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Thursday, December 3, 2009

Changeling

(My Hallmark Hall of Fame Christmas Story ... Enjoy!!)


Tom Kane pulled off the respirator mask and looked at the finished wooden pieces. The rich smell of cedar and spruce filled the air. This train set is going to be beautiful, he thought. He had carved the cedar wood himself and used vivid, primary colors for the carriages and cars; the red caboose had been the first piece he finished; it stood on the shelf, shiny and bright - soon the other pieces would be assembled and join it.

"Looks great, Tom. Some little boy is gonna love it ... God, the smell of that varnish reminds me of Christmas morning ..." Eldon Gunnarson stood filling the doorway, his prison guard uniform stretched tightly over a herculean frame. The young, white-blonde corrections officer smiled at the older convict.

"Jeff loves the horse you made for him. He won't go anywhere without it. By the way, if you feel up to it, Sarah and the kids would love to have you over again for dinner. Sounds good?"

Kane returned the smile.

"Thanks Eldon. I'd love to see the kids again. Is everything okay? You're not usually here until noon and it's only 11am."


"Yeah. Two Chippies rode up from Santa Monica to see you. Get cleaned up a bit and we'll head over to them."

* * *

Things had changed considerably (at least for him) with the new administration at Pleasant Valley State Prison. Tom had been absolutely floored when he was escorted to see Warden Douglas Banks soon after the man took over. He was darkly handsome and far younger than the former burglar had expected.

"Kane, I've looked over your record of convictions. All burglary - some of them pretty audacious - but never anything violent. You never used a weapon. Then all of a sudden, you're conveniently convicted of murder. I think you were framed."

Tom's jaw dropped open. Banks smiled.

"I can't do anything about your sentence, but at least I can make your stay here as pleasant - pardon the pun - as possible. I'm moving you to the minimum security area and I'm granting you full access to the facilities. Anything you'd like to work with, let me know and I'll take care of it. I'm also going to allow you some limited time - supervised, of course - outside the facility."

* * *

"Damn, I can't believe how nervous I am..." TJ Kane paced the well-appointed meeting room, his CHP uniform sinfully hugging every muscle of his powerful physique. Caesar-cut raven hair gleamed in the early afternoon light streaming through the windows and offered a counterpoint to the shining black leather of his boots and duty belt. TJ's well-developed arms