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Lucian, Chapter Seven. A tremor crawled up his leg. It made his knees tremble before it disappeared under the flaring hem of his dress where it touched his bare cheek and danced up his spine - to choke his throat. "It's okay," a girl's voice whispered. *** October found its way to Norton's Academy of Excellence. It colored the leaves of the ancient trees before autumn winds blew them over the spacious lawns. It was Lucian Gaines' second autumn there and he had changed a lot since the first one - physically as well as otherwise. He'd grown several inches, which made him look even thinner. His ongoing exercises had stretched and toned his legs; they demanded attention wherever he went. His hair had grown too. The girl Mackenzie stopped cutting them. Abundant silver curls touched his shoulders now. He washed and conditioned them every day, blow-drying them while brushing thoroughly. He'd gradually forgotten to hate his hair. He also no longer despised his pale skin or his light-blue eyes - or his clear voice and long, narrow hands for that matter. It had become a futile exercise really, to deny what mirrors kept showing him every day. Which didn't mean he felt like the 'she' he saw. Maybe to others he looked and acted like one - and of course they would be right. But to himself his identity had ended being an issue since he'd stopped feeling like the odd man out. The dorm was like a safe house. It was a place where the outward pressure to change became an inward urge to blend in. Its relaxed and non-judging atmosphere felt like a warm bath. It was a place of boundless intimacy. Nowhere else could he be this open about his true doubts and emotions, and share them safely. Discovering how even his most secret needs were commonplace felt like a breeze of freedom. The boys' dorm was a place of carefree touching and primping; of painting each other's nails or just sit close, gossiping and giggling - commenting on videos or leafing through magazines. Of course it changed Lucian. It changed him more effectively than any strict program would be able to. It was evident in the way he walked and talked and behaved - at least among his newfound friends. His bearing and appearance gained an easiness he never had. He laughed and even joked, losing his fear for disapproval or physical contact. He knew he could trust his fellow Bobs - they shared a common past and a common enemy, didn't they? Dorm life also changed him mentally - maybe even more so. Walking into the chaotic room after school and doing chores felt like taking off a coat - or rather a harness. There were welcoming hugs and welcoming kisses, excited voices full of excited plans. Pleasuring a fellow Bob was as casual as soaping his hair or rubbing lotion into his body. Sucking a soft, throbbing cock was as natural as sharing gossip or searching a wet, slick body for stray hairs - ending up with fingering his tight, slippery anus or just collapsing into a bout of giggling. It was often hard to notice where one thing ended and another began. Dorm life was anarchy; a ball of adolescent energy - a hot steaming pool he'd gladly drown in. Until yesterday, when after classes headmistress Parker called him to her office. The moment he got the message a long forgotten anxiety invaded him, accompanied by memories of earlier visits, fear for imminent changes - and downright terror of losing the heady cocktail of freedom he'd just started sipping. An old and well-remembered insecurity overwhelmed him. Before going he spent half an hour of stalling in front of his mirror, turning left and right, checking his hair and eyes, and asking Taylor and Harper for their opinions. Taylor whispered 'perfect' before pecking his left cheek and squeezing his ass; Harper just shrugged, wondering what could be special about a visit to the old cow, wearing your standard top and short shorts, the mandatory long shirt and shining ballet shoes. When Lucian knocked on Parker's door his silver bracelets jangled. It reminded him of another visit to this same office - confronting his mother and her lawyers. The memory still saddened him. He hadn't heard from or about his parents since that visit. There'd just been the crossed-out letter and Parker's assurance that his father definitely stopped paying for his tuition. Doing chores had been awkward at first. He started as help in the kitchen, finding mysterious tools he'd never seen before, let alone used. Everyone was friendly, though, and very patient. Occasional accidents, cuts and burns were harmless and far between. He was also supposed to clean and tidy the private rooms of teachers and students, amongst which his old room. Two new paying students arrived late August. One was tall and black, stirring quite some interest among the boys at the dorm; his abundant Afro caused Mackenzie a hard time to tame. The other boy was a small dirty blonde from the Midwest. Lucian recognized the scared look in his gray eyes as new and bewildering experiences showered down on him. Lucian and Harper took them on a tour. The black boy called Shay was very athletic; Coach took to him like a duck to water. The blonde, Ellis, gawked at the ballet dancers and the photographed models on the hallway's wall. The boy's skittish eyes were at once attracted and repelled by what they saw. It reminded Lucian of his first days. To his own surprise he tried to embrace the boy for comfort, but he jumped back as if bitten by a viper. "Sorry," Lucian said, never losing his smile. "I just wanted you to feel at home." The blonde boy was pretty though chubby; he'd be stunning once Norton's was done with him. Until then there'd be fear and struggle, Lucian mused - the futile uphill struggling he knew so well. He supposed his own struggling days were over since he moved in with the Bobs. Maybe the only unsettling thing was how normal life became, even to him. Just a new reality he couldn't escape - and really wouldn't want to anymore, he guessed. But standing here, at Parker's threshold, listening to his racing heart, doubt returned His new reality seemed to have pushed the old one back completely - like a distant range of bluish hills against a hazy horizon. Embarrassment was gone, even its memory; so was skepticism. A new and rather alien entity had replaced them - trust. It worked on his mind like a muscle-relaxant, but what if it was just a set of blinders? He knew trust was the motor of his newfound freedom, but what if it was just another illusion? Should he distrust trust? He realized that his life up till Norton's had been set by the agendas of others - his macho father, his cruel mother, the bullies at school - framing him as a freak and putting him in a prison of hate and prejudice. They'd caused guilt that all too soon morphed into self-hate and self-disgust. His first year at the academy hadn't been much different, Parker pushing and pulling him to her advantage. But now? No more. No more? He recalled how the sheer anarchy of his first crazy orgy on the dorm's mattresses had fucked away every last frustration he might still have held on to, flushing out fear and bewilderment. Later on he'd lain awake in his new bunk, he recalled, holding his breath and waiting for the tsunami of guilt that would surely overwhelm him. But it never came - no shame, no embarrassment, no disgust. He remembered staring into the darkness, still glowing, as his mattress moved and a naked body rubbed against his. A second body joined him from the other side, and while a voice breathed hot air