A Long, Hard Life

I'm beautiful in my way 'cause God makes no mistakes
I'm on the right track, baby, I was born this way
Don't hide yourself in regret, just love yourself, and you're set
I'm on the right track, baby, I was born this way, yeah

– "Born This Way" by Lady Gaga

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I woke once again in comforting darkness but this time I sensed something peculiar. Firstly, my bladder strained mightily. That was urgent but not peculiar. I lay on my back with a man on each side of me. In my life these days that too was not peculiar. It was also not peculiar how they lay with their arms across me in sleep, their legs wound with mine and with each other. They held me possessively, their heads pillowed on my shoulders. What struck me as peculiar was how they apparently had been nursing on me in my sleep. They laced their fingers together on my chest with their lips touching my nipples. Warm breath fanned evenly across my tender pips while their drool dripped down my sides. This spurred my arousal in the most obvious way but my screaming bladder demanded my immediate attention. I considered what to do about it.

I faced a predicament. Simply climbing out of bed might trigger the brothers to drag me down like a pair of Velcro octopi. I needed to extricate myself from their amorous tentacles carefully, without waking them, and before my bladder reached critical mass. Seriously, I did not need to engage my brain this early in the morning. I read somewhere that it was illegal. If not, it should have been.

I moved a hand here, pushed a leg there, all very meticulous and mathematical, until I fashioned something akin to a human launch skiff. My creative imagination played the sound of jaunty fanfare as I wriggled out from between Emil and Anton. My sarcastic sense of humor christened my mighty ship the HMS Titanic. I stuck my tongue out at my imagination and performed a silent victory dance at the end of the bed. I felt triumphant before coffee, it was going to be one of those days.

Where were we again? I peeked through the blackout curtains. The skyline struck me with awe, my fingers itched to paint it, but I had no fucking clue where we were. I shook my head ruefully and padded for the bathroom.

The light clicked on automatically on stepping inside and I jumped, startled, to close the door as quickly as possible without slamming it. I eased it shut with a soft "click" and breathed a sigh of relief. I loved my beautiful, fucked up men but right now I needed "me" time. I took a moment to get my bearings.

This bathroom astonished me. I had lived in smaller apartments. The use of space seemed wasteful and extravagant to my poverty-born sensibilities and that shower! Six people could have used it at once. Why have three sinks and where were the outlets? Where were the faucets? Oh, one waved his hand under the brim of the bowl. I felt awkward around such luxury. I expected to wake from a dream at any moment. I looked at my reflection in the wall length mirror and wondered how I got here.

I stood about 5'4" in height weighing in at around 130 pounds. I inherited a solid frame with the high cheekbones of my Cherokee ancestors. I had what a friend once called large "puppy eyes" with droopy lashes. My mother called my eyes "fiery brown," deep brown at the core giving me huge pupils and orangish brown nearer the outer iris, ringed with black, glittering with flecks of gold and copper. The two tone nature of my eyes arose from a condition called Heterochromia Iridum. I hated it as a kid but as an adult artist I appreciated my uniqueness.

My face was narrow, letting me play with longer sideburns. Thick eyebrows, an arrow straight nose, and a firm set of the jaw granted me a masculine profile while a clear, smooth face, lush, cupid's bow lips, and a tapered chin softened my features. Observers argued that I was either a "pretty man" or a "handsome woman." I cursed my androgynous features as a youth. I needed all the masculine boxes checked given my height. I need not have bothered.

Bullies had a field day calling me "shorty" or "shrimp." The more creative ones showed off calling me "Ewok," or "Hobbit." One made me laugh, calling me an "Oompa Loompa." I ended up making friends with that one. Anyway, my willful nature made it worse.

I stubbornly wore my hair long. The excuse I gave the public, "I honored my Indigenous ancestors." In private, I vowed to never give in to pressure. I chose to be myself when I had no idea what that meant. I reserved the right to find out on my terms, in my time. I bore the scars of that decision with pride.

I chose the opposite of social acceptability every chance I got. I went through a "Goth" phase, a "Punk" phase, an "Indigenous" phase and an "I don't give a fuck, I'm an Artist" phase before giving up phases. I heaved a sigh and looked down at my body.

I struggled most with my body. I put on weight easily. I developed lean, long muscle when I worked out. I wanted a classic wedge shape like the men in my fantasies. I wanted big masculine muscles, what my Creator gave me left me feeling inadequate and confused.

