Kasyn, the Spunk-Prince

Elisha, on his back beneath Kyler, knees raised nearly to his shoulders, shouted “oh fuck, Kyler!” and he boyed out on his own belly, flooding the ripples of his abs and the well of his navel and the dark hard discs of his nipples with several pulses of white ball-juice. Kyler panted over the boy and gave him a dozen more quick cocks-stabs in his socket and lost his own load, too, leaving most of it inside Elisha’s gut, a bit more still dribbling from his fat knob after he pulled it out and turned over onto his back next to the young Cthulhist. 

“New things are happening,” said Kyler.

“Yes!” Elisha breathed heavily.

“I need a…religious advisor. So to speak.”

Elisha turned his head away from Kyler. “You and your husband and your sons—and Jaustin, too— destroyed religion in me. I can’t see how I could help.”

“We just cleared your mind of the dirt and rubble of the Church and the Inquisition. But you’re still a Cthulhist at heart, I suspect.”

Elisha closed his eyes and lay there frowning. He shook his head. “I really don’t know anymore.”

“Maybe something will rekindle your belief soon. I have reason to think that your old cult’s time is finally coming.”

Elisha, slowly, turned back toward Kyler, his mouth close to the prince’s. “Why would you think such a thing?”

Kyler brushed through Elisha’s thick sweat-damp hair with one hand. “Because I think I heard a message from two thousand years ago, and I think it is addressed to us.”

Outside the towering main gate into Prince Kyler’s compound, an enemy had amassed its forces. Several hundred agents of the Church, including gendarmes that had been coopted by the Inquisition, filled the street awaiting the prince’s reply to their demand that he surrender himself for questioning the Pope’s inquisitors at their Holy Keep. A series of stone towers that rose above the compound’s outer wall were manned by the prince’s defenders, the boys of the Apparatus Priapus, now armed with las-guns, now protected by armored vests and helmets. So far, the stand-off had remained non-violent, but the boys, fiercely loyal to their prince, would have no compunction about making it so if this crowd laying siege to the place dared to attack, dared actually to try to force their way through the gate.

From within the shielded gatehouse, Chadon and Maxon monitored a series of screens which showed the positions of their troops and the movements of the crowd outside. “Oh shit!” Chadon said, peering at one of these screens. His brother crowded next to him, wondering what was disturbing him. “Look. Daddy is coming outside.” They watched a small black open-top car roll very slowly from the portico in front of the main palace entrance, and over the cobbled and vine-shrouded bridge that spanned a tiny tributary of the River Insemina that served as a palace moat, and onward toward the gatehouse. Inside that car they could see Ian and Prince Kasyn. Maxon got on the radio: “Ian, this is Gatehouse One. Return Prince Kasyn to safety indoors immediately. The situation out here is not secure!”

Ian, over the radio: “Negative, Gatehouse One. His Excellency is most insistent.”

A moment later, Ian parked their car outside the rear entrance to the gatehouse, and Chadon stepped out to usher them inside, but Kasyn shook his head, and raised a hand to ward off his son. “No! I will not hide inside there with you! I can do that back in my own chambers. I want to see face-to-face these people who dare to lay siege to our home!” Kasyn rounded the back of the gatehouse, Ian, Chadon and Maxon following him closely. Chadon was relieved to see that Ian had evidently convinced the prince to at least don body armor, but it worried him that Kasyn was approaching the gate with his head unprotected. 

Ian gave the boys a hard glance and said, “Do not unholster your las-pistols unless they attack first! Do you understand.

Kasyn, striding quickly toward the gate, pulled several paces ahead of them. Chadon said darkly, “If we wait for them to attack first then it may be too late to protect our father!”

Kasyn reached the gate and stood inches from its heavy vertical duranium bars, spaced just far enough apart that someone could conceivably reach through and touch him.

But the crowd closest to the gate seemed to gasp en masse and fall back from it a couple meters when they realized who they were seeing standing right there before them, glaring at them through the bars. 

“Freak!” someone screamed.

“It’s the Abomination himself!”

More shouts of horror, and then a chant developed in the months of the mob: “Death to Kasyn, Kill the Great Satan!”

Kasyn, disgusted, listened for a minute or two, and asked Ian, “How the fuck are these people so stupid and deluded? What’s going on here? I want to speak to them!”

“Not advised, My Lord.” Ian tried to step in between Kasyn and the gate’s bars, but the prince pushed him to the side. 

“Do you have a voder on you?” Kasyn held out his hand, expecting the answer to be yes. Ian reached into a hip pocket, withdrew the device and handed it Kasyn. He raised the small metallic box to his mouth and said, “Silence!”