into his ear, a soft mouth kissed his right nipple. He'd fallen asleep like that, sandwiched between bare bodies -Harper and Taylor he guessed. Bobs don't sleep alone, he learned in the weeks following that night. It was a unique experience for him, never being alone - one he got used to very quickly. Just like he got used to sharing: opinions and emotions; fun and experiences - and a million ways to find beauty. Trust was built up by myriads of little things like that - slow and sweet and wonderful. Could it really be shattered in a moment? Parker' voice wormed through the door's wood in response to his knocking. The woman wasn't behind her desk. She stood in a back corner beside overstuffed club chairs that surrounded a low table. She also wasn't alone; Dr. Kurtz occupied one of the chairs. She rose at his entering, looking quite formal - and cushioned - in a tight business suit. "Please sit down, darling," Parker said, indicating a chair across from the doctor. "Tea?" Feeling uncomfortable he sat down, politely refusing the tea. The headmistress sat down too. She removed invisible lint from her dark pencil skirt. "Now Lucian," she began, smiling the Smile. "God, it's been over a year already, hasn't it? Amazing." He closed his shirt around him, shifting on the leather seat. Parker went into a rambling resume of the highlights of Lucian's stay at Norton's. The 'lovely impression' he'd obviously made on staff and students, his 'struggle' and his 'setbacks,' and the 'most wonderful way' everything had finally worked out. Had it, he thought. Not because of her, surely. "Norton's is proud of you, honey," the headmistress concluded. "Your mental strength and your delicious appearance are envied by many and an example for your fellow students." Parker's voice had its usual effect on him. In combination with the utter bla bla of her words, it clouded his attention, pulling it away to other things. Like the face of Kurtz. He didn't know how to call her expression. Her puffed face always looked tired, but today it seemed animated. There were blushes on her cheeks and her dubious smile was stronger. She seemed genuinely happy. Her eyes sparkled and they were fixed on him. Could she really be happy for him? All through the year she'd been the distant one in the white suit, doing antiseptic things in blue latex gloves - making reassuring noises while prodding his anus, and avoiding questions. Except for that one drunken moment on Christmas Eve. She'd scared him then, and later on he'd decided not to believe the story about her son - the one that had been bullied into suicide. Even if it were true, it felt just too tailor made to accept as a valid excuse for the way she and Norton's treated him. Maybe she wasn't really happy for him at all right now; maybe she was just... triumphant? Staring back at her he saw her nod. "Congratulations, I'm so glad for you," her sensual mouth said. "We are all proud you made it." He must have missed something while drifting off. Looking from Kurtz to Parker his confusion was evident. Parker chuckled. "Earth to Lucian," she said. Having heard the expression too often, together with the condescending laughter it always caused, he'd learned to hate it. "I guess you were distracted," Parker went on. "I told you tomorrow will the big day: you'll graduate to Second Level." She rose from her chair, soft tit flesh spilling from her bra as she bent forward. Kurtz rose too, and he presumed he should follow their example. The hug came unexpected. He felt the tight bones of Parker's corset press into him. There was a cloud of perfume, and the softness of her hands cupping his face. "Congratulations, Lucian," she said. "It's been an honor to help you." Dr. Kurtz's face appeared next to hers. There were tears running down her cheeks. "I hope you see now," she said, her voice thick with emotion as her hand caressed his upper arm. "It was all really for the best." Flash backs of his frequent visits to her tube-lighted practice created a pageant of embarrassing moments - the injections, the probing of his anus, the milking of his sperm, the slick latex against his shrinking penis. He almost smelled the rubber of her gloves, the assault of chemicals and antiseptics. And now she cried. Paralyzed by his feelings Lucian looked from one woman to the other. He was as confused by the headmistress's sick Smile as he was by the crying doctor. He could deal with the phony, superficial fa?ade of friendliness, having mastered it himself. But the tears seemed too real, too personal after all these months of manipulation and deceit. "God," the doctor mumbled. "You look so much like him." He tore himself free from the women's embrace, pulling the long shirt tightly around his body. A thought dawned. These were the two people responsible for what had happened to him this year. But they never succeeded in forging the real change they so obviously celebrated now. To the contrary, their program and chemicals had been the main obstacle causing his disgust and rebellion. His true change had been a recent thing; and it had been the boys who'd brought it about - their true warmth, the sense of solidarity, the belonging. Looking at the old, tired faces he felt pity. It was a new, strange feeling, and not at all sympathetic. It came from arrogance, he knew, the arrogance of youth. He was their prisoner, but beyond their bars was a future they didn't have. All the power they had over him couldn't save them from their own prison of time. They'd shrivel and die in their corsets and white coats while he and Harper and Taylor and Kelly and Charlie would conquer the world. A dizzying feeling washed over him. It made him rise to tiptoes. His arms opened wide and so did his shirt. A smile opened his mouth, allowing the white of his teeth to dazzle the women. It was a cruel, triumphant smile, he knew, but it hit their faces. He was like the sun smashing its rays into the crumple-faced moon, forcing it to reflect his light. The moment was sheer triumph and it stretched on. The two smiling faces were moths, he thought, being pulled to the lamp he was, gloriously lighting this drab old office. He received them in his wide embrace, allowing them to hug and kiss him. He felt the sting, but only for a second. Darkness draped its fuzzy cloak around him. *** A voice whispered. It sounded familiar, but between guessing and knowing was a sea of confusion. He felt like floating - wondering where he was, who he was and why he should even be wondering about things like that. He felt too good to be bothered; he felt great really. Drifting in and out of perfumed clouds, he saw sparkling-white mountains sail by - soft, warm icebergs on a hot tropical sea. Don't ask for logic. He tried to touch one and giggled as his hand passed through. A shadow descended and he heard the voice again - a sweet voice; a friend's voice. "Lucy," it said. Who was Lucy? His world was a fragrant universe; he floated in it without worry, keeping all thoughts at bay. Water as hot as his body made him feel weightless. He was a naked, gyrating astronaut, turning and tumbling in slow motion - he was an oceanaut. The word made him giggle again. "Luce? Lucian?" The voice. Ah yes, Lucian. He knew a Lucian, didn't he? Was the voice Lucian's? The clouds lifted. There were cream-white tiles in front of him, and a pale hand resting on the wet-shining edge of something. The slim fingers had painted nails. They lay on the edge of a bathtub. Were they his? He moved them to check. Ah yes. So he was in a bath, wasn't he - wet, naked? The