A gym class coach said I had a "swimmer's build," lean and sleek with strong arms and shoulders. My legs were my pride and joy, muscular from bike riding and climbing. I only paid attention to my ass after awakening as a sexual being. Once I knew I had a tight, shapely little ass I invested in it with targeted exercise and clothing designed to show it off.

My chest was deep and strong if not overly broad. I enjoyed the fullness of my pecs but frowned at my large, prominent nipples. They struck me as too large and too prominent, more so after having men suckling at them all night. My eyes shadowed at the remnants of old pain and moved on.

My shoulders popped with diligent work and my abs fit together like cobblestones after the brothers got hold of my workout routine. Overall, I liked what I saw in the mirror. It was not Golden Ratio proportioned like my demigod lovers but my body was healthy and fit. I could do no better. I considered my body hair last.

I wanted body hair like the beefy athletes in my dreams. Sadly, I never sprouted a hair save under my arms and my pubes. I shaved that now that I spent time with the brothers so I was as smooth as a baby save for the hair on my head, my eyebrows, and my lashes. The lack of hair accentuated my muscles but I  looked too close to a prepubescent boy for my comfort. I breathed a sigh of resignation then wrinkled my nose. I stunk of crusty semen and old sweat. I turned to walk into the shower when the brothers pushed and shoved through the door, laughing as they entered the bathroom.

They stopped in their tracks, falling silent when they saw me standing there naked. My imagination waved goodbye to "me" time as their cocks stiffened in tandem. I put my hands on my hips, "You are supposed to be in bed." I glared between them.

"You were gone," Emil sulked.

"I got cold," Anton crossed his arms, daring me to argue.

"I needed – fuck, I need to pee!" I'd gotten lost in my thoughts and now my bladder rang alarm bells. I stepped quickly to the toilet and let go. Much to my dismay the brothers joined me.

It took time in our hardened state but before long we were crossing streams like kids. Soon Emil and Anton dueled with cock swords, made funnier since they were expert fencers. I laughed at their silliness and slipped away to the shower. They caught my escape attempt, swept me off my feet, and carried me inside. I protested with laughter. "I want to get clean first, damn it!"

"You will," Anton declared as Emil activated the shower. Water sprayed from every corner at perfectly preset heat to relax fucked out muscles. I relaxed as Anton lathered his hands with fragrant body wash and massaged my backside while Emil worked on my front. Fingers capable of pinching solid rock hard enough to support a grown man's weight dug into my muscles in relentless pursuit of tension. I dissolved into a boneless mass of relaxation in short order.

"Let us care for you." Emil whispered huskily against my ear. He directed me to brace against the wall as he dropped to his knees before me. Meanwhile, Anton worshiped my ass with his big, strong hands.

Emil took my cock into his steamy oral depth. At the same time Anton penetrated my anterior passage with three fingers. His digits played a symphony of seduction on my prostate and my body sang staccato. My legs gave way under this two-pronged assault only for both lovers to firmly lock my knees.

"Incredible ass," Anton fell to his knees to burrow past my sphincter with his salacious tongue. Emil sucked my cock ravenously. Their chins met at my ballsack. I wept tears of pure emotion that anyone desired me so much. They responded with gentle hands, petting and soothing, understanding my moods, loving me unequivocally.

"I love you so much!" Sobs wracked my soul. They paused to crush me in a hug.

"I love you too," They said as one.

"I'm still fucking you. You cannot escape!" Anton clapped my ass with a villainous laugh, drawing a sharp gasp from me. Emil went back to sucking out my soul through my cock.

Soon I stood spread eagle with Anton plowing my ass with long, plundering strokes. Emil shifted to licking at the seal between our bodies while pumping his cock. I braced on my palms sucking down huge gulps of steamy air as my lovers pushed me to the edge of shattering bliss again and again. They tortured me, dangling release like a juicy carrot and I jumped for it. Every. Fucking. Time.

"I'm going to rip your goddamn cocks off and finish the job myself!" I screamed at last. The bastards had the temerity to laugh, so I squeezed with my ass muscles with all my strength. Anton muttered something filthy in Danish and punched the wind out of me with a final rutting lunge. Emil whipped around and sucked my length down his throat just in time to fill his gullet with creamy hot seed. We filled the bathroom with blasphemous shouts and primal cries of release. I still felt pissed so I washed my hair in silence and stomped out of the shower. They did not follow immediately.