The voder amplified Kasyn’s voice into a penetrating wave that passed through the siege mob. It wasn't exactly loud so much as it was felt deeply in everyone’s ears and skulls. It had the intended effect and the chant broke down, lost rhythm and volume, and soon ceased.

“I am not your Satan!” Kyler shouted at the mob. “but if such a devil exists, he is in the guise of the man who sits on the Byzantine Throne, and all of you are slaves to that one! Your Pope’s day of reckoning is coming! Wake up! It is he who oppresses you, not me and certainly not my husband, your Prince Kyler!”

The mob roared. A mass of them surged against the gate as to break it with their bodies, men or boys clad like monks. Laughing, Kasyn reached through the bars and grabbed one of them by his robe. He pulled the monk against the gate and pulled back his hood. “Just as I suspected,” said Kasyn upon seeing the startled face of a boy not yet out of his teens. As if by the pure influence of contact with the “Abomination,” the monk fell flaccid against the bars and Kasyn pulled his head through, face to face, his mouth against the young monk’s. He spat between the boy’s lips and said to him, “If I am Satan, then you are now infected and in my thrall. But I suspect you’ll just go home tonight feeling rather embarrassed.” Other mob members pulled the boy back from the gate, out of Kasyn’s grasp, and re-situated his hood for him. Kasyn turned his back to them and returned to his car.

Kyler found himself staring at his own face, and it took a moment for him to understand that he was seeing his reflection in a worn, warped mirror. Behind him intense candlelight flared. He turned to see that he’d been facing a wall in what appeared to be cylindrical several-stories-tall library. Shelves of books rose into the gloom far out of sight. In the room’s center was a seating area of several large wing-backed leather chairs and a low-slung wooden table. “Hello?” He stepped toward the seating area and circled it, expecting to find someone there. “Hello?”

“Prince Kyler, welcome at last.” He recognized that voice, somewhere behind him. He spun and faced Corvis, the nektonic witch who'd evidently taken leadership of their secretive coven after Magran’s untimely demise.

“Is it worth asking,” said Kyler, “how you brought me here? Would I even understand it?”

She smiled and directed him to take a seat. “They don’t call us witches for nothing, boy. I used a spell of aetheric transport. We do not use this power willy-nilly as is it can be highly dangerous, but given how your compound is under siege by the Pope’s men right now, it seemed the best and quietest way to get you here.” She gestured to a tantalum tray on the table which held a couple magnum bottles of wine and a few glasses and another object, a slender glass vial with a salt-rimed cork stopper. She reached for it and held it up to the candlelight. “To use this spell with you, I needed something very personal of yours.” 

She handed the vial to Kyler, and after a brief glance at it, he said, “This is from me?”

“A small sample of your semen. We have been holding it in stasis for some time.”

Kyler felt a little frisson of violation that he’d not felt since his adolescence. “And how did you obtain this?”

Corvis chuckled. “It’s not hardly that great a feat to get a sample of your juice, Prince Kyler! At least not for someone determined to get one. Your habit of fucking every courier boy who brings a package to your office helps. You may remember, a couple years ago, a short but very muscular brown-skinned boy with close-cropped shiny raven-hair and an extraordinarily plump rump?”

“Perhaps. But there have been, in my past, any number of boys who might match that general description.”

“Yes, but this one amused you, after you’d used him, by insisting upon plugging his own asshole with a rubber stopper before dressing to leave.”

“He said he wanted to keep it all inside for awhile. My cum. I remember.”

“We picked him up as soon as he left your compound and took from him this sample.”

Kyler looked again at the spunk-sample, still fresh-looking after years in the vial. “And you seriously kept it this whole time! Did you plan, even back then, to use it in this manner, to bring me to you by magic?”

Corvis shrugged. “You never know when you might need something.” She gestured upward. “These books around us and above us, for instance. You never know when you might need knowledge from one that’s not been opened in centuries.”

Corvis poured wine. She offered Kyler a narcowhirl-laced cigarette. They sipped and smoked for a few moments, saying very little to each other, until Corvis eventually said this: “I wouldn’t have brought you here if I did not know in my blood and bones that you are ready to accept my proposition. The Aetheric Houses grow restless, a new Emperor is about to rise—oh yes! we know of that, too!—and now we need to throw off the yoke of this Church. A new pope with a new vision will hasten that end.”

“It’s an insane idea.” Kyler gulped from his glass and took a long draw on the cigarette. “Yet I cannot deny what I have seen around me. And there is this annoyance of the Papal siege on my compound. But I am not quite ready yet to take direction from you on this matter until I get the truth about something, until I finally know something with total clarity.”

