This multi-chapter queer M/M erotica is a dark fantasy for consenting adults only.
Praise, useful criticism, and proof of enjoyment is welcome at [email protected]
100% human effort, fuck AI. My failures and frustrations as an author are my own.
As he sank to his knees in the inky blackness of the copse, Clay knew that he was once again doing the unforgivable - he was engaging with perversion itself.
"Open up" the man whispered, waggling the bulge in his dirty sweatpants closer to Clay's face. Clay's heart was pounding, just as it had done every time before... Each time he opened his mouth to swallow a stranger's sin in the shadows. He obeyed, tongue lolling out, and down came the filthy pants to reveal a forbidden treasure: a fat cock erupting from a dark brown bush. There wasn't enough light to see the true color of his tangled pubes, but the smell of testosterone, grease, and stale sweat was unmissable. It rolled down his nose and activated his animal instincts.
"Suck it" growled the man, slightly pulling up his thin tee shirt. Clay could do nothing else. He wolfed the man's stubby cock down to the root and lavished his tongue around the rod. The man moaned as he started sawing into the boy's wet, willing mouth. Clay's prick was hard as steel in his jeans.
"You like sucking my cock?" the man said in a low breath.
Clay murmured assent as the fat glans prodded the back of his throat, getting thicker by the moment.
The man suddenly pulled out and bent over, grasping Clay's face with both hands and tilting it up so he could peer directly into his eyes.
"I said, do you like sucking my cock?" His voice was sharp, volume rising.
Clay could only admit his truth. "Yes sir, I like sucking your cock."
This was so goddamned hot.
Then: "Faggot." The man stared at him for an endless moment and then spat a wad directly into the boy's upturned face.
Clay startled as the slime slapped onto his nose. Suddenly lights burst on all around and a barking shout rang out.
"YOU'RE UNDER ARREST!"
The stranger's hands released his face, his eyes full of venom. Clay's heart froze in time while his eyes darted around frantically.
His life as a free man was over. It was over.
The next few hours were a blur. The handcuffs... the strong hands on his bare arms hauling him to the wagon... all of his items in his pockets being removed... a thin black mask pulled over his head. The long ride, the bored conversation from the front seats...
He was dragged out of the car and walked up stairs and through hallways, still blinded, until he was completely lost as to where he could possibly be. Finally he was sat down, handcuffs removed for a moment until his arms were wrenched behind him and cuffed again - this time painfully tight.
"Sit down, shut your fucking mouth. Don't say a fucking word."
He was too terrified to do anything but comply. The faint light coming through the mask cut off completely as he heard a door slam and latch.
In the first minute he felt terror.
In the tenth minute he felt despair.
By the countless minute he felt nothing but the ever escalating pain in his wrists. He didn't dare move a muscle.
Sometime later the latch clicked and the lights flipped back on. The mask was pulled off of his head. Blinking away the painful light, he realized that he was in a small windowless room with an Officer. An Adjucator then walked through the heavy security door, his black robe gathered around his large bulk.
Next came his father. Clay's heart burst into a million pieces. His face said it all.
The Adjucator kept it brief. The infrared bodycam video from tonight's debauchery was played back on a small TV. Clay soliciting the undercover cop... Clay dropping to his knees... Clay admitting verbally that he was an irredeemable degenerate. Black, white, done. He was Depersonalized on the spot, his father barely able to look at him.
"You will be remanded to the care of your father, who will guide you into your life of service. Complete social redress is expected in one year. If your guardian fails to mold you in that time, you will both become wards of the state. Any attempt to leave his control will be met with force. You are no longer a proud member of our just society - you are refuse to be recycled."
It was done. His phone was handed to his father, already reformatted. He was uncuffed and a smartwatch was placed on his left wrist, merrily blinking away before going dark. His father was handed a booklet, the cuffs, and their key. They were free.
Well, one of them was free.
