrov ever talked to you or asked anything about me?"

"Like what Matt?" Hunter queried, his eyebrows furrowing quizzically.

Matt sighed, hoping this wasn't going to turn into a twenty questions situation before he got the answers he sought.

"I don't know Hunter, that's why I'm asking you..." he paused for a moment, thoughtfully considering potentially having to frame his questions a different way: "Let me rephrase my question Hunter, have you mentioned anything about me to coach or the Doc?"

Like a dim light flickering sporadically, Hunter's eyes seemed to roll upward as he considered Matt's question when his eyes suddenly went a little wider: "Coach did ask me how our sessions have been goin' the other day, is that what ya meant Matt?"

Shaking his head, Matt took a moment to calm his nerves, knowing full well that it wasn't Hunter's fault and that he wasn't deliberately trying to be contentious or obtuse.

"Yes, Hunter.." he finally said, doing his best to keep the timbre of his voice under control: "What did you tell him?"

The crease between Hunter's eyebrows narrowed and his nose scrunched in concentration before answering: "I don't remember word for word Matt, but I know I said somethin' 'bout you hav'in really good ideas and you were helpin' me do better and stuff."

Matt didn't know if he had made a face that Hunter picked up on, or whether he just sensed Matt's agitation, but when Matt didn't respond right away, Hunter asked quizzically, with a hint of worry in his voice: "Did I do somethin' wrong, Matt, if I did I didn't mean too, I just get confused sometimes."

Matt could hear the sincerity in Hunter's voice and despite their past history, the Hunter he knew today was nothing like the one he imagined him to be in the past: "No Hunter you didn't do anything wrong. But in the future, I want you to do something for me okay?"

Hunter's eyes lit up, enthusiasm wrote all over his face: "Anythin' Matt, I told ya, I'm a team player and you can always count on me a hundred percent."

Matt shot him a serious look, holding eye contact with him to emphasize his point: "From now on, whenever coach or Doc ask you anything, you make sure you let me know as soon as you can..." Matt let that sink in for a minute, waiting for Hunter to nod his head in agreement, before adding: "If they ask you about me, just tell them I make you laugh, but other than that, you don't have much to do with me."

No sooner had the words escaped his mouth and Hunter seemed poised to respond, there was the slam of the back door downstairs, followed immediately by the grumbling rumblings of his older sibling Brian, shouting out, asking if anyone was home.

Matt couldn't help but notice the strong undercurrent of anger in his voice as he shouted out in response.

"I'm home, mom and dad are still out."

Having said that, Matt turned back to Hunter, who still sat there reclining on his bed, buck ass naked with his fat boner sticking straight up in the air.

In a flash, Matt scampered to scoop up Hunter's discarded clothes and tossed them at him while cautioning him to be as quiet as possible: "I'm going downstairs to talk to my brother, you get dressed and wait right here, Hunter!"

Hunter didn't verbally respond, he just nodded his head and began pulling his clothing on as quickly as he could.

Matt crossed the room and had just opened the door, when Brian came bullishly stomping up the stairs, leaving Matt barely time to shut his door while Hunter struggled to pull his jeans up, sans underwear.

"Whose truck is parked in my spot out back?" Brian demanded, his face a mask of twisted, pent-up emotions.

Something told Matt there was far more wrong than someone parked in the wrong spot down by the alley road. It wasn't like there wasn't ample room for more than one vehicle, but Matt responded anyway, trying to sound empathetic as possible, not wanting to further agitate his brother, at least not as long as Hunter was still probably trying to get dressed on the other side of his bedroom door.

"Its my friend Hunter's truck, he just came by to do some studying" Matt stated, suppressing his own mounting anxiety as he did so.

Brian just cocked his head slightly sideways, before positing: "Ain't that one of the Milsbane boys?"

Matt was about to respond, wondering how best to defuse his brother's mounting temper, when Brian just blurted in his face: "Actually, ya know what? I don't give a shit, just tell your *little friend* to get his ass down there and move his truck before I do it for him, got it!?"

Matt usually wasn't one prone to respond in anger, but Brian's attitude, combined with his implied suggestion of *little friend* just hit Matt the wrong way at the right time.

In a flash, Matt thrust his chest out and jabbed his index finger into his older siblings, hard hairy chest: "Listen hear asshole, here's what's gonna happen..." Matt fumed, emphasizing each syllable of every word spoken with a jab of his finger: "You're gonna go sit your ass down on the bed in your room and wait for me until I'm done talking to Hunter or I swear to god I'll make you clean every square inch of our bathroom floor with your fucking tongue!"

Matt didn't know who was more surprised by his sudden outburst, him or his brother. But what he did know, was the almost immediate effect it had on Brian.

You could have pushed Matt over with a feather, when Brian suddenly dropped his chin to his broad chest, watched as his shoulders slumped, eyes glued submissively to the floor between his feet: "Yes Matt, I'm sorry...I'll wait for you in my room."

Words escaped Matt. He knew he had influenced his brother before, but this was next level. This was nothing like the response he half expected. But the scope of what just happened came in staggering waves, gushing over Matt as he pondered the weight and significance of it.

His brother, at any other given time and place, could easily snap him in two like a twig. But here he now was, shuffling languidly to his room, cowed and humbled, and more importantly, completely obedient.

Matt did his best to soothe his racing heartbeat as a torrent of questions and possibilities spread out before him, none of which he had immediate answers for. What did matter, however, was the immediate effect it was now having on his brother and guiltily realizing there was something more than just Matt affecting his brother. He now owed it to his brother to get to the core of his current anger.

After a couple of moments, Matt made his way to Brian's room, where he found him, in the shadows of the late afternoon, sitting forlornly, with his hands folded in his lap on his bed, staring blankly at the space between them.

Matt sat quietly down next to him, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder as he did so: "What's wrong Brian?" he asked softly, knowing full well this wasn't Brian's usual behavior.

It took him a few moments, before he sighed heavily, responding dejectedly: "Merissa and I broke up."

That pretty much said it all. Brian and Merissa had been together since high school and though they've always had their share of ups and downs, this somehow didn't seem to be something that just came right out of the blue.

After a few moments of shared silence, Brian continued: "I think we've been heading in this direction for a while, her interest and mine have just grown to far apart and what worked in high school just hasn't been cutting it for either of us lately."

He paused for a moment. glancing over at Matt: "I'm sorry about the other night, that wasn't me, I don't know what came over me..." he stammered for a minute, before concluding: "It's just been quite a while since Merissa and I have actually had sex, I just seemed to lose control of myself, I hope you don't hate me for it?"

Brian looked away, unable to maintain eye contact with him as Matt searched for an effective response.

"Ya know what dude?" Matt began, slapping his brother playfully on the shoulder before standing up, commanding his attention in the process.

"I ain't gonna lie, I think we both know I enjoyed it almost as much as you did..." Matt held his hands up defensively halting preemptively any potential response by Brian: "I'm not saying I want to go there again, it just surprised me that my big brother and I would have something sexual in common, you being the big bro jock type and all."

Brian's eyes narrowed tersely: "I'm not gay Matty"

Matt chuckled, retorting sardonically: "So what would you call the other night Bri, cause you sure seemed "into it" to me, I had the sore ass and throat the next day to prove it."

Brian dropped his eyes to the floor again, filling Matt with a sense of guilt. He knew full well why Brian had succumbed, and it didn't have anything to do with Brian being gay, proof of that was in the next room.

"Maybe I'm bi?" Brian offered meekly, though not sounding to convinced, despite the evidence to the contrary.

Something occurred to Matt at that moment, it was just a glimmer of an idea, one that might pan out for the both of them.

They had crossed a line, one they could never uncross. One Matt had set in motion with his lack of control over his growing capabilities and Brian coming to terms with an ending relationship and now questioning his own sexuality.

Maybe Matt could kill multiple birds with one stone, or at least plan for a worst-case scenario.

Matt went through Brian's bathroom door and headed straight for his jacket, ignoring a curious Hunter who eyed his actions with rapt attention.

Matt selected the card he wanted and popped out one of the yellow, time-released capsules before shoving the blister pack back in his jacket pocket.

Grabbing the water bottle left on his nightstand Matt headed back to Brian's room and thrust his hand out, palm up with the yellow capsule in it while simultaneously offering Brian the half-full bottle of water.

"Take this" Matt ordered.

Brian plucked it cautiously from his hand, examining it: "What's this for?" he asked quizzically.

Matt held his ground. Brian didn't ask for any of this, but despite that, he was mixed up in it anyway and if things went south, there was no one more he wanted by his side, covering his back than his own brother, and considering what they could potentially be up against, he couldn't leave his own brother out there dangling in the wind without at least some sort of equalizer.

Matt shrugged: "Just take it, it will help you feel better." was all he said before Brian just shrugged his shoulders and downed the capsule with a swig of water.

Shaking his head knowingly and smiling faintly, Matt hollered out for Hunter to join them.

As Hunter slowly made his way into the room, Matt motioned for him to sit next to his brother as he made introductions: "Hunter, this is my brother Brian."

They both clasped hands, eliciting a smile from Matt as they both, almost in complete unison, greeted each other with a: "S'up bro."

Matt felt kind of giddy, picturing himself as some sort of matchmaker, though his amusement seemed to escape the duo.

Knowing this might take some finessing, Matt ramped up his pheromone release, flooding the confined space of Brian's room with an amalgamation of various hormonal commands, sex not being the least of these.

He knew he was on the right track when he saw Hunter's cock begin to expand and stretch down his inner thigh, trapped inside his pants leg and bulging obscenely.

It didn't escape Brian's notice either as he to began fidgeting on the edge of his bed his own groin plumping expansively, tenting the front of his sweat pants.

Both shot each other furtive, nervous glances that flitted to each other's crotches repeatedly as they tried to be unobtrusive about their mounting desires.

When he was sure they were ready, Matt outlined what he expected from each of them: "Hunter I want you to start taking wrestling instruction from Brian."

Hunter said nothing, just shook his head in silent acknowledgment, leaving Matt free to turn to his brother: "Brian, I want you to take Hunter under your wing and for the pair of you to seek out and take whatever self-defense course you can fit into your daily schedules together."

Matt half expected Brian to raise some sort of objection, but was relieved when his eyes lit up and he blurted excitedly: "I know this MMA guy who teaches self-defense classes at the midtown gym, would that do?"

"Yup, absolutely, sounds perfect" Matt mused, adding: "I might even join you guys now and then."

He then focused his attention on Hunter again: "Remember the talk we had earlier Hunter about the coach and Doc?"

Hunter just nodded his head as his brow furrowed in concentration.

Well at least he's consistent, Matt thought to himself, before continuing: "You can't let anyone else know what you two are up to, if anyone asks either of you, just say your best buds and you like hanging out together."

Hunter grunted, the corners of his mouth twisting into a slight smile: "That won't be hard, it all sounds like my kind of fun anyway."

Brian's hand shot up instantly and the pair high-fived each other, forcing a smile and a chuckle from Matt: "What have I started?" he said out loud, to no one in particular, calling their attention back on himself.

Matt steeled himself for a moment, flooding the room with the pent-up sexual desires that he had felt from earlier, that he had yet gratified while sucking Hunter's fat juicy dick. Not that he wanted to now, but he knew he could use that passion to help seal this new alliance between Brian and Hunter. All it should take was a little prompting in the right direction.

"Hunter, remember what I told you about saving something for me?" Matt queried, as Hunter winked and nodded his head impishly, giving Matt a lascivious grin.

"From now on, I want you to save it for Brian."

Hunter's eyebrows raised as he gave Brian some serious side-eye action, clearly wondering if that was actually gonna happen. Matt decided it was time to lay some cards on the table and get the ball rolling for them.

Matt instructed Hunter to stand up, which he readily did, though still tossing glances now and then back at Brian: "Strip Hunter."

For the first time in a while, Hunter hesitated, it was only for a couple of seconds though as he soon just shrugged his shoulders and stripped down until he was completely naked and his fat, swollen, rock hard erection bobbled lewdly in front of him, already drooling precum from his piss slit.

Matt pushed him further: "Hunter, turn around and show Brian what a nice ass you have!"

Again, there was a slight hesitation as Hunter now looked questioningly at Matt before the compulsion to obey overrode whatever trepidation he was mulling over.

Hunter slowly turned, arching his back, thrusting the twin muscle taut globes of his voluptuous bubblebutt back toward Brian, who reacted just as Matt knew he would, by licking his lips expectantly as his mouth watered and his erection throbbed in his sweatpants.

Even as Matt motioned for Brian to join him in the bathroom, he could barely take his eyes off of Hunter's bountiful ass.

As Matt pushed Brian into the bathroom, he instructed Hunter to lay face down lengthwise on Brian's bed and wait for him. He knelt for a second to whisper one final instruction in Hunter's ear: "From now on Hunter, you listen to Brian and do whatever he wants you to, okay?"

Hunter answered by scampering up onto the bed, his ass poised suggestively in the air, his face planted sideways on the mattress: "Ya know I'm a team player Matt, you can count on me to get the job done, no matter what it is."

Matt smiled back at him, giving him two thumbs up before slipping into the bathroom with Brian and shutting the door behind him.

Getting right to the point, Matt confronted his much bigger brother, being as direct as possible: "Lets cut right to the chase, do you want to fuck that ass, and by fuck it, I mean anytime, anywhere as often as you want, whenever you want?"

The near snarling grunt of pure, unadulterated lust that rumbled past Brian's lips said it all, causing Matt, for the second time that evening, to jab his finger into Brian's chest: "If you want that then you're gonna have to give something in return."

Brian's smoldering eyes locked on Matt's. There was now more than just a vague wisp of lustful desperation subsuming his facial features: "What do I gotta do for it?" Brian finally managed to grunt.

Matt smiled disarmingly, responding: "Two things actually...Matt mused, nearly taunting his anxious but ready brother: "He loves having his ass eaten."

His sibling only grimaced slightly before retorting: "Doable, what's the second thing?"

Matt knew this would be the deal-breaker, but he was equally certain, judging by his brother's anxiousness to get back into his room, that he'd cave when he weighed it in comparison to what he'd be gaining.

Matt decided to just rip the band-aid off: "Nothing turns Hunter on more than having his dick sucked."

"NO FUCKING WAY!" Brian grumbled instantly, adding quickly: "I ain't gay Matt."

The look of desperation and stoic cynicism that warred within Brian was an open book to Matt, causing him to respond: "Those are the terms dude, sometimes you gotta give to receive, besides, weren't you just saying you might be bi?"

Brian shot him a stern look, his lips practically quivering as he fumbled for an effected retort, but coming up blank.

Matt took pity on him as he swept around Brian and went into his own room, pulled open his nightstand drawer and fished out the bottle of lube he kept there, before returning to Brian and thrusting it into his hands and stating succinctly: "Dude we both know you ain't passing that ass up, so strip down, lube up and quit being a pussy."

Brian snatched the bottle of lube from his hands and snarled at him, nearly baring his teeth as he did so, before brushing past him, heading back to his own room, not even bothering to shut the door behind him.

"Typical" Matt laughed as he left them to it, returning to the relative safety of his own room, to ponder what his next course of actions would be while he smiled in amusement as the rhythmic sounds of grunts and groans filled the void between Matt, his brother and a squealing Hunter Milsbane, caught in the throes of ecstasy.

 
                                                               <<<<<<O>>>>>>


"So, let me get this straight, no pun intended..." Talia Brooks chortled sardonically, continuing: "You had a hot date with one of the best prime examples of Avalon Highs most eligible studs and all you did was let him give you a quick smooch on the lips?"

"Pretty much..." Matt smirked, adding: "In my defense, I didn't want to come across as a total ho' on what was essentially I first real date." Matt concluded, while retrieving a couple of books he needed to take with him for the homework he needed to do later that evening from his locker, as Talia rolled her eyes mockingly, leaning against the locker next to his: "But you are a ho' dipshit and he deserved more than a quick kiss, you could have at least given him a handjob or something!"

Matt knew she was just taunting him, that in actuality she was just bursting at the seams to say "Told ya so" for her part in playing matchmaker between him and Blake.

"Oh, believe me, Talia..." he concluded, giving her the most suggestive sneer he could muster: "When the time is right, he won't know what hit him!"

Talia laughed out loud, punching him on the shoulder playfully: "You're such a slutty fag." she mused, giving him one of her patent-pending, quirky, hair flipping side-eye sneers.

Matt chuckled bemusedly, giving her a coy wink: "And that's just one of the many fine qualities you adore about me!"

They parted ways after that, Talia having her school paper, extracurricular duties to perform.

Blake had told him earlier that he had to work that afternoon at his dad's shop, but still offered to give Matt a ride home after school since Talia wouldn't be able to.

Matt knew that would take him in the opposite direction and told him he really didn't mind catching the bus and didn't want to inconvenience him.

Blake was really sweet about it, but Matt had insisted and their conversation ended with Blake promising to call him later that evening.

Matt had a few minutes before his bus would be ready to leave, so he decided to swing by the gym to download his early entrees on the tablet he used for Dr. Ventrov onto his laptop so he could review them at home.

He was just on his way out of the gym, having completed his task when an old beat-up Chevy Silverado pulled up beside him and came to an abrupt stop.

Matt knew who drove that truck and he turned to face him, just as its occupant rolled down the window and glowered at him.

"Get in!" James Hatcher grumbled, making it sound more like a command than a suggestion.

"I'm fine thanks" Matt quipped, his arms folding around his laptop canvas bag carry case protectively hugging it closer to him.

Hatch's eyes just bore right into him, his brows furrowing tightly: "I said get in, we need to talk."

Matt's first instinct was to head in the opposite direction, get on his bus and try to ignore Hatch completely.

But then there was this other part of him, that wanted nothing more than to jump in that truck in the hopes that something like the other week might happen again.

Visions of Hatch's fat cock bouncing before him, waiting to be serviced, danced in his mind's eye, reliving and embellishing that previous encounter, until he felt the stirrings of his own cock within the confines of his jeans.

To his own amazement, Matt found himself circling around Hatch's beat-up, old orange and cream, duo-toned truck and climbed into the passenger side seat.

"Whatever you have to say, make it quick I have a bus to catch," Matt said as firmly as he could, while simultaneously avoiding eye contact.

Hatch answered by stomping on the gas and making his way out of the school parking lot.

Matt was about to protest when Hatch blurted: "I'll make sure you get home."

And that was it, no further discussion, no sideways glances. Just James Hatcher, eyes glued to the road, while the awkward silence between them continued to grow into a near-deafening silence.

Matt didn't know where they were heading, he just knew they had passed city limits about five minutes prior before he finally found the nerve to speak up: "Where are we going?" He asked timidly, watching as the truck veered off the main road onto a dirt one.

Hatch didn't even glance his way, his eyes still completely focused on the road ahead: "Wherever I want..." Hatch grunted, as his lips curled into a toothy sneer, adding: "Why ya asking, ain't this what little faggots like you wet your panties over, being with a real man?"

Matt felt his heart practically skipped a beat.

So this is what was up, Matt thought to himself. He could practically smell it on him. That deep primal urge, the animalistic desire that hormonally drove one to acts of passion.

Hatch reeked of it, so much so that Matt couldn't believe he had never picked up on it before. It was like he was radiating pure testosterone and Matt could smell it, hell it dominated his senses.

Matt couldn't take his eyes off Hatcher, his body tingled at their proximity, and yet craving he close the short distance between them, drawing him in.

He felt his heart rate elevate, just as he knew Hatch's had, could see his nostrils flare as he sniffed the air, making him wonder to himself: "Could he smell me too?"

As if in answer, Hatch suddenly veered the truck onto a path that lead directly into a copse of trees and thick shrubbery, before slamming on the breaks and bringing the truck to a stop.

Hatch hurled his driver-side door open and before getting out, he turned to Matt, locking eyes with his: "Get out, we're here."

"Where was here?" Matt wondered to himself as he tentatively opened his door and slid out, deciding to leave his travel case and backpack on the front seat.

Surprisingly, he wasn't afraid of what might happen, which was pretty much the way he had felt the last time they had been alone together. With the heat and smells practically overwhelming his senses, there was little room left for anything other than his mounting desire to rip Hatch's clothes off, and judging by the lecherous way Hatch was eyeing him as they met at the rear of his truck just as he lowered the tailgate and sat on it, there wasn't a shred of uncertainty what he was thinking, especially when Matt took notice of the massive straining bulge in his jeans, stretching the fabric obscenely into a heated mound of masculine passion.

Working purely on instinct, Matt knew, that right now the power was his. Meaning, the first move was his to make, nothing else would be tolerated. So Matt just stood there, eyeing him cautiously waiting for the moment he knew would come and wondering why this man made him feel this way, especially after all the crap he'd put him through over the years.

Yet here he was, still drawn to him, like a moth to a flame, letting its radiant heat scorch at him, but still diving in for more.

Matt watched as he leaned backward, reaching for a small dirty scratched-up cooler that he plucked open and snatched a beer out of. Whatever ice once contained within, long melted and completely disregarded by Hatch, who flipped the tab on the beer and began guzzling it down, pausing only long enough to grunt: "Strip faggot" before resuming gulping down the rest of the contents of the can.

Matt stood there, frozen in place for a few seconds, a hesitancy that elicited Hatch's impatient low grumble: "I said fucking strip, or I'll do it for ya!"

By that, Matt knew he meant he'd rip them off, so he did as he was told, not because Hatch had commanded him to, but because the straining boner in his own pants had taken control and he had turned into its obedient, willing servant.

As he slowly peeled his clothes off, he watched from the corner of his eye as Hatch began doing the same, first his shirt, then his crusty old worn-out cowboy boots, everything except his blue jeans, which he only unfastened as he leaned against the tail-bed of his truck and eyed Matt lasciviously as he finished stripping down completely.

Once naked, Matt turned to face him, his hands poised over his groin, hiding his erection.

