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God's Farm

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Cero and Yushi had quit Lin simultaneously after their side-project together, produced by Kiwamu and owing much in essence to Kamijou, started to gain popularity. Next morning, Sui was called in to Kisaki’s office, which was also his flat since he stopped being the head of a label. Upon entering, he found his long-time music partner Mizari, bespectacled and wearing faded jeans and a red flannel shirt as he often did off-stage, seated on the couch in front of the coffee table. He thought the manner of dressing contrasted Mizari’s sort-of-long, straight and layered red-and-black hair.

“You were called, too?” Sui went and sat down beside the runt.

“Yeah. Must be something bad... like disbandment. I don’t know if I could cope with this—all the free and easy food and sex vanishing. Unless his next band includes me as well. He hasn’t said. Just told me to leave the door unlocked and went somewhere else to wait for you.”

Sui hated the way Mizari treated fans; he’d finger-fuck any that wasn’t too fat and promised some form of payment. He wasn’t even that good a guitarist any more, often coming on stage drunk off his bottom. But he generated a lot of cheki sales, and Sui knew they wouldn’t be playing to so many full houses if it weren’t for him. He was ambivalent about the prospect of disbandment, and wondered dimly if Cero and Yushi were looking for a vocalist.

Kisaki appeared from the hallway next to the black plasma screen. He bared his huge teeth in a grimace that he probably meant to be a smile. “Glad you finally came. Want something to drink?”

“Do you have coca-cola?”

“Of course I have that. Allow me to furnish you with a bottle.” He passed them into his kitchenette, where Sui heard a fridge open.

He thought it strange Mizari had not requested anything to drink, then concluded that he probably had done so before he got here, and Kisaki hadn’t had any beer for him. The age-defying bassist and leader of their now precarious band handed down the soft drink across the coffee table.

“Thanks.” Sui twisted off the cap and took a big gulp of the cold, fizzy, caffeinated beverage. He needed the pick-me-up. He remembered Mizari used to love this stuff, before moving on to harder stimulants—energy drinks, as far as Sui perceived, but certainly illicit things from time to time as well.

Kisaki also held a bag of spicy beef jerky. “Are you sure you don’t want anything to drink, Mizari? Not even with this?”

Some life had come into Mizari’s face. “Well, if it’s that spicy stuff, I’ll need something...”

He handed Mizari the bag, and went off to fetch another coke. Once the bag was opened, Sui reached in and grabbed a few strips, too—it was a family pack. Sui hadn’t yet eaten this morning, and he was pretty sure neither had the slender barrel-shaped body he sat next to. Even Mizari’s arms were getting skinny lately. He received his drink eagerly as he chewed.

“You must be wondering why I called you here today. I’m sure you’ve made guesses that would prove half right—but only half.” Kisaki stood, hands on hips, on the opposite side of the table as he addressed them.

“So we are disbanding?” Sui asked.

“That’s how it will look to the public. But really it’s more a restructuring of Lin. I want you two to eat and drink your fill, then we’re going for a drive. All will be revealed then.” Kisaki took a handful of spicy jerky strips from the bag Mizari held. “This should work for me. You can finish the bag together. In fact, you ought to.”

Sui took another swig of his coke. “Ought to? Are we not eating again for a while?”

“I can’t say for sure. It depends on various factors. But I hold to this tenet: eat as much as you can, when you can.”

He must have been joking, Sui thought. That bastard was all skin and bones. Sui himself, however, was a true exponent of said tenet, and sought to eat as much of the delicious snack as possible. Mizari gave up before long, for his body was small, fuel-efficient, and he likely had an eating disorder anyway.

#

He’d driven them out of the city and into cornstalk-land a while ago. As the fields they passed shortened, then eventually flattened, Sui had a bout of déjà vu, feeling as if he’d dreamt this before. An inexplicable sense of dread began to well up in him, but a pressure in his bladder snapped him out of it. Should have gone before they left.

“Are we almost there?” He was fidgeting slightly in the back seat. Mizari had called shotgun.

“We’re almost there,” Kisaki said. And he drove.

The dread began to return—where was ‘there,’ anyway? He was about to ask when they pulled onto a dirt road abutted by greenery and fencing. A farm. And they slowed to a stop near the front of what looked to be a massive barn.