water sloshed as he sat up. "Charlie? Is that you?" he asked. "Where am I? And why?" She stood over him in a short white bathrobe, her hair wrapped in a towel. A slight blush glowed through her china skin. Violet eyes she had, mirroring the smile of her mouth - cherry lips, pearly teeth. Her mouth, he thought. Ah yes, hers now. Sweet Charlie. "Congratulations," the girl said, while closing the tap. "I am so glad for you. We'll be sisters now, you know, real sisters, promise me." Memories returned. They brought images of two old faces, painted mouths talking about graduation; tired eyes, tired skin - Parker and Kurtz. He recalled them hugging; then a sting. "What did they do to me, Charlie?" "Do?" she asked, causing her long lashes to flutter. "I don't know. They asked us to make you pretty for tonight." Another shadow explained the 'we.' It belonged to the bronze tinted body of an Asian girl, also dressed in a robe. He knew her name - Nico, the waitress - the cello player. She smiled at him and winked. He'd never quite shed the suspicion that Nico was one of the girls who raped him on Halloween. Ever since that day her smiles seemed sardonic to him. He suspected a false bottom under her friendliness - a card up her sleeve. "Hi Lucian," she said, picking a big towel from a rack. "Come, li'l sis, let's get you dry." Charlie reached for his hand and helped him out of the water. Big mops of foam slid down his wet body. He slightly shivered from the cool air as he stepped from the tub. He instantly felt something was different, but the warm and fluffy towel distracted him; soft hands rubbed him dry. Looking down he noticed a new tightness in his crotch. Something was there; something alien. When the towel parted, he saw a glint of metal. Charlie's hand blocked his view by pushing the towel between his legs and starting to rub his groin. The area seemed numb, but there definitely was something there. Closing his eyes he felt the tightness turn into a muted pain in his crotch and deeper back into his lower belly. It was more like a throb really, a muscle ache. But it radiated out with a hot, slow pulse. He reached down and pulled the towel away. A triangle of silvery metal gleamed in the V of his crotch. It followed the slight curve of his lower body and shone like chrome. At its center was the exposed tip of his pale penis, protruding from a tight hole. The plate lay against his crotch as if glued to it. Tight straps ran out, over his hips. He touched the panel with a finger, trying to get around it. The metal fitted snugly; he couldn't get behind it; nor could he pull it down or remove it. There also was no room at all between his stubby penis and the edge of the opening. It held up the head and its exposed pink- stained slit. A rush of fear hit his chest. Something was terrible wrong. Except for his penis everything looked smooth and tight and streamlined - like a girl's crotch. The whole package was too flat... just too flat to... "Charlie!" he cried out. "What did they do to my balls?" "Please stand still," Charlie said. She was kneeling in front of his naked body, wielding a small, humming instrument. It stung when it pulled out one of the rare little hairs that still grew on his body. "My goddamn balls, Charlie!" he repeated, stepping back. His whining voice echoed in the bathroom. "Where are they? What did they do to them?" As the girl looked up her curly bangs opened like a curtain, showing a violet eye and a smiling mouth. "Nothing to worry about, Luce," she said. "It's perfect. Now please turn around so I can do your backside." He didn't turn. He stepped further back, disregarding her protest. Then he went down on his haunches, cupping the metal plate and the soft hot flesh at its center. He again tried to push a fingertip behind the edge, but it sat tight against his body, held in place by elastic strings that ran around his hips and up through the crack of his ass. The plate was way to tight to also hold his balls. They were gone. He looked up into Charlie's eyes. The girl slowly shook her head, making the wet curls dance. "They're not gone, Lucian. As they promised you, they're still there," she said. She rose to her feet and parted her robe to show her perfect mini-penis, protruding from smooth white skin. She lifted it with a pink-nailed finger. The tiny one-inch knob with its exposed baby-pink head was all he saw. No balls, no scrotum, just tight, smooth skin. A chuckle from behind distracted him from Charlie's crotch. "Comparing cocks, guys?" Nico said. She'd opened her robe too, showing another inch-long button rising from her soft olive skin. Fondling it she chuckled again and said: "I bet mine is the smallest." Charlie laughed with her; Lucian let his eyes travel from the girls' crotches to his own. Despite Charlie's words his panic didn't subside. "They castrated me! They castrate us all," he insisted. Grabbing Charlie's shoulders he repeated the lines even louder while shaking her. "They goddamn cut off my fucking balls!" The girls closed in on him. He tried to shake them off, but they didn't budge. Hugging him they gave off soothing sounds. "Shhh, Luce," Charlie said. "Nobody cut your balls off. They never do, with anybody. Like they promised, they're still there, believe me." He pushed her away, screaming. Spreading his legs he gave the girls a clear view of his capped crotch. "Believe you?" he said. "Look! Just look and tell me where they are. They didn't promise me anything; they didn't even tell me anything, as usual, and now my balls are fucking gone!" Sobbing he sat down on the tub's edge. Two bodies joined him on each side, arms wrapping themselves around his shaking shoulders. "Didn't they tell you, Luce?" Charlie asked. She paused to wait for his sobbing to end. "I guess they didn't," she went on, sighing. "I don't know why. You see, they do it to all Bobs when they agree they're ready to graduate. It's a reward, really, a sign of progress - something to be proud of. Most Bobs ask for it." Lucian snorted. Charlie looked past him to Nico, who shrugged. She pulled Lucian tighter. "They did it to me a few months back," she said. "But they explained what would happen. They had Nico there and another Barb and showed what they did to them. How they still could come and make sperm and all that. I really don't know why they sprang it on you like this." She reached for Lucian's crotch, but he crossed his legs to hide it. The metal cap pinched him. "We can only graduate," the girl went on, "when our balls are small and soft enough to be pushed back up into our body. It's harmless and it looks so much better on us, don't you agree?" She spread her creamy thighs to show. He didn't answer, still hiding his face behind his hands. "But yes," she went on, shrugging. "It's a hurtful procedure, so they anesthetize you." Lucian lowered his hands and turned his cried-out eyes to her. "For a whole day?" he asked. "Knocking me out for a whole day just to kick my balls back up?" Charlie's eyes were wide and calm. He had no reason at all to believe her, of course. This whole year had been one long stretch of lies and betrayals. Why should he believe anyone? For all he knew they could have taken his balls and his damn penis as well. That was when he recalled Drew. She'd told him how her testicles had never lowered from her abdominal cavity like they do with most newborns. She was a freak of nature, she said. Was that a lie? She couldn't have been castrated, could she? There had been sperm on his hand, and later in his mouth, but what did that prove? What