Without missing a beat, Hatch suddenly reached up and snatched a handful of hair on top of Matt's head and pushed him down on his knees forcing his face down level with his bulging crotch, twisting his head backward, until their eyes locked again: "You know what we're here for, get to it!" Hatch hissed before his lips parted into a wicked sneer, his hand pulling Matt's face into his groin, rubbing it all over his straining bulge.

After a few seconds Hatch shoved his face back, releasing the handful of hair from the top of his head as glowered down at him: "Got a special treat for ya today..." He began, his voice a low rumble, centering in his broad muscular chest: "I was working out in the weight room when I saw ya come into fiddle with that tablet you use and I said to myself, ya know Hatch, that little fags been working her dainty little fingers to the bone for the coach and doc, so I told myself, Hatch, you need to show some appreciation for all her dedication to the program."

He leaned down, his face mere inches from Matt's, his lips curling sardonically: "So ya know what I did Matty?.."He paused for a second, purely for dramatic effect: "I stopped working out and as fast as I could, I scrambled to get dressed so I could meet you in the back parking lot so I could take you someplace nice and cozy where you could enjoy the gift I made for ya." One of Hatch's large hands snaked behind Matt's head and gripped it firmly as the other unzipped his fly and hauled his cock and balls out as his pants dropped to his knees.

Immediately, Hatch thrust Matt's face into his groin again, rubbing his big hairy balls against Matt's mouth: "Can ya smell it, Matty? That's your reward, some down-to-earth, homegrown sweaty Hatch balls to lick and suck clean."

Hatch leaned back, chuckling as he forced Matt's lips apart with the fingers of his hand and began stuffing his moist, pungent egg-sized gonads into his mouth.

Using both hands on either side of his head now, he ground his hairy crotch into Matt's lips: "Suck 'em clean fag and do a good job, or ya won't get the other gifts I made for ya."

Matt couldn't help himself as he got lost in the ripe pungent flavor of Hatch's sweaty ballsac and mindlessly obeyed the cackling jock, sucking greedily on the twin hairy orbs, swabbing it with his wet drooling tongue and swallowing the acrid, manly excreted juices gathered like a grunting snorting piglet feeding at the troth that was James Hatcher's musky, sweaty crotch, as his thick half-hard cock stretched over his face and past his forehead in its inexorable journey into a rock hard erection.

After a few more moments, Hatch suddenly relaxed his grip on Matt's head before plucking his saliva-drenched nuts from Matt's nursing mouth.

He patted Matt on the head, glaring down at him mischievously, his eyes squinting in feigned merriment as he declared: "Are you ready for your next treat Matty? This ones gonna be even tastier!"

Matt could do little more than nod his head as he licked his lips, enjoying the last savory hint of Hatch's balls.

Without preamble, Hatch twirled around, spreading his legs wide as he arched his back and thrust his hirsute butt-cheeks against Matt's face as one of his large hands gripped the back of Matt's head and once again shoved his lips against his overripe hole: "Lap it up faggot, clean my stinky brown eye with that long fuckin' faggot tongue of yours."

Matt felt both repulsed and disgusted with himself as he slowly began doing as he was commanded.

His tongue slowly snaked out, tentatively at first, flicking lightly over the thick patch of course hairs that filled his entire sweat-drenched crack, when Hatch rammed his face against his winking pucker.

"I said clean it ya fuckin' queer" Hatch bristled, forcing Matt's face between his hairy muscular mounds and grinding his asshole against his taut lips until he felt the hesitant flick of Matt's oral digit swab over his funky hole.

It wasn't long before those gentle flicks turned into swabbing wet licks, circling his pucker in ever-increasing lustful fervor, followed by the grunting smacks of Matt's sucking lips as he hungrily devoured his palpitating pucker.

Hatch leaned forward until his chest rested on the bed of his truck as he released his grip on Matt's head and used both hands to pull his powerful glutes apart affording Matt greater access to his spit-shined bunghole. Matt increased the range of his cleaning duties, slaving Hatch's sweaty ass trench in long broad, lingering strokes until his ass was so wet the excess drool dribbled down over his tightening balls.

Matt could feel him suddenly tense up right before Hatch rose up and flipped around kicking his jeans off from around his ankles before sitting on the edge of the tailgate and flipping his thighs up to his heaving chest as his sausage fingered hands spread the side of his asshole, framing the most perfect manhole Matt had ever seen.

Matt had lost himself between those buns, a primal passion drove him now and his mouth watered at the thought of diving back between those spread eagle cheeks and shoving his tongue as far up Hatch's ass as he could.

"What are ya waitin' for you goddamn queer, you ain't done until ya get that ass wiper of yours up my crapper and make it squeaky clean."

That was all the encouragement Matt needed in his current state of mind. Conscious thought had been completely subsumed by carnal desire, reducing Matt to nothing more than a servile instrument to be used for Hatch's pleasure.

Matt did the only thing he could do, he dove into James's asshole, thrusting his tongue as deep as he could into the torrid depths of Hatch's fetid anus.

Hatch reach down and grabbed Matt by the hair on top of his head, and stared down his body into the vacuous obedient eyes attached to the face of the guy now skewering his tongue deep inside his rectum.

Locking eyes with Matt as he began using his hair as a handle to fuck his own hole with Matt's rigid, soft, twirling tongue, Hatch chuckled wickedly: "Look at you, ya disgusting fuckin' queer, cleaning a real man's ass with your pathetic faggot tongue, eat it bitch, show me how much ya wanna be used by me!"

Matt could only whimper as his tongue swirled around frantically in Hatcher's funky hole, relishing every moment he was allowed to be there.

"Suck it faggot, suck my fuckin' stinky asshole like the pathetic fucking queer you really are."

Matt did as instructed, wrapping his lips around his hole and sucking as his tongue continued to plunge rapidly into his moist pungent depths.

He could hear Hatch speaking, but paid him no mind, it was actually easy for him, he had heard this kind of thing usher out of Hatch's mouth before, this was nothing new. But, this was different, different because he knew something Hatcher didn't or as yet realized. He was fucking big bad butch James Hatcher's ass. True, it was with his tongue, but what difference did that make?

Even better than that though, was the fact he was also digging it...no, not just digging it. Judging, by the way, he was thrusting and grinding his hips and subsequently his hole against his probing, relentless tongue, he was loving it.

Matt wasn't afforded the luxury much longer of drilling James butthole, before he shoved Matt away and stood up, yanking his hair backward tilting his head up at him, and spitting in his face repeatedly.

"Time to do what all faggots were born to do." Hatch rumbled, forcing the blunt tip of his drooling cockhead against Matt's lips, spreading them apart before plunging balls deep into his throat and holding him there as Matt gagged and choked against the impaling member.

"That's one mighty fine mouth pussy ya got there cocksucker, I can't wait to share it with the rest of the team." Hatch mused, chuckling lewdly as his thumbs brushed away the cocksucker tears rolling down his cheeks while he continued to gurgle and sputter around the base of his thick turgid pole.

"Oh, don't worry Matty it's gonna be a while before you're ready for that.."He teased, forcing his face to contort into a mocking mask of concern: "I'm gonna have to make sure you're properly broken in before I turn ya over to those guys, some of 'em ain't as gentle and kind like me."

Matt's need for oxygen mounted as Hatcher continued to ramble: "Trust me, Matty, your gonna appreciate the time I spend breaking you in, 'cause some of them boys... well, let's just say some of 'em are even bigger than yours truly and that ain't no exaggeration."

Matt didn't really care what Hatcher was saying, he was getting desperate for air now.

Hatch must have sensed his urgent need as he eased up on his grip and allowed his cock to slip out of his throat long enough to take a couple of quick breaths before plunging back in and grinding his balls against Matt's chin.

"Then again..." Hatch boasted: "That must pretty much sound like faggot heaven to a cocksuckin', asslickin' queer like you."

Matt felt his grip tighten on the back of his head again and braced himself for what he knew would come next.

Hatch yanked his dick almost completely out of his mouth, leaving only the swollen helmet-shaped head lodged in his mouth before ramming it back in, slamming Matt's forehead against his solar plexus.

Matt continued to try and center himself as Hatch began his assault on his mouth and throat, brutally slamming in and out in ever-faster increments until he was practically pile driving into him.

Just as he anticipated, like before, Hatch was going for the quick release and in just a couple of minutes, Hatch's girthy schlong spewed his massive payload right down Matt's esophagus.

Grinding his bloated nuts against Matt's chin, pumping them tightly, forcing their contents into Matt's palpitating throat.

This load was bigger than the previous two Hatch had fed him last time, leaving Matt to wonder if that too was a result of the stuff the doc was giving them.

Hatch's dick had most certainly grown since last time, probably a good inch or so, much like the rest of him.

As the last dregs of nut juice dribbled down Matt's throat, he wondered if, like last time, he'd go for round two immediately following.

He almost felt disappointed when Hatch shoved him away and his saliva-coated dick plopped out of his mouth.

Matt had barely licked the last of Hatch's tasty load off his lips when he thrust his hands under Matt's armpits and lifted him to his feet before shoving his face down and bent over the tailgate of his truck.

Barely having a second to catch his breath, he felt the wet tip of James's dick against his asshole.

He could hear Hatcher snickering behind him just as he smacked his ass: "You've been such a good girl today, I've decided to make your biggest dream come true faggot."

With that Hatch rammed the full length of his nearly ten-inch cock balls deep into his unprepared hole.

Matt didn't know if he passed out in pain or was knocked out by the force of his head as it slammed into the metal surface of Hatch's truck bed, but by the time he shook it off, his butthole was throbbing like it was being repeatedly stabbed by a red hot poker.

Hatcher's assault on his aching hole was relentless, a vertiginous gut pounding massacre of his rectal walls, as he punch fucked him repeatedly in rapid, bone-jarring succession.

"Gawd damn faggot, you got a tight pussy" He heard Hatch snarl behind him breathlessly as he continued to pummel into him, further emphasizing his point by repeatedly smacking Matt's ass cheeks as hard as he could.

Despite his relentless assault and the searing pain, his big fat dick inflicted on his nearly dry hole, on each inward/outward stroke, the large, flared protuberance of his glans coronal ridge, raked across his prostate, sending finger-like tendrils radiating up his spine, each time, causing Matt to shudder uncontrollably as it mounted in intensity, building fervently until he realized he was actually thrusting his hips back at him in time with his plunging maypole.

The smacks of Hatcher's hand grew louder and more frequent as his unbelievable tempo built to a rampaging crescendo that left Matt gasping for breath. Each pistoning plunge drove them both into a flurry of reckless, wanton abandon, until, like a breaking damn, the flood gates of passion sent Matt into a spiraling orgasm. Not from his dick, but centered in his anal cavity. And like a lightning strike, it shot throughout his body, leaving him nothing more than a whimpering, spasming lump of convulsing flesh, sobbing and incoherently begging and wanting more.

Hatch froze as Matt practically raped himself on his marauding wanger, nearly screaming: "Fuck my pussy, fuck my pussy!" over and over again like a nymphomaniac in heat.

Hatch sneered viciously down at him, proud of his handiwork as Matt went nearly insane with fiery lust, pumping and squeezing his swollen, abused hole against him as the tidal waves of pleasure bombarded his senses: "Do it bitch, rape your fuckin' faggot vagina on my mutha fuckin' fag basher!"

Matt's feverish tempo finally pushed Hatch over the edge, causing him to throw himself on top of him, wrapping his powerful arms tightly around him, securing his hold as his own body-wracking orgasm exploded from the flaring, spewing head of his glans orifice.

Torrents of near molten jism rocketed into Matt's rapacious, quivering guts, flooding him to overflowing with the thick, viscous masculine juices: "Take my load you fuckin faggot whore, eat my fuckin' redneck dick with your nasty queer cunt!" Hatch growled in his ear.

Neither of them knew how long their orgasms had lasted, the sheer magnitude of their volcanic eruptions had deprived them both of any sense of time or space. They had attained a near nirvanic bliss that had elevated them beyond the mere limits of their mortal flesh and had caused them to ascend like gods into a parity of carnal communion neither had ever achieved before.

They lay there panting, gasping for air, their hot sweaty flesh grinding and slipping against one another, unable to speak or form coherent words or sentences, basking, for a time, in the afterglow of their tumultuous union.

Hatch was first to regain some of his composure, pushing himself up, his meaty phallus slowly retracting from the sheave of Matt's gaping rectum as he slid off the bed of the truck until his feet touched the ground.

He stared down at Matt's puffy swollen hole, smiling lecherously at his handiwork, proud he had so completely annihilated it and the person it was attached to.

Smirking gregariously, with pure wicked intent, Hatch grabbed a handful of Matt's hair and hauled him from the truck by it, until he knelt at his feet.

Weak and subdued by the fruits of their labor, all Matt could do was stare up at him blankly, his swollen lips and aching throat making it near impossible to speak.

Hatch stepped closer, the seeping end of his swollen, half-hard member gently brushing against Matt's puffy lips: "Look at it faggot, look at the dick that wrecked your cunt."

Matt did look at it, it filled his vision and devoured his senses as it dangled there, covered in a shiny patina of Hatch's cummy fuck juices. Looking mean and angry, virile and potent, Matt thought it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, a sculpted perfection molded by divine hands, much like the rest of the body it was attached to.

He didn't just look at it, he was mesmerized by its pure masculine austerity, knowing full well it had reduced him to rubble. Yet, he still wanted more.

"He has a new name ya know" Hatch mused sardonically, his face twisted into a mocking mask: "Wanna know what it is?" he added coyly, reveling in his own dubious cleverness.

Matt just stared at it, unable to look away, his abused hole twitching involuntarily at the merest mention of it out loud.

Hatch snickered, his lips contorting into a lascivious grimace: "His new name is Fag Basher."

Matt could hear his chuckle, obviously amusing himself, regardless of Matt's feelings.

But, that had always been the case between them, nothing had changed, James Hatcher was still the same asshole he had always been, just bigger and stronger and even more full of himself if that were humanly possible: "Kiss it!" he demanded, the timbre of his voice leaving no doubt he expected to be obeyed.

Matt did the only thing he could, the only thing he had the energy for... he kissed it.

He had no sooner parted his lips to plant the requested kiss, when Hatcher rammed his half-hard erection, gooey, frothy spunk and all, down Matt's throat.

"Suck it clean gay boy!" He commanded, grinding his course pubes against Matt's nostrils and sore puffy lips.

Complying, Matt did as instructed, there was little else he could do. He sucked and swallowed until Hatch's dick was squeaky clean.

He felt Hatcher's callused hand caress his cheek softly with one hand, while firmly holding his head in place with the other.

After a few prolonged moments, Hatch pulled his cock from Matt's sucking lips, slapping it's meaty girth, wetly against both sides of his face: "Don't you think you should thank Fag Basher for raping your faggot vagina so good?" Hatch taunted, his face a mocking mask of sincerity.

Matt hated himself for it, knew his current weakened state left him vulnerable and at the mercy of his lifelong bully and tormentor, but he did it anyway: "Thank you Fag Basher" Matt mumbled, leaning in and giving it a quick smooch for good measure.

James Hatcher's face lit up as he ruffled Matt's hair appreciatively: "Open wide baby girl, Fag Basher has one more extra special treat for ya!"

Matt did as he was ordered, wanting nothing more than for this humiliation to end as soon as possible.

At first, Matt thought that Hatch just wanted another blow job and Matt began sucking and licking his knob, hoping to get him off as quickly as possible, but when Hatch's hands locked behind his head and he felt the head of his cock flex in his oral cavity, it was to late that he realized his real intent as Hatch's hot acrid piss began spewing into his mouth.

To his credit, Matt did try to pull away from his pissing dong, but Hatch had other ideas and forced his spouting pecker down his throat, flooding his esophagus with his rank, pungent urine.

Matt choked and gagged, doing his best to dislodge the spurting phallus from his mouth, but in the end, all his efforts prove futile and he was forced to succumb and swallow the tangy, odorous liquid or drown in it.

He didn't know how long it had taken, but it felt like he had drunk a gallon of his rank, hot piss before he was done. Hatch even made him slurp up the last couple of dribbles that dangled from his piss slit. He had even ordered Matt to thank "Fag Basher" for his "tasty treat" before he finally seemed to lose interest in humiliating him and began scooping up his own clothes and getting dressed.

Matt followed suit, pulling his clothes on as quickly as possible.

They drove back towards town silently, neither of them speaking a word until Hatch pulled up in front of his house.

"Get out faggot" Was all Hatch said, never taking his eyes off the road ahead.

Matt did so, yanking his backpack and his canvas carry case along with him and had barely shut the passenger side door, when Hatch peeled out, leaving him standing there staring after him, wondering what the hell had just happened.

                                                               Chapter Five:

 

 

Matt felt like shit!  It wasn't like he was physically sick or anything like that.  True, there were parts of his body that ached, mostly from the pummeling he had endured from James Hatcher after school that afternoon, but this was more than aches and pains.  What was wrong with Matt went deeper, this was an introspective hurt.

Over the last few weeks, he had felt the changes Dr. Ventrov warned him about; he had even used what had been done to him to not only influence his brother, but Hunter Milsbane as well, as evidenced by the loud moans coming from his brother's room as Brian was once again rutting Hunter's ass much to Hunters apparent delight, judging by the intermittent squeals and groans emanating from him, along with the loud smacks of his brother's hips as he slapped repeatedly against the muscular bounty of Hunter's buttocks.

This was his doing.  He had made this happen, just as he had affected his family last week and Hunter in the isolation room. which begged the question: why wasn't it working on James Hatcher?

He had pondered this question ever since he got back home.  Ran through it over and over again like it was on instant replay. But it was just a few minutes ago when he thought he accidentally stumbled upon the answer, he was just having trouble accepting it.  

That answer of course was simple, he had been influencing Hatcher, albeit subconsciously for the most part, but Hatch was definitely responding to Matt's physical attraction to him, but without clear instruction from Matt, he was following through in his own way while still giving Matt what he desired. Which, unfortunately, was having sex with his childhood bully.

Matt had weighed all the options, and just like Sherlock Holmes, he was forced to accept that what was left, no matter how improbable, was the truth. 

It wasn't that his new abilities hadn't manifested or been working on Hatch.  What hadn't changed was Hatch's attitude toward Matt.  Hatch was a homophobe who was being compelled by Matt's abilities to be sexually responsive to him.

In essence, Matt was subconsciously living out his adolescent fantasy with the first guy he had ever been attracted to.  Sadly, that did nothing to stop Hatch from being what he always was, a homophobic, redneck prick.

While Matt was now certain, moving forward, this would not be happening again, now that he was conscious of it. Like Hunter and his brother, he could steer things in a different direction, perhaps even push Hatch into something more productive, as was the case with Brian and Hunter.

Matt thought about that too, debating with himself if he was doing right by either of them, but his encounter with Hatch had taught him something, Hatch, despite going through with the compulsion, still voiced his disdain and disgust with what they were doing, while Hunter had merely offered a tepid, less enthusiastic rejection that he might be gay while overwhelmingly enjoying the sex he had with both Matt and Brian. His continued squeals of delight as his brother fucked him in the next room, was all the proof he needed to understand that Hunter wasn't as straight as he was professing to be.

Luckily, Matt had found a way that seemed to satisfy both Brian and Hunter, while affording him a potential backup if the need for muscle and brawn arose. With the nefarious and secretive plotting of both Dr. Ventrov and Coach Myers, until he was able to determine what their real motives were in all of this, he couldn't be caught without backup, should there ever be a need.

Matt preferred to expect the best, but in all reality, he knew to prepare for the worse.  Something that maybe he could work toward similarly with Hatch and the others in their little group.  It would take careful planning on his part, but his thinking was, better the enemy you know than the one you don't.

Matt wanted to believe that he was just jumping to conclusions, that like Talia, who saw conspiracies everywhere,  he had allowed his imagination to get away from him.  But with what he had overheard Saturday at the lab, between Dr. Ventrov and Coach Myers, he was absolutely certain he wasn't just being paranoid.  Something was up and with what had happened between him and Hatch today, he was becoming increasingly convinced he needed to get to the bottom of it, sooner than later. 

That meant one thing.  He was going to have to bring the only other person he trusted into this, his best friend, Talia Brooks.

Still, that wasn't going to be easy.  Talia could be a handful at the best of times.  Her time spent working as a reporter for the school online paper hadn't dampened any of her more innate attributes.  She had been and was very much like a dog with a new bone when she latched onto something.  She just wouldn't let go, her matchmaking with Blake notwithstanding.  The real hazard here was not only admitting his own implicitness, but his subsequent behaviors since all this began, not least of which was what he had talked himself into doing with Blake, the first guy who had ever really shown him the slightest romantic interest.

Matt was already going to have to leave out his sexual involvement with his brother, or at least part of it and it was already going to be hard enough admitting what he had been doing with James Hatcher and Hunter Milsbane, but what he was really dreading was filling her in on what he did to Blake.  No matter what else he revealed, what he had done could potentially have some very real consequences for Blake.  Even if his intentions were good, it was still done without his permission and if Talia found that out, without him having told her first, Matt was absolutely sure she'd throw him under the nearest bus and probably make them back up over his corpse several times for good measure.

As tough as all this was going to be to tell her, it was going to be twice as hard telling Blake.  He was just as sure that he needed to do that as he was that he now needed to involve Talia.  This was all to much for just him to handle.

First things first, he chided himself.  Tomorrow he needed to confront James Hatcher and more importantly, see if what he suspected about his level of control was true or not.  The coach had said as much, admitting even he could feel it to Doctor Ventrov and Matt hadn't directed anything toward him yet.

Maybe that should change, maybe, like Hatcher, he needed to put that to the test as well.

All in all, Matt thought to himself, it looked like Tuesday at Avalon High was going to be interesting to say the very least.

 

                                                          <<<<<<>>>>>>  

"Are you nucking futs!" Talia Brooks practically screeched, loud enough that half the quad turned to glower their way as she sat there across from him, during their shared lunch period, blistering and fuming after he finished outlining everything that had been happening since that initial meeting with Coach Myers.  Everything, that is, except about his "little" sexual encounter with his brother Brian.