Mizari opened his mouth: “You have a special recording studio in there, or what?”

“Something like that.”

Then Sui asked, “What about a water closet?” It was a far more pressing matter than however this place related to their music.

“You won’t be disappointed!” Kisaki threw open his door and got out.

It was like a dream, Sui thought; the way your actions seemed to flow without any reason or intent. He got out after Mizari, and both followed their leader to the big barn doors, one of which Kisaki pulled open.

Why was it so dark?

Not a window did Sui see inside, but the smell was so awful that made no sense. He noticed high, small vents, which hardly served their purpose. Then a series of electric lamps came on, hanging along the high central beam, and Sui’s consciousness already succumbed to some injected drug by the time he saw the queer livestock and just what made them so queer—their colourful coiffures and their human faces.

#

When he opened his eyes he looked directly into a lamp, and closed them again. His knees hurt and he lay supine upon a splintery table, naked. Realising this he sat up, his eyes shot open. He saw Mizari asleep on an identical table not far from his feet; both of them had gauze wrapped round their knees, neither wearing anything else.

Kisaki had done something terrible, just as Sui had always thought in the dark corners of his mind he would.

He tried to get off the table, throwing his legs over the side, but he’d somehow seen it coming when they just flopped uselessly beneath his knees. He wasn’t going to be able to stand; something, some important tendon, had been severed. “Kisaki!” he cried.

And Kisaki appeared through a door in the small room—or partitioned section of the barn, judging by the lingering smell. He was fully made up and costumed more provocatively than Sui had ever seen before, as if for some great and secret porn show: thigh-high black pleather boots with high, platform heels; fishnets; a pleated latex skirt that would have shown his cock dangling if that hadn’t been tucked or held up by some sort of underwear; a little red corset (the colour matched his lipstick) above his navel with black laces, and a spiked collar to top it all off. His layered burgundy hair had received some treatment, too, with hairspray and a comb.

“What’s going on? Where am I?” Mizari had regained consciousness.

And Kisaki said, “You are on God’s Farm. At least that’s what I call the lucrative operation I have running here.”

“Operation?!” Sui pushed himself off the side of the table, forgetting what had been done to his legs. He landed right on his hands and knees, where for a moment the curious smell of woodchips overpowered those other smells.

“A business, if you will.” Kisaki approached as he spoke. “Welcome to the black market.” A sole and a heel suddenly weighed on Sui’s naked back.

He gasped, experienced a chill though the place was rather hot. He heard Mizari fall off his table, scratch around and moan about not being able to walk—they were in the same boat, but Sui felt less sympathy for him than ever. “Why? Why would you do this to us?”

“Why not? There’s money, excitement and gratification—all you could ask to justify anything. Things might have been different, if I could have kept the band together, so I guess... in a way, you could blame Cero and Yushi for your lot in life.” Pressure increased on the heel. It twisted slightly.

“Hurts,” Sui spat, then wondered why he was complaining about that. It was the least of his problems. “What do you plan to do with us?”

“You’ll see. First I have to get you fitted.” Removing his shoe from Sui’s back, he left the room and shut the door. Briefly Sui heard wood scraping wood, and guessed the door was barred from the outside.

Mizari sobbed. Sui still had to pee, and possibly more. Did it matter any longer where he went?

The door opened again before he could consider further. Kisaki brought two collars with O-rings and black leather harnesses attached, and he knelt to put one on Sui—him first, he thought, because he was bigger and stronger? He should have struggled, but did not; whatever had been injected, traces still ran through his system, making him ridiculously lethargic. There was something else, too: a curiosity, perverse, almost fatalistic. Without the band, he and Mizari had nothing, and Kisaki understood this; old with talents fading, they were being put to pasture.

No, that was age talking, with perhaps a touch of Stockholm Syndrome. Kisaki was exploiting their bodies now as before, but in a different, less financially risky capacity.

And Sui didn’t know how it made him feel. His reason faltered in a contest with certain baser, unnamed proclivities. And now he wore the collar, and the attendant harness whose straps criss-crossed, biting into his flesh, seeming to spread his buttocks apart and at the same time tug at his erect penis and balls.