I stood drying my hair when they emerged later toweling off. Emil went to the medicine cabinet. I grew still as he removed a tiny box and checked the date. He nodded and pulled a syringe, cotton balls, and alcohol from the cabinets.

"You're due," he approached and I braced on the sink, relaxing on one leg. He drew a measured dose of testosterone into the needle before injecting me just below my oblique in the back. My starving muscles drank down the hormone greedily.

I blinked back more tears. "Everything I am, everything I love about myself depends on that little bottle. I hate it. It terrifies me."

"You need it," Anton met my gaze in the mirror.

"I don't have to like it."

"You don't." Emil disposed of the needle before drawing me back in his arms. He placed a sweet kiss on my neck. "You can't help how you were born. You'll feel better soon."

"Thank you." I snuggled into his body. Anton frowned and pulled me into his arms.

"Besides, we like you this way." He rested his chin on top of my head, a possessive gesture that I loved. Emil echoed his brother's sentiment with a goofy grin. I cracked up. Little Brother then spooned me from behind with his thumbs brushing my nipples, drawing me away from Anton who looked pissed. Emil waggled his eyebrows cleverly. It was an old game between them and I learned better than to intervene.

Emil rested his cheek on my hair. "In fact, we'd like it if you let your body go back to normal."

I stiffened. "What?"

"Bring your body fat back to a healthy level."

"Cutting down on fat so much is bad for the body long term." Emil added.

"No." I said flatly. "You know what happens when I do that!"

"You have breasts, so what? It's natural for you." Emil gave me a comforting squeeze but I pushed away. I turned to meet their gazes. They were united on this, I was fucked.

"What happened to your philosophy? Anton challenged. "'Society is healthier and happier when we live in harmony with the natural world. Sex and sexuality is healthier when humanity adopts natural standards '."

"They are wise words, you should listen to them." Emil picked up.

Damn my emotions. I bit back tears as I cut my hand through the air. "I fought so hard to build a body I could feel proud of, that appealed to you! You have no idea what it is like living as a third sex in a two sex world!"

"Teach us!" Anton implored. "That was your art, your purpose, your inspiration wasn't it? You haven't drawn or painted since our arrangement six months ago!"

"We picked you because of your passion, your cause! I feel responsible for robbing the world of your voice." Emil peered mournfully from under his brow.

They blocked the door but they knew that would not stop me if I wanted to pass. Truth to tell, I sided with them. I loved our time together but I missed my art. I missed being me. I hugged my ribs. My voice sounded small.

"Every time we go outside the cameras flash and someone sticks a mic in our faces. Every time some sneering reporter asks me about Klinefelter's Syndrome I cringe. Fuck my asshole father for blathering about that for a few lousy bucks!"

I tugged my hair anxiously. "I feel the eyes of the public crawling on me like syphilitic spiders. It's–" I choked up. They rushed to close me within their arms.

"I don't want you to think less of me as a man." I confessed. "I can't handle it if I lose your respect."

"You also don't want to disappoint your legion of gay admirers." Anton chuffed. I broke into a smile.

"Guilty as charged."

"Take control of the narrative, lover." Emil suggested. "Use it to your advantage while you can."

"We have six months left in our contract." I lamented.

"Don't think about that now." Anton shushed. "You can handle the press. Look how you cowed everyone at our last sex party?"

Emil snickered. "How did you say it, 'These boys are mine. We play as a team or not at all. If you think you can lure one of the pretty princes away for a private party, I want you to remember what they say about me in the tabloids. Hint: they don't go far enough. Fuck with me and you'll need plastic surgery before you leave tonight'."

"It was Halloween! I was in character!" I protested.

"You caught a woman kissing me without permission. I thought you might disembowel her." Anton teased.

"You fucked up her wig, that was worse." We laughed.

"Think about it at least?" Emil pulled us back on topic. I squeezed both of his hands and nodded shakily.

"I'm not promising anything," I hedged and they scrambled with understanding. We had reached a compromise. After a few moments I asked pensively, "would you pose for me? At the park?"

They fell over one another to agree much to my delight. We finished getting ready and headed out, wherever we were.

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Author Note: I write in a fantasy world where sexually transmitted diseases do not exist but in the real world, PrEP before you play and glove it before you love it. Carry on gentlemen!

* This is the launch of a new series. To learn more I recommend reading "A Long, Hard Night" available here on GayDemon. Thank you for reading!