Corvis seemed to recede into her chair—or at least all of her but her smile. “And what is this truth that you need, Lord Kyler?”

“Your sister Magran—an insidious advisor to my father—gave him some kind of prophetic insight into to why I needed to sire my daughters and what my own future might be, but he shared none of the details before died.”

“You named one of your grandsons after him,” said Corvis, eyebrows raised. “After your father, the Lord Seth.”

“My daughter named him that!” Kyler set his glass down on then table and refilled it nearly to the top.  “I’d never have chosen that name for a helpless young boy!”

“Nevertheless, it’s an ironic recurrence of that name in your storied family.”

Kyler sighed. “Do you really know anything about this or not? Don’t spend this time on your witchy evasiveness!”

Corvis leaned forward, her face again in the light. “I can tell you something about the prophecy if you wish. In fact, I can tell you all about it!”

Meanwhile on Mars, in the warren of the spunk-angels…

In a dream, Jaustin perceived something like a sun going nova and then something like a wave of glittery thick black sand swamping over an ancient desert city, and then he awoke with a start, sweating so heavily that the sheet under his back and the pillow under his head were soaked. And Radon was not next to him. But then he heard his voice, alternately laughing and gasping. “Amazing!” he heard Radon say from the next chamber.

Jaustin crawled out of the damp bed, which was sunken like a nest in an ovoid chamber of red stone. He climbed through the narrow round hole in the wall, barely wide enough through which to squeeze his bare shoulders, and into the tall gaslit cylindrical bath chamber. There he found Radon, naked and gazing at himself in the mirror, glossy and shadowy at once in the low nightlight. 

“What’s going on, baby?”

“Jaustin! I want you to see this! But I fear it will repulse you! That I will repulse you now!”

“See what?” Jaustin’s eyes adjusted to the strange gloom of the bath chamber and the first thing he noticed was Radon’s odd penis-like organ, but now it was a lot more penis-like. Previously it had been perhaps the girth of Jaustin’s index finger, and less long, and persistently flaccid. Now it was thicker and longer—perhaps not quite that of an average adult male yet, but certainly as big as that of a typical boy in early adolescence—and it was stiff, curving upright and it was now crowned with a definite mushroom head. A slight bulge emerged from beneath its root. Is he getting balls, too?

“You’re noticing my new dick, of course,” said Radon. “As you would! But there’s something even weirder. Come here.” Jaustin stepped closer to his unique boyfriend, and Radon turned his back to him. “Look at this.”

Jaustin gasped when he saw this: from between Radon’s shoulder blades extended two protrusions that looked almost like fine finger bones—each perhaps as long as a finger—and they shone and glistened, and, on closer inspection, Jaustin could see that they were covered with what looked like tiny downy feathers. “Oh my god! What the fuck? This is amazing!”

“Are you creeped out by it, Jaustin?”

“Fuck no! It’s astounding!” And then he smelled it—a sweet-spicy musk from Radon’s body, unlike the male-funk of any Earth boy. “Do they hurt?”

“No!” Radon laughed. “They feel amazing. You can touch them if you want. If you’re not afraid.”

“Okay! But tell me if it hurts at all!” Very delicately, with total gentleness, Jaustin brushed his fingertips against these feathered spines. Radon cooed urgently, as if he were cumming, and Jaustin felt a warm dampness on his fingers. Without even thinking about it, he licked the sticky ooze from his fingers. His cock instantly swelled with hot blood, hardening to its fullest and hardest possible erection.

Radon turned to face him. He clasped his boyfriend’s thick prick between his hands. “I have a feeling that I’m gonna need to get you off even more often that I do already. Now that I’ve apparently entered puberty.”

Radon dropped, knees to the soft kanewood floor. Jaustin leaned over him, bracing his hands against the basin and spreading his legs, lowering himself enough for Radon’s mouth to reach his dong. He could not have been inside Radon’s throat for more than a minute before he boyed out, spasmed a spray of semen into Radon’s hot gullet.

After he withdrew from Radon’s throat, Jaustin dropped his ass on the floor and said, “I wonder if we should ask Truk what’s happening with you? He is supposed to take us to see Jade-Mothra in the morning.”

Radon frowned and turned away, toward the mirror.

“What’s wrong?”

Said Radon, “The invitation to meet the Emperor was to you. Not to me. I am sure I will be staying here alone tomorrow, but I can’t wait to hear about what you experience.”