Mizari’s feelings about the whole situation were quite articulate as he was fitted: “Get that stuff off me, you sick pervert! I’ll get out of here somehow, and when I do, I’ll have the state shut you down! They’ll lock you up for crimes against humanity and—”

Kisaki smacked his face. “Keep your fantasies in your head, Mizari-chan. You’re never getting out of here. I’m gonna milk you till your body withers with age, then maybe some more if you’re healthy—but I doubt you’ll even make it to old age. Today you quit smoking. Better late than never, eh?” Now he backhanded him, and fixed a leash to his O-ring. Sui soon got a leash, too; Kisaki was much more gentle with him.

Mizari whimpered, and Kisaki led them out of the room by the leashes, led them on their hands and bandaged knees.

The long sides of the barn’s interior were lined with steel-fenced pens, and most of these were occupied by beautiful men on their hands and knees, similarly attired to Sui and Mizari. Some slept, some ate brown, mushy feed out of troughs beneath pipes; some masturbated, some chatted, and many looked familiar. They were all even more resigned than Sui, but he expected to get there in little time.

They seemed happy.

Sui was pulled into an empty pen, then Mizari, still whimpering, into one beside it. The enclosures had little gates, which Kisaki latched and padlocked. “Socialise,” he said. “Watch each other jerk off, fuck each other through the fences. You’ll get your first meals in an hour or two.” He pointed to the troughs beneath pipes at the backs of their cells, his nails very long and very black, probably press-ons. “And if you need to use the water closet, you can do it anywhere. Someone will come to collect the solids soon, take them to be recycled.”

“Recycled?” Sui said.

“Processed and fortified. That way it can be fed back to you.”

Sui was aghast, but only for a moment. He took a deep breath and lowered his head.

“You’ll learn to love it. I heard it tastes like spicy beef jerky, except less chewy.” Kisaki chuckled and walked away, down the woodchip-strewn aisle.

#

He’d been afraid of his piss wetting his bandages, but the woodchips proved fairly absorbent. Sui couldn’t bring himself to shit just yet.

“You’re disgusting,” Mizari said. He sat, knees pulled up to his chest, in the very centre of his pen.

“I’m disgusting? What do you intend to do when you’ve gotta go and there’s no possibility of getting to a toilet?”

“I’ll find a way out.”

“You’re delusional. Even if you got out, somehow, you wouldn’t get far without being able to stand.”

The whimpering started again, and Sui regretted his harsh words. Now he wouldn’t be able to nap. Should he take it back? How would he unspeak the truth?

Some men walked along the centre of the barn, briefly opening pens here and there to take something out and load it onto a wheelbarrow. They wore gloves, and slightly mismatched shiny black outfits with boots similar to Kisaki’s; one held a shovel. Sometimes they’d make an extended pause to, by what Sui could make out, ‘rough up’ an inmate. When they neared his cell he saw they had mysterious satchels on their belts.

And he began to recognise their faces.

Riku, former vocalist of Lin, with bleached yellow hair now long and, in parts, teased, was at the front of the trio. He was the man Sui had replaced. Did he blame me for what became of the band?

The other two were no less recognisable, and both from BFN: Ice, the vocalist and superb male specimen about whose sexuality Sui no longer had any question; and Rame, with a pretty pink wig, whose black PVC getup differed from those of the others in that it had a miniskirt instead of trousers; the middle-aged okama’s legs were wrapped in black fishnets, and he wore ankle boots with the same kind of heels.

Now Riku looked directly at him and pointed. They came.

“It took Kami-sama long enough to deliver you,” Riku said. “I see we have Mizari, too. Beautiful new animals!”

Sui could not really object to being called an animal, when he considered his present situation. Unfortunately, Mizari was unthinking enough to do just that: “We’re not animals—you’re the animals!”

Riku chortled. “What a thing to say.... Can you even imagine how you look? Ice, maybe you should take care of the big-mouthed dwarf. Punishment and collection.” He took something out of his satchel and handed it to Ice—it seemed to be a small plastic bag with on one end a thick, hard plastic band which bore a switch.

Ice took the thing and went into Mizari’s pen, wrestled him onto his back and attached the bag to his little penis. The band was adjustable, lockable. Mizari’s cries were repetitive and easy to ignore as Ice turned him back onto hands and knees and proceeded to finger his arsehole, at one point asking if he needed to pee. Sui watched this, and his cock became hard as Rame, kneeling, put one of the things on him. The band bit harder as he grew more excited.