Blake was there to, and between the both of them, Matt was actually more concerned about what he might think of him, knowing, that in the end, no matter how mad Talia was at him at the moment, she would eventually come around and have his back, no matter what.

Blake was a different story though and now sat across from him, beside Talia, staring off into space, either unable or unwilling to make eye contact with him, compelling Matt to once again apologize: "I'm so sorry Blake.  I let Hatch get to me and you're such a sweet guy and you've worked so hard to win that scholarship..." Matt hesitated, his emotions getting the better of him once again: "I seriously thought I was helping!"

The last part sounded more like a plea than an apology, and Matt knew it.  The last thing he wanted right now was for Blake to hate him, but he was also mindful of the fact that it was extremely likely he would, and that he would have to accept that his actions, more than likely, have squashed any future relationship he might have with him.

"Listen Matt..." Blake practically whispered, still not making eye contact with him, just staring at his own fingers as they fumbled together on the top of the table: "I get why you wanted to help sports-wise.  In a way, I only have myself to blame, since I kinda dumped on you a couple of times about my concerns in maintaining my grades while also busting my ass to keep up on the team...."

Blake paused, this time locking eyes with Matt, a bit of fire showing in his gaze: "But what Hatch said about...my... junk..." again he paused, his expression growing stern: "Ya know how sometimes when guy's nickname a really big dude "Tiny"... well, that's what the guys on the team have done with me and Hatch knows it."

He said the name Hatch like someone spitting on the ground like it left a bitter taste in his mouth.

It finally dawned on Matt what he was saying: "Oh!" Matt muttered: "Do you mean you are actually, um... you know what I mean."

"Yeah..."Blake stammered, once again looking down at his hands as he added: "That's why I've held off trying to get to intimate with you, I thought if maybe you got to know me first it wouldn't scare you off when you found out how big I am... down there..."  He kind of trailed off with the last part, but Matt understood what he meant.

Not wanting to be left out, Talia of course did what Talia does best, point out the obvious: "So how big are we talkin' here?" She mused, looking straight at Blake, practically demanding a response.

"A little over ten, but its also fairly wide, kinda like a Red Bull can." Blake's face flushed a brilliant shade of red as he discussed his "endowments" as Matt did the calculations in his head; remembering what the Coach had told him about the pill possibly doubling a man's genital size and output. 

Matt's eyes went wide as he tried to picture the outcome for Blake, if what the coach said held up as true.

Both Talia and Blake stared back at him questioningly, a troubled expression written on both their faces: "Out with it dipshit, how much bigger are we talkin' here, one, maybe two inches?"

This time it was Matt who couldn't meet their expectant gazes, while simultaneously shaking his head in disbelief: "The coach said it could double a guys size down there." he finally stammered as a stunned silence fell over their little group, only to be broke by Talia a few moments later: "Well, I guess it's a good thing that Matt is such a fuckin' size queen and with you havin' the biggest dick in the world, he should be the happiest faggot on the planet, ain't that right Matt?!"

The wink and then the nod pointing to a worried-looking Blake, that she gave Matt, made him respond quickly: "This is my fault Blake, and if you can ever find it in your heart to forgive me, no matter what, we will make it work."

Matt tried to reach across the table to clasp his hands, only to have Blake pull back abruptly: "Listen..." he said via way of explanation: "I get that you thought you were just trying to help me, I really do, but..." He paused again, this time locking eyes with Matt, with a burning intensity he had never seen before: "you had sex with James Hatcher of all people, the guys a total douche bag and while the first time might have been before you and I started dating, that second time..."

He didn't need to finish, Matt understood perfectly well without the recriminations.

"Hold up right there Mr. Wiley..." Talia interjected, putting her bitch face on: 'You haven't staked no claim on Matt yet, so you can't go sex-shaming him because you didn't have the testicular fortitude to man up!"

Matt grumbled under his breath, pleading: "Talia this is my fault, not his." 

"Dayum straight it's your fault, who in their right mind would let James fuckin' Hatcher anywhere near them?" She blurted, adding: "Which only goes to show how fucked up this all is, 'cause the Matt I know wouldn't have ever let that sleazeball anywhere near him, not without a fight."

She was right of course.  Before his participation in this little experiment, he wouldn't have ever given James Hatcher the time if day let alone craved his lustful advances, let alone submitted to being used and degraded like that.

Maybe he had been to quick to think that this was all his doing, that Hatch was picking up on some primal urge he had to bump ugly with his childhood crush turned oppressor.  Could he possibly have gotten this backward?

What if this had more to do with the changes Hatch was going through that were making him feel submissive to him.  Just because he could influence Hunter or even his brother, didn't mean that Hatch or any of the others were affected in the same way or to the same degree.

What if what was happening to Hatch was enhancing his dominant side and what was happening to Matt was taking longer to compensate because he was being hormonally seduced and overpowered by Hatch's desires.

Perhaps that was why it was taking longer to influence him and some of the others; when they were together, he was succumbing to their passions and desires instead of him assuming control over theirs.

The coach had said as much, that it was only a matter of time before Hatch gave into it.

If this is true, maybe all that was really needed was Matt consciously knowing what was wrong before he could fix it or assume some measure of control over it.

Talia snapped her fingers, drawing their attention back to her, the bitch face expression fading and being subsumed by a more devious, conspiratorial one, that mainly showed in the steely, icy glare of her pale blue eyes: "I say we all agree that Matt did some stupid shit, but with what he's told us, he may not have been acting of his own accord..." her tone lowered slightly as she looked around suspiciously, making sure they weren't being overheard: "While we can't undo what's already been done, maybe we can flip the narrative here."

"I'm listening..." Blake said timidly, wondering what was cooking behind that mischievous, focused glare of hers.

"First things first Blake." Talia grimaced: "You know Matt did what he did, no matter how fucked up the reasoning behind it, because he cares about you, right?"

Blake bowed his head, a faint blush if red tinting his cheeks before he quickly shot Matt a tentative side-eye glance and offering Talia a brief, though affirming shrug of his shoulders.

Talia sighed dramatically, rolling her eyes: "Dude, give it up!" She began, in mock annoyance: "You've got the hots for Matt, Matt has the hots for you and like any dumb, hormonal teenage boy, he did something stupid, but with the best of intentions.  Can we agree on that at least?" 

Blake locked eyes with Matt. The truth was he did see it and though he didn't like the fact Matt did so without first discussing it with him, didn't negate the motives behind those actions: "I don't hate you Matt..."He said haltingly: "But I am worried about the effects your actions will have on me." 

Blake could see the guilt in Matt's eyes and the remorse glaring back at him as those very same eyes began to well up as he continued to hold his gaze: "There are things about me that neither you or Talia know that cause me even more reason to be concerned." He held his hand up, stopping Talia from asking her next question: "I can't explain those reasons to you right now, but you both need to know, whatever else is decided here today, I have to discuss this with my dad.  He needs to know what's happening just in case I start acting... differently."

Both Matt and Talia heard the emphasis on that word "differently",  while simultaneously realizing they weren't going to get any further explanation for its use from Blake.

"You know..."Talia offered cautiously: "That if you tell your dad, he could blow the lid off this whole thing and we may never get the chance to figure out what's actually going on dontchya?"

Blake nodded his head, staring from one to the other as he did so: "I know, but there's more at stake here than just me or Matt.  I'll try to get my dad to hold off until we get a better picture of who or what we're dealing with here, but either way, I have to tell him, for everyone else's potential safety if not my own."

"Dayum dude..." Talia retorted: "Cryptic much?"

Matt, of course, tried to be supportive, knowing full well they had little alternative.  At least Blake was still talking to him, that was already more than he had expected would happen and if the price he had to pay was to have this all exposed, he would consider himself fortunate if the result was Blake totally not hating him for what he'd done.

"If you need me to go with you to explain what I know..." Matt started to offer, when he felt Blake's hand on his own from across the picnic table, clasping his gently: "Thanks for offering, but this is something I will have to do alone." 

"Geez, get a room you two!" Talia mused sardonically, though she was happy to see Blake wasn't completely shutting down what he so obviously felt for Matt, feelings that her best friend returned in kind with ever doe-eyed bat of his eyes as they continued to hold hands for a few more moments. 

"Awww, ain't this fukin' romantic!?" came the booming familiar baritone voice off to the side as a strutting James Hatcher approached them, sneering mockingly at the trio, with Steve Ramsey by his side, shaking his head stoically before bro punching Hatch playfully on the shoulder, in a silent show of support.

Hatch turned to his friend, before clasping his own bulging crotch, hefting his meaty member suggestively as he spat on the ground, giving the group his most sardonic side-eye: "Ever think you'd see the day here at ol' Avalon high when two queers sit holdin' hands in the commons like they don't have a care in the world?"

Hatch purposely winked at Matt as he pursed his lips together and started making smooching sounds, while still suggestively squeezing the large bulge in his pants.

To absolutely no one's surprise, Blake rose up, every muscle in his body growing perceptively taut as he glowered back at Hatcher, his eyes seething in anger: "Take your bullshit elsewhere asshole and if you know what's good for you, you'll stay away from Matt from now on!"

There was something primal about the way Blake's voice sounded, almost like a rolling snarl, the effect of which sent cold shudders down Matt's spine as he also rose to stand as a barrier between the two.

Hatch inched a step forward, glaring back at Blake: "And what if I don't ya limp wristed faggot,ya gonna hit me with your purse?"

For the briefest of moments, Matt thought he caught a glimpse of something glaring off of Blake's eyes, but passed it off as a trick of the sun before whirling around to face Hatch himself, struggling to control the anger welling up deep inside him as he locked gazes with him.

It was at that moment, as he faced off against Hatch and Ramsey, Matt felt a calm wash over him. It was as if he could smell the anger radiating off everyone, but also noticing the mounting sexual hormones vying for his attention.  Not just from Hatch, but from Blake and Ramsey too to some extent.

But there was something more he was aware of, despite his bravado, there was an underlying current of uncertainty, doubt, and fear radiating off Hatch, something he had sensed before but had never been able to identify, until now.

Here, at this very moment, James Hatcher was an open book to him, one that only he could read.

Unlike their previous encounters, there was no burning desire welling up in Matt for his childhood crush.  True, that raw sexual energy was still there, still attempting to pull at and drawl at him, but he could sense it now, knew it for what it was.  

It was like every fiber of his being had come to life in these last few moments, making him more aware of the people around him than he had ever been before. 

He could sense that Talia was just days away from her period, that right now she was in her fertile, ovulating stage.  Ramsey, though feeling every bit as horny as Hatch, lacked any sustained interest in what Hatch was doing right now and was on the verge of leaving his friend to it.

Hatch, of course, was the easiest to read, since he was the one he was the most concentrated on.

But Blake was different.  He didn't know how, nor could he put his finger on it, just that it was far more primal than what the others were broadcasting, and all he was sure of, if Hatch had a lick of sense left in his head, he'd be a lot more afraid than he was right now.  Even Matt was afraid and Blake's anger wasn't even leveled at him.

One thing was certain though if he didn't shut this down quickly, someone was going to get seriously hurt, so Matt concentrated, focusing his will on Hatcher, mirroring what he had done to his brother that first time and like Hunter afterward.

But unlike them, however, he wasn't trying to ramp up anyone's libido.  In fact, quite the opposite.  He also wasn't just focusing on Hatch, though he was his primary concern.  He was attempting to send different directions to different people, something he had only done once before with Brian and Hunter.

At first, by all appearances, things seemed to be held to a standstill.  Even Talia was remaining relatively quiet.

Matt had half expected her to be the first to jump up and get in Hatcher's face, but thankfully she seemed content to sit this one out.  Unusual behavior for her, Matt thought, but perhaps she was biding her time to see how things would play out between Blake, Hatch, and himself before interfering.

Whatever the reason, Matt was grateful for it, because it gave him one less person to focus his attention on.

When Blake suddenly brushed up against him from behind, Matt's first thoughts were that he wasn't making any headway, but then he saw Ramsey try to pull James away by his arm, tugging at him and saying they should split before they got into trouble.

It was exactly the message Matt had been pushing out to the pair, while simultaneously trying to send a soothing feeling of calm to Blake. 

For a few brief moments, Matt was certain it was going to work as Hatch allowed Ramsey to pull him away a few steps, but then he abruptly jerked away from him, shoving Steve in the process and calling him a pussy.

Thankfully, that had done it for Steve, who just flipped Hatch off and stomped away, informing Hatch he was on his own, that he had better things to do than getting suspended for his bullshit.

That left just Hatch, and Blake, with Matt separating the two by less than a couple of yards from each other, and with Blake pushing against his back and Hatch nudging his way forward afoot at a time, Matt knew it wouldn't be long before the pair squared up nose to nose.

Instinctively Matt knew what the problem was.  In all his previous encounters, he had just been pummeling his targets with sex pheromones, which was like throwing gas on a fire as far as teenage boys were concerned, but what he was doing now was completely different and far more complex.  He was trying to will them both into submission, which seemed to totally go against either of their natures.

Thinking quickly, Matt knew he needed a different approach.  He needed to tap into something that would affect them both instead of dividing his attention between the two of them.

Matt did just that.  

Ignoring Blake completely, Matt whirled on Hatch and blasted him with waves of the pheromones he was most familiar with whenever he thought of Blake and Talia, or his mother and father.

Matt blasted Hatch with what he could only identify as love pheromones and the effects were almost immediate.

Like flipping a switch, Hatch's hard angry edge softened.  The glowering grimace he had mere seconds ago faded and shifted, his demeanor became more sedate, the fury in his eyes abated and Hatch began to radiate more palliate behaviors. 

The gentle hand on his shoulder, from behind, affirmed that Blake was also affected and now behaved accordingly.

Matt turned to Blake, clasping his hands in his own: "Hey Blake, why don't you go see if Talia is okay, I'd really appreciate it." He cooed softly to him and watched as Blake reluctantly pulled his hands from Matt's, the disappointment over the sudden absence of his touch written in his now sad eyes.  But like a mooncalf, Blake complied, leaving Matt free to now deal with Hatch.

Without hesitation, Matt walked up to James Hatcher, who stared doe-eyed back at him as he approached.  

Gone was any trace of his former aggression, it had now been completely subsumed by a more euphoric bearing that seemed to bask in his proximity.

As he stood there before him, he watched as Hatch averted the scrutiny of his gaze, casting them downward, and began softly rambling apologies: "I'm sorry Matt, I don't know what I was thinking or doing.  I didn't mean all those terrible things I was saying...I just saw you holding hands with Blake..." A bit of the previous fire returned to Hatch's eyes as he spoke Blake's name, but Matt quickly squelched it with yet another wave of pheromones.

"Blake is my boyfriend James, he's allowed to hold my hand if he wants to," Matt said, in low-level tones, as Hatch began shifting nervously from one foot to the other as if he were chaffing against Matt's watchful scrutiny.

"What about us?" he finally managed to stammer, looking furtively into Matt's eyes, as if searching them for some semblance of affirmation.

Matt could have chosen, at that moment to be cruel, but that wasn't really in his nature.  Instead, Matt offered him an alternative he felt more fitting the nature of his offense: "You don't love me, Hatch, I'm pretty sure Ramsey is more your cup of tea, he's quite the stud don't you think?"

Matt sent a few tendrils of lust along with the ones he was already infusing him with and watched with no small degree of satisfaction as a mischievous, somewhat lecherous sneer spread across Hatch's face.

"Ya think he'd be up for it?" he asked Matt anxiously as he turned his head to look in the direction Ramsey had left in.

Matt smiled deviously: "Oh, I think he wants it real bad Hatch, though I'm sure he'll want to play hard to get, so you might have to be patiently persistent until he comes around."

"Thanks, Matt, I'll do that." Hatch beamed, right before tearing away at a jot as he went off in search of an unsuspecting Steve Ramsey.

Matt chuckled to himself as he rejoined his friends at the picnic table.

"I would never have believed it until I saw it for myself" Talia stated, a little wide-eyed in awe at what she had just bore witness to, before turning to Blake, who sat there at the table with his chin in his hands staring dreamily back at Matt: "Can you do something about this now, it just seems a little much considering..."

"Oh, yeah..." Matt muttered, a bit absentmindedly, pulling back on the pheromones still clouding Blake's senses. 

It took a few minutes but Blake was soon shaking his head and glowering back at Matt: "Whatever that was, don't ever do it again okay?" Blake fussed, not knowing whether to be mad or impressed over what just happened, before asserting: "I mean it, Matt, that felt creepy, sort of like being possessed."

"Dude, your like Professor X from the X-men or some shit like that." Talia enthused, completely ignoring Blake's protestations: "Do me next!" she insisted optimistically, beaming back at Matt batting her eyes suggestively.

"Let's not and say we did" Blake blurted gruffly, cautiously eyeing Matt to make sure he didn't take her seriously.

He didn't of course, choosing instead to point out that what he did wasn't mind control, that what he was actually doing was infusing various hormones and pheromones that manipulate different responses through controlled stimulation via assorted physical senses, such as scent, and touch.  Matt also suspected he could add taste to that list as well.

"So, you're basically messing with people's body chemistry by triggering certain receptors in their brains to elicit a behavioral response?" Talia mused.

"Look who's been paying attention in biology class." Matt chortled while eyeing the unopened sandwich bag of white seedless grapes going unnoticed right in front of her, suddenly feeling quite hungry for some reason.

Talia absentmindedly tossed the bag in his direction, while speculating about the limits to Matt's abilities as he ravenously stuffed his mouth full of grapes.

"Using your abilities really affects you too doesn't it?" Blake queried, his eyes still studying Matt's every move closely.

Matt just shook his head in agreement until he could finally down the mouthful he was chewing: "Sometimes it makes me tired as well, though not as much recently."

Cocking her head slightly Talia speculated: "Maybe it's like a muscle, the more you work it the stronger it gets."

Matt considered that for a moment before responding: "I think that's part of it, but it's also about the complexity of what I want to happen, and I've noticed the simpler the emotion the easier it is."

Talia's eyes narrowed with a mischievous grimace of recognition: "So, you seriously just made James Hatcher fall in lust with Steve Ramsey?"

Matt grinned sardonically: "It was easier than I thought it would be, though it shouldn't surprise me.  I've noticed sex, fear and anger are among some of the easiest things to stimulate."

"That's all good and well..." Blake posited, his eyes narrowing as his brow furrowed: "But I have to wonder what the coach and this doctor's actual motives are?  I think we can all agree it isn't just to create some sort of new energy supplements for high school students."

"I think it's safe to assume, with the Pentagon's involvement, they have slightly higher ambitions than that." Matt agreed.

"Well, boys..." Talia bristled excitedly, drawing their attention to her as she looked around the area suspiciously, before leaning in and continuing in a hushed, conspiratorial tone: "Sounds like we have us our very own mystery to solve. "You guys in!?"

 

                                                           <<<<<<>>>>>>

 

"Your dad seemed really nice." Matt mused hesitantly, if for no other reason than to break the awkward silence that had fallen between them as they drove down the road on the way back to Matt's house after his meeting with Blake's dad.

It had been two days since he had revealed what he knew about Dr. Ventrov's and the coach's "special project" at the school, as well as Matt's subsequent dosing of Blake using stolen supplements he had obtained while working the previous Saturday at the ReGen Pharmaceutical Lab.

Since that meeting, the three of them, Matt, Talia, and Blake had been meeting frequently, before and after school, in the space, Talia had previously been using solely as her own private space at home, where she usually worked on the various stories and topics that would be covered for the school's weekly news and entertainment blog and podcast. 

Previously, it had been an old abandoned garden shed she had appropriated for her personal use on the edge of her families property, which conveniently worked out for everyone concerned since its location allowed them to come and go as they pleased without too much notice by her family since they could access it from the back alley, where they usually parked anyway.

It may have been only a twelve by sixteen-foot garden shed, but to Talia, it was conspiracy central HQ and reflected that with the entire back wall set up with desk and monitors and various surveillance equipment she had either bought or appropriated from her father, the town sheriff, over the years. 

There wasn't an area in her yard or the back alley that she didn't have keyed into her monitor system remotely.

Several file cabinets, a huge whiteboard as well as a large corkboard, that filled half the space behind her desk rounded off the whole stereotypical noir detective aesthetic she had going on, further lending to the whole Scoobie Squad vibe they often joked about and compared themselves to. 

It was during their first meeting there, later that first afternoon immediately following school that day, that both Talia and Matt had talked Blake into waiting to reveal too much to his father too quickly.

Both Matt and Talia had reasoned, that if he went straight to his dad and revealed everything, then it could potentially blow whatever element of surprise they might have, and while they did have some rather good evidence to produce, what they lacked was the overall minutia of details needed to complete the picture.

While they may know the initial, principal players, they didn't know who was fronting the bill for it, they had an idea it somehow involved the military but they had no solid proof of that, let alone who the doctor's contacts were.

More importantly, they didn't know if what the doc had been giving the guys was actually causing anything other than instilling them with the confidence to push themselves into working harder to achieve certain goals.  For all they really knew, the pills he had been giving them were nothing more than placebos, whose sole intent was to boost the participant's confidence in themselves, thus allowing them to push beyond their normal accepted psychological limitations.

Sure, what Matt could do was rather easily demonstrable, but what proof did they have that he didn't always have that capability?

One way, they had reasoned, was to maintain their own records of the changes that both Blake and Matt underwent going forward as well as adding the ones Matt was taking of the other guys.  Another way was keeping a detailed log of the sundry first-hand observations and discussions Matt had with both Coach Myers and Dr. Ventrov.

Talia had even suggested Matt get used to recording his interactions with them, when he could, using his cell phone and perhaps even bugging the coach's office.

Of course, securing the pill packs Matt had pilfered was first and foremost their biggest concern, with Blake having the brilliant idea of dividing the cards into four separate pieces and keeping them in different locations just in case their absence became suspect.

They had all agreed that was the best plan of action and each of them had taken their divided portions and hid them without the others knowing their whereabouts, while keeping the fourth, partially used portions there at the "Mystery Shack" as Talia had dubbed it.