Jaustin rose and clasped Radon from behind, those feathered stubs brushing against his nipples. He kissed the back of Radon’s head, and lower and lower, kisses down the back of his neck. “You’ll not leave my side! If the Emperor does not wish to see you, then he won’t see me either!”

Radon squirmed out from Jaustin’s grip, but it was only so that he could turn around and face his lover. Their mouths open wide to each other, they kissed for a long time.

Back on Earth, Kyler listens to the witch…

Corvis began, “Your father Seth was a man plagued by many self-doubts and, we believe, he may have been descending into schizophrenia before his suicide.”

Kyler shook his head. “That may be true about his mental health but it was never conclusive that he killed himself. He also had Sog-Kadath Syndrome acquired from an infection on Venus when he was a boy.” But even as Kyler said these words, he began to doubt the truth of them.

“I know you were still a teenager when he died, and I gather that you and he were never close. At least not in the way you seem to be with your own sons.”

“In no way like I am with my own sons. I respected him and I believe that he held at least some degree of paternal love for me, but we were distant emotionally from one another, and spent very little time together. When he died, I was shocked at the suddenness of it, but I did not cry. And I still haven’t, and it’s been almost thirty years.”

Corvis nodded and even allowed a bit of sympathy into her eyes for the prince. “His death was by suicide, Kyler. Magran knew this as a fact and so did your Doctor Phibes,”

“Phibes? He knew? He was the very one who put doubt in my own mind about it, who told me of he Sog-Kadath Syndrome and how it can progress!”

“It was a lie to protect you, to guard your own maturation. Seth ended his own life because he could not bear any longer to see what he had seen by way of a disturbing preternatural phenomenon that had recurred upon him periodically over the years, and which fully overtook him during his final weeks alive.”

“What phenomenon?” Kyler wanted yet did not want that answer. “Don’t try to confuse me with your witchery! Magran lurked in my shadow for nearly my whole life until recently, and I learned a few things about your craft.”

“He did have a form of Sog-Kadath syndrome,” said Corvis, “and it acted upon him most strangely. We believe it initiated his later schizophrenia, but years before that, it opened his body to extreme sensitivity to trans-aetheric phenomena. Phibes would later learn, from his autopsy, that Seth also had a weirdly enlarged and sensitive pineal gland, which operated almost like a third eye, but an eye that saw beyond the aether. Your father was repeatedly possessed—or more accurately, oppressed—by a trans-aetheric poltergeist.” Corvis paused and watched Kyler for a reaction. “You don’t seem to be all that surprised by this, Kyler. Do you even know what I mean?”

“Until recently, I would have dismissed this talk of poltergeists as nonsense. But I have seen things myself that I cannot explain.”

“Good,” she said. “Then the rest of this will be easier to digest. Seth was shown things—inside his mind—during the influence of the poltergeist. He interpreted these images as forecasts of a catastrophe that is to befall the world at some relatively near-future date and he enlisted Magran in his effort to understand it. He believed that there was a grand purpose for his progeny—you and your descendants—a thing you would do that would avert the world-ending disaster that he saw in his visions. Magran took this seriously—and I will add that the rest of us did not. Her work with Seth isolated her for a time from the coven. She used a discredited craft of Cthulhist-influenced ouija reading and card reading to help Seth understand what he was seeing. She became convinced that she had unraveled at least part of the prophecy and that the path away from disaster involved controlling Seth’s descendants and their breeding. This is why your own father authorized Magran to have you raped for your seed when you were barely pubescent, when you sired your first daughter, and again a few years later when you fathered the other two.”

“What about my sons? The five Earth ones, I mean.”

“They were not anticipated. Creating them was your decision alone, and they do not seem to be involved one way or another in the unraveling of the prophecy. It does seem odd to me, however, after looking into your family details further how you chose five in particular as their number and how they all grew up to be gay boys with no compunction about incest with each other and with you. Nonetheless, I don’t think they are involved in this. But your grandsons might be.”

“I assume you mean Kasyn’s sons,” said Kyler, “by way of my daughters and by way of some of the sons that I sired upon orchid boys on the Moon when I was a teenager in the army.”

Corvis nodded. “This is why it was our judgment that Kasyn needed to be castrated before he could spread his distorted genes any further. We believed that your grandchildren would be significant and that they would be sired by your future husband, and that is why Magran put upon you a subtle spell that led you to seek out Kasyn. But what we did not predict was that Kasyn would be the carrier of sperm mutated by a trans-aetheric entity—that he would make physical seed for a non-corporeal poltergeist. He was, in our view at the time, a black swan event.”