Riku entered the pen, unzipped the crotch of his shiny black trousers to let out his erection. It was pretty big. “Let’s get to milking.”

Rearing up on his knees and shuffling over to Riku’s organ, Rame grabbed hold of it, guided it into his mouth and gave it a little suck—he was done quickly, and left it coated in copious drool. Then Riku walked around and took Sui’s arse in both hands, squatting, lining up his cock with Sui’s hole, and pushing it in.

The thing was huge and slimy and Sui shuddered as his anus admitted it. Delightful as he’d never expected. It amused Sui, how this kind of thing was making Mizari cry at the same moment. Riku smacked his buttock, and started to fuck.

“What do you want me to do?” Rame asked.

Riku grunted. “Go tend to one of the others. I know we skipped a couple on the way over to these two. Hah...” The slobber was drying; his cock went to and fro in Sui’s rectum with increasing anal resistance. Another smack. “You’re choking me,” he murmured. “Do you want a fissure?”

“I-I’ll try to relax more,” Sui said, watching Rame leave and shut the pen behind him. This whole thing was ridiculous—how could it possibly make Kisaki any money?

“Don’t talk to me, animal.” Riku harshly squeezed Sui’s hips, and thrust so hard through Sui’s resistance it must’ve hurt them both. Despite himself, Sui ejaculated then; he felt spurts of semen escape into the little bag fastened to his cock.

There was no complaint about Sui’s cringing whines which ensued, and made him sound almost as bad as Mizari. Sounds befitting an animal.

Riku pulled out suddenly, painfully, and let his warm semen pool on Sui’s back. “If my spend was higher quality,” he breathed, “Kami-sama would put me in your place here, same as he put you in mine before... but I’m happy with the purpose he has given me.” He smacked Sui’s flesh one more time and reached between his thighs. “And you should be happy with your purpose.”

He unfastened the bag, did something with the band—probably activated a sealing mechanism—and tucked it away. Then he stood up and exited the enclosure and the barn, as Ice must have done earlier; for now Mizari lay alone and silent.

A little while later, the lights shut off. Sui couldn’t see anything, and he really had to take a shit. Beyond caring now, he spread his thighs and let it come. They’d come back to pick it up later.

He tried to sleep, curling up near the trough (which was on the opposite side of the cell to his leavings); and he was having some success when a sound stirred him. The sound of something lurching down the pipe. He got up on hands and knees to watch as processed excrement piled in the trough, but it was too dark for him to see. He only heard it, and smelled it.

And suddenly he was hungry.

#

Sui couldn’t be sure how much of his doze on the floor had progressed to sleep when the barn lit up again. Picking himself up, he saw his trough was almost empty, with smears showing the trail of his tongue along much of the metal interior. He sensed traces on his face, too.

He had eaten it, so much of it... but it wasn’t so appetising now it had cooled off. He put his behaviour down to the allure of a hot meal, regardless of what it was.

Riku returned, alone, gazing at him through the fencing. “What a pig. Sui-Pig-chan. We’re going to get you cleaned up; you’re going out tonight to serve the sponsors.” He unlatched the pen and hooked a new leash onto Sui’s collar.

Sui tried not to observe any of the other inmates as he was tugged along toward the fresh night air. Outside, Riku led him into another, smaller building; a shower with mirrors interlarding the tiles of the walls. There he washed Sui in warm water, scrubbing him with a cloth; washed his black hair (quite long now) with actual shampoo, and shaved him.

“Making a pig like you presentable to our sponsors is a real pain,” Riku said. “At least I don’t have to deal with the dressing. Wait here.” He began to leave the shower, then said over his shoulder, “Don’t run anywhere.”

Did he fucking wink at me?

For what seemed over half an hour Sui did wait. Then Rame entered the shower, dressed as before, holding a bundle of slick-looking garments. “Hello, Sui-chan. I brought some lovely things for you, tailored to your measurements.” He pulled one thing out of the bunch as he spoke: a small, red latex one-piece, like some competition swimwear with frilly parts. “First let’s get you out of your harness—I guess Riku didn’t see it as his job.”

Rame knelt, unbuckling Sui’s collar, and laboured to peel off the wet leather straps of his harness. The whole process made Sui hard; Rame grinned at his cock when he turned him onto his back. He unzipped the strange latex maillot, and started to guide Sui’s legs through it. When it fit snug against his erection, Rame turned him over to all fours again and zipped up the back.