Of course, one of the most worrying things for Matt, over the last two days, had been Blake's tepid interactions with him after revealing what he had done.  Not that he blamed him, his actions had been rather deplorable, no matter how well-intentioned.  That's why Blake's sudden and unexpected invitation that afternoon to come by his place for dinner with his dad and him had been such a surprise.

It had been after they had all three gathered after school at Talia's, to pour over the older notes Matt had downloaded from the pad he used at school, for the doctor's records.

Matt was fairly certain Talia had a hand in that, her having seen herself as being their personal arbiter, having had a vested interest in her match-making skills.  Either way, Matt was thankful for the opportunity, though suspecting he still had a long way to go in making amends for his flagrant disregard for Blake's personal boundaries and bodily autonomy. 

Dinner had been nice, consisting of one of Matt's personal faves, meatballs, and spaghetti, and Blake's dad had been charming and very much the down-to-earth kind of guy he had imagined him to be.

What he hadn't expected was what a stud Blake's dad was.  Not only could he whip up a nice meal but his rugged good looks and the gym-toned body were a testament to the shared genetic blend he had with his son.

Blake definitely took after his dad. 

He had often heard guys say, if you wanted to see how a woman would turn out, all you had to do was look at her mom, and if that adage held true with guys and their dads, then Matt had hit the jackpot where Blake was concerned.

Robert Wiley, or Rob as he liked to be called, was a well-put-together, older version of his offspring.  At six foot one, he was a well-packed, solid framed man, with wide shoulders and a barrel chest and tapered waist, and judging by the thick tuft of curly chocolate brown hair that spilled over the lapel of his partially unbuttoned blue flannel shirt, Matt was certain he could add hirsute to that description.

It was obvious Blake's dad spent probably as much time in the gym as his son did, judging by the way he filled out his clothes.  There was just an air to the man, that reeked of masculinity.  Not in the stereotypical toxic way, but in a stalwart, take charge, the buck stops here kind if way.  Of course, the deep, piercing green eyes didn't hurt either.

At thirty-eight, though no spring chicken, his appearance belied his chronological age, appearing to Matt more like a much older brother than the father of an eighteen-year-old, who matched him in size and appearance if not totally in disposition.

Rob Wiley was far more outgoing and socially amiable than Blake was.  A fact that Matt was sure of was mostly due to his age and life experiences.  But if Rob was any indication of what awaited Blake in the future, Matt reasoned he could have done a lot worse than mirroring the man his father had become.

The dinner had been nice and Blake's dad had been charming, asking all the typical questions Matt would have expected a concerned parent to ask while maintaining a level of brevity that had made his inquiries more conversational sounding than some grueling, uncomfortable parental scrutiny.

The only awkward part of the evening had come about when Matt had innocently asked about the absence of Blake's mom.

Blake had just hung his head, leaving his dad to answer.  Which he did.

To Matt's surprise, Blake's dad and mom had never married.  They met one summer when Rob was working as a freelance mechanic wandering around various locations throughout Texas a couple of years after his eighteenth birthday and graduation from high school.

He had been chumming around with some childhood friends he had made down there during one of his frequent trips with his own father throughout his life growing up.  The same place, somewhere outside Lubbock Texas, near a secluded small lake, that Blake often visited with his dad, that he had met and fell for a local girl in the area.

They saw each other, off and on for a while, when one day she came to him and informed him she was pregnant with his child.  The problem was, she was only nineteen and she didn't want to get married, nor did she want the baby.

At first, she had talked about getting an abortion, but Rob and his dad had talked her out of it, assuring her, that if she carried the baby to term, Rob would take the child and she would never have to see it again if she didn't want too.

That had been a little over eighteen years ago and after having Blake, she disappeared from their lives and they have never heard from her since.

Matt had been rather flabbergasted with the matter-of-fact way Blake's dad had discussed it, but apparently, from the start, Blake had been made aware of the circumstances of his conception and subsequent birth and seemed to bear no animosity toward his mother.  As Blake had put it when he saw the concern in Matt's eyes: "How can I miss someone I've never known and who never wanted to be a part of my life?"

Matt saw something else that evening as well, there was a tight bond between Blake and his father, one forged from mutual admiration and trust, a trust Blake was now jeopardizing by asking him to keep Matt's secret. 

It was a sobering thought, one that Matt had running on a loop in his head ever since and was troubling him to no end as they drove inexorably toward their destination.

"Can you pull over somewhere for a minute?" Matt asked, the need to clear the air between them weighing heavily on his shoulders.

 Blake shot him a quizzical glance right before veering off into the now-closed shoe mart lot, parking his truck and shutting off the engine.

Matt swiveled in the passenger side seat to better face him as he gathered his thoughts while Blake waited patiently for him to say whatever was on his mind.

After what seemed an interminable amount of time, Matt finally managed to mumble hesitantly: "Why did you ask me to dinner tonight?"

Blake seemed to consider his words before shrugging his shoulders and glancing in his direction, the dark silhouette of his handsome features highlighted by the incandescent glow of the street lights: "My dad wanted to meet you and thought it was a good idea to have ya over for dinner."

Matt found his response rather innocuous under the current circumstances: "I don't understand, does this mean you've forgiven me for violating your trust?" he asked, finding his reason rather suspect, considering...

Blake sighed, bowing his head slightly: "I admit, I was pretty pissed off initially..." he began haltingly: "But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that though what ya did was pretty stupid and reckless, ya really did have the best of intentions.  That's gotta account for something doesn't it?" he concluded.

Matt felt a cautious surge of elation at hearing Blake's words and found himself scooting closer to him, his right hand reaching over to lay on Blake's thigh: "I really do want to earn your trust back Blake and if you give me half a chance, I'll do whatever it takes to make this up to you, I swear it!"

Matt hoped that Blake believed him, he was being as genuinely sincere as he possibly could, adding: "You've been the best thing to happen to me since I started high school."

"Truth be told..." Blake posited, his hand grasping the one Matt had on his thigh and squeezing it tightly: "Until I ran into Talia while hangin' out with Roger a few weeks ago, I never thought in a million years you'd even consider given someone like me the time of day, let alone agree to go on a date with me."

Blake's comment forced a near incredulous laugh from Matt, causing a misunderstanding Blake to withdraw his hand from Matt's.

Matt blanched, almost horrified at the idea that Blake thought he was mocking him, suddenly realizing how it might appear to him causing him to reach for Blake's retreating hand and clasping it between his own: "No, No, No!" Matt insisted hurriedly: "I wasn't laughing at you I was laughing at you thinking you weren't good enough for me when it's clearly the other way around."

Almost instantly, he could feel Blake's hand relax in his own as he slowly leaned in and planted a timid kiss on Matt's lips.

That was all it took.

Days and weeks' worth of angst and anxiety were swept away in an instant, all because of a few selfless words spoken from the right person at the right time.

Matt practically leaped into Blake's strong arms, smothering his mouth with his own, throwing his arms around his neck hugging him tightly until he felt his body melt against his.

"I want you, Blake Wiley!" Matt gasped in between breaths as they continued devouring each other's mouths as they were swept away in a torrent of pent-up emotional releases.

"I ain't sayin' no!" Blake chortled lustfully as he felt the cheek of Matt's ass grind against the swelling expanse of his crotch as his fat dick stretched down the leg of his inner thigh, obscenely bloating the fabric of his jeans.

"Where can we go?" Matt mewled in Blake's ear as he licked and sucked at his earlobe, before biting it playfully, tugging on it as Blake's fingers gripped the cheeks of his ass firmly, kneading them like to loaves of bread dough.

"I don't know.." Blake groaned, his thoughts scattered as the heat of the moment flooded over him, depriving him nearly of all restraint and reason.

"Fuck it!" Matt hissed, scooting off Blake's lap so he could lean down and bury his face in Blake's heated crotch as his fingers fumbled with his belt buckle and the zipper of his blue jeans.

Blake often went commando and tonight was no exception and Matt had little trouble unfastening his jeans before he was attempting to tug them down past Blake's ass and hairy muscular thighs.

Matt had been surprised by a lot of things recently but the biggest surprise was the one that popped free from the confines of Blake's pants and nearly smacked Matt right in the face in the process.

To call Blake hung was an understatement.  The pulsating rod of turgid flesh that sprung from Blake's loins was like a shining beacon of wanton desire that pulled at Matt's senses.

Upon hearing Blake describe his endowments earlier that week as sizeable, did little to actually prepare for the reality of it in the here and now.

When Blake had spoken of it, he had pictured something akin to Hatch's extraordinary masculine bounty, but the meaty phallus throbbing ever so close to his startled face, went well beyond Hatch's by at least two inches in length and nearly half again in girth.

Nearly twelve swollen inches of practically wrist thick cock beckoned to his hungry lips as even his pure, raw unfiltered masculine scent wafted through his nostrils overpowering his senses and filling him with the pure unadulterated urge to devour his uncut manhood.  But before doing so, Matt chanced a sideways glance into Blake's glazed-over eyes as he stared almost forlornly down at him: "I know it's really big..." He stammered dejectedly: "We don't have to do nuthin' if its more than ya bargained for."

In answer, Matt smiled mischievously up at him, holding the lock he had on his Blake's gaze as he slowly allowed the tip of his drooling tongue to slip past his lips to swab the smoldering tip of his steely schlong.

Blake moaned deeply as Matt's overstretched lips parted like a fleshy sheave that soon encompassed the entirety of his palpitating, tennis ball-sized glans and began gently sucking it as his tongue continued sluicing away the copious amounts of continuously bubbling pre-cum that flowed from his belching piss slit.  

"Fuck me, that's the most amazing thing I've ever felt..." Blake groaned, his voice growing thicker and deeper as his desire mounted.  

For Matt, Blake's words held a twofold meaning.  One, he was thoroughly enjoying his oral skills and the second was that he was more sure than ever, that Blake was a virgin.  

Each unto itself was enough to fuel Matt's passions but combined they became a driving impetus that propelled him to reckless abandon as he forced even more of Blake's engorged member into his mouth and into the entrance of his gulping throat.

For his part, Blake was being driven nearly mad with what he viewed as the culmination of his youthful yearnings, the realization of his hidden, innermost longings.

Since his sexual awakening, several years previous, when his thirteen-year-old self caught the first whiff of an equally young, golden-haired Matt McCormick in their fourth-period remedial English class. Blake had made it his mission to take in that heavenly scent as often as possible by seating himself directly behind him in every shared class they had since.

For as long as he held such primal urging's, Matt had been at the center of those carnal cravings, and now that his warm wet mouth was wrapped tightly around his burgeoning member, Blake could scarcely consider or picture himself wanting to be anywhere or with anyone else.

From the very first day he had made that connection and every day since his desires had elevated Matt to an exalted position; the epitome of angelic perfection that he thought well beyond his grasp and reach.  Yet here he was now, devouring his prodigious manhood like a snake gulping down its living prey, sheathing his meaty sword in the smoldering depths of his fleshy oral sheath, sucking him into the blissful abyss of an unbridled vortex of hedonistic ardor.

Blake surrendered himself to it, succumbed to Matt's relentless hunger by clasping the back of Matt's head and forcing the full length of his massive cock into the virginal depths of his undulating esophagus and as his large, egg-sized cum laden balls ground against Matt's taut, overstretched lips, Blake released the full fury of his lascivious fervor, by erupting massive volley's of thick, viscous ropes of jetting splooge into his gulping, spasming oral canal, flooding it relentlessly to near overflowing as he pumped tightly against Matt's suctioning lips.

For Matt it was like being nearly drowned in what first appeared to be an endless, near pissing gush of seminal juices that smoldered and pummeled the lining of his throat as Blake's pubes ground coarsely against his straining lips, forcing Matt to gulp in convulsing heaves the near-ceaseless cavalcade of erupting jism that gushed from Blake's huge, musky gonads.

Matt had thought no one could match the plethoric bounty of Hunter Milsbane's carnal discharges, but Blake exceeded all possible human expectations, going well beyond any real or imagined measure Matt had encountered or considered previously, and as his voluminous discharge continued to erupt unabated, the thought did occur to Matt that he could very well drown in the ocean of sperm spewing from Blake's spitting urethra, but the overwhelming craving and lascivious yearnings that spurred his libido, pushed him beyond his physical limitations, surrendering him to his fate, by continuously suckling and harvesting the testicular bounty of Blake's spewing, meaty pole.

At the height of Blake's explosive orgasm, while still finding encouragement from the ceaseless grunts and hearty lustful groans, there was a point where Matt was certain, those very same grunts had changed abruptly to what Matt could only define as near animalistic snarls and growls.  Deep and primal, guttural emissions best described as bestial in nature.

It became a pivotal point in their first encounter and one that had elicited a primal response from primordial depths of Matt's brain that instinctively called for and demanded his complete submission.  He had never felt or experienced anything like it and enjoined with the steely, vice-like grip of Blake's large callused hands combined with the tight, forceful thrust of his powerful hips, overwhelmed any conscious thought of fleeing the predicament of his fate.

He became the fleshy embodiment and vessel for Blake's manhood and virile, potent seed.  A willing, supplicant, and repository of his masculine profundity and enduring austerity. 

What was the need for air compared to that?

Matt gave himself wholly, wantonly.  Surrendering himself completely to Blake's carnal ministrations, succumbing completely to his will, his needs, and desires.  He did what countless eons of evolution demanded of those in desperate roles experienced like Blake and Matt. 

Matt fulfilled that purpose.  He sucked and swallowed until Blake released the very last dregs of his voluminous expulsions.  Basked in the warm comforting glow, suckling and savoring the satiated ravenous, bestial ecstasy that yet throbbed buried in his throat until he slowly regained some portion of his composure and slowly released the still turgid magnificence of Blake's majestic meaty scepter.

Gasping for breath, in between the languishing swabs of his cum drenched tongue, as he lapped the sweat off Blake's big hairy balls, Matt smiled contentedly up at Blake as one of his hands gently stroked his hair.

"I could get used to this." Blake quipped impishly as he stared down at him before lifting Matt's head to his own and smothering Matt's lips with his, tasting the pungent, saline remnants of his own ejaculate as his tongue slipped between Matt's parting lips, probing his mouth with his oral digit, smothering and muffling his contented mewling and moans.  And as their lips finally parted, Matt cooed playfully in his ear: "You ain't seen nothing yet Mr. Wiley!"

                                                                      Chapter Six:

 

"Don't get your knickers in a bunch Brooks." Matt McCormick cautioned Talia as he continued to tap away at the keypad on his tablet as he uploaded the various files he kept for Dr. Ventrov to the laptop they were using at the "Mystery Shack," files that highlighted the physical progress of each of the members of the focus study group he was part of.

Just for good measure, Matt had started a separate file for Blake, tracking his progress as he had unwittingly been made part of this whole bizarre conundrum Matt now found himself immersed within.

Simultaneously, but secretly, Matt had decided to add his brother to his private files, though he still wasn't quite sure how he was going to explain taking his measurements each week to him, deciding he'd just have to cross that bridge when he came to it. Right now, he needed to focus on the matter at hand, or more specifically, Talia's, as she now held a small box up to him in the palm of her hand.

'What's this?" Matt inquired, eyeing his oldest friend dubiously, knowing all to well her penchant for the dramatic, when it suited her purpose, or just whenever she wanted to torment him, which just so happened to be pretty much most of the time.

"Open it and find out numb-nuts." she taunted gleefully, practically squirming in her chair in anticipation.

Talia could be devious and clever at times, but when she was excited about something, there was little she could do to restrain her jubilation, which often exhibited itself by her bouncing exuberantly.

Matt flipped the small box lid open and stared at the content.

"Um, exactly what am I looking at?" Matt queried, as he lifted the small squared object from the box and studied it closer, noting it couldn't have been bigger than half an inch in length depth or height.

"It's a camera!" Talia preened, her face suffused with her normal cocky grin as she snatched it out of his hand and sat it on the desk before opening a folder on her laptop and clicked on an icon Matt was unfamiliar with.

Almost instantly the image of the two of them staring into the diminutive device appeared on her computer screen.

"Has a fairly sensitive mic as well" She added, obviously very proud about her latest toy.

Matt frowned as she closed the program and stuffed the device back into the small box still in his hand.

"I take it this is for me to plant somewhere, though I'm seriously hoping you don't think I can risk putting it in the lab somewhere at work?" he asked cautiously, fearful of her response.

"Nah..."She retorted flippantly, adding: "This is for the coach's office, as close to his desk as possible if you can manage it."

Matt eyed her dubiously, though he felt a wave of relief wash over him knowing she wasn't expecting him to do something that could potentially have some serious repercussions if he got caught trying to bring that into the lab, though he really wasn't all that keen about trying to sneak and conceal it somewhere within Coaches Myers office either.

Luckily, Matt didn't have to hash it out with her any further as the hefty rumble of Blake's truck announced his arrival after the end of his shift at his dad's repair shop.

Visions of the night before had been on perpetual replay and Matt had found it difficult ever since to focus on anything other than their initial first sexual encounter. Sure, it had only been a blow job, but Matt was hopeful now, that it might lead to more. Blake's passionate kisses afterward certainly lead him to believe that the interest was still there, though Matt knew it would probably take more than a blow job and a few errant kisses to rebuild the trust between them.

Blake soon joined them, listening intently as Talia laid out her covert plan to have Matt bug the coach's office and eventually show off her devious little device to a curious but staid Blake.

With a concerned look planted on his face, Blake hefted the little cube-shaped camera into his hand and studied it surreptitiously as Talia once again severed the connection with the device, not wanting to wear the battery down more than necessary.

Handing it back to Talia, Blake posited thoughtfully as she carefully re-boxed the camera: "Ya know, instead of Matt trying to sneak into the coach's office, why don't you let me see if I can do it?" He paused for a second, raising his hand to halt Matt as he started to object.

"It makes more sense for me to do it. As captain of the baseball team, the co-captain and I meet with him every Wednesday to go over the team roster and discuss who needs to work on what and discuss travel arrangements for our next season."

Matt and Talia both had to agree, that made more practical sense than Matt risking being caught in the coach's office without a viable reason or excuse.

After Talia ran through how best to place the camera and offered a few suggestions on various ways to position and conceal it, they concluded their evening tête-à-tête by agreeing to meet up for lunch again the next day and testing the hopeful success of their little plan.

It was still early and the sun hadn't set yet, so when Blake suggested he and Matt stop and get a pizza and drop by his house for a while, Matt leaped at the opportunity of spending some alone time with him, especially when Blake let it be known his dad was usually at the gym most evenings and that they would probably have the place to themselves for a while.

"My dad goes to the gym most nights to..." Matt noted as he and Blake pulled out of the local Domino's with their large pepperoni pizza, adding quizzically: "I wonder if they know each other?"

Blake just shrugged his shoulders. He had met a few of the guys his dad worked out with, most being guys he'd known since he was Blake's age, but he didn't recall anyone with the last name McCormick, not that, in of itself, was that unusual. Blake didn't really spend any time with his dad at the town gym since he usually did his workouts at the school with his teammates.

"I guess they could." He suggested, knowing as well as Matt did, that Panto's gym was the only one in town and it wasn't so big that most anyone who frequented the place must, at the very least, know of each other.

"Ya know what's odd?" Blake queried, as he guided his truck through the turn off to his street: "I don't think I've ever met your parents."

Matt chuckled: "You know my brother Brian, just picture him, but a lot older and you'd recognize my dad"

As Blake pulled to a stop in front of his house and shut the engine off to his truck, he turned his head slightly and winked at Matt, a broad smile spreading across his face: "You must have gotten your good looks from your mom then because you and Brian don't look that much alike."

Matt just blushed slightly, inwardly delighted that Blake thought he was good-looking: "Actually, my mom has brown curly hair like Brian, I inherited my blond hair from my grandfather on my dad's side, though he was a good bit taller than me."

Blake snickered slightly: "You're at least five ten or eleven, that's hardly short Matt."

Matt just dismissed his comment as he fumbled with the door handle, before flinging it open and pivoting sideways to swing out of the passenger side of the vehicle: "Actually, judging by the old pictures my dad has, I take a lot after my grandfather."

Blake looked at him questioningly as he too slid out of the truck, before reaching over and picking up the pizza box, looking across the seat between them as he did so: "Is your grandfather deceased or something?"

Matt thought for a second. It had been a while since he'd thought about his grandparents on his dad's side of the family. Grandma McCormick had passed away a few years back, and Matt had always considered her to be a bit of a stoic person, usually very quiet, in a sad kind of way.

He had never met his paternal grandfather and all his dad ever mentioned of him was that he and his grandmother had divorced a few years after his dad was born and that the only time he spent any time with him was either on his birthday or for certain holidays.

Matt had gotten the distinct impression growing up, that Grandma McCormick didn't like it when he came around, though she and his dad seemed to have a differing opinion about that; still, Matt couldn't recall ever having met his paternal grandparent, though they bore a striking resemblance to one another.

The whole topic was beginning to make Matt feel a bit melancholy, so he shifted the conversation in another direction: "Dude, I'm starving, I haven't had anything to eat since lunch, and if I don't get something in my belly PDQ..."

Blake smiled mischievously at him, clutching the pizza box to his chest: "Oh, I'm sorry this pizza's for me, if you wanted something you should have said something."

Matt batted his eyes coyly in return, looking up and down Blake's body suggestively: "I don't recall saying I was hungry for pizza Mr. Wiley!"

Matt fought the urge to snicker as Blake visibly gulped as the sizeable lump in the crotch of his blue jeans expanded and twitched noticeably.

Blushing heatedly, Blake fumbled hurriedly with his key ring single handed as he juggled the pizza in the other, before finally getting the door open to his house and motioning Matt forward, taking a deep whiff of Matt's scent as he wafted by him, his rising libido motivating him to say: "Guess I better get something in you right away Mr. McCormick, don't want you thinkin' I'm a bad host or somethin'!"