did he know anyway? "You don't believe Charlie, do you, Lucian?" Nico asked, bringing him back from his musings. The mocking undercurrent he heard in her voice didn't really help. He rose from the tub's edge, letting his robe close over his body. The tight metal pinched his skin as he walked away from the girls. "I never asked for this," he said. "But they did it anyway. I never asked for being turned into... into this. But it never stopped them, did it? I goddamned never asked to be here at all, did I?" Both girls looked up at him, helpless. "I'm sorry," Charlie said with a tiny voice. Her sadness kindled new sparks of anger - at Parker and Kurtz who not only operated on him without his consent, but let this innocent girl pull every goddamn glowing chestnut out of the fire they lit. He sagged down against the tiled wall across from the tub, wrapping his arms around his knees. The floor was cold and wet, but he didn't care. "What more is there that I don't know about?" he asked. "What's the metal cap for? You don't have one, do you?" "We had it; it's just temporary," Nico said. "To protect your stitches." Stitches? Repeating the word loudly he pushed himself up and off the wall, opening his robe and watching the contraption. The girls shied away from his sudden aggression. "So they did cut me!" he cried out, tugging in vain at the metal shield. Charlie rose and also opened the flaps of her bathrobe. Lifting the short stem of her penis again she showed him the tight, smooth skin under it. "When the eh... balls are up," she said, "You still have this ugly little sac of wrinkled skin, you know. Well, they cut it off and stitch what's left nice and tight together - smooth and invisible, see? Don't you think it's beautiful?" Stepping closer and turning to the light she showed him her immaculate white skin. It only had an almost invisible hairline running from the base of the penis to her crack. He looked back to his own crotch, and then to Charlie again. "Is that all they did?" he asked, leaning back against the tiled wall. Looking from Charlie's porcelain face to Nico's bronze oval he wondered how an ugly place like this could create so much beauty. "Luce," Charlie said, turning from him to a shrugging Nico and back. "I do hope they told you about your prostate?" The room got out of focus as he felt a new nausea rise. His view became a tunnel, closing in on the girl's talking mouth. It formulated words and sentences, he saw, but he had to really concentrate to hear them. "I guessed so," she said. "And I'm so sorry. But you have to know they're not bad, Lucian, believe me," she said. "They do everything to save us from the horrible life we had, and give us a better future. They make us beautiful, and prepare us for a life of joy and success - and of pleasure." The tunnel widened and the buzzing stopped. The lovely girls' faces gained focus against the shining wall. "Bullshit," he said - or croaked, really. Charlie shook her head with a sad smile. "They really should just have told and shown you, Lucian. Why didn't they?" she asked herself more than him. "It would have made things so much easier afterwards." Nico shrugged, spreading her fingers to study her nails. "Of course it wouldn't!" Lucian said. "They didn't tell me because they know I would have refused." "You wouldn't have," Nico said, taking over from Charlie. Her voice was flat, disinterested. "Why would you? Deep down you know. You saw Drew; you even fucked her. You've known it all the time; you're just in denial. Dr. Kurtz has been stimulating your prostate for months now, ever since you arrived. That must have rung a bell, surely? Come on, Lucian... no one can be so na?ve to believe that all the pills you took were vitamins - and all the dressing and making up just theater?" She chuckled before going on. "You have been unconscious all night and most of today because they needed you to lie perfectly still while one drip's needle was in your prostate and others... well, look at your lower arm." The words were there and his ears could hear them; but his mind refused them entrance. He looked automatically at his bruised arm, imagining a cool white room, a high bed with a deadly pale patient wearing his face. There were tubes everywhere, and beeping machines. Nurses and doctors slunk around the bed, whispering gibberish. Parker was there no doubt, wearing her corset and smiling sardonically. It was Frankenstein revisited. He knew what a prostate was for and where it sat in his body. There hadn't been a medical inspection without Kurtz prodding at it, and taking samples. He also knew about intravenous drips. Nico was right: he'd kept denying what was overly clear to anyone else. He decided to ignore it again. Sinking down the slick wall he sat with his arms around his knees - staring at the girls. "What more didn't they tell me about graduation?" he asked instead. "What are you girls supposed to prepare me for?" They looked at each other again, before Charlie retook the word. "I'm not sure we're allowed to tell you," she said. She blushed deeply. He looked away. "But they told you, didn't they, back when you graduated?" he said. Again they looked at each other. Now Nico rose and walked off, leaving the bathroom. The short white robe shifted on her moving ass. "Yes," Charlie admitted. "But I was ready for it, you know? I wanted it. I'd been looking out for it since forever." "And I haven't," he said. "I don't even know what you're talking about. Why is that?" The girl sighed. She rose and walked over to him, putting one delicate foot in front of the other - all so natural, all second nature. Then she turned around and sat down next to him against the tiled wall - resting her head on his shoulder. Lucian couldn't resist laying his arm around her. "I don't know why they keep you in the dark," she said. He could feel her breath against his neck. "I told you already. It hurts me to see you like this, being pushed around like a blind man. I doubt if you are really ready, but why would they let you graduate if you're not?" As she lifted her face up to him he saw tears sparkle in the corners of her eyes. He leant in and kissed her lips. She responded hungrily. "You know that I love you," she said as their mouths parted. "I already did on that first day we met. I was so shy." He remembered. He smiled. "Tell me about your graduation," he asked. Lucian was never good at reading faces. Charlie seemed embarrassed by his question, but there also was a kind of eagerness - was it pride? "I'm not sure you'll understand," she said, moving out of his embrace. "I was ready, you know?" He remembered the last few months before she went over to the Barbs - how she'd changed: her ease and grace, her benevolent patience with the rowdy Bobs. If that was being ready, he surely wasn't. He held her gaze, waiting for her to go on. Her lashes fluttered and she blushed. He moved a curl out of her eyes and felt her cheek lean into his hand. "It was... amazing," she said, almost whispering. "Like coming home." Her eyes sparkled and yet her lips trembled. "You might find it, well, demeaning, though, maybe," she went on, looking away. "But I felt power. I was the one in control, you know? I was... on top of the world. At one point I knew I could have made him do anything; give me whatever I wanted." Her eyes blazed; she virtually glowed. Did she say 'him?' He just looked, watching her excitement slowly change into confusion. She moved back on the tiled floor. "I... I'm sorry," she said. "Why sorry?" "I scare you. I can see it. You really