The outfit was sleeveless with a frilly trimming at each shoulder, and it sprouted a kind of pleated skirt below his navel—this wasn’t long enough to really cover anything. To go with the one-piece was a pair of black silken elbow-gloves, and a pair of stockings to match, each with a frill trimming at its end. It oddly relaxed Sui to see his bandages covered by the stockings.

Rame gathered the leash, collar, and harness in his arms. “Follow me; you need to be blow-dried and brushed in another place. Today’s a special day for you, Sui-chan, and it comes earlier than for most.”

He started to follow Rame out of the shower, then asked: “Special day?”

“You’re to be the guest of honour at a banquet for our sponsors—all male, of course. Aren’t you excited?”

Against the outer wall of the shower building was a long table with brushes and combs, a hair-dryer and other things, so they didn’t have far to go. “I don’t know,” Sui said. He hadn’t really thought about the question.

Taking a brush, Rame plugged the blow-dryer into an external wall socket. “You should be. Just one night, giving up your splendid body to the sponsors’ sexual demands, and Kisaki-kami-sama reaps a fortune. You may even get additional privileges for your service, like a different harness...”

“Or some clothes to wear in the barn?”

“If they don’t get in the way of your harness, maybe.” He turned on the blow-dryer, went over Sui’s hair with the hot air and the brush bristles for a few minutes. “That hair should drive some of the foreign guys crazy—they tend to prefer their Japanese boys with a natural jetty black.”

Sui thought of mentioning that the black, too, was dye, but decided against it. Kisaki stepped into his range of vision.

“Very good,” he said, standing over Sui. “But isn’t something missing?” He did not address Sui, whose status must have equalled that of a show dog’s in his eyes.

“Missing?” Rame hummed thoughtfully. “Ah, does he need makeup?”

“That’s it; just a little eyeliner and bright red lipstick will do. I have cameras hidden throughout the manor, for blackmail purposes, but I also like to meditate over the recordings. Cosmetics improve my concentration.”

“Wearing and seeing, I presume.” Rame opened a valise that lay on the table; it contained a large assortment of cosmetics. “I am entirely sympathetic.” Pulling aside Sui’s lank hair, he quickly applied what had been requested to his face.

Kisaki waved his arm, and a big white van rolled near. “Help me load him in the back.”

#

He’d been ball-gagged before his ride in darkness began—so he wouldn’t yell for help, he figured. An unnecessary precaution.

Sui amused himself trying to think of something he missed from before this morning, and being unable to come up with anything other than the ability to walk. Certainly he regretted the loss of mobility, of freedom; but he felt he was in good hands. How long have I been this perverted?

The automobile slowed to a halt.

Cold night air rushed in as the van’s hatch swung open. Riku stood there, said, “Get down. We’re in the driveway, so your pretty threads shouldn’t get too dirty.”

Sui crawled to the edge, seeing as he did a fancy three-storey building with many windows lit up. Looking down, he estimated how much the drop would hurt his less-than-half-useful legs, but Riku grew impatient and helped him down, removing the gag in the process. A stone walkway led from the driveway to the door, crossing a trim, American-style lawn. The drive hadn’t been particularly long; Sui guessed this place must be on some restricted country estate, far from prying eyes as the farm.

Riku rang the doorbell. An overhead lamp lit up his face momentarily, then went dark. Minutes later, a man pulled open the door. He wore formal attire and a purple butterfly masque, his hair longish, brown and unremarkable, as if he worked occasionally at a host club. “This is a big one,” he said, “but quite sexy. I can hardly wait!”

“You have him for three hours,” Riku said, putting his boot to Sui’s butt, compelling him past the man, into the foyer. “Should be enough time for everyone to get a couple turns, no?”

“Oh, undoubtedly; most of us have been preparing ourselves for the night’s final act with the manor’s generous porno stock.”

“Adieu,” Riku said. Then he shut the polished redwood door. A few seconds later, the van was heard to start.

“Come with me,” said the man. “We mustn’t keep the others waiting.”