Kyler tensed in his chair, spine stiffening. “That was a serious mistake—coming after Kasyn. A deadly one for your coven sister! And it will prove fatal for the Pope as well if he does not desist in this ridiculous attack upon us!”

“I’m counting on that, Lord Kyler!” She poured more wine. “After further analysis, I think it’s possible that this aberration with Kasyn does not actually run counter to the prophecy. In fact, he may be fulfilling it. We just don’t understand how yet.”

“You seem to know an awful lot more that I’d credited you with, Corvis.”

She grinned and lit a cigarette. “I’m a fucking witch, Kyler, and a powerful one at that. We’d work better together if we quit underestimating each other.”

“Perhaps. But I wonder if you know a particular piece of information that could be a factor in what’s to come.”

“What’s that?”

“Jaustin Moss, who was in my custody for several days, has fled to Mars.”

“Jaustin Moss? The singer?” She wrinkled her nose as if detecting a bad smell. “What of it?”

“It is known to us that the so-called ‘angels’ of Mars, one of whom is supposedly our new Emperor, can now breed with one another and perhaps also with Earth males.”

“All right, Kyler, I give: what are you talking about?”

“Long story short: Jaustin Moss was involuntarily castrated a while back. I think you may recall such a ball-removal happening to a Cthulhist priest named Elisha around the same time.”

Corvis, expressionless, said, “I may know something of it.”

“They both—Jaustin and Elisha—at nearly the same time, sought the services of Blue Radical to get new testicles. In a strange twist, Elisha received Jaustin’s balls, which Blue Radical had just acquired from a nut-marketeer. But even stranger is what happened with Jaustin: a mistake was made in Blue Radical’s lab, and Jaustin was implanted with balls that are the cloned copies of Kasyn’s nuts that Blue was holding for later study. Copies of his balls made after his had been enhanced with the trans-aetheric tissue.”

Corvis’s eyes widened. “You knew this and you did nothing?”

“We were about to fix the problem but then, for some reason, Blue Radical had to flee his lab and seek refuge in my compound. In the ensuing disorder, Jaustin snuck away…and he definitely had knowledge of the angels. We’d be naive to think that he is not going to try to get someone pregnant. Someone on Mars!”

“This is appalling.” Corvis lit another smoke. “He must be stopped.”

“Or perhaps not. Maybe this is part of the prophecy’s fulfillment. You just admitted that Kasyn’s pups might be just that.”

She smiled through a cloud of narcowhirl haze. “Kyler, there are two possibilities for the ‘fulfillment’ of this prophecy: our world could end, or it could be saved. We don’t know toward which outcome we are now headed.”

Kyler nodded and smiled. “But I think we’re agreed that taking no action at all is not the correct move.”

The witch reach across the table and clasped the prince’s hand. “Upon that, we certainly agree, Lord Kyler.”

“Enter,” said a voice from somewhere inside the bedroom suite. Is that Blue Junior? Kyler hadn’t been around the boy very often but he hadn’t remembered the lad speaking in such a low and deep tone. Kyler rounded a corner cluttered with baroque statuary and passed into large room lit softly in gaslight. A high-backed chair, its back to Kyler, sat at a desk in the room’s center. Beyond it, floor-to-ceiling palladium windows showed the view of the heat lightning storm outside over the River Insemina. “You’ve come for me,” said that voice again. He’s in that chair. 

Kyler took a few more steps into the room and said, “I am surprised your father never taught you not to sit with your back to the door.”

“I knew who you were, Prince Kyler.”

I’m sure he did! Kyler stepped around the desk to its other side and faced Blue Junior. And he was startled by the boy’s mature poise, his calm and confident demeanor, and the hard, cold beauty of his ruddy face, framed in sharp shards of shimmering black hair, the curls of earlocks hiding his lobes. Has it been that long since I last saw him? Can this really be Blue’s actual offspring? The strong youth at that desk no longer bore any resemblance to that disheveled wisp of a man, his father.

“Corvis says you have been unharmed during your…visit with the witches. If that is not true, then you may tell me and I will make things right!”

“It has been most comfortable. In fact, I haven’t left this nice room for days, and I have had all the food I could want, and the bed is very big and comfortable. I have been deprived of sex, however.” The boy winked and smirked. “No other dudes here, you know.” He rose from his seat and let Kyler see that below his formal waistcoat he was wearing nothing but a black jockstrap, bulged outward notably. “I think I have jerked off more in the last few days than I have needed to in the last few years.” He stepped around the desk and rested his ass on its heavy wooden top, facing Kyler who stepped back slightly. “I’m sure you know that my dad gave me one of his special nut-enhancement jobs a few years ago. Just like he did for your sons, right?”