don't know, do you? Damn Parker!" At that moment Nico returned, carrying a small pile of clothes. "Time's up, love birds," she said, grinning. "We really need to hurry." *** A tremor crawled up his leg. It caressed his thigh before disappearing under the flaring hem of his little dress where it touched his bare ass cheeks before dancing up his spine - and choking his throat. The girl on his left touched his arm. She leant in closer, whispering all was well. Her white blond curls tickled his ear. Her irises had a touch of violet. The girl on his right squinted her dark eyes. Her oval Asian face was framed in bluish black. She nodded and smiled, pouting her glossy lips. But the nerves kept shaking Lucian Gaines. They had talked on and on about nothing while they prepared him, back at the bathroom - pampering his skin with lotions, pulling a mere whiff of a thong over his smoothened legs until it sat snugly over the exposed head of his little penis and the slick metal contraption. Then they'd pulled his arms through the narrow straps of a bra, closing its clip at the back. He remembered wearing one to see his mother and her lawyers at Parker's office. But this one had cups - small see-through little bags that covered his nipples in a sloppy way, emphasizing their emptiness. Charlie giggled, noting his embarrassment. Behind her Nico held up her hands, showing two little mounds of jelly wiggling on her palms. Her grin was as devilish as ever. "No," he said. "Oh yes," she answered, walking closer. He tried to turn away, but Charlie's hand checked him. "It's all right," she said. "You'll look great." Lucian felt a cool, almost liquid jellyfish slide into his left cup, jiggling as it settled, filling out the semi-transparent fabric. There was a dark, firm nipple on it, pushing into the bra's silk as Nico's fingers moved the blob into its proper position. His real nipple tingled under its caress, slowly warming the viscous material. A hot response radiated from his lower belly, increasing the thumping pulse behind the metal. His knees trembled. The second breast followed. Hands turned him toward a mirror. The woman staring at him through patches of condensed steam had become familiar over the last year, and yet she stayed a stranger - an achingly beautiful stranger. And here, naked in this damp room with its shining tiles, wearing no make up and having her hair wrapped in a towel, she looked as vulnerable as a child. A grown up child, lost in limbo. From behind, through the buzzing in his head, he heard cooing and the twittering sounds girls make when they are excited - or have to go to the toilet, he mused. Turning to Charlie he said: "I can't do this. I won't." Hands suddenly grabbed his lower arms and pulled them behind his back. Metallic clicks sounded as he felt cuffs close around his wrists. "Hey!" he protested. "Sorry," Charlie said, leaning in and kissing him. "Whatever it takes," Nico said. They pushed him out of the bathroom into a salon-like place. The liquid things on his chest moved and shivered as he walked, sending confusing sensations through his body - until they blended into a perfect mixture of arousal and horror. Panic paralyzed him, as it always did. They sat him down on a chair, fixing his arms to the back. "Sorry for this, Luce," Charlie apologized again. They did his face, accentuating its paleness while making his eyes as smoky as they could. They finished his lips with a high gloss, and painted the nails of his fingers and toes. Then they blew and brushed his hair, spraying it up into a tower of curly platinum. As they worked on him, he didn't want to see himself in the large vanity mirror; but catching only glimpses made it worse. Being shackled only added to the turmoil that invaded every cell of his body. Finally he sat there alone with his reflection. The girls had left, leaving him tied to his chair and imprisoned in the body of an alien beauty. Sapphire eyes seemed to study him out of dark, sensuous clouds. A slow icy finger of cold realization touched his spine. He might not know those eyes, but they knew him. Whomever they belonged to, they were watching him, studying him, commenting on him. Were they laughing at him - poking fun at him? No. They just seemed to wait. The girls returned, chatting and laughing - breaking the spell. They wore white dresses, short and flaring, tied in at the waist. It made the silky material billow over in long, lazy folds. Their flat chests and painted nipples showed inside wide-open, belly-deep cleavages. Bare legs ended in white high-heeled platform sandals, making them seem even longer. Bracelets jingled and big metal loops danced from their earlobes. "God, you look divine!" Charlie exclaimed. She hugged him from behind, adding her sweet face to the one in the mirror. Hands undid his shackles, but he didn't rise. All he did was lifting his arms and rubbing his wrists where the cuffs had been. Charlie walked around his chair and went to her haunches. Her fingers traced his hair and cheek. "Please believe me, Luce. We had no choice, you know?" she asked, letting her violet eyes roam over his face. Her apologies started to irritate him. "It's all right," he muttered. "I understand." And now they stood here outside the main entrance of the old building, waiting for a limousine to take them to an unknown place where an unknown procedure would indicate his graduation from one unclear identity into another. His ankles wobbled on the narrow soles and towering heels of white leather sandals, closed by a wide strap above his ankle and leaving his painted toenails exposed. It was too cold for sandals, he mused, shivering. A cool breeze caressed his bare thighs. The tightness of the bra was an echo of the tightness that grabbed his crotch. He looked down, watching the fake nipples appear and disappear through the filmy, soft material of his dress as it fluttered with his nervous breathing. The white dress was short and thin, fitting tightly around the alien tits and his hips, where the high hem flared out. It made him feel about as naked as any dress could. "We'll be with you," the blond girl on his left whispered, holding his elbow. She'd said sorry and she'd said it again. And then she'd said she loved him. He believed her and that had been easy. It felt just natural to love her, and believe her. He remembered her standing at the back of the group of boys that had welcomed him and showed him around, ages ago - the little doll of Meissen porcelain; fatally shy and deadly vulnerable. He looked her in the eyes. Then he leaned in and kissed her lips. She squealed, stepping back. "No!" she cried out, laughing. "Don't spoil our hard work!" Suddenly the atmosphere changed from nervous fretting to merry silliness. He genuinely laughed, feeling his tiny fake breasts vibrate with his glee. Embracing the girl he felt tears sting his eyes - easy never-mind-tears he didn't recall ever having shed. A dark cloud evaporated from his mind. Their laughter rose into the evening air. "Stop it!" Nico exclaimed, pulling them apart. "Damn!" she said, studying his face as he laughed on, forcing a smile from her lips. She dabbed below his eyes with a tiny handkerchief. The pebbles of the driveway crushed under rubber as a black shining limousine arrived. "Come," Nico said. "We'll clean you up in the car." "Lucian!" Parker's voice stopped them from walking down the steps to where a tall black driver opened a door of the car. Lucian turned around, waiting for the woman to approach him. She looked him over, touching his hair with