So Sui crawled after him through a wide portal, past a dining hall where scraps littered the floor, and into a lounge room where sat five other men, similarly attired, watching newhalf porn on a television. Two had their cocks out. The one who led Sui cleared his throat, got everyone’s attention. “The boy-whore is here. He can only grovel for your cocks—please, give him a treat!”

Three of the men who sat in the lounge chairs had white hair; one had, it seemed, no hair; and another, orange hair and moustache—a gaijin. The gaijin, who held his big pink cock in the open, left his seat and stepped over to Sui. “May I have the honour, Takato-sama?”

“Would you prefer the mouth, or the rear?” asked the young Japanese man. “Whichever you try first, I’ll take the other at the same time. We only have three hours, so there’ll be no one-on-one!”

“Don’t do it over there,” said one of the old guys; “we should be able to see close up.”

“That’s right, bring him here,” demanded another.

Gaijin sighed, walked behind Sui and picked him up by the waist. “Augh, help me, Takato-sama! He’s heavier than I thought!”

Takato took Sui’s legs, and they carried him over to the coffee table which was the centrepiece of the room. A couple men hurriedly removed their teacups as Sui was lowered, his gloved hands and stockinged knees finding the well-finished surface. Now everyone had his cock out, and even the old ones were rock-hard, so that their virility might have had the aid of drugs.

“Let’s get this party started,” said gaijin. “I’m sticking it in his pretty mouth first.” And so saying, he spread his legs and brought his fat, throbbing erection down along Sui’s face, aligning the glans with his lips. It was a strange organ to Sui—seemed to lack most of its foreskin—but he parted his lips and stuck out his tongue for it anyway. He treated it as he’d like to have his own treated. The foreigner seemed to like it, the way he interjected English monosyllables with the twitches of his cock.

At Sui’s rear Takato had pulled aside the bottom of the latex one-piece, and begun to lick the puckered lips thereby uncovered. Sometimes the long, narrow tongue would find its way inside Sui, and he shuddered with delight, even as the gaijin grasped a clump of his hair and forced his cock to the back of his throat.

One of the old men stood and let his hot tool fall on Sui’s shoulder. Sui reached for it, began to stroke it though it’d only leave him with one arm to support his torso.

“H-heavenly!”

“Everyone needs to wait his turn!” Takato said. “Obviously more than one can have a go at a time, but isn’t three a little much?”

That old man didn’t think so. And Sui’s hand kept him where he stood as the white man fucked his throat. After a moment, Sui felt the head of a cock pressing his moistened passage. Takato was taking his due; his big, smooth hands clutched Sui’s hips and pulled as his penis pushed, squeezing inside Sui.

Sui’s arm grew tired—the one supporting him—so he pulled the old man by the cock over to his face; and the man must’ve known his intent, for he shortly began prodding his cheek, and Sui let go, put that palm back to the table to relieve some of the weight on his other arm.

“Hey, wait your turn!” the gaijin protested. Takato laughed, and drove his cock to and fro inside Sui’s rectum.

Sui pulled his head back, and started licking both cocks before him, sucking alternately. The gaijin ejaculated on his cheek, sooner than he must have expected—he cursed when it happened, though Sui found he was no longer sure of what curse words meant when they were used under such circumstances.

The shaft of the old man’s cock tasted vaguely of soap when it grazed Sui’s tongue. Unpleasant, in its way, to someone who’d become accustomed to filth; but even so he could not resist the meaty organ. Who knew old men could still get so big?

Takato thrust deep, and convulsed inside Sui a few times, which made him come, too. An old man jumped off his seat and lapped up the semen as it pooled on the table beneath Sui, then sucked his spent cock. Takato’s didn’t get the same attention when it pulled slimily out. Is there really something special about my jizz?

“Delicious cross-dresser semen!” said the old guy when he was done. “Hey, I wanna fuck now.” He took Takato’s place, placing his hands on Sui’s hips and prizing his buttocks apart with his thumbs. Then his cock heaved itself inside. Sui moved his hips to help him, all the while devouring the old-timer at his face. Soon the efforts of his mouth were rewarded, and he swallowed the bitter reward.

Another of the old ones moved in, shoved his cock past Sui’s yielding lips, fucked his face. They debated moving him upstairs, and as soon as both of his present occupants had left their spend inside, they made good the decision to do so. Perhaps as many as four people carried him, though the number thinned out when they got to the narrow stair and he floated up between Takato and the gaijin—they seemed to be the most energetic of the lot.