Kyler felt suddenly flushed and hyper-alert. Arousal-sweat welled in his armpits. He hoped that the kid could not see his swelling erection through his pants. This is not the time! Focus, Kyler! He said, “I have a motorcade waiting outside. If you are ready to leave, we will go immediately to the compound. Your father waits with growing impatience for your return.”

The kid held his smirk. “You didn't get here in a fucking motorcade. I know how the witch brought you here. It’s so rad!”

“The means by which I got here is not available to us now. We are going by car. Are you ready?” Why am I even asking him? All I need do is order him to exit with me now!

Blue Junior stood and stepped close to Kyler. He placed both hands on the prince’s chest. “Have you ever fucked me, Prince Kyler?”

“Of course not! I don't think I have even seen you in person since…well, since before you were old enough for it anyway!”

The lad passed his hands upward to Kyler’s shoulders. “Oh, I was old enough. I’ve been hungry for dick for ages. But you just didn’t notice me. Let me ask you another question.”

“What?”

“Do you think it’s likely that you have ever fucked anyone else who has since fucked me?”

Kyler laughed and pulled the boy’s hands away from his shoulders. Holding him by the wrists, he said, “I am sure I have no idea, but I suppose it’s possible.” 

“The witches did not restrict my reading of their files during my stay here. I know about your Apparatus Priapus and how you created us.”

“Us?” 

“I am motivated, deep down in my nuts, to defend you and fight for you, my lord!”

“All right, then. Fine. But we need to get back to the compound. Coming along with me right now will be the best way right now to, um, defend me.”

“Not so fast.” Blue Junior wrapped his lanky arms under Kyler’s and around his torso and he pulled his prince into a hug. “Please fuck me first! I gotta have you just once! This may be my only chance!”

This dirty fucking kid, thought Kyler, not wanting to succumb to his temptation. Who am I kidding? Kyler seized the boy’s head, hand over his ears, tipped his chin upward and kissed him. He licked the lad’s lips and tasted his tongue. Kyler said, “All right, but we need to hurry. Our car is waiting!”

“Please, when you fuck me,” Blue Junior said as he pulled Kyler toward me, “call me by  name.”

Kyler, confused, said nothing.

“My name is not Blue Fucking Junior!” He laughed and pulled Kyler into another kiss. “I have my own name. It’s Jaxon.”

“Jaxon,” breathed Kyler, enjoying the lad’s soft fat wet lips against his own.

Jaxon broke away from the embrace and pulled away his bed’s duvet exposing the evidence of his recent masturbation, a large constellation of cum-stains, white like spunk-galaxies over most the surface of the space-black sheet. 

Kyler undid his fly and released his prick, fully hard and leaking a drool of pre-jac. 

“You’re not even going to take your pants off, are you?” Jaxon giggled and threw himself back-down, spread-legged onto the jizz-stained sheet. 

“We are in a hurry,” said Kyler. “The entire reason pants like this have flies is so we can fuck without undressing, right?”

Blue Junior—Jaxon—laughed. “I’d assumed it was just so we could take a piss without having to pull our pants down!”

“No.” Kyler climbed onto the bed, over Jaxon, his knees between the boy’s calves. “It’s so that we can fuck in a hurry!” Jaxon was just wearing a jock, so his pussy was already exposed. Kyler asked him if he had any lube anywhere.

“I always jerk it dry,” said the boy. “I make plenty of my own lube! Hey, you can dick me raw—it’s fine!—but will you spank me first?”

“I don’t have my paddle here, obviously.”

“Just use your hand! Bare hand on bare boy-ass, dude! Pretend I’m one of your own kids and that I’ve been very bad! Please!”

This kid is stupid-hot. Either that or it’s been too many hours since I last squirted. Kyler spread his fingers, as if widening his “paddle,” and he cracked it hard across Jaxon’s smooth tan rump. The boy yelped and laughed and he demanded that Kyler do it again, but much, much harder.

The barehanded spanking went on for a minute or two until Jaxon’s yelps and giggles morphed into hard gasps and weeping moans, and until Kyler ceased the ass-beating and spread the boy’s cheeks and pressed his mouth against Jaxon’s asshole, spitting into it. And he pressed his tongue into it, surprised that the boy was not more dirty than he proved to be after days of living alone with little but his own body for amusement. Kyler spat again on Jaxon’s pucker and another time in the palm of his hand. That spit he slicked over his cock along with his flowing pre-cum. He made Jaxon scream with an admixture of pain and joy when he jammed his wang inside the boy’s ass, all the way to the root in Jaxon’s fist-tight twat.