her long, polished nails. "You look marvelous, honey," she said. "You'll make us proud." He stared down at her, his heels adding to the few inches he'd already gained on her this year. He might be taller, but her authority was evident. He almost saw the lie oozing through her saccharine smile. There was betrayal, arrogance, and indifference. He felt the nauseous response in his stomach. But all he did was nod. And all he did was follow the girls into the limo, settling on the seat between them. The rich smell of the leather became a heady mixture with their perfume; the buzz in his head hummed in tune with the idling motor. "Girls," Parker said, her head poking into the car. "Make it unforgettable for him, please." "We will, Ms. Parker," both girls said as one. Lucian felt their arms link with his. The door closed and the limousine drove off into the gathering dusk. *** The door opened, and the shock was complete. Lucian wasn't ready. But then again: nothing could have prepared him for this, could it? Not a year of dressing up and painting his eyes; nor Kurtz's pills and syringes or Ms. Fontaine's emasculating exercises - not even the crazy orgies at his dorm. He'd learned to trick himself into a role of actor, outsider. But now the door opened and his soul died. In the limousine they'd hardly talked. They were separated from the driver by soundproof glass. Lucian tried to read the traffic signs to know where they were heading, but the windows were too heavily tinted. "Where are we going?" he asked Charlie. "Can't say," she said. Nico only shrugged. Looking around the luxurious interior he saw a little mini-bar-like chest containing small bottles of champagne and wine. There were glasses too, but he supposed they were not meant for them to drink. Charlie handed him a bottle of mineral water. He drank and wondered what she'd meant with her 'can't say.' Didn't she know either, or wasn't she allowed to say? Did it matter? He returned the bottle and lifted his hips to pull the short dress down over his thighs. It caused his fake nipples to strain at the fabric, their shadows accented by the lights of a passing car. "I envy you," Charlie said. "Don't you envy Luce too, Nico?" Nico grimaced. She pulled the wide-open cleavage of her dress a bit closer and folded her arms in front of her chest. "I'm not sure," she said with her ironic smile. "He should be envied for the treat, but I doubt he'll agree with me." She chuckled; Charlie frowned. "What treat?" Lucian asked, looking from the one to the other. "Never mind," Charlie said, grabbing his left arm possessively and pulling him close. "She's just jealous." "Charlie," he said, taking back his arm. "What is it about this graduation? What will they do to me?" She looked away. Now he took her arm to get her attention. "You used the word demeaning," he went on. "I also used the word power," she said, looking away again. He pondered her answer. Then an image of Drew sucking a man's cock flashed through his mind, followed by another one of Charlie on the lawn. "I have to suck cock, don't I?" he asked, pulling her closer. "For graduation you have to blow a man's cock." Charlie's lashes batted. Behind him Nico chuckled. "Okay," he said. "I suck a cock and I'm a Barb. Is that it?" Charlie shrugged. "Is that it?" he insisted. "If so, why all this hassle?" He let his hand flutter around to indicate the car. "This limo, the dressing up, the traveling for how long, an hour?" "I don't know," Charlie said, a wine in her voice now. He wasn't sure about Nico, but Charlie probably told the truth. "Tell me more about your graduation," he said. "I'd rather not," she answered. "But you said you're proud of it," he insisted. "Yes, I am," she said, but she turned away from him, studying the darkness outside. In the reflection of the tinted window he saw a tear run down her cheek. He stopped asking. The next ten minutes were spent in silence. Then Nico lit an overhead light and bid him to show her his face. "Let me see what ruin you caused," she said, leaning in to study his make up. From a compact she started fluffing and pampering. Lucian prayed there would be no lumps or holes in the road when she started restoring the lines under his eyes with a sharpened pencil. He saw her face just inches away - the intense dark eyes and her sweet Asian geisha lips. "Do you hate me, Nico?" he asked, immediately feeling the pencil slip. "Don't be silly," she said, repairing the slip-up with a little cotton ball. "You always seem to mock me," he went on. She concentrated on twisting up a lipstick from a gold tube. Then she held his chin with one hand and started repainting his mouth. "Pout," she said, and he did. After once more inspecting his face she returned the compact to her purse and turned away from him. Another ten minutes passed, only filled with the car's humming and lights flying by. He had the impression that traffic became denser. There also were more lights. They must be approaching a city. "Are you mad at me, Luce?" Charlie asked. "No," he answered. "Are you?" In the dim light he saw she'd refreshed her make up too, but the rims of her eyes seemed pink and a bit swollen. She came closer to him. "I can never be mad at you, Luce. You know that," she whispered. "I heard that," Nico said. "Don't be silly, girl." Charlie frowned. It cast a shadow across her face that he'd never seen before. She crossed her arms and huffed like a little girl. Ten more silent minutes passed. Then the limousine took a sharp curve. As far as he could see they drove through a gate and into park-like grounds. After stopping the doors were opened by a uniformed man. Lucian tried to keep his skirt down and his legs closed as he slid out into the fresh night. Standing in his heels on the pebble-strewn driveway he tried to keep his balance. The evening breeze blew through his flimsy dress; at least his hard nipples could be explained, he thought, wondering where that came from. He saw Nico talk with the valet. She motioned them closer. The man was young and looked Latin. His dark eyes were everywhere as he gave Charlie and him a look over. "Follow me inside," he said, leading them up a few steps and into a hall. The house was much like Norton's - classic and pseudo-European. Lucian thought he saw a shield next to the entrance, like he'd often seen with embassies or consulates or whatever. They were led upstairs over a wide curving staircase and into a room. Their combined heels rang a tattoo on the hallway's marble. Inside a fire was burning, with cozy looking leather club chairs in front of it. He saw plates with small sandwiches, a pot of tea and a pitcher of fruit juice. His stomach rumbled. As he finished a cucumber and salmon sandwich he asked: "Where are we?" Nico chewed and swallowed her bite. "An embassy they told me," she said. "South American, maybe. You are expected next door in half an hour, so eat another sandwich and drink a bit before we get you ready." His nerves returned, overruling his stomach's desires. Over Nico's shoulder he saw himself in a tall mirror, half of his body reddishly lit by the live flames in the hearth. He knew he might pass the reflected woman in the street and not recognize himself in her. His eyes kept returning to the small, pert breasts. "Ready for what?" he asked, but maybe he didn't say it out loud because no one responded. "Get out of the dress please, Lucian," Nico said, licking the last crumbs of her sandwich from her fingertips. He looked from Nico to Charlie. She nodded. The woman in the mirror reached behind her, causing