                                                             <<<<O>>>>

"This should be more than good enough," Rob Wiley said to himself as he stepped out of the sauna he had just taken for the last fifteen minutes, after completing his nightly workout at Panto's gym.

Rob strode naked as the day he was born, down the narrow hallway into one of the four back rooms Joe Panto had in the back of his gym that he allowed friends to use for a nominal monthly fee.

Rob shared that additional cost with his long-term hook-up buddy, who was even now preparing for their usual encounter as he showered and cleaned up in the gym locker room.

Normally they would have showered together, but this evening was one of "those" nights, and Rob, who always tried to be accommodating, had followed his partner's instruction to the letter.

This was one of their more frequent scenarios, and Rob had to admit, it was one of his faves too. Not the dominant verbal shit that was expected of him, but the actual raunchy sex that usually left them both drained and content. Well, at least until the next time.

Rob left the overhead lights off as he entered the dark room, shutting the door behind him as he confidently made his way across the room to the large overstuffed leather wing-back chair he knew was in the far right corner.

Flipping the switch of the single, shaded lamp on the small stand next to the chair, Rob slowly sank into the worn cool leather seat and positioned himself as expected while he quietly waited for the fun to begin.

Tonight was particularly exciting for Rob because just a couple of hours ago he got the green light on something he had been working on for over a month, something he knew would fulfill his partner's favorite, kinkiest fantasy. To spend an entire weekend being the plaything for numerous men.

Not just any men mind you, but dominant well endowed men; after all, it's what first attracted his "Pansy" to him in the first place, almost ten years ago in just two weeks, the following Saturday to be precise and Rob really wanted to mark the occasion and make it something really special for his and Pansy's tenth anniversary together, so to speak.

Rob wouldn't exactly call what he and Pansy had as a real relationship, it wasn't romantic in nature, more of a mutual satisfaction derived from the one thing they both shared in common, the need for passionate, raw, unbridled sex. Of course, there was also the fact that Pansy was married to a woman and had two kids, and was seen as a respectable family man in his middle-class neighborhood located smack dab in the middle of the hyper conservative, rural Kansas small town they both lived in called Wenton.

Of course, Pansy wasn't his real name, it was the name Rob called him when they were alone; it was a name whose origin Rob could scarcely recall, but knowing full well it resulted in Pansy's constant hunger and need to be completely and totally dominated, with part of that domination manifesting itself by way of needing to be denigrated and made to feel subservient. In fact, nothing turned Pansy on more.

Rob knew it was kind of messed up, but he also knew their relationship, be that as it may, was the one thing Pansy would argue was keeping him from going completely bonkers.

He'd grown up with a super religious parent, and took over his father's business at an early age when his dad up and abandoned him and his mom, leaving his mom to run the family business, which she fully expected her only son to take over, upon graduating high school.

Of course, it wasn't all bad. The woman he married was actually a lesbian leaning bisexual in a similar circumstance.

They had met in high school and became fast friends and served as each other's beards numerous times throughout.

They both had someone they were seeing secretly at the time, and it seemed the logical conclusion for both of them to maintain the charade, even after high school.

His wife, in fact, was still involved romantically with the same girl after all these years, but unfortunately for Pansy, his love interest at the time disappeared shortly after his mother guilted and pushed him to propose and marry the girl she assumed was his high school sweetheart.

The fact was, they had been married seven years before he and Pansy even met and it was almost another year total, flirting back and forth before they finally hooked up. Pansy was extremely cautious back then about compromising his dirty little "secret."

For Rob's part, it had just started out as convenient. He had his own small son to care for and wasn't exactly enthused by the idea of trying to balance child care, a fledgling business, and a potential romantic relationship. Not that there were that many options back then in Wenton to choose from and definitely not ones that could meet the stringent criteria he was required to adhere to. Something he didn't want to push too hard against since he had already fucked up by getting a girl pregnant who hadn't been completely vetted and sanctioned by his own father, who in the end, risked everything so that Rob and his newborn son could have the life they had now.

If only his dad could see him now, sitting in a worn, chocolate brown leather chair with his muscular legs spread, dripping in sweat with his massive erection throbbing against his slightly furry belly, which drooled pre-cum down into his naval as he waited for the inevitable knock on the door he knew would come.

And, as if right on cue...

                                                                 <<<<O>>>>

"Dayam, I can't believe how swole you're gettin' bro!" Hunter Milsbane chuffed admiringly, noting the corded striations of muscular definition highlighted by the glistening patina of sweat coating Brian McCormick's bulging body as he continued to pump relentlessly at the chest fly machine.

"You ain't do'in so bad yourself dude," Brian responded as he glanced peripherally at his companion's protruding buttocks as he continued to pull the massive weight he had set on the leg curl/extension bench, admiring and thankful for the tight, form fitting curves of his sleeve and legless black spandex unitard.

He couldn't help but think Hunter wore that outfit just to get a rise out of him, smiling to himself at how effective that strategy was at accomplishing that goal as the semi in his gym shorts bore testimony too.

Brian had to force himself to refocus his attention away from the glorious bounty of Hunter's booty or risk popping a full-blown woody right there in the gym. Though truthfully, at this time of the evening, there really weren't that many patrons lurking about to really notice.

Panto's wasn't his normal workout gym. Sure, his dad worked out here and a few of his buddies, but Brian usually did his workouts in the college weight room. But, since he and Hunter had started that self-defense class, which was conducted a few buildings down on the main street of their very small town, he and Hunter had decided to work off some extra steam afterward that night and Panto's just proved to be convenient.

He couldn't explain it, but after he took that supplement his little brother Matty had given him, with each passing day, Brian was feeling more and more energized and was finding he could push himself further than he used to be able to do. Something else he and Hunter shared in common.

Matty had been right about that too. He remembered how he had bulked at the idea of doing certain things with Hunter, but after his "little" pep talk and chat with Matty, and actually admitting to himself that maybe he actually got more out of his encounters with Hunter than he thought he would, he had found performing certain sexual acts with Hunter was truthfully more enjoyable than he had expected them to be. Case in point, eating Hunter's beautiful hole.

Brian had eschewed the idea originally, thinking that was a little gayer than his usual macho bravado would allow him to accept. But, the more he did it, the more he found himself enjoying it, almost as much as Hunter enjoyed having it done. Matty had been right about that too.

All he had to do was lick Hunter's butt for a few minutes and Hunter would be squirming all over the place, practically begging him to plow his hole. Something he was more than willing to do, even without Hunter's encouragement.

Brian wasn't the only one whose views had changed either. During the days post their first encounter, Brian was fairly certain he had pumped more cum up Hunter's butt than he had in all the time he dated his ex-girlfriend.

He knew that part of what was affecting him was that stuff Matty had given him, but there was no denying that most of it was just pure passion and raw, animalistic attraction. Something else he and Hunter shared, while simultaneously having to admit it was something he had never felt for his girlfriend.

Having sex with his little brother and now Hunter had unleashed something within him and was now forcing him to re-evaluate and examine what it was he had ever seen in his ex.

In the beginning, from grade school through high school, the only common thing they truly shared was mutual friends and the ability to make each other laugh and if Brian was being honest with himself, it had always been more about friendship and their shared history growing up together, that and the fact, that everyone always assumed they would end up together. So much so, that Brian was becoming more and more convinced, that was the real reason they started dating; it was just what was expected of them.

Brian was still lost in his thoughts, reliving his past relationship and internally reflecting on how contrived it all seemed to him now, when he practically jumped out of his skin when felt the light touch of Hunter's hand on his bare shoulder, startling him back to the here and now.

"Yo dude, let's say we call it a night," Hunter said, an impishly mischievous look in his eyes as he suggested they head to the shower room as he turned and started walking away from him while batting his eyes suggestively over his shoulder, giving Brian the come hither look.

Not needing any further prompt, Brian sprang to attention, in more ways than one, and followed suit, his eyes glued to the sway of his hips and the meaty bounce of the twin globes of his near perfect ass.

They had no sooner entered the locker room when Hunter grabbed his hand and hauled him back toward the toilet stalls to the far side and thrust Brian into the furthest one, slamming the partition door shut and flipping the bolt, locking them in before swiveling around him and taking a seat on the toilet as his fingers anxiously sought the waistband of his sweatpants and jerked them down, along with his jock, freeing his rapidly swelling ten and a half inch cock.

The only other thing that Brian was aware of in that moment was the sound of a singular running shower as Hunter's lips hungrily devoured his burgeoning cock, sliding around the coronal ridge and began swirling his tongue around his fully exposed, sensitive glans.

Hunter's growing expertise soon elicited an excited moan that Brian quickly tried to squelch, thrusting a hand over his own mouth as he heard the shower in the distance shut off and a single pair of footsteps faintly padding and shuffling in their direction...

                                                           <<<<O>>>>

"That was phenomenal!" Matt McCormick groaned audibly before Blake smothered his mouth with his own, thrusting his long, thick wet tongue into his mouth for Matt to suck on greedily.

Matt could feel every square inch of Blake's massively swollen twelve-inch boner throbbing and jerking inside him as the last dregs of his third orgasm continued to seep from the palpitating, tennis ball-sized glans sheathed in the furthest depths of his bowels.

Though still wrapped around Blake's waist, locked at the ankles, Matt's legs felt like quivering jelly after the excoriating pummeling of Blake's near ceaseless assault of his anal canal, and as satiated as he was, his still cock hungry hole, which seemed to have a mind of its own, continued to suck noisily at the pulsating base of Blake's phallus, milking more and more splooge from his burgeoning schlong.

Blake finally pulled his lips from Matt's mouth, parting with a tight series of short affectionate pecks as he lifted the upper half of his torso until he hovered straight armed above his lover, to stare deeply into the depths of his beatific eyes.

"You're so fucking beautiful..." Blake moaned, his voice thick, deep and sultry, something that seemed to only elicit a pleasing mewling sound from Matt as he demurely squirmed beneath him, while his hips continued to gyrate suggestively as the swollen, undulating lips of his anus clamped vice like around the base of his cock in an attempt to deny it's extraction, even by a millimeter. Not that Blake wanted that either. But, they had been at it for over an hour and Blake knew that they were probably cutting it really close to the expected time when he knew his dad would be making it home from Panto's gym.

Blake leaned in once again, planting a soft kiss against Matt's welcoming lips: "I could spend the rest of my life joined like this if I could..." Blake posited, adding with a sigh: "But we gotta get cleaned up, my dad's going to be home soon and I'm not sure how he would take finding us like this."

As reluctant as he was to break the connection between them, Matt was forced to concur, even as he stubbornly fought against it by wrapping his arms around Blake's neck and pulling him down for another series of passionate kisses.

In the end, though, it was Matt who pushed Blake away, by thrusting his hands against Blake's sweaty, slightly hirsute chest until Blake slowly extricated his still fully engorged prong from his quivering, fleshy chasm.

Matt smiled in gratuitous satisfaction as Blake's rampant phallus slapped wetly against his own abdomen as the last inch of his dong slipped from the tight confines of his hole.

Staring down between them, Matt eyed wantonly, the still throbbing source of the most exquisite pleasure he had ever encountered. Marveling at its near hypnotic palpitations, Matt slid down between them, his right hand first cupping, then wrapping around the base of Blake's balls before pulling them down tightly in their sack as his flicking tongue sought contact with the girthy flesh of his cum drenched shaft.

Blake groaned uncontrollably as Matt's suckling lips wrapped sheath like around his glistening glans as he simultaneously pulled Blake's hips downward by his testicles, forcing Blake to bury the entire turgid length of his dick down Matt's hungrily sucking oral cavity.

"Damn Matty, I don't think I'll ever get tired of that," Blake exclaimed, exhaling sharply as Matt slowly pulled back until his dick plopped out of his mouth squeaky clean and stared up at him suggestively with a quirky sly grin on his face as he wiped his lips with the back of his hand.

Grasping his face between his hands, Blake kissed him once again before slipping from his grasp and jumping off his bed, while scanning his bedroom floor for his discarded sweat pants and T-shirt.

Reluctantly, Matt followed suit and soon they found themselves hungrily devouring the last of their pizza and scouring Blake's frig for more food and something cool to drink.

They had no sooner sat down at the small kitchen table and began consuming the leftover chili Blake's dad had made the day before when they heard Blake's father's truck pull into the adjoining garage.

Later, as Blake drove him home, they shared a mutual nervous laugh as they recalled the looks his father had given them when he entered the kitchen and the mischievous grin supplanting his facial expressions as he almost immediately excused himself, chuckling and shaking his head as he sauntered away, toting his gym bag back to his room.

"Do you think he suspected something?" Matt queried, thankful it was now dark enough outside that he was certain Blake couldn't see the crimson color of his cheeks as he blushed furiously.

'Who knows, all I can say is, that my dad has a really keen sense of smell." Blake paused for a moment as if reconsidering his choice of words before adding: "Does it really matter, either way, we're both eighteen and we didn't do anything most people our age aren't doing."

Matt just smiled back at him, silently wishing he could say the same, though thinking that he truly didn't really know how his parents might react if put in a similar situation.

They knew he was gay, but he didn't know how they would feel about him having sex with someone while under their roof.

As if sensing his unease, Blake changed the subject by letting him know, that whatever the outcome of placing the camera tomorrow, the one Talia had given him for coach Myer's office, that he wouldn't be able to join Matt and Talia that weekend as originally planned to review everything they had gathered thus far, stating that his father had informed him that they had to go to Lubbock to attend some meeting of the group his dad belonged too.

"My dad didn't say what it was about, just that we had to attend, so I don't really know when we'll be back." Blake sighed, just as he pulled up in front of Matt's house.

"Well... " Matt responded, with a hint of sadness in his voice: "I have to work Saturday, so I'm not really sure how much time I'm gonna have to devote to this project this weekend either, but I'm sure Talia and I can muddle through."

Blake just nodded his head: "If we get back earlier than expected, I'll give you a call, and maybe we can all get together then okay?"

Matt just smiled dreamily back at him: "Maybe we won't tell Talia that part.." his voice trailed off suggestively, leaving little doubt about his intentions.

"I like the way you think Mr. McCormick!" Blake responded, chuckling slightly as he leaned in and kissed Matt passionately.

                                                               <<<<O>>>>

"That was just what the doctor ordered," Patrick McCormick thought to himself as he stretched out and massaged his achy muscles with his soapy hands as the warm water from the shower spigot in the Panto gym shower room, located off to the side of the empty locker room, cascaded down his wet, lithe body.

Patrick always loved this warm afterglow he got after one of his sessions with Rob Wiley, surprised each and every time, how little if any, the excitement had faded over the last ten years they had been hooking up. It was like Rob could read him just like a tech manual, taking him from point A to point B and every other letter of the alphabet, leaving him drained and contented both physically and mentally.

From the first time, he had met Rob, right after he opened his garage and he had driven into his shop to have him look at his squeaking breaks, the near electrical charged sexual chemistry between them had him swooning and pining for the single father of one; and why not? Rob Wiley was every inch his ideal of the perfect alpha male stud, the kind he had fantasized about since he was a boy just realizing he was gay and living a life of fear his strict mother instilled in him, from almost the time he was a toddler.

To his mom, homosexuals were filthy, dirty perverts, a sentiment all his male peers echoed throughout his youth. To her, there was nothing worse than being a queer, often citing, that the only good faggot was a dead one.

Luckily for Patrick, he had met Bev, his wife and the mother of their two sons, when he was in junior high school.

It was like they had been drawn together, almost instantly recognizing their somewhat shared circumstance.

Beverly had always been a bit of a tomboy growing up and upon reaching puberty, just like him, along with the burgeoning sexual hormones subsuming everyone they knew, it didn't take long before the negative correlations between Bev being a tomboy with being synonymous with her being a lesbo, and of course, earmarking her for the usual taunts and veiled threats. It had actually been a little easier for Patrick, he had learned long ago how to butch himself up and maintain his subterfuge.

It was at that time, not long after Patrick had his first encounter with another boy his age, that the fear of discovery drove them both to concoct and hatch their little ruse. For all outward appearances, they became boyfriend and girlfriend, while secretly enjoying the limited same sex encounters they had with others throughout the following years.

Their plan had worked so effectively, that when Patrick graduated high school and his mother started pressuring him to settle down and take over the family business and Bev, likewise unable to see any kind of future, with the limited resources available to her, that wouldn't have taken her away from her beloved Rhonda Shelton, the towns only wedding planner and florist, that they had mutually agreed to what they believed would be a sham marriage of convenience.

For a time, their plan had worked brilliantly, but as expectations grew for them to start a family, coupled with their own innate curiosity and generally amenable dispositions toward each other, they would, at times experiment with each other and while their awkward fumbling's had successfully garnered them two offspring, it had also revealed Bev's somewhat limited bisexual side.

They didn't engage in sex often and Patrick believed the only reason he had ever been able to do so in the first place was that, not long after they married, his one and only lover had moved away unexpectedly, leaving Patrick devoid of male companionship, other than the few times a year he would sojourn to some larger metropolitan area for his families business and availing himself of the local gay bars and clubs such places offered.

That is until Rob opened his shop some years later.

Patrick smiled lecherously as he recalled their many encounters since then, not surprised that such recollections now stirred his manhood once again and made his balls churn with anticipation.

He was almost ready to take matters in hand, when he heard the faint distant sound of the locker room doors opening before peripherally seeing two figures dart toward the bathroom stalls, knowing full well, that this late in the evening, during a weeknight, the only reason two men would be heading in that direction together, had little to do with necessity and more to do with desire, urgency and the relative privacy the toilet stalls would provide.

Brimming with curiosity and his own mounting libido, Patrick rinsed the soap from his body, and shut the water off, before boldly strutting toward, what he was sure would be, the perfect ending to an already satisfying evening.

                                                              <<<<O>>>>

Brian McCormick couldn't believe his luck. Just moments ago he had been enjoying the feel of Hunter's lapping tongue greedily licking the sweat from his large hairy balls while his throbbing, ten and half inch erection bounced against Hunter's forehead as it continuously drooled dick dribble into the short scruffy hair on top of Hunter's head, when he had heard the showers in the distance shut off, followed by the thrumming patter of wet feet heading in their direction.

Hunter had cautioned him into silence as he silently pointed out the sizeable hole in the wooden partition that divided one toilet stall from the other.

Brian, of course, knew it for what it was, having seen glory holes frequently enough in other lavatories, but circumstances had never presented the opportunity or occasion to utilize one before. Until now.

As the door to the neighboring stall, right before theirs opened, Hunter rose from his kneeling position to stand beside him just in time to see the pair of bare knees drop below the partition wall and a single finger beckoned through the sizeable hole opening into the other side.

Both Hunter and Brian smiled wickedly at each other, but it was Brian, driven by pure, unadulterated lust, that thrust his burgeoning phallus, balls, and all through the aperture.

Almost instantly, wet pouting lips suckled at his piss slit, slurping up his seminal fluids as skilled fingers gripped his cum laden balls and began massaging them expertly.

The only thing Brian regretted at that moment, was not being able to grasp the head of his cocksucker and thrust his palpitating, aching schlong down his throat, and face fuck the hell out of him.

Though he was still rather new to all of this, it wasn't difficult to tell that the guy on the other side of the partition was far more experienced than Hunter at cock gobbling, not that Hunter was bad at it, but this guy was a natural, evidenced by the way he now slowly slide effortlessly down his steely rod until his quivering lips wrapped around the very base of his boner and began compressing the warm wet lining of his throat tightly against his embedded member, suckling like a nymphomaniac whore in heat.

Brian was so lost in the pleasure of the expert ministrations, he barely registered that Hunter had knelt behind him, not until he felt Hunter's wiggling tongue slip between his butt cheeks and begin lapping at his sweaty ass crack until he found his hairy bunghole and began swirling the tip against his brown eye in a tight circular motion.

The sensation had Brian nearly climbing the partition, torn between thrusting his cock deeper into the undulating maw of his faceless pud chomper or pushing his muscular ass cheeks back into Hunter's flicking tongue. Both sent waves of lurid passion excoriating throughout his entire body.

In the end, Brian just settled for firmly grasping the top of the partition with both hands and spreading his legs as wide as he could until he drove the last centimeter of his dick into the hungry mouth and exposed his spasming anus to Hunter's probing oral digit.

As a reward for his efforts, the head of his cocksucker bobbed faster and faster practically raping his own mouth on Brian's schlong while Hunter's tongue speared his pucker until the swirling tip assaulted his prostate, sending Brian over the edge into a whirling dervish of orgasmic fury.

Brian lost all sense of time and space as the tempest of his climax boiled from the depths of his gonads and began pistoning like a fire hose down the gulping mystery gullet in wave after body jerking wave of torrid exaltation.

By the time the surging tsunami of his primordial release began to abate to sporadic, uncontrollable jerks of his sweat soaked body, the guy on the other side of the partition, unsheathed his fleshy sword from the cum drenched confines of his oral cavity and murmured a quick "thanks" before withdrawing almost as quickly as he had arrived, leaving Brian to release his grip from the partition as he pushed his hips back into Hunter's face and used his hands to reach around behind him and pull Hunter's face and tongue deeper into the cleavage of his ass.

Normally, Brian required a few minutes to recover before he was ready to go again, but the new sensation of Hunter's twirling tongue in his rectum, kept him rock hard and hovering on the precipice of carnal desire.

Overcome by lurid passion, Brian spun around and hoisted Hunter to his feet before spinning him around, shoving his face into the wall while pulling his hips toward him, and kicking his legs apart before ramming the full length of his throbbing cock, balls deep, into Hunter's tight dick ditch.

Luckily for Hunter, there were still lingering traces of cum and spit coating Brian's turgid wanger, enough at least to lube the way for the ferocity of his unrelenting anal assault.

In the short time, they had become fuck buddies, Hunter had thought he was at last beginning to handle Brian's erstwhile, energetic couplings as well as the prodigious size of Brian's big cock, but with each passing day, Brian seemed to excel beyond his expectations.

He knew Matt had given his brother one of Dr. Ventrov's supplements, he wasn't blind to the effect that stuff had had on his own libido as well as the changes to his own body. But, whatever Matt had given Brian seemed to be pushing him beyond what he and the others were experiencing.