Jaxon yelped and then he giggled. “You fucking hurt, you fuck!”

Kyler jammed it harder. “You said you didn’t need any lube!” He gasped, pulled himself back: I’m going to fucking blow it right now.

“I love your fat nasty dong, my prince!” Jaxon writhed and squealed under Kyler. “You’re our hot thick man, baby! I bet you wish you could get me pregnant!”

Kyler would have said something like “fuck yes” but instead he gasped and shuddered and dumped his cocksnot inside Jaxon’s sheath.

Jaxon, laughing, said, “You did it to me to me, too! Look!” Kyler looked down and saw the taut pouch of Jaxon’s black jock welling through with boyjuice. A slutty young twink bottom who can cum hands-free while getting his ass drilled is something Kyler is always there for, but he resisted the temptation to linger here and give the kid another boning. “Okay! Time to head home. Get your ass covered with something, grab your things, and please let’s move!”

Jaxon, grinning, hopped off the bed and found a short black skirt which he pulled up over his slender hips, hiding his spunk-wet dick-pouch and his spank-reddened cheeks. He put sandals on his feet, zipped up a small bag of belongings and he was ready to go. He hooked one arm around Kyler’s waist and said, “Take me home, my sweet prince!”

The return to the compound by motorcar was somewhat hectic when they reached the actual street and forced their way through the crowd outside the gate. This mob had thinned considerably from earlier in the day, but it still took some prodding from the Apparatus Priapus and a few rounds of tear gas to create a path for their vehicles. Once inside then gate, Kyler checked the time and he assumed that Blue Radical was probably sleeping. Kyler had told him to expect to see Junior in the morning if they were extremely late getting back to the compound. 

“We need to find some longer-term quarters for you,” said Kyler, leading the boy whose real name was Jaxon down a long, wide gaslit corridor that led past his sons’ quarters. They stopped at a door. Before opening it, Kyler said, “But for tonight, my son Phobos said he’d be happy to take you in. His quarters are very nice, and you will be comfortable. But he’ll hope that you’ll share his bed with him and that you will give him sex tonight and probably in the morning as well. He is quite gentle both in his general demeanor and as a sex partner, and he won’t try to force you to do him if you do not wish to get him off, but he will probably be noticeably disappointed with it.”

Jaxon smiled. He stood up on his toes and kissed Kyler’s chin and whispered, “If he is even ten percent as hot as his dad, I’ll do him all fucking night if he wants it!”

Kyler entered his bed chamber to find the gaslight turned low and his husband in bed naked and evidently masturbating, his big dong sheathed in one tight fist. Kasyn smiled, sleepy-eyed, and said, “There’s my man at last!”

“And there you are, my gorgeous husband. Sorry I am so late, but I brought back Jaxon—Blue Junior—and all is well for now.” Kyler unclasped his waistcoat and slid out of his shoes. “What are you watching?” He noticed the glow of the aetherscreen, depending from its cable, facing Kasyn.

“The scene outside our gate stressed me out too much, so I have been ignoring it quite deliberately. Here, look.” Kyler sat on the edge of their bed and looked up at the screen. In it he saw his son Dak, body arched over the lavender skin of Dagon, piston-pumping his prick into Kasyn’s part-orchid boy son.

“They seem to be quite the couple lately.” Kyler shed the remainder of his clothing and flopped onto the bed next to Kasyn. “I probably need a shower.” 

But Kasyn rolled close and pressed his nose and mouth into Kyler’s right armpit, and he inhaled and licked. “Tomorrow maybe,” he said. “Just stay here with me now. I missed you.”

Warmly and languidly, the princes fell into a slow session of lovemaking, tongues in each others’ mouths, cocks in each others’ mouths, each of them cumming before sleep overtook them. At some point during this, on the screen above them, Dak and Dagon also finished each other off and shut off their lights.

Kyler experienced a dream of a magenta viscous light overtaking the ceiling of the bedroom and the sound of a raspy creature beseeching him like a demon toward hell and mayhem, but then he woke up and understood that his aetherscreen—still depending fairly low over the bed—had lit up and that Blue Radical was displayed within it, whispering, “Kyler! Kyler! Are you awake?”

“Does it look like it?” Next to Kyler, Kasyn murmured and rolled over onto his left side. “Shh!” Kyler sat up. “Hang on!” he whispered. “My boy is sleeping! I’ll move this to my study!”

Once seated at his desk in front of its screen, Kyler said, “I am seriously going to change my screen code and not share it with you, Blue! Why are you calling me at this fucking outrageous hour?”

