“Place was deserted. Just a skeleton crew behind the counter, no customers besides me and Gary. We sat down at a table up front where we could keep an eye on him. You’d have thought we were sticking pins in a voodoo doll, the way he kept tripping around back there, bumping into things and knocking shit over. We could hear the night manager back in the kitchen yelling at him, asking him what the fuck was going on.

“Then Gary and I started talking real loud, dropping words like ‘cocksucker’ and ‘faggot.’ Stevie boy’s face turned as red as those stripes on the stupid shirt he was wearing. Then I called him over. Called him by name. He looked up, then tried to look away, but I kept staring him straight in the eye. Called him again. The night manager told him to get off his ass and see what we wanted. Stevie boy walked out from behind the counter, shaking like a leaf.

“We had him shuffling back and forth for about ten minutes, fetching us stuff—a little extra salt, some ketchup—‘hey Stevie boy, we need some ice water here’—seeing how far we could push him. He always was a real obedient little cocksucker. Then I called him over one last time.” Larry cocks his eyebrow, smiling at the memory. “You wanna know what I made little Stevie boy do?”

Horrified, excited, Ted doesn’t trust himself to speak. He just nods his head.

Larry leans forward, speaking slowly, relishing every word. “I told Stevie boy to go back to the john—get his ass in the men’s room and wait for us there. Told him to take off that stupid peon outfit, strip off all his clothes and get down on his knees stark naked by the urinal. Throw back his head, close his eyes and prop his mouth wide open. ’Cause Gary and I were gonna be in there in about two minutes to feed him our loads, and I expected to see him naked with his mouth ready to suck and his little peanut sticking up to show us how glad he was to see us.”

Larry leans back, shaking his head. “I didn’t think he’d do it. I really didn’t. Not after all the shit we’d put him through. But then I reached down and gave my dick a squeeze and looked him in the eye, and his face blushed darker than ever and got this crazy, helpless, hungry look on it—just the kind of look you’ve got on your face right now, cocksucker. And he turned around and headed straight for the toilet.”

“You fucked him—right there—”

Larry smiles his crooked smile and slowly shakes his head. “Nope. Gary and I waited two minutes, then walked up to the counter. Called the night manager over. Big black motherfucker. Told him he better have a look in the men’s room, ’cause some kind of weirdo pervert was hanging around in there. Motherfucker walked straight to the john and slammed the door behind him. We waited till we heard him start yelling bloody murder—heard a sound like a slap and Stevie squealing—then went out and hopped in the Jag, peeled out of the parking lot, and took a cruise down the Drag at ninety miles an hour. Laughing all the way.”

Larry chuckles and folds his hands behind his head, stretching his arms and shoulders. “And I imagine that’s the last we’ll ever see of Stevie boy in this town.”

Ted shudders and bites his lip, not trusting himself to speak.

Unable to look Larry in the eye, he looks again at the photos on the table. Staring at the two images of Steve, before and after. What he was, and what Larry made him into.

Ted can feel the power of Larry’s presence, like the rush of a drug ensnaring him, the same power Steve must have felt—the breathtaking beauty of his perfect body and his perfect, chiseled face, like a stake in the heart, like a rebuke to all the mediocre bodies and faces that populate an imperfect world. The arrogant glint in his eyes, crushing everything that comes before them, unsoftened by the least hint of pity or remorse. And his cock. Larry’s big cock. The cock of a rapist, the cock of a punisher. A cock made to take pleasure, not to give it. Hidden from sight, but dominating everything that happens in the room.

Ted is repulsed and excited, disgusted and thrilled. Torn between fear and desire. He wants to throw the photos in Larry’s face and run from the room. He wants to get down on his hands and knees and crawl between Larry’s legs and beg to suck his big dick. Ted is paralyzed, unable to move. Larry decides for him.

“Shit. Telling that story’s got me hot. Got my dick all big and stiff in my pants. I bet you’d like to see it, wouldn’t you, cocksucker?”

Ted moves his mouth, trying to answer, but nothing comes out.

Larry doesn’t wait for an answer. “Stand up. Get out of that chair and get your ass over here.” Larry settles back, edging his chair away from the table, leaning back and crossing his hands behind his neck.

Ted moves in slow motion. The air in the room seems thick as molasses. Finally he stands before Larry, fists clenched at his sides, breathing hard, staring down at Larry’s crotch. “Take off your clothes, cocksucker.”

Ted tries to pull his T-shirt out of his shorts, but his fingers are like putty, stiff and awkward.

“Come on, you shy or something? It’s not like you haven’t seen me naked, plenty of times. Yeah, don’t think I didn’t know. You think last night was the first time I caught you watching me, drooling out your window and playing with yourself? You’ve been doing it for months. So now it’s my turn. Turnabout’s fair play, huh, faggot? Show me what you got.”

Ted blushes as he peels the shirt up to his neck and over his shoulders. His naked chest burns as hot as his face. His nipples tingle and tighten, drawing up stiff and erect.

He swallows hard and undoes the clasp of his loose, baggy shorts, feels them slide down his legs and pool around his ankles.

He glances down at his crotch. His cock is hard as a bone inside his underwear, impossible to hide; a peanut compared to the bulge in Larry’s pants. He takes a shallow breath and bends over, slipping the underwear down his thighs, feeling his cock snap up against his belly, feeling the cool, refrigerated air of the room on his naked ass. For a moment he stays like that, bent double with his ass in the air, staring at the tops of Larry’s boots, feeling somehow hidden and safe. Then he slowly straightens up, exposing himself to Larry’s stare.

For a long moment Larry just sits in the chair and looks at him. Watching Ted’s chest rise and fall, unable to catch a breath. Watching his hard cock bobbing and twitching in time with his heartbeat. Ted glances into his eyes for instant, then looks away. Larry’s eyes give back nothing—no approval, no desire, not even curiosity.

Ted suddenly feels ridiculous, ashamed of his nudity. His body is still a boy’s body, shapeless and soft in the places where Larry bulges with muscle, small and stunted in the parts where Larry is so big and hard. He’s embarrassed to have Larry see his cock, such a tiny, useless thing compared to the truncheon of meat between Larry’s legs. What pleasure could Larry have in looking at his naked body, when Larry is so perfect and Ted is so plain?

Of course Ted knows why Larry is interested in him. Because Ted is a cocksucker and a faggot. Because Ted has a tight ass and a cock-hungry mouth, two holes that Larry can use any way he wants to make his big dick feel good.

Larry gets up from the chair and slowly circles him. Ted can hear the click of his boots against the hard tile floor. He imagines he can feel a touch on his ass and flinches, then realizes it’s only his imagination, raising goose bumps on his flesh. Larry’s voice is warm and moist in his ear.

“Seems to me I told you a while back to start calling me sir. Seems to me you haven’t been doing what I told you to. Seems to me you’ve been a bad little faggot. What do you say, Teddy boy—you been a bad little faggot?”

Ted screws up his face and pouts his lips. “Yes. Yes, sir.”

“That’s right. Cocksuckers who wanna see my big dick call me sir. You still wanna see my dick, Teddyboy? Maybe touch it with your tongue, huh? Maybe hold it in your mouth? Find out if your jaw can open wide enough for me to cram the whole fucking thing down your throat?”