They carried him to a bedroom, laid him not-so-gently down on a king-sized bed whose mattress was wrapped in clear plastic. He was trying to get up on all fours again when someone grabbed him from behind and turned him onto his back. “Oof,” said the gaijin from under him. “Again, heavier than I thought. But that’s not such a big deal. Now we can fuck him double—two cocks, one hole!” Even as he spoke he guided his cock, hard as ever, into Sui’s anus.

Sui’s heart raced, and he thought it had more to do with anticipating the pain than the abrupt change of position. One of the old guys—he couldn’t really tell them apart, except the bald one—came up to the edge of the bed and grabbed hold of Sui’s legs, held them up by the knees. His cock prodded Sui’s balls and perineum searchingly, loath to wait as the gaijin gained entry. And with just that one cock, there was still resistance and stinging, despite all the lubrication provided by past spends. Sui braced himself.

The old man clutched his legs tightly when at last his cock found the point of entry, and he pushed, stretching Sui’s anus farther than he thought it could be stretched as the member slid in along the gaijin’s. Sui cried, sure that they’d broken his arse and he’d begun to bleed, but that didn’t slow them down. By the time both were in to the hilt, the pain that they radiated was just beginning to fade. Then they moved.

One of the gaijin’s arms held Sui tightly round the waist while the hand of his other steadied Sui’s hip as he and the rough old man above fucked him simultaneously. It felt like his arsehole was being torn apart, but he got a springy erection and kept it through the whole ordeal. A lonely old man climbed onto the bed, spread his knees, turned Sui’s head, and brought his cock up to his mouth, which readily admitted it.

And as more cocks crowded onto the bed, he reached for them with his silken gloved hands, and thus his body gave service to five men at once. When the smelly old cock in his mouth gave up its seed, which he swallowed as well as he could, one moved from his hand to his mouth, and that hand found someone else—Takato, grinning under his hosts’ hairdo and butterfly masque.

The gaijin ejaculated—another load, another curse, for it meant he had to get out from under Sui. The old guy who was in with him wasn’t far behind. They turned Sui onto his hands and knees now, and Takato squirmed under him, his cock quick to find again Sui’s sloppy anus; Sui kissed him, and their tongues played in each other’s mouths as Takato thrust. It wasn’t long before a man came in from above, handling Sui’s buttocks like so much meat and driving his cock between them.

Two in one wasn’t any less painful than last time, but this time it made him climax.

Sui carried on as in a dream, letting himself be bent and twisted this way and that, taking one member after another in all holes at once—three times more taking two in his butt. Eventually a beep permeated the manor; it seemed to indicate time was up. And how everyone voiced his regret!

“Shit,” said the gaijin in English. The others grumbled annoyedly, except Takato who retained a business-like manner as he tucked himself back in his trousers and straightened out his suit. Sui lay on the plastic covering of the bed amid puddles of semen.

He felt like falling asleep there, like pissing the bed and falling asleep in his own piss. But Takato tugged his arm, and he and someone else carried him back down the stair, set him down in the foyer. He heard the van drive up just then. He stood at attention, on his hands and knees.

Takato opened the door for none other than Kisaki, who stood over Sui in little time.

“How was everyone’s night?” Kisaki asked.

The sponsors, all gathered in the foyer, positively gushed. They said things about Sui which made him blush, praising his versatility and eagerness, his looks and size; the softness of his skin, the taste of his semen. It went on as Sui followed Kisaki out the door. A couple of the men came outside, too, probably having places to be now the main attraction was leaving them.

Kisaki helped Sui into the back of the van. “So how was it?” he asked, as if genuinely curious as to how Sui felt.

And he thought of how it had made him feel. “I... I loved it.”

The strangest thing happened then. Kisaki hugged him.

“You’re precious, Sui-chan—even more than Riku. You took my music empire to new heights, while it lasted; and now you’re making me back several times what I’m set to lose with its fall. I’m sorry.” He let go, took a step back. “I can’t help but adore my perfect cash cow. Did Rame tell you about the special privileges for good performance?”

Sui nodded.

“We’ll talk about those when we get back.” He slammed the hatch shut, casting Sui once more into darkness.

He’d forgot to gag him. It still wasn’t necessary.