“Did you get Junior back? I fell asleep and you never let me know!”

“Yes! He is here on premise and is very well. If he is not sleeping at this moment, he is probably taking Phobos’s pole in his ass. I bunked him with Phobos for the night.”

“Hmm. Yes,” said Blue Radical. “Phobos. He has a very nice long wang if I recall from his ball-enhancement procedure a couple years back.”

“Yes. It’s a very nice one, nice and long and pretty just like the rest of him. Jaxon is probably enjoying it right now. Unless they are asleep, as I was until a couple minutes ago.”

“I knew Junior was back anyway.” Blue Radical twitched and lit a cigarette. “He messaged me as soon as you guys got inside the gate.”

“Then what the fuck are you calling me for right now?”

“You know, I never liked that name—‘Jaxon.’ That was his mother’s choice and she was such a creep. That’s why I always just called him ‘Junior.’ But I know he likes his name just fine.”

“You’re wandering, Blue. What’s really on your mind?”

He leaned forward, eyes wide. “I’ve been having the dream, too! Or at least one like yours, where I…see things that tie in with the trans-aetheric transmission from one, nine, nine, nine!”

Kyler doubted this. “Are you sure it’s not just a normal result of your concentration on this weird matter? You have been listening to that voice and viewing that imagery again and again. Does it not make sense that it could insinuate itself into your dreams?”

He shook his head. “Kyler, I never remember my dreams. And I don’t think I can forget this one!”

A chill passed up Kyler’s spine. He squelched the temptation to ask Blue Radical for more details. Instead, he just said, “Try to rest. Give yourself a little something to help with it if you need to. We’ll discuss this some more in the morning.”

And, then, on Mars…

Before departing for the Emperor’s palace, Truk had dressed Jaustin and Radon in the style of the spunk-angels: black harnesses studded with blood-garnet banestones, leather briefs fronted with brassy codpieces that mimicked wings, sandals with thick cleats, and nothing else. He completed their look by painting the exposed areas of their bellies and chests with Martian runes, drawn with a paint from the colors of the eerie Martian sunset.

The boys patiently tolerated the application of black eyeliner and mascara, though Jaustin quipped, “Are we to be guests of Jade-Mothra, or his hookers?”

“Honestly,” said Truk, “you may find there is little difference between the two.” But then he added, “This is simply the current style of the court. It will not kill you to fit in around here a little bit.”

“Oh, I don’t mind!” Radon said. “I think I look rather pretty!”

Jaustin smiled at his boyfriend. “You certainly do!”

Truk led them through corridors and up spiraling flights of stairs and, up and up, they rose, and eventually Jaustin realized that their journey to Jade-Mothra’s throne room had never once taken them outside. They’d been bunked under the palace the entire time.

The creature that occupied the wrought-metal throne, elevated on a dais three meters above the chamber’s floor, looked at first to Jaustin like a statue, like a thing bleached by centuries of sun in the cathedral grounds of Byzantium. But then, it moved: a slow rustling, a fluffing of feathers, and then a sudden unfurling of wings. The osmium-laminated adamantium crown of the Aetheric Emperor pinched back the shock-white locks of the pale avian boy. Jaustin wondered if this being was an albino, but when he got a bit closer, he beheld Jade-Mothra’s large shiny eyes, their irises the color of a bottle of green Chartreuse. And then, as if the wavelength of light in the room had suddenly shifted, Jaustin perceived that the Emperor’s hair was more gold than white and that his lips were vampire blood-red. And that Jade-Mothra was quite young, perhaps even younger than Jaustin.

The Emperor rose slightly from his seat, as if to try to get a better look down upon his visitors. He extended his wings fully and Jaustin inhaled the angel-musk pouring off the Martian boy’s nearly naked body. Jade-Mothra’s voice , like Truk’s, was surprisingly low and deep. He said, “And who are you anyway?”

Jaustin, spine stiff, replied, “I’m Jaustin Moss! Who the fuck are you?”

First, a moment of stone-silence, and then another of rustling feathers from all sides: Sorry, Radon, if I just got us killed! But then: laughter from all around them echoed in the chamber, and Jade-Mothra, too, guffawed loudly. He retracted his wings and leaned back in his throne. After a few more moments of mirth, he said, “I think you’ll fit in just fine around here, Jaustin Moss. I’m about to give the Solar System a big long overdue fucking enema. You wanna help?”

Jaustin, dazzled, looked to his left and met eyes with Radon, who smiled widely and blew a kiss. Jaustin looked back at Jade-Mothra. “What do I need to do?”

To be continued…