the dress's top to stretch over her pointed tits. Then the fabric relaxed and the dress slipped off her shoulders and past her hips, leaving her stand almost naked in a puddle of shining silk. The nipples were like a second set of eyes. Charlie came closer and asked him to lift his feet, so she could remove the dress. As she rose she whispered: "I love you." But his attention was with the reflected ghost. What the mirror showed was what the world believed. And what the world believed, he knew, was reality. There was no use for doubt or hesitation. He was that woman. "Now listen, Lucian," Nico said with a matter-of-fact voice. "In a few minutes Charlie will lead you across the hallway to a similar room like this, undressed like this. Someone will be waiting for you there - a man. Ms. Parker promised him you would be his for the night." The mouth of the woman in the mirror became an O under big, widening eyes. He heard her say 'no,' but he supposed he was the only one hearing it. Nico went on after a short pause. "You may still have no idea what this 'being his' includes, but Ms. Parker assured us there was no need to inform you any further. She said it was part of your charm, whatever she might mean by that." The girl smiled her knowing smile. He felt his crotch contract and a trickle leave his penis. Looking down he saw a dark stain spreading on the front of his tiny thong. He desperately pulled in his lower body to stem the flow, but the hot moisture already reached the smooth inside of his left thigh. Nico's eyes widened. "Fuck!" she exclaimed. "You are pissing in your pants!" Her laugh was coarse and mean, not at all fitting the sweet beauty she was. "Pull it down, Charlie," she said. "It's a good thing we always carry a spare." Charlie knelt in front of him and pulled down the thin lacy thong. Then she cleaned his wet penis, the metal plate and his thigh with a moist tissue, before rising to her feet again. Shirking up her dress she took down her own thong, which was an exact replica of his. "Please lift your foot," she mumbled. He did, and the used piece of lingerie, still warm from her body, traveled up his legs to arrive at its snug, tight destination. She pulled the string at the back up into his crack. There was something embarrassingly erotic about wearing a used thong, especially when the girl who wore it dressed you in it. "I'm sorry," he whispered to Charlie's flushed face. "Don't be," she said, before turning away. Nico was still in the exact place she had been before the accident. Maybe she knew he'd have to see his own reflection that way. He knew by now that unprepared accidents were extremely scarce at Norton's Academy. "I understand that you are nervous, Lucy," she said, combining a new warmth in her voice with a name she knew he detested. "Don't be," she went on, smiling. "Just follow the instructions the man gives you and try to pleasure him. It'll all be over in a few hours, and then you'll be one of us - a sister, and part of the sweetest and most exciting sorority in the world." She chuckled a short, silvery chuckle. Then she clapped her hands. "Come on, girls," she said. "Que la f?te commence; let the party begin!" Feeling Charlie's warm hand on his bare shoulder, he resisted her gentle push for a second. Then his right foot landed elegantly in front of his left, its heel resounding on the ancient wooden floor. "I'm here," the girl's voice whispered into his ear, making him feel the warmth of her breath. "Remember I've done this. It's all right. It's so much more than all right." Nico opened the room's door and the two of them stepped out into the cool hallway, where marble changed the sound of their footsteps into a bright click-clack. Charlie's bracelets jingled as she knocked on the old oak door, bringing back ominous feelings. She smiled as they waited. A man's distant voice sent fresh panic up his throat. Then Charlie opened the door and his breathing stopped. Next to a fireplace similar to the one in their room stood a large man in shirtsleeves. His bow tie was undone, but a wide purple cummerbund still tried to reign in his ample belly. The skin of his face was ruddy, his hair black and slicked back on his big skull. In his one hand he held a long cigar that filled the room with a pungent smell. In the other was a brandy glass; he moved it slowly to make the cognac swirl around. The man was everything Lucian had feared all his life. He was powerful and arrogant in an easy, second nature way. His eyes never wavered under fat black brows and his ham-like hands were hairy, with thick stubby fingers. In his privileged youth he must have been the football player type: strong and tall and muscular. But he'd let himself go through drink and food and lack of training. He was like a Lucian Freud painting: fleshy, ruddy and rude. Lucian in his heels was almost as tall as the man, but his imposing volume shrank everyone around him - and he knew it. The corners of his fleshy mouth turned downward; it gave his face a constant look of dissatisfaction and impatience. That was, until he decided to smile, which he did the moment Lucian stepped into the circle of light created by an old standing lamp and the glowing embers in the hearth. The heat radiating into his bare skin made Lucian realize how exposed his body was. The alien, moving weight on his chest, combined with his tight, pulsing crotch and the instability of his heeled ankles made him no match for this confident bully with his self-serving smile. All his life he'd gotten what he wanted, taking it even if he didn't want it at all. "You're Lucy," he said. The voice was deep and mellow, vibrating in Lucian's belly. He had no desire to correct the name the man used for him. He had no desire for anything; just a need to flee, but it was checked by a petrifying panic. "You are beautiful," the man went on like a talking, smiling cobra snake in front of a paralyzed bird. "And you're so young." Lucian felt the bitter essence of his misery churn in the pit of his stomach. He saw the man approach, projecting his massive shadow as he blocked the fire. Looking back he saw that Charlie must have left. He was alone. Strong fingers took a hold of his chin, turning his face to the man. He fought back an urge to tear up, and then an urge to wet his panties as his eyes were sucked in by the predator's piercing stare. "Amazing," he said. Then he suddenly grabbed the left cup of the bra and tore it off - bra, breast forms and all. Lucian heard a wet splash as they hit the floor. "Better," the man said. "Much better. Now take off your little panties if you please." He pulled at his cigar, producing a blue cloud of smoke. "Don't be shy," he went on, pointing with the wet stub to Lucian's groin. The boy bent at the hips as he pushed down the straps of the flimsy piece of lingerie. It fell down, catching on the buckle of his left sandal. Rising he fought the urge to cover the head of his penis where it protruded from the metal shield. He stood straight; his hands dangling beside his hips. "So cute," the man said. His soft chuckling changed into a cruel laugh. He stepped closer - his eyes searching. Then a sudden sting of heat attacked Lucian's penis and he staggered back, almost tripping over his panties. The man burst out in laughter again, showing the glowing tip of his cigar. Lucian shivered. Tears yet again stung his eyes. The aftershock of the scare made his knees wobble. The man tipped ashes to the floor and took a sip from his glass as he silently watched Lucian's crotch. "Does it still work