Clay bawled the moment they got in the car. His father said nothing in response until the sobbing grew overwhelming. "Clay... baby... it's okay. Let's just get home." The sniffling continued.
Dad reheated some leftovers and they sat at the table attempting to talk about what had just happened. Clay was a Faggot. There was no chance to dodge the verdict or the shame. He was an affront to society and only suitable as a slave. There was no redemption, not even in death. He was to become useful or else. Dad promised not to tell anyone in the family until he had to. Then it was time for the most awful night of sleep.
Morning began, Clay walked down to the kitchen and poured himself a cup of coffee. He sat mute in his rumpled clothes from last night, staring at the table. Dad came down and sweetly rubbed his shoulders, tousling his hair. "I love you son. I always will. I'm so sorry." Clay burst into tears again as they embraced. Finally after emotions relented Clay made a vow. "I'll be good, Dad. I'm not going anywhere. I love you." He couldn't off himself, because the punishment would be so much worse for his beloved father. Dad beamed at him, smiling with all of the affection in the world.
And then his father took the tepid mug of coffee out from Clay's hands, walking it over to the sink and pouring it out. Clay looked on in shock at the sudden action.
"No drugs. Book says."
With a sudden lurch in his stomach, Clay knew things were actually going to be different. Starting now.
He was sent to his room to sit quietly. Although it was a Saturday, there was never going to be another school day again. His phone number was deleted. His e-mail wiped. His data gone. All of his games and shows and subscriptions were dead. College was never going to happen. He sat and looked at the dark face of the watch, now his only connection to the outside world.
He was being tracked. If the watch wasn't recharged every few weeks and went dead, he was dead too. He was forbidden to stray far from their property without the approval of his father. His friends couldn't reach him. His team would know he had been Depersonalized by Monday. Everyone in town would know in a few days. Even his extended family... Oh God, what had he done? What had he ever thought it was worth dropping to his knees for?
Dad eventually returned, bags under his eyes. "Clay, baby, we've got to do a few things right away. It's not safe otherwise. Stand up."
"Shirt off." Clay pulled his tee off of his muscular body, holding it glumly.
"Put in on the bed. Get the rest of your shirts out." Clay went to the closet and started collecting his dozens of tees, sweaters, button-ups... everything that presented him to the world.
"Pants off." He peeled his jeans off of his thighs, now wearing nothing but his rank boxers in front of his own father. "Collect the rest." The pants and shorts joined the heap on the bed.
Finally: "Boxers off, Clay." His brain spun as he processed the order. "C'mon son." Down they went. His little was prick revealed and then did the unthinkable: it got erect. His secret shame was in full view: the cock that would have pleased no woman, even if he hadn't been a Degenerate. And it was getting hard in front of his father!
Dad flicked his eyes away. "Sort all of your jocks and put one on." Clay picked out a worn black one and hurriedly covered his still-hard dicklet. "Rest of the underwear on the bed." He complied, and then there he stood in what would be his service uniform: a jockstrap allowing the world to see every vulnerable inch of his body.
Short socks went on while the nice socks went on the heap. "Wash and dry all of this. No TV."
So that was Saturday: sitting in the laundry room washing and drying all of his clothes. No entertainment, no friends, all of his weekend plans now vaporized. All of his life plans disposed of. The watch quietly buzzed on the every hour. The boredom grew. After the second load went in he idly pawed at his cock in the jockstrap. He hadn't even gotten that guy's load before the horror descended.
Dad's weekend was ruined too. Everything was ruined.
Lunch was quiet. Clay folded the laundry as it came out of the dryer but it was collected in trash bags which got piled by the front door. Finally it was time to get rid of his wardrobe. Dad would drive it to the donation shop and that was that. Once he drove off Clay burst into tears. All but his one pair of shoes, gone. Hats, gone. Belts, gone. Rings, gone. Everything gone.
Looking in the mirror he now realized he was one of them: a slave. One of those pathetic servile slaves with the X...
Oh god, the X. He cried harder.
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