Not only had Brian's stamina increased but Hunter had noticed the increase in his muscle mass, his overall size, weight, and height, and of course, the dimensional expansion of his cock and balls.

Each day became a new challenge to accommodate Brian's surging size and needs and as Brain plowed his aching asshole like a pile driving jackhammer, he found himself wondering where it might all end and how long would he be able to handle Brian's mounting needs. Not that he was complaining. Despite the discomfort, he often found himself drawn to the man like a moth to flame and though he was always left aching and sore after their coupling's, it also left him with a deep seated sense of gratification he had never felt or experienced with anyone else before.

And then there were the moments afterward, when he was sweaty and exhausted and Brian, temporarily sated, would pull Hunter to him, resting his head on Brian's furry chest, and while he listened to the calming, steady beat of Brian's heart, Brian would stroke his hair and plant soft kisses to his forehead.

If truth be told, there were times, Hunter didn't know which he liked most, but at the moment, the mounting fury of Brian's fervor was drawing to its inexorable conclusion sucking Hunter back into the moment as the unrelenting tidal expulsion of his own lascivious fervor, culminated in the searing blast of his own ejaculation to splatter against the wall of the partition in rapid succession, painting it in the bountiful harvest of his own volcanic release, just as Brian erupted jet after jet of blistering ball juice into the abused depths of his palpitating anus.

As they both nearly collapsed to the cold tile floor, each gasping for breath, Brian hugged Hunter closely to him while nearly panting into his ear: "A man could get used to this baby."

Hunter smiled serenely, enjoying the feel of Brian's powerful arms around him as he planted tender kisses to the nape of his neck while his still rock-hard cock, pulsated deeply in the warm depths of his ravaged, cum dripping hole.

                                                            <<<<O>>>>

"So, what's the plan Doc?"

Chuck Myers's query hung in the air like an accusation, in part because it was. It wasn't like he couldn't read, nor could he ignore what he saw every time he turned his TV on or some news blurb drew attention in censoriously crafted sound bytes in-between songs on whatever radio channel he listened to.

Everyone on the planet was talking about it.

Mikal Ventrov however seemed unperturbed, or what Chuck Myers might consider a bit smug, especially coming from the otherwise emotionally detached man he had come to know over the last couple of years.

Barely shrugging his shoulders as he continued pouring over the scrolling data on the electronic pad he always seemed so focused on, his response came as no surprise: "I can assure you, Coach Myers, that everything is happening just as predicted and everything is well in hand."

Chuck snorted surreptitiously, sardonically emphasizing his and his contacts at the Pentagon's growing doubts, despite the good Doctor's assurances and seemingly ill-placed optimism.

His skeptical reaction didn't pass by unnoticed, garnering him a quick stern look from the raven-haired Ukrainian before he set the pad down and leaned forward at his desk, located in the small office right off the secured private lab deep in the bowels of the ReGen Pharmaceutical labs.

Chuck watched as the usually imperturbable, stoic Doctor steepled his index fingers vertically across his the center of face as his chin rested on his thumbs and his dark, brooding eyes glowered back at him from across the desk.

Myers knew this for what it was. This was meant to intimidate; this cold icy glare was what Mikal deployed to silence his underlings or the ones he felt were beneath him, whenever they dared to question one of his orders, and while it seemed an effective deterrent to most of his staff, it in fact held little sway over him now.

But, as he had done so many times in the past, Chuck Myer's cast his gaze downward, affording the illusion of capitulation, while his thoughts stayed laser focused on the matters at hand: "I'm only asking because I've been hearing rumors from acquaintances still connected at the Pentagon, that they are growing concerned that this little project of yours might not deliver as promised, considering the current state of affairs in Ukraine."

In the years he had known Dr. Ventrov, he had never once heard the man laugh, but the guttural chuckle that escaped his lips sent an icy chill down his spine. It reeked of an arrogance suborn from pure contempt.

It was moments like this, that Specialist Sgt. Charles Myers of the USMC wondered how much longer he would have to maintain this subterfuge.

He had spent over two years training for just this kind of mission, and ever since the higher ups at the Pentagon had caught wind of Doctor Mikal Ventrov's experiments into eugenics sponsored by some nefarious rogue faction within their own ranks, high up within the chain of command, and in league with some deep pocket international consortium, they had sent him in to go deep undercover to do whatever was necessary to gain the Doctor's trust and to not only secure the Doctor's research but to learn everything he could toward their end goals as well as the who, what, when and why's to their endgame.

It became apparent, almost right from the start, that the only way he would ever have any attempt at garnering the Doctor's trust, was to feign such an interest and commonality to his cause as to appear disenfranchisement with not only his military career but his sworn duty to defend his country as well as any loyalty or fealty he felt for the chain of command.

That's why he had made it appear as though he had left the military, had broken all ties that the Doctor knew of with those loyal to the Pentagon, and penultimately submitted himself to becoming one of the Doctor's guinea pigs.

It had been a very bold risk on his part, especially since a number of his previous human attempts had not ended so well. The remembrance of which, even now made him shudder mentally, picturing what he himself had read and seen of those poor souls, reminding himself, that he could have just as easily counted himself amongst them had he not survived his own experimental treatments.

Survived, he thought to himself. Though it galled him to believe that what has been done to him was somehow a fortunate state of grace, in comparison to a few who yet lingered, in albeit questionable states of comparative existence, he could take solace in the fact that at least, for the most part, he could still interact and pass, as still human.

There were still those contained within the deepest recesses of this facility, secured away from all prying eyes, a few of the Doctor's less than successful endeavors. Some, he had even once considered being friends and comrades, but now...?

It was as much to honor them as it was for the importance of his mission, that he became obsessed with seeing this through to the end, no matter the personal cost.

Doctor Ventrov eased back into his chair, eyeing him speculatively, those dark beady eyes ever assessing him and everything else around him, as if seeing the world around him through a lens no one else could fathom.

"I assure you, Coach Myers.." he stated matter of fact, in his usual cold, analytical tone: "Everything goes just as the One has planned."

Sgt. Myers didn't doubt that it did, but what he didn't know, and the very reason he was still tolerating this monster to draw breath into his lungs and why those still retaining a tenuous control over the military and government still charged him to do, was who this supposed "One" was and what his game plan is. So he played his part by masking it as the ignorance and doubt of an underling, skeptical of the true depth, breadth, and scope of the machinations playing out on the world stage.

"So the plan is to let a lunatic like Putin unleash World War Three on the world and destroy the whole planet in a nuclear war no one could possibly win?"

The smirk that appeared on Ventrov's face spoke volumes: "Putin is a puppet, just like that fool Zelenskyy. This minor skirmish is a mere distraction while the One clears the playing field and forges the foundations to his new empire."

Chuck knew he was probably pushing it, but as the old saying goes "Fortune favors the bold" so he queried, with what faux enthusiasm he could muster: "Then we are close to finishing here and joining him on the field of battle?"

There was a dark twinkle in Dr. Ventrov's eye he had never seen before as the somewhat sanguine grin spread further across his countenance: "That all depends on our young friend Matthew now, doesn't it?"

Sgt. Myers knew this already, but he needed the doctor to believe in his naivete and devotion to his cause, but more than that, he needed to make sure that whatever Ventrov hoped to gain from Matt McCormick, that it never falls into his hands or under his control, for, he knew, the entire fate and future of all mankind may depend upon it.

                                                             Chapter Seven:

 

"Am I really going through with this?" Patrick McCormick thought to himself, as he hurriedly stuffed clothes from his drawers and closet into two of the larger luggage he owned and used mostly for business travel.

It wasn't like there was any real debate going on in his head. For Patrick, there really wasn't any other option. He had to do this, he had to obey the last commanding instructions issued to him from the most incredible superior alpha male he had ever had the honor of encountering.

This weekend, the most amazing weekend of his life, had been arranged after all by Rob. Set up weeks in advance, even if, sadly, Rob had to back out of participating at the last minute when he got a summons from the leader of the militia he belonged to.

Actually, Patrick didn't know if they were actually a militia. Hell, they weren't even based in Kansas let alone Wenton, but somewhere near Lubbock Texas.

Rob had always been tight-lipped about his frequent visits there, and all Patrick was absolutely certain of, was that Rob was born and raised there and it wasn't unusual that Rob would have to nix plans they had made because there was some unexpected function or other he just had to attend.

Still, Rob had made the arrangements and had encouraged him to "enjoy" himself despite the unexpected change in his own plans.

At first, he had bulked at the idea of going through with it, not without Rob there as emotional support and backup, if nothing else. But Rob had insisted, and it was hard for Patrick to disagree especially since Rob had arranged that one of the participants would be the biggest wet dream of a man he had ever laid eyes on in his entire life, let alone amongst the regulars of Panto's Gym.

Just the thought of Coach Chuck Myer's made his dick twitch uncontrollably and the idea that he would finally be able to fulfill his ultimate fantasy of servicing a group of dominate, sweaty, trash-talking alpha males and top it all off with his dream stud to boot, was just more than he could have passed up on.

No, Rob didn't really have to push too hard to get Patrick to agree to go through with his prearranged weekend of carnal debauchery, and now?... Now he was at home, three days later, quickly packing only the basic necessities he would need, before beginning his life anew as the personal property of the most virile stallion he had ever known.

Patrick felt giddy and nearly lightheaded at the mere thought of what he was doing and he flushed heatedly remembering the events that had led up to his current situation.

Having informed his wife of his plans to spend the weekend away and her deciding to use that time to spend with her lover Rhonda. Patrick had left with only his overnight kit and an anxious smile from their shared home and made his way to the rendezvous site, the back room he and Rob frequented for their little tryst.

It always afforded them the most privacy and was secure enough from the main gym to guarantee they would not be disturbed.

He and Rob both shared the minor monthly expense to keep the space for their private use and though it lacked its own private shower, it did at least have a toilet and a sink where he could "freshen" up in between sessions with Rob.

He had arrived early enough to fulfill the agreed-upon requirements laid out to him by Rob before he left. The instructions were simple, clear, and precise. He was to be naked, and kneeling on the floor, wearing only the black latex hood that was meant solely for his anonymity.

It was a simple disguise that left the lower part of his face, or more importantly, his mouth, fully exposed and accessible for the guys that would be arriving about seven o'clock that evening.

Rob hadn't been too specific about how many guys would be arriving, only that coach Myers had assured him he would line up suitable candidates that could give Patrick the kind of experience he had always longed for.

After preparing himself and taking the submissive position of kneeling on the floor at the foot of the king-sized bed in the otherwise dark and modestly furnished room, fully naked, with his arms locked behind him and his legs spread, fully exposing his vulnerable genitals and facing the door. Patrick's alter ego, Pansy knelt there, his body quivering in anticipation as the appointed time had drawn near.

Though it had seemed like an eternity of waiting, the clock on the wall registered the time at 7:06 pm, when he heard the heavy footsteps making their way down the dark corridor beyond the door he anxiously and nervously couldn't take his eyes off of.

His heart nearly skipped a few beats and palpitated in his heaving chest as he heard the deep masculine voices just outside, as one encouraged another to open the door.

One moment later and with a simple twist of the doorknob, four massive figures entered the room.

Pansy watched, obediently silent, as instructed, as coach Myers, his dream stud ushered in three young men into the room, each suitably muscular and beefy and reeking of a recent workout.

An awkward, silent pall hung over the room as three pairs of eyes, belonging to the coach's youthful companions, glowered haltingly in his direction, as coach Myers shut the door behind them, before turning back toward his charges.

"You weren't kidding, were ya coach?" Lance Coleman, the slighter of the three boldly declared as he crossed the room and made his way to stand directly in front of Pansy, his hand absentmindedly reaching for the growing bulge in his light gray sweatpants and stoking it suggestively, outlining it's ever-increasing bloating into a full-on erection.

"As promised boys!" Coach Myers had declared, his face a beaming smile of sardonic temerity, his eyes two gleaming pools, reflecting a mounting depth of intensity Pansy was all to familiar with. It was the same look he caught frequently in Rob's eyes, it was one of pure, unadulterated animalistic hunger and he was looking at Pansy like a slab of raw beef.

Much to Pansy's dismay, however, Chuck Myers crossed the room and after thrusting the door open, turned to look over his shoulder at the three horny, stalwart youths and informed them he had a few errands to run and would be back the next morning to pick them up, concluding with a devilish wink at Pansy and stating: "Get your fill boys but don't break him, I'll want my turn after you break him in."

With a hearty chuckle, the muscular giant strode through the door and vanished from view upon closing it behind him, leaving Pansy alone with the three hunky football players, who now stared down at him lasciviously.

Without preamble, the one called Lance shoved the front of his sweat pants down with one hand and grabbed the back of Pansy's hooded head with the other and began slapping his lips with the bloated head of his fat eight incher, smearing them in the copious amounts of precum drooling from his piss slit.

"Open wide fag!" The blond youth jeered, his mouth twisted into an insidious lecherous grin.

Pansy nearly swooned at the masculine vehemence of the demand and complied obediently, his mouth already drooling at the thought of servicing this handsome young studs meaty member and tasting the sweet testicular nectar oozing from its rock-hard circumcised tip.

Just as he had hoped, Lance didn't let him waste time sucking and sipping daintily on the head of his palpitating pecker before ramming the full length down his throat and began pumping his plump hairless balls against his chin.

"Yeah bro..." the one called Hatcher sneered sardonically: "Face fuck that faggots mouth-pussy!"

Spurred on by his teammate's taunt, Pansy could feel the boy's fingers tightly grip the back of his head before he began pistoning the full length of his veiny cock into his throat and otherwise using his mouth like his own personal fuckhole.

Pansy was so engrossed in servicing the youth's cock, he barely noticed as Hatch stripped off his own clothing until he felt the warmth of his naked flesh press against him from behind, and the rock-hard heat of his engorged, nearly eleven-inch phallus, began smacking against the side of his face, stinging his cheeks with loud resounding smacks.

Lance's cock had seemed meaty to Pansy, but it wasn't until the boy/man invading his mouth ripped his spittle-covered schlong from his mouth and forced his head around, that he was confronted with Hatches beefy prick.

"Open wide pussy mouth" Hatcher commanded, in his deep, gravelly voice, tinged with no small degree of threatening undertones.

Pansy had to pivot slightly around to comply with the command and as he did so, he could finally take in the prodigious endowment of the six foot-two inch, muscular, sandy-haired manchild starring wickedly down at him, with a pair of bright blue eyes so full of lust and contempt, it sent a mild wave of trepidation shivering down his spine right into his already tight hairless balls, causing his own seven and a half inch dick to belch out a few drops of anticipatory semen from his gasping piss slit.

The distraction of his wanton, ogling appraisal of Hatches phallic perfection ended abruptly as he felt the harsh sting of Hatcher's hand as he slapped Pansy hard across the face, leaving him reeling and dazed as his eyes shot upward to the nearly sadistic grimace that glowered down at him.

Before Pansy could react, Hatch hooked his left hand behind Pansy's head as he brought the tip of his large plum-sized cockhead right up to his lips.

Responding by instinct alone, Pansy's lips parted as his mouth attempted to engulf it, desiring nothing more than to savor every inch of this stallion's manhood.

To his surprise, Hatch pushed him away, by shoving his forehead with the blunt of his palm, once again causing Pansy's eyes to shift questioningly back to his own.

"Ya want this faggot?" Hatch sneered, slapping the plump juicy head of his prick in his left hand as he glowered down at him, the corner of his mouth twisting into a lecherous sneer, before adding: "Ya gotta beg for it first!"

Hesitantly Pansy groaned: "Please sir, may I suck your cock?"

Hatch's face twisted into a full grin, his eyes almost mirthful as he smiled down at him, right before his right hand shot out unexpectedly and slapped Pansy even harder across the face, nearly knocking Pansy off balance and tilting toward the opposite side.

Pansy could feel his cock twitch again and his balls contract even more, as his heart raced within his chest.

This was nothing new to Pansy. This young man was doing instinctively what it took him years to get Rob comfortable with doing. It was this kind of domination that Pansy craved and hungered for and in just the span of a few minutes, this stud had him nearly on the brink of an uncontrollable hands-free orgasm.

"Don't just kneel there staring up at me like some stupid little queer..." Hatch leered, his heated gaze locked with Pansy's: "Be a good little faggot and beg me properly for the honor to worship my dick!"

Pansy paused for a moment, thinking rapidly and stammering submissively as he could his response: "Sir, please instruct me how best to please you."

His plea seemed to please Hatch as his smile broadened and he once again resumed slapping his fat cock head in the palm of his hand.

"First of all..." Hatch began haltingly as if considering his words carefully as he took a step toward Pansy, his rock hard dick aligning perfectly with Pansy's quivering lips: "Allow me to introduce you to my not-so-little friend..." Hatch paused yet again, the sardonically wicked grin returning to his visage: "His name is Fag Basher!"

Pansy nearly whimpered as his dick began to twitch uncontrollably, his mouth watering even more as the urge to engulf the bloated member pressed against his lips, nearly overtook what little self-control he had left.

One thought filled his lust-addled brain...he had to have that cock plunging into him. He needed it more than he needed to take another breath, so he addressed Hatch's dick like it was some divine entity he needed to entreat to attain a state of miraculous nirvana.

Pansy did the only thing he could do, he begged: "Please Fag Basher, allow me to please and worship you."

Unbidden, Pansy lost himself in the moment and began smothering Hatch's drooling knob with slobbering kisses and with wet fluttering flicks of his tongue, until Hatch once again shoved him away, snickering jovially as his hand shot out again and began repeatedly slapping Pansy across the face, in a flurry of stinging blows.

"God dammit Hatch..." A booming voice shouted disapprovingly from the other-side of the room.

All eyes turned toward the brooding six foot five muscle ripped giant seated in the brown leather chair glaring stoically back at the trio, leaving them frozen in silence and in little doubt about who was actually in overall charge in the room.

As well they should. Steve Ramsey wasn't the most vocal of persons, he didn't have to be. His mere physical presence commanded attention and even a hedonistic, rough-and-tumble lout like James Hatcher thought twice about garnering Ramsey's ire.

"Quit fuckin' messin' around..."Ramsey grunted, adding: "Either get your dick wet or step aside and let someone else take a turn."

Hatch responded by sneering down at Pansy, the left corner of his mouth tilting upward baring his pearly teeth in a wicked grimace: "You heard the man...." Hatch taunted in a near-snarling growl before grabbing Pansy by the back of his head with both hands firmly laced behind the base of his skull: "Open wide faggot!" he commanded.

Pansy instantly complied, staring hungrily at the object of his wanton desires, suspecting fully what came next and hoping against hope his instincts were correct. They were!

If nothing else, James Hatcher was consistent, if not even predictable. They all watched in varying degrees of interest as the golden-haired, brooding stallion rammed the full length of his prodigious eleven and half inches balls deep into Pansy's mouth and began grinding his large, egg-sized balls against Pansy's chin, all while continuously spewing a torrential flurry of obscenities.

"Goddam fuckin' queer, take that fuckin' dick down your faggot pussy mouth!"

Hatch's harsh words only urged and heightened Pansy's lust as he began sucking greedily, his lip-locked suctioning and undulating throat muscles devouring everything Hatch ground down his esophagus.

This wasn't the biggest dick Pansy had taken, Rob's was a good inch longer and almost another inch thicker than this ruggedly handsome youth's and over the years, Rob had trained him well.

In the last ten years, there were countless afternoons and evenings where his throat served as a warm fleshy sheath for Rob's twelve-plus inches. Long ago, at Rob's insistence, Pansy had learned to gulp air around his fat fuckstick, keeping it warm and wet in the confines of his tight throat, often kneeling for hours between Rob's splayed legs as he watched some football or basketball game on TV with Rob's dick throbbing fully embedded inside his oral cavity.

Early on, Rob had declared this his purpose, reducing him into being nothing more than some fleshy vessel for his manhood and his seed. Pansy had learned that purpose well. If Hatch was expecting him to gag, he was going to be sorely disappointed. Pansy could do this all night if need be, and he could do so much more, which he demonstrated by loosening his jaw further allowing his tongue to snake out and caress Hatch's testicles, swabbing them in the copious amounts of drooling spittle accumulating in his mouth, eliciting a tightening of the youths grip on the back of his head followed by a few rewarding guttural moans of satisfaction and approval.

As Pansy's tongue circled and stroked Hatch's balls, as his throat muscles continued to constrict and milk his burgeoning shaft and palpitating cockhead, Pansy reminisced over the hours of training he had spent lengthening his tongue to better serve Rob.

It was after months of trying to flex and stretch his oral digit by pushing it harder and harder passed his lips that he happened upon the idea of using small weights attached to a large adjustable nipple clamp.

He would affix the clamp as far back on his tongue as he could before attaching the weight and would then lean forward allowing gravity and time to do its work.

By slowly increasing the amount of weight, he soon had nearly doubled his ability to extend his tongue until he could nearly lick the bottom of his chin or flick it over the tip of his nose.

At times, the pain had been almost unbearable, but once he had achieved a certain level of success, the pain he had endured to accomplish the outcome, outweighed what he had suffered to achieve it.

With a wicked sense of self-satisfaction at what he had achieved over the years, Pansy demonstrated his next oral trick by scooping Hatch's large egg-sized gonads into his mouth, one at a time, before stuffing each one into either of his cheeks before clamping his lips tightly around his now fully engulfed genitals and began sucking in earnest.

The unexpected sensation literally knocked Hatch off his feet as he fell backward onto the foot of the bed, his fingers gouging vice-like into Pansy's skull as he hurled obscenities in an endless stream of animalistic grunts and growls.

"Mutha-fuckin'-Goddamn cocksuckin'-faggot...eat my fuckin' junk."

Pansy's little "trick" didn't escape the notice of the other two occupants in the room, as they stared on in wide-eyed fascination as Hatcher continued to howl his lust-fueled tirade: "Take it all you fuckin' queer, I'm about to drown your faggot as in jizz!"