at all?" he asked. Lucian studied the man's face. He saw the disdain, of course, but there were other things - or maybe he just imagined them. But soon all this was washed away by the usual drunken bravado. "About time you saw a real man's cock, faggot," he said with a loud voice. He sat down in one of the overstuffed club chairs, undoing the cummerbund and spreading his thighs. His freed belly poured over his belt. "I bet you at least remember where to find it," he said, chuckling again. When Lucian just kept staring, the man waved him closer. "Come here and kneel, sissy. I bet they taught you how to do it?" So he had to open the bully's pants, find his cock and suck on it. It was what he'd expected. Ever since he saw Charlie blow the man on the lawn, he'd known there was a link to this 'graduation' they'd talked about. And nothing he'd heard on the way here, or in the room next door had pointed in another direction. As they'd walked across the marble hallway he'd convinced himself that he could do it. There would be shame and disgust; he would hate himself for giving in, but he'd decided he could play the role of sucking a man's cock. And then the door had opened, and he'd seen the man. Hundreds of memories had flushed his mind, entering through a way too small entrance. They were bad dreams and nightmares, scenes of pain and humiliation. Why was he here? Why him, why now? The fat, wide-legged man in the chair, pointing at his groin and ordering him to suck his cock, was his father. He couldn't move or talk and every thought in his head was a bunch of blind rats running around in a treadmill. His father obviously didn't recognize him, and Lucian was certain he'd never tell him. But how could he suck his cock? He imagined kneeling there between the thick legs, his pink-nailed fingers opening his pants and searching for his penis. Would it be hard already? He knew it was long and fat, he'd often enough seen it. It should make a huge erection. His father hated homosexuals; he'd often said that, using words like faggots and fairies and poofs. He'd ridiculed them and harangued his son to stay away from any of them. Watching ballet or even opera was gay; making drawings or watching what he called chick-flics was a sure first step to ruin. They were a disease, he said; they should be castrated or even killed. The irony of it all wasn't lost on Lucian Gaines, but right then his panic was just too acute to see it. This man, his own father, wanted him, a boy, to take his cock into his mouth and suck it. And God knows what he might intend to do after that. "Now get down on your sissy knees and suck me, you damn degenerate!" his father said, putting his big hands on the arm rests rising halfway up in a threat to come and get him. The voice made an age-old ingrained fear grab him, and force him to obey. Lucian stepped forward, almost tripping over his forgotten thong again. He kicked it off and took the few steps to the man in the chair. Right through his fear (or maybe because of it?) his conditioning kicked in and he automatically moved as Ms. Fontaine taught him during endless afternoons. He felt his ass roll while he fixed his eyes on the man's. With a strangled groan his father sank back into the pillows, spreading his legs even wider. Seeing the wide eyes and a gleam of sweat on the man's brow, a new and sudden change came over Lucian. 'Power,' Charlie 'd said, hadn't she? Making a man do what she wanted. Lucian waited a minute, staring down on his father. Then he knelt on the hard floor. His pale fingers started opening the expensive leather belt. He watched the pink polish of his nails against the black pants, as they pulled at the buttons. The zipper gleamed in the dark. He found its tab and heard the metallic sound that gave it its name. Taking his time he looked up and gave the Smile while licking his lower lip. "Fucking fairy," the man breathed, but it sounded strangled. White boxers spilled out under the pressure of his liberated belly. Pulling the black pants down Lucian saw something big and round pushing against the white textile. A stain spread where the big head must be. He'd aroused his father quite a bit. The thought was horrible, but sickly satisfying as well. His father never ever had shown any interest in his accomplishments, let alone complimented him on anything; most of the time he'd felt invisible. Not now, he thought, as he laid his hand on the throbbing tube. His father groaned. Lucian looked up and smiled again. Pulling down the elastic band of the boxer, he made the heavy snake fall out. Its cut head was angrily purple and it shone with slime. "Like what you see, faggot?" the low voice rumbled. Some of the old arrogance had returned. Lucian felt two big hands descend on his head, cupping his skull and pulling his face to the bobbing cock. A sudden wave of heat permeated his being. Rage it was, rage and hate and disgust. It felt like a curtain was pulled aside. Whatever chemical or mental inhibitors his body and mind might still contain, they evaporated. This man had caused every bad thing that had been done to him; and all he proved to be now was a hypocritical pervert - a bullying closet homo. In a flash Lucian remembered the endless years of disdain, the degradation and the humiliation. This man had locked him up and made him cry for hours and then punished him for it. He publically ridiculed everything Lucian held dear, and declared each thing he wanted wrong or unimportant - forbidding it and withholding his support. And now this man held his head and moved it to his cock to have it sucked? Lucian watched the monster approach, swollen and ugly. Its slit seemed to breathe like a fish's gill, vomiting clear slime that dripped on his underwear. It looked primordial and primitive, brutal too. But it also looked vulnerable. Yes... fragile and defenseless, Lucian thought. Scenting its pungent, fishy smell, his nostrils flared. The slick head felt hot to his lips. He extended his tongue. The taste was so much stronger than Taylor's or Harper's. He suppressed a gag reflex as nausea rose. Was this how men tasted and smelled? He gave in to the pressure on his head and sank his lips over the glans. He had to stretch his mouth as wide as he could to take it in. It stuffed his mouth and pushed down his tongue. The hands kept pushing. When the cock's head bumped into his throat's entrance, he fought back the pressure. The hands relented and he came up for air, panting and feeling tears run down his cheeks. "Pussy," his father said, sounding surprisingly mild. "Is that all you can do?" He watched the face through his tears and his anger returned. Diving down he engulfed the penis and bit down hard. Someone was screaming, but he ignored the roaring sound and held on, shaking his head like a pitbull. A sickly-sweet taste entered his mouth. Blood, he knew, the blood of his father. Hands tore at his hair to make him let go, but he didn't. He shook and bit, turning his teeth left and right. Then he let go. Falling to the floor he spit out the blood and what else he might have bitten off. He panted, holding himself up on his arms. Then he started gagging and vomiting, covering the already red planks with the remains of the sandwiches. Lucian didn't care what happened around him. Feet ran and voices cried out. Then he felt hands under his armpits lifting him up and leading him away. He stumbled on the impossible heels and when they gave out he let himself be dragged. He gagged once more. Then he felt a sting in his arm and saw everything turning black.