No sooner had the words escaped his lips, Pansy could feel Hatch's entire body stiffen and his steely grip tighten even more as the muscular youth ground his groin against his suctioning lips.

True to his word, Pansy marveled at the sheer force of the rocketing first blast of molten sperm that spewed from the straining engorged tip of Hatch's prick, followed by volley after volley of thick viscous splooge, so copious that it caused Pansy's eyes to roll back in his head as he suckled and swallowed greedily at the near endless tsunami of jism pummeling his esophagus.

The fact was, at that very moment, Pansy was past caring if he'd drown in Hatch's cum. From the first heated, thick blast of the man-boys load, Pansy's own cock erupted in a joyous fountain of pistoning ball juice.

No, Pansy hadn't touched his own cock, Rob had forbidden him from pleasuring himself almost from the start, insisting that the only time Pansy was allowed to cum was through his selfless joy of servicing "real" men and in Pansy's lust-filled thoughts, he was feasting on one right now, which spurred the uncontrollable orgasm he was experiencing now.

"Look at that willya?" the one called Lance chortled snarkily, pointing down at Pansy's dick: "The homo just came from chuggin' your jizz dude."

Though still caught up in the last vestiges of his post-coital euphoria, Hatcher reach down, and with the heel of his palm pushed at Pansy's forehead until his bloated, spit-soaked genitals plopped out noisily from Pansy's still sucking mouth.

Sitting up and looking down between his legs in disgust at the cum dripping down the sheets, shot from Pansy's deflating cock, Hatch rose to a standing position over a still panting, hooded Pansy and sneered down at him with a cocky half-grin: "Bad faggot..." He taunted: "Who gave you permission to get off?"

Still feeling the buzz from his endorphin induced post orgasmic release, Pansy just smiled back up at him and licked his lips before dropping his gaze to Hatch's crotch and began kissing his still fully erect cock: "Please sir, I couldn't control myself, your load just tasted so good!"

Without prompting, Pansy wrapped his lips around the swollen shiny knob of Hatcher's dick and plunged downward fully engulfing his sizeable endowment to its base and ground his chin into the wiry hairs of his groin.

The cocky sneer appeared once again across Hatch's face as he pushed his head away: "Ya can't suck my dick again until you suck off my buddy Lance here." Hatcher snarled sardonically while urging Lance to sprawl out on the bed and coaxing Pansy to climb up between his legs and fully engulfing Lance's eight incher and balls and began sucking away contentedly.

Hatch exchanged wicked glances with Lance as he kicked Pansy's legs apart and hoisted his hips into the air and began rubbing his still swollen phallus up and down the crack of Pansy's ass before taunting: "I've always wondered what it would be like to dry fuck a fags pussy!"

And before Pansy could catch his bearings or react to Hatcher's declaration, Pansy suddenly felt the blunt hard end of Hatch's dick ram past his puckered sphincter and enter his anal canal, where Hatcher seemed determined to rip his way completely into Pansy's guts.

The pain was excruciating, but all Pansy could do was gargle his protest around the bloated girth of Lances leaking cock and sweaty balls and beat his fist against the mattress of the bed until James Hatcher finally hit bottom, deep inside his pain-wracked orifice.

"Bet ya felt that didn't you, ya fuckin' queer!?" Hatch boasted gleefully as he began rapidly punching the full length of his prodigious endowment in and out of Pansy's aching hole.

It was pure torture for several minutes, with little or nothing Pansy could do about it. But eventually, Hatch's own leaking seminal fluids began to coat his rectal cavity and the pain of his rapid strokes soon turned to pleasure with Pansy bouncing backward to meet each one of James's powerful thrusts.

"Goddayam..."Hatch groaned gutturally, his right-hand slapping repeatedly against Pansy's reddening butt cheeks with a loud smacking noise accompanying it, with each downward stroke, that hit so hard, it caused the sound to reverberate off the small room walls in a cacophony of sadistic vehemence: "This is the tightest fuckin' snatch I've ever plowed."

Pansy winced with each torturous smack of his bulbous bubblebutt, but the combination of James's smacks, verbal abuse, and gut-pounding schlong raking across his prostate, had Pansy's dick on the verge of pre-orgasmic release for what seemed like hours, even as the other blond-haired youths fat cock continued to drive forcefully down his throat until he was certain it would plow right through the back of his head.

Their macho bravado and near tireless vitality made him hover on the brink, suspended and impaled but still carnally connected between them. For Pansy, this was the culmination of what he had dreamed of and deep down he hoped it would go on forever, but like all good things, combined with their youthful exuberance, all too soon plunged the trio over the edge into near volcanic eruptions of molten jism. Lance's down his throat, Hatch's deep in his ass, and his own splashing aimlessly against the now sweat-soaked mattress and sheets, until they all collapsed into a heap of panting, glistening flesh.

Pansy could have laid there forever, sandwiched between them, they're spent, but still bloated dicks still dribbling inside him, but the thunderous sound of applause echoed from the other side of the room as the fourth, but hitherto mostly silent member of this arranged get together, clapped his hands together.

"That was some show boys..." the still-dressed six-foot-five giant grunted in a deep gravely voice as he slowly rose from the leather chair directly across from them.

"But I think it's time to separate the boys from the men and let a real man show you how its done!"

Pansy's eyes were quickly drawn away from the ruggedly handsome face that eyed him deviously as the muscle-honed jock began to pull his sweat stained t-shirt over his head while kicking his sneakers off as his thumbs dug into the waistband of his gray sweatpants and began shimmying them down over his huge muscular ass.

There was little time for Pansy to appreciate the massive glistening muscles that subsumed the bulking and daunting figure that slowly approached him before his eyes caught sight of the pendulous monster that dangled between his legs.

Pansy felt a sudden twinge of trepidation as the organ began to swell and engorge with each step he took toward him.

He was barely aware of Hatch kneeling toward his ear and whispering maliciously: "Now you gonna get it faggot."

Pansy suddenly found himself alone on the bed as his two former companions made way for their hulking comrade, who continually glowered at Pansy like a fresh piece of meat he was about to devour whole.

Feeling like the proverbial deer caught in the headlights, Pansy sat there on his knees in the center of the bed as Steve Ramsey lowered himself on his knees and scooted up the bed until he was nearly face to face with a frozen Pansy.

With one forceful shove, Ramsey pushed him backward and grabbed his ankles, and hoisted his legs into the air until his ankles swung over his broad shoulders and his thighs spread as the grunting, ape-like youth positioned himself squarely between them, leaving little doubt about his intentions and the position he wanted him in.

"Like what ya see gay boy?" Ramsey growled deeply, locking gazes with Pansy who could do little more than gawk at the momentous phallus now fully erect and stretching up his own abdomen until it nearly reached the center of his chest.

Over the years, Pansy had watched a lot of porn, dreamed of some of those big cocks plowing his holes into oblivion and he had thought he had completely lucked out when he met and hooked up with Rob Wiley. He was sure they had been fated to meet when Rob revealed his huge twelve-inch dick for the first time.

Pansy had spent years worshiping that cock, sure he would never find its equal, at least in this lifetime.

But the monster laying heavily across his belly shattered that illusion and all Pansy could do was stare at it in awed, wide-eyed silence.

From the base of its baseball bat thick base, up through its equally thick veiny shaft and the uncircumcised hooded tennisball-sized glands, Pansy was certain it had to measure at least sixteen inches in length.

Pansy gulped involuntarily as his mouth drooled in lusty hunger while his senses reeled at the very notion that this powerful manchild fully intended to shove that thing into him and fuck him like it would be the most normal thing in the world for him to do.

"Please sir..." Pansy stammered brokenly, his lips barely able to form the words his trepidation cautioned him to speak.

"Ramsey smiled wickedly: "You don't have to beg, this is the first time I've ever gotten the chance to use this thing on anyone, and believe me, I'm gonna take my time and enjoy every minute of it even if I have to split you in two to do it."

Pansy's lower lip trembled at his harsh words. Fear and hunger filled his vision as he lay there helplessly awaiting the inevitable as Ramsey drew his huge dick back and pressed the business end of his schlong against Pansy's wet, sperm-oozing anus.

"Puh...puhlease... "Pansy finally managed to stutter: "At least use some lube."

Ramsey glowered back at him for a moment then leaned back, shifting his weight back on his heels: "Get it!" he commanded, causing Pansy to roll over on his side to the nightstand where he opened the drawer to fetch the bottle of water-based lube he and Rob frequently used.

'Grease me up" Steve practically cooed as he intently watched Pansy follow his instructions obediently before repositioning himself with his arms behind his head and his thighs drawn tightly against his chest leaving his bunghole an easy target.

Ramsey didn't keep him waiting, didn't bother with even attempting any form of foreplay or loosening.

No, Ramsey had only one goal in mind and that was plunging his big dick into Pansy's pucker and plowing away all his years of frustration for all those who had been too frightened by his massive endowments to even make some semblance of an attempt.

The Coach had promised him a willing hole for his amusement and he fully intended to do just that.

For Pansy, this was just another challenge he intended to meet. Over the last decade, he and Rob had engaged in numerous sexual acts including fisting. He had even managed to take Rob's arm nearly to the elbow once and though Rob's forearm was thicker than Ramsey's sizeable endowment, his dick was considerably longer than that had been.

The only plus side Pansy saw at the moment was the plowing Hatch had already given his hole and Pansy secretly hoped it would be enough to loosen him for what was to come.

At first, the massive head didn't seem to want to push past his sphincter, causing Pansy to whimper several times in both pain and frustration as he rotated his hips trying to find the right position to make it easier for the inexperienced jock, but ultimately it just took the slow persistent pressure and the strength of Steve's oaken thighs to push past his taut entrance and enter him snugly.

Despite this small victory, Pansy braced himself for what he knew would be the next hurdle, his inner sphincter.

It had taken him and Rob month's worth of persistent, repetitive training to get Rob's fist to stretch that opening enough to accommodate his massive fist into the opening of his lower bowels. But where Rob had been patient, Pansy was certain that this time would prove to be different.

Having that thought no sooner crossed his mind, he felt a sharp twinge of pain accompanied by Ramsey's massive wanger abruptly halted from gaining further purchase into the tight confines of his anal canal.

The sudden, painful incursion caused Pansy to cry out only to find himself instantly silenced when James Hatcher straddled his head and rammed his still-swollen phallus down his throat cutting off any protest he might have made.

Pansy could feel the firm grip of Hatch's hands lock around his ankles and pull his legs back and apart further as he nearly growled words of support to his youthful companion: "Shove that fucking thing up that faggots pussy bro... wreck his fuckin' cunt!"

The muffled sounds of Hatch's words sent a shiver of dread and anxiety coursing through his near oxygen-depleted brain, but underneath his fear, Pansy felt something else... a deep sense of hunger and excitement. This was something he knew all too well and had come to accept about himself over the years of nearly nightly service to Rob. Somewhere, back in the deepest recesses of his mind, he wanted this young muscle god to take him, to completely dominate and have his way with him, to use him and treat him like a vessel for his potent seed and virile manhood.

No, Pansy didn't just want it, he needed it!

Pansy lost himself in that desire, his lips locked around Hatch's bloated dong and began suckling in renewed earnest, as his hips thrust, almost involuntarily upward as a slowly retreating Ramsey repositioned himself, rising up on his feet into a squat thrust stance, with his dick pulled back until only the head of his palpitating schlong remained ensconced within him.

He didn't know what happened after that moment, one minute he was greedily devouring Hatch's fat juicy dick, then instantly, like a switch flipping in his head, the world around him erupted into a vast sea of searing hot whiteness.

It took him a moment to reorient himself, to discern whether this was a dream or something real.

He lay there, letting his eyes try to focus within the billowing white haze, as the gentle sounds of water brushed softly against a, not to distant shore and a pleasant, warm breeze wafted over his bare skin, followed by a light lilting hum that slowly transformed into an ephemeral disembodied voice, that rang like music in his ears.

The words it spoke barely reached him and bore a hint of both joy and sadness: "You can not be here little one..." it sang in caution: "Yet all the same you deserve to know..." the words trailed off into the ether, somewhere between the past, present, and future, before it continued: "Through you, the stage has been set, you will bare witness as your offspring bring change to the world..."

Pansy's heart skipped a beat at the mention of his sons Matt and Brian, spurring him to finally find his voice and speak out in fear for their safety: "Who the hell are you and how do you know my sons?"

In response, a wave of calmness washed over him as a golden light infused every pore of his being as the warmth of the disembodied voice suffused him: "They can not stay with you, but be not afraid to let them go, for they are intended to do great things..." as it spoke, the light began to fade and swirl into the darkness around him and the voice drew away from him until it was barely audible, but before Pansy lost it completely, he was certain it said: "Listen to your mate, you will find comfort in his arms..."

The world swirled around him in a dizzying array of sights and sounds until he found himself once again in the confines of the poorly lit room in the back of Panto's gym.

Pansy lay there, with his arms and legs wrapped around the hulking, sweaty muscular youth who was relentlessly pounding his massive dick deep into his guts, clutching and holding onto him for dear life.

Still reeling from what Pansy could only describe as either a sex-induced delusion or a divine, spiritual vision, he slowly gathered what was left of his wits as he took in his surroundings.

Beside him, laying exhausted across the bed, was the one he knew as Hatcher, the other, the blond-haired Adonis, was sprawled out listlessly in the brown leather chair in the corner of the room.

The perpetual abysmal lighting of the room defied the passage of time, so Pansy had no idea how long they had been at it, but what he was certain of, was his throat ached from use and his hole felt numb to the constant pummeling this kid was pile driving into him.

As if right on cue, he felt every muscle suddenly stiffen and flex on the youthful stallion buried balls deep in his quivering, abused hole as he simultaneously tightened his arms around Pansy and grunted into his left ear: "I'm fuckin' cumin' again you fuckin' tight as bitch."

The words barely registered to Pansy as he lay there passively feeling the hot warm jets of jism spurting into the deepest recesses of his now spasming rectum.

Almost instinctively Pansy's hole seemed to grip and clutch at the base of the huge invader, milking it for every precious drop of the stallions splooge, which elicited the stud to comment: "Goddam bitch, your fuckin' pussy is suckin' my nuts dry!"

For some reason, Pansy felt a certain satisfaction in hearing him say that, which was echoed by the fervent wet suckling sounds of his clenching hole around his pulsating shaft.

Pansy couldn't help but smile to himself in amusement, noting mentally to himself how it sounded like a hungry calf feeding on its mother's teat, back in the day when he would visit at his grandparent's farm as a kid.

The contented moment quickly faded as the hulkish brute slowly regained some semblance of composure and began pulling away from him and slowly withdrawing his rubbery, though still gargantuan pecker.

Laying there listlessly, Pansy marveled at the prodigious organ as it plopped glisteningly from the swollen lips of his distended pucker, noting in admiration at the plethora of thick viscous white splooge clinging to its shiny surface.

As if in a trance, Pansy felt drawn to it, like a moth to a flame and he pivoted toward it and began kissing and licking at its semi-erect surface before swooping down to draw the massive head into his now drooling hungry mouth and forcing it down his chugging throat until it was nearly halfway buried into his esophagus.

"Damn, Hatch was right..." the now smiling jock crooned, locking eyes with Pansy as he suckled ardently: "You're one cock hungry faggot."

Pansy just winked at him mischievously, eliciting a chuckle from the somewhat gentle giant. He didn't sense the same demeaning intent in his use of the word faggot that he got from both Hatch and Lance. In some way, it felt almost complimentary coming from this deep gravely voiced stud, which Pansy rewarded by forcing himself to take another inch or two of his already inflating member.

"Sorry dude..." Steve Ramsey apologized as he withdrew his inflating dick from Pansy's greedy mouth: "I don't think I got another one left in me, I already shot six loads up your fuckin' amazing snatch."

"Six?" Pansy queried out loud, though he hadn't intended to.

"Yeah..." Ramsey waxed, his eyes glazing over in fond remembrance of his accomplishment: "You're like a fuckin' machine dude, you took everything I had and drained my bro's to boot."

Pansy couldn't help but stare up at him, a slightly dumbfounded look on his face: "How long have we been at it?" he questioned, while still trying to wrap his head around the fact he couldn't remember it happening.

"Dude, you kidding? We've been at it most of the evening!" Ramsey giggled, wondering to himself, as he scratched his head if maybe Hatch and Lance had jarred his brains loose with the countless loads they had fucked down his throat while he completely monopolized Pansy's talented hole.

Trying to get his bearings, Pansy rolled off the bed, garnering a grumpy grunt from a lethargic Hatch in the process as he scampered for his pants to find his phone.

No sooner pulling it from the confines of the pocket of his stonewashed denim jeans, Pansy swiped to activate the screen and stared in disbelief at the time displayed-- 11:34 PM.

Pansy had barely had the time to register the fact he had lost a span of nearly three hours he couldn't account for when the sudden rustle of the doorknob captured his attention preceded by the door being thrust inward and to his surprise, the room filled with large men dressed in camo gear, all of them armed to the teeth like they were going into combat.

One person thrust himself between them barking orders as he closed the distance between him and Pansy while the three shocked boys in the room scampered fearfully to each other until they stood huddled, naked together as the men surrounded them.

"Hiya Babe... surprised to see me?" the familiar voice of his lover Rob Wiley mused as he reached down to pull him to his feet and into his arms, while simultaneously pulling the hood off over his head, exposing his face and planting a kiss on his trembling, confused lips.

                                                          <<<<<>>>>>

"Stop being such a pussy" Matt McCormick heard the all too familiar voice of his best friend and co-conspirator Talia Brooks respond snappily through his earpod.

Matt had his phone stuffed into his left front pocket so he could hiss, as quietly as possible, his responses to her: "This would be a whole lot less nerve-wracking if you'd quit humming the theme song from the Pink Panther."

Talia snickered for a moment before retorting: "What are you friggin' worried about, you got back up there with you."

By backup, Talia meant his brother Brian and his newly acquired, persistent shadow Hunter Milsbane.

'God, I miss Blake" he thought to himself as he clung as close as possible to the exterior back wall of the single-story, ground-level ranch-style house, that the school records Talia had hacked right from the school computer, indicated was the address of the high school football coach, Chuck Myers.

They had made this, albeit risky choice, earlier in the afternoon after he and Talia had reviewed the hours and hours worth of camera and audio footage they had captured from the small spy device Blake had been able to sneak into the coach's office on Wednesday.

That, as it were, turned out to be fortuitous, because upon reviewing the footage Thursday, Blake, Talia and Matt bore witness to rather troubling video footage of a short meeting between Dr. Ventrov and Coach Myers from earlier in the afternoon, in which, amongst other things, Dr. Ventrov indicated that he was considering pulling the plug on their little experiment because he felt their program may have become compromised due to some information he had received from his benefactor, urging him to use extreme caution in all external programs he may be conducting outside the safety of the lab.

What had been particularly troubling was the coach asking if that info had come directly from some source at the Pentagon or from his boss in Ukraine.

That question alone had drawn ire from Dr. Ventrov, who responded by concluding their meeting and shoving past the coach as he harshly whispered back at him, over his shoulder, as he sought to abruptly exit the coach's office, to never mention or refer to "the One" outside the safety of the labs again and nearly slamming the door in the coaches face as he left.

As dodgy as that had all seemed, it was what had happened right afterward that really left them scratching their heads, was when the coach whipped out a cell phone he seemed to have hidden from somewhere underneath the top of his desk and quickly dialed a number and nearly spat into the phone angrily, that they may have to make their move sooner than planned because he was afraid Ventrov was spooked and might do something rash if they didn't take control of the situation soon.

They couldn't make out what the response was, but Coach Myers concluded the conversation stating to whoever was on the other end of the line, that they should report this only to the general, that they may have a mole at the Pentagon, before hanging up, stuffing the phone in his pants pocket and hurriedly exiting his office himself.

As Matt recalled it, it was about that time, that Blake seemed to grow somewhat withdrawn, leaving Talia and him to question the possible meaning behind what they were just privy to.

It was shortly after that, Blake had insisted they call it a night and practically bum-rushed Matt out to his truck and had taken him directly home. Even more troubling to Matt, Blake barely gave him so much as a peck on the cheek, before he was tearing out of his driveway and heading back down the road.

Matt tried to just brush it off, but Friday morning he woke to a text from Blake stating he couldn't pick him up that morning because his dad had to make an emergency trip to Texas and Blake was taking the day off from school to go with him.

The inconstancy with his recent behavior over the last couple of days coupled with the timing of his abrupt absence wasn't setting well with Matt; it felt like Blake was brushing him off for some reason or was hiding something that was troubling him.

Matt had considered talking to Talia about it, maybe getting her input, but had decided against it, especially after what they were witness to the night before.

Knowing Talia the way he did, he was certain her imagination would have run wild in a plethora and myriad of ways, which would have only served to heighten Matt's sense of foreboding.

The point became moot when right after school and before the time he had agreed to meet up with Talia, he had stopped by the gym to collect the tablet he used for his weekly stats on the other guys. Since he was scheduled to work the next day at the lab and like always, he fully expected Dr. Ventrov to ask for his tablet so he could review his weekly measurements and update his own files accordingly, he had hoped to retrieve it without notice.

It was be sheer, fortuitous happenstance that he overheard the coach talking to Hatch, Lance, and Steve and informing them what time he expected them to show up at Panto's gym that evening.

Matt didn't know what for, nor did he really care. It wasn't unusual for the coach to run extra drills on the guys and he had just assumed he had planned an evening workout with the guys, but what was important was the time he designated. Seven o'clock PM in early fall also coincided with an early dusk which presented a certain advantageous opportunity for Matt and Talia to do a little reconnoitering at the coach's house, something they had yet to attempt, having no way of prognosticating the coach's extracurricular activities beyond his daily school schedule.

Later, and just as he thought, Talia had wholeheartedly agreed with him, but uncharacteristically worried about the timing, since Blake wasn't here to go in with him as backup, should the need arise.

They had debated the matter heavily, right up until Talia pulled into the driveway at Matt's house and Matt noticed Brian's Jeep.

Like the proverbial light-bulb going off over his head, Matt knew he could use his ability to influence Brian and perhaps Hunter as well, into aiding him in their little fact-finding mission, knowing full well, that Brian's own daring due nature could be easily swayed without much effort on his part.

Hunter's willing participation didn't even come into question. Ever since hooking up with Brian, the pair were seldom apart and in fact, spent most of their time working out, sparing together or just fucking their brains out in Brian's room most of the time.

From Matt's perspective, the thought of his strong athletic older brother, who had delved so enthusiastically into his self-defense courses and was growing and honing his already natural skills, now expanded by the enhancements of Dr. Ventrov's medications, was an even better choice than Blake as his accomplice that evening.

Not that Blake wasn't a great athlete as well, but Matt had no true measure of Blake's defensive or offensive skills and capabilities, should the need present itself. Of course, Matt hoped there wouldn't be a need for either that evening, but his limited experiences had already taught him, that the best defense was a good offense.

The rustle of some shrubbery from a few feet away brought Matt back abruptly to his present circumstance. Almost instantly he caught Brian's unique scent and stealthily as possible made his way over to him.

'We found a way in." Brian whispered conspiratorially, which only amused him since it was fairly certain there wasn't a sole around. The coach lived in a rather spartan neighborhood. His nearest neighbor was a good hundred feet away and the surrounding terrain was rather densely foliaged offering them ample coverage in the early evening waning light.

Matt just went with it, shaking his head and smiling bemusedly: "Show me." was all he responded before falling in step behind his brother as he cautiously led him around to the back of the house to a small basement window that had been left open.

The portal was to small for either Brian or Hunter, but Matt's more diminutive stature had little problem squeezing through and into what appeared to be the coach's make-shift home gym.

Upon entering, Matt made his way over to the exterior basement door and using the small LED flashlight he brought with him, to scan all around the door frame for any wires that might indicate it was hooked up to some home security alarm system.

Finding none, Matt unbolted the door and ushered Brian and Hunter in before closing it once again.

Having decided to leave Hunter to guard the door, Matt informed Talia, who had uncharacteristically remained silent the whole time, that he and Brian were about to make their way upstairs.

"Look for anything that he might be using as a home office first," Talia suggested helpfully.

It had taken every ounce of his influence to prevent her from accompanying them there, only relenting after Matt suggested the constant phone call/headphones idea in lieu of her physical presence.

Matt and Brian, working in concert, went from room to room, working from the front of the house to the rear until they finally found exactly what they were searching for. A small room with just a desk, chair, and file cabinet.

The room was situated right next to his bedroom and had probably served as a walk-in utility closet, judging by its size and dimensions.

Upon first note, it seemed as utilitarian as the rest of the rooms. Sparse in decor, with little or no attempt at adornment or homelike edification. Even notably more so than the usual bachelor pad Matt could envision.

Coach Myers's home was, be that as it may, crisp, clean, and solely functional of purpose.

Matt recalled, that at some point it had been mentioned, that Chuck Myers had served in the military.

Judging by its contents, Matt didn't find that hard to believe, but couldn't help but feel a pang of sorrow for someone who lived such a life, one so harsh, that it was devoid of any warmth or semblance that would otherwise denote a passion or zeal for life and family.

There was one exemption though and it was here in this tiny make-shift office, proudly displayed in a series of black framed pictures and documents, a small, diminutive visual recounting of his bench-marking his service in the Marine Corps. Medals and ribbons that held no significance to Matt but prominently displayed against the soft velveteen naval blue background, surrounded by a series of small pictures of crisply dressed young men in dashing military uniforms, preening proudly in tight formation as their picture had been taken.

Matt knew this for what it was, a man keenly fond of a past accomplishment and this was his silent homage to that period in his life.

What was missing, was anything in the house or in this room linking him to his current life.

Not one trophy or medal, no pictures of triumphant athletic accomplishments of his own or those of favored students or alumni.

Matt knew that such things had transpired under Coach Myers's tenure, yet his home seemed completely devoid of anything that would attest to it, forcing Matt to conjecture why that was.

If he placed no value in what he had accomplished as a coach if he found no joy or sense of accomplishment in doing it, then why did he continue to do so?

To Matt's way of thinking, none of this was adding up. If his job as a high school coach was nothing more than a front to further Dr. Ventrov's testing program, then why that phone call to what he and Talia were sure was someone from the Pentagon?

If he was working with the doctor, then why warn them about a possible informant he might still have there?

If he wasn't in cahoots with Ventrov then why did he become a willing guinea pig in his earlier tests?

Matt nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard his brother grunt behind him as he stood there lost in thought. staring at the pictures on the wall: "Might wanna get the lead out lil' bro, no tellin' how much time we have here."

Matt just gave him a nod, gesturing him out of the small room as he continued his search by going through the coach's desk drawers.

Matt didn't even try bothering with the laptop sitting on the desk, feeling certain there would be no way to access its contents short of just taking it and hoping Talia could hack her way into it. No, that would raise way too many red flags and neither he or Talia felt they had a tight enough case to guarantee success at exposing whatever it was Dr. Ventrov and the coach was up to.

Though it was true they had samples of the pills Matt had procured, and they had evidence of how they enhanced certain attributes in various test subjects. What they didn't have was evidence of a crime or a victim.

As far as Matt could tell, like himself, everyone involved in testing was eighteen or over and all had agreed to it, except the ones Matt himself had basically spiked (with the best intentions of course)

What they lacked were detailed chemical analyses and breakdowns that could expose this as something more than what was being presented.

Despite what they had, they didn't have anything that proved what the Doctor was giving them was anything more than some innocuous vitamin regimen that promoted growth spurts in some test subjects.

Of course, they knew it was more than that, Matt's growing abilities went way beyond mere growth hormones or vitamin supplements, but again, they had no proof of that.

What they needed and why they were now taking such a daring risk like this, was a smoking gun. Some kind of proof linking the coach and the doctor in possibly using potentially dangerous compounds on unsuspecting subjects.

Matt didn't know how long they searched, but after fruitlessly finding nothing of use in the coach's home office, they had carefully searched throughout just about every drawer and cabinet they could find in the house, even splitting up at one point, to cover more territory until they finally converged again in the living room just to wordlessly shrug their mutual futility in finding anything of note.

It was Brian who finally broke the silence: "Dude, face it, we're not going to find anything on this guy here and I think it's time we cut our losses and hightail it out of here before this guy comes wandering in and wonders why the hell we're in his house."

The words had no longer slipped past Brian's lips, when the door to the basement burst open and Coach Myers stepped forward securely covering Hunter Milsbane's mouth with one hand while propelling him forward by twisting his right arm behind his back, eliciting a painful grunt by Hunter in the process: "I think its way past time for a speedy exit boy's" the coach's booming bassy voice grumbled as he shoved Hunter toward Brian, before his bright, intensely blue eyes, locked squarely on Matt: "Please tell Miss Brooks nothing would please me more if she got her dad to send over a couple of his deputies right now."

For the briefest of seconds it didn't register to Matt how the coach could possibly hear what Talia was screeching into his ears through his headphones excitedly right at that precise moment, but as the adrenaline coursed through his body and Talia, upon hearing his words, grew eerily silent, did it finally register.

"Is that another one of the side effects of Dr. Ventrov's *treatments*?" Matt bristled sardonically, adding quickly: "Super hearing?"

The coach chuckled gruffly, the right corner of his mouth drawing into a mocking sneer: "Amongst other things, that's none of your business."

Two things happened then, neither of which Matt saw coming.

The first was the near animalistic growling snarl that emitted from his brother as he charged across the room like some rampaging bull, with such speed, rage, and force Matt was certain it would send both him and Coach Myers hurling right through the wall directly behind him.

The second thing... was the nearly effortless way, at the very last second before contact, that Coach Myers snatched his hulking powerhouse of a brother up by his throat with one hand and slammed him so hard against the floor that it rocked the entire house right down to its foundations, leaving Brian gasping for the air that had been expelled from his lungs so unexpectedly upon impact with the near buckling floor.

It was in that tumultuous moment that his eyes locked with Coach Myers's, and instead of the fear for his brother or for himself that he knew prior to all of this, that he would have normally felt, instead, Matt's mind and consciousness seemed to crystalize into razor-like focus.

His thoughts drew him back to just the week before when he had willed James Hatcher and Blake to not only back down from what was most assuredly going to be an all-out assault on one another, but he had actually been able to calm them both and send them in totally different directions.

That test of wills was what Matt was summoning now, from the innermost depths of his being, he sent the tendrils of his determination hurling across the space between them.

Unlike previously, so intense was his focus, Matt could swear he could visually perceive this force, like the rippling waves of distortion one sees when the heat rises from the surface of the ground on a hot day.

It wrapped around the coach's body and seemed to cocoon him in a blanket of palpitating coils that seeped right through the epidermal layer of his skin.

The effect seemed cumulative if not instantaneous as Coach Myers seemed at first to just try and shake it off, but as his resistance grew, so did Matt's persistence, culminating in an expanding test of wills.

Matt knew, from previous discussions with the coach, that he had been one of Dr. Ventrov's earlier test subjects. But, those conversations did not reveal the full extent of what those experiments had brought into fruition, and in the few short seconds, as their silent battle continued, to Matt's chagrin, he got to observe, first hand, some of those enhancements..

As Chuck Myers resisted and struggled against Matt's mounting will, he watched as the coach's body expanded and swelled.

Each muscle seemed to bloat and thicken into striated ropes straining against his skin and forcing his veins to pop and palpitate with the rush of blood through his system and within mere moments a muscle swollen giant over seven feet tall growled balefully from across the room at him.

Every inch of the man, both muscle and sinew struggled to resist him seemingly fueled by a monumental rage that subsumed every fiber of his being.

To date, and in his limited experience at testing his newfound abilities, Matt had never met with such a resistant determination as he felt now pushing back against him and in a moment of trepidation and self doubt his confidence faltered as unexpectedly, this hulking brute shakily stammered a single step toward him.

It was almost enough to shatter Matt's resolve as he envisioned a more sinister ending than he had first expected, but just as suddenly as that moment of self-doubt creep its way into his thoughts, Matt experienced a sudden wave of tranquility wash over him.

It felt like a warm golden light that niggled its way from the center of his being and soon pulsated throughout him. With this new sensation came an ethereal, melodic lilting sound that permeated his inner core and seemed to be urging him to push back.

Matt did just that.

At first, it seemed to have little effect as the coach took another struggling step toward him, but his movements seemed feeble as the veins on his corded muscles became even more pronounced and the near herculean effort driving him, raged higher and higher until Matt was certain he could see the briefest flecks of green flash within the iris's of his eyes as if lit from behind.

It was then Matt heard the gentle whisper of a singular word as if spoken from right behind him as if sung softly into his ear. But, that word possessed and so infused him, his lips seemed to part of their own volition and spoke but just a single word that rang crystal clear... "Submit."

The seconds that followed seemed so surreal to Matt. Instantly it halted Coach Myers's progression, but oddly enough, it caused his brother to roll over onto his belly and drop his forehead to the floor directly toward him.

In his peripheral vision, he watched as Hunter dropped unceremoniously to his knees and bow his head until he to was prone on the floor, his forehead touching the hardwood floorboards of Coach Myers's living room. But it was Coach Myers himself that left the most lasting impression.

Matt bore silent witness as the once hulking beast of a man dropped loudly to the floor onto his knees.

He still seemed to struggle, fighting some internal battle, that still raged within him. His movements seemed strained and caused his motions to be jerky and awkward, like those of a puppet caught on tangled strings. But as he knelt there on the floor, just a few feet away from Matt, his body shrunk back to its normal proportions.

The one notable difference between him, his brother, and Hunter, is Coach Myers slowly turned his head away from Matt, an action that seemed as forced as the rest of his movements, but done nonetheless and ended with Coach Myers presenting his neck to Matt and held as if he were awaiting further instruction.

Matt was about to comment, when a loud, opportune knock came from the front door, shattering the moment and pivoting all their attention toward the quickly repeated sound.

It took a second to sink in, but Matt soon found his voice as a third round of knocks ruptured the otherwise silence.

"Well...?" Matt queried, looking directly at Coach Myers, who turned his head to lock gazes with him as if questioning what his next actions should be. Matt sighed: "It's your house, answer it."

Coach Myers rose to his feet and cautiously made his way over to the door, his hand reaching for and finding the doorknob.

He turned for a second to state back at Matt, before twisting it and pulling the door inward, and opening it widely.

It was pitch black outside, but outlined in the doorway was the silhouette of a rather robust-looking young man dressed head to toe in military-style camo fatigues.

He moved casually forward one step and into the light of the dimly lit living room, behind him, Matt could make out several other men, similarly attired who also now maneuvered around him and began filing out around them.

The sudden whiff of a familiar scent caught Matt by further surprise and he smiled in relief as the one possessing it, rushed toward him and took him into his arms.

"Are you okay?" he heard the concerned voice of his lover Blake Wiley gush into his ear.

Matt pulled back for a second to take in his familiar, handsome face before wrapping his arms around him and hugging him tightly as he rested his head against his shoulder: "I am now." was all he could manage, as the strain of the last few moments drained away in the comfort of Blake's strong arms.

The focus in the room quickly shifted from their reunion, as he watched others first tend to both his brother and Hunter before centering once again on Coach Myers, who still stood stiffly regarding the unfamiliar young man who now confronted him face to face.

"Wuzzup Chuck?" spoke the five feet eleven inches, sandy-haired man, in a lilting, gravely Texas twang that just oozed with mischievous intent.

Every one of Matt's senses told him, there was far more to this man than first met the eye.

The first thing he noticed was his scent. It was vaguely familiar and took Matt a second or two to grasp it, because it now filled the room.

Previously, Matt had only ever smelled this scent whenever he was with Blake or his father. But the proliferation of this familiar odor now permeated the room and seemed to emanate from almost everyone who had just entered.

That wasn't all though. Matt squinted through the dim lighting to study the ruggedly handsome young man and realized that he seemed something was vaguely familiar with his face when it suddenly dawned on him... he had seen this man before, he was in several of the pictures hanging in Coach Myers's office.

Matt's gaze turned from the smiling young man to focus on Coach Myers, whose eyes were solely locked on only one thing, shaking his head as if in disbelief, he heard Coach Myers's soft, cautious query: "Barin Young, is it really you?"

                                                       <<<Epilogue>>>

"What a difference a week makes," Matt McCormick thought to himself as he snuggled contentedly against his boyfriend and lover Blake Wiley, who sat silently beside him as he perused some training manuals given to him by Barin Young to study during the long flight in the military cargo plane that was now transporting himself and several others to a destination where they would meet up with some people somewhere in Georgia, who might have some answers to some of the troubling questions they all had.

He had learned more than he ever hoped to know after the battle that fateful Friday evening that left a large portion of the ReGen Pharmaceutical research lab, where he worked part-time, in flaming ruins.

It was the same evening he, his brother, and Hunter Milsbane had broken into Coach Myers's house, which kicked off a chain of events culminating in the decision by Blake's father to storm the lab in pursuit of Dr. Mikal Ventrov, who was now bound, sedated and contained within a makeshift cage in the back part of the plane and under constant guard.

Matt hadn't been part of the fighting that went on that night out there, but even from the safe distance of being held up at Blake's house with his brother, Hunter, and surprisingly his dad, with only Blake left behind, with one of the armed guards led by Blake's dad that evening, none of whom Matt either recognized or knew; that as the evening progressed it became painfully obvious how things were transpiring out at the lab, by the bright flickering glow of orange flames off in its general direction, that proliferated and dominated the night time sky.

That had probably been for the best, since shortly after his encounter with Coach Myers, and after Blake and the man called Barin and several of Blake's dad's men showed up unexpectedly and ended their confrontation, Matt was soon overcome with a deep fatigue and practically required Blake's assistance just to make it out to the black SUV they had all arrived in.

At the time, he wasn't privy to what transpired between Coach Myers and Barin Young, but it seemed they knew each other rather well and Coach Myers seemed to be assisting them, up to and including helping them break into the lab and overcoming the security force that was always ever present there.

It wasn't until much later, after Blake had sat him down and explained about who and what he really was, that it all started to make some sort of sense to Matt.

Surprising as it all was, somehow Blake revealing that he and his father and all the men accompanying him, including Barin, were part of an ancient order of lycanthropes that called themselves the Heritage; which didn't sound any crazier or improbable as what was happening to himself, his brother, Hatch, Lance, Ramsey and even Coach Myers.

In truth, it all seemed to make some sort of weird twisted sense, as did the revelation that Dr. Ventrov was working for some foreign group that was footing the bill in a secret experiment that sought to combine Heritage genes with those of regular humans, that was also being partially funded by a rogue faction at the Pentagon, who envisioned an army of supersoldiers that they could control, and that Coach Myers had actually been a plant, sent by a general who caught wind of the operation, to learn all he could about the experiments and about those involved in it.

Unfortunately for Coach Myers, part of the price of admission into Dr. Ventrov's inner circle was his own participation as an earlier test subject.

After the raid, Matt had overheard the hushed whispers of some of the less fortunate survivors prior to the coach's limited success, which had been released by the doctor to cause chaos when it became apparent who was successfully attacking the lab. He had hoped that the chaos would provide him enough cover and distraction to escape capture himself. It was also the doctor who blew up his own genetics lab in the hopes to prevent them from getting their hands on any of his files, records, as well as samples of his treatments.

That was of course in vain, since Matt, Talia, and Blake already had ample enough samples that could hopefully be used to reverse engineer what Ventrov had done to all of them.

Unfortunately, none of the less successful victims of his machinations survived the explosion and subsequent fires. all that remained were himself, the coach, Blake, his brother, and the three senior football jocks.

It had been decided early on, in the days following, to leave Hatch, Lance, Steve, his brother and Hunter under the care and watchful eye of Blake's dad. They would be allowed to continue their lives as normally as possible, but only if they didn't exhibit any overly aggressive behavior or other deleterious after-effects.

Coach Myers had told them, that as far as he knew, what had been done to the three football players was temporary and any enhancement they had accrued would fade without further supplemental treatments.

Blake, the coach, and Brian were different though, what they had been given was permanent, and while his brother fully understood that, he chose, at this time, to stay close to Hunter and accepted an offer from Blake's dad to train and work with him to hone and monitor his abilities.

Matt suspected that it had more to do with Brian wanting to stay close to Hunter more than the other, but he didn't want to question his sibling's motivations, especially since he was the source of his brother's current predicament.

Then there was the most shocking development of all. The affair his dad had been having, for over ten years, with Blake's dad Rob and the subsequent reveal of his mother's decades-long romance with the town's florist.

That had been a truly awkward family discussion the following day and Matt and his brother were both still trying to work through that one and probably would be for quite some time. But, despite how he and Brian felt about it, they both seemed sincerely happy and if truth be told, knowing the full history of their grandmother and her complete disdain for homosexuals, it didn't really surprise either Matt or Brian that their father had done what he had.

The end result of course was his and Brian's very existence as a result, and when all things were said and done, none of it really mattered if everyone concerned were in a better place than they were before.

Both he and Brian still had two parents that loved them dearly and nothing that happened had or would ever change that.

Then there was Talia, his lifelong best friend, and constant companion, through thick and thin.

When the dust had settled, and the decision had been made that Matt and Blake would accompany Barin and Coach Myers to this place in Georgia, where there was those who could better assess what had been done to them and potentially figure out what could be done to either reverse it or better understand it, it had fallen to him how best to break his sudden departure to Talia.

Blake's dad had made it clear, that it was in Talia's best interest that she remain blissfully ignorant about anything to do with the Heritage.

Matt had tried his best to argue that Talia could be trusted to keep their secret, but ultimately, that wasn't his decision alone to make and after discussing it with Blake, who agreed with his father, Matt concocted a viable explanation that she would believe.

Matt knew he couldn't insult her intelligence by attempting to deny what she already knew, so he played into it, telling Talia that he and Blake, because of what had been done to them by the doctor's treatments, had to go where they could be safely observed and diagnosed for an indeterminate amount of time.

Talia bought it of course, but she didn't like it. Nor did she like the fact that she couldn't accompany them, nor the idea that she couldn't expose, to anyone else, what the doctor had done without further turning his and Blake's lives upside down and inside out by holding Dr. Ventrov and ReGen Pharmaceuticals proverbial feet to the heat of public scrutiny and judgment. But, her sense of loyalty to both Matt and Blake, guaranteed her silence.

It was conditional, however. Matt had to promise to stay in contact and keep her apprised, as frequently as possible, of his and Blake's status.

The rest of the week following that discussion and leading up to and including their last farewells had been excruciating for both of them.

"You better keep your promise and stay in touch fruitcake..." Talia murmured into his ear as she hugged him tightly for the last time the following evening before they departed for Texas, adding: "Or I'll hop in the Mystery Machine and drive all the way to Georgia and kick your faggot ass!"

Matt couldn't help but chuckle as he gently pushed her away and watched as she quickly wiped the creeping moisture from her eyes: "Bitch puhleez, like that bucket of bolts, could make it out of town without Blake around to keep it from breaking down." Matt retorted jovially, before hopping into Blake's truck.

"Call me when you get there dipshit, that is if your plane doesn't crash from the strain of toting your fat ass around."

"Typical," Matt thought to himself bemusedly, fondly remembering their parting moment and smiling, as he snuggled even closer to Blake, enjoying the comforting heat of his body nestled so closely to his own, drifting in and out of sleep, while wondering what new adventures the future might hold in store for them and knowing deep down inside himself, that it didn't really matter, so long as he had friends like Talia and the man he loved beside him, to accompany him along the way.

                                                         <<<<<>>>>>

This concludes "When Opportunity Knocks" it doesn't however mean an end to the characters in this story.
You can follow their continued adventures, chronicled from time to time, in future installments of "Devil Dawg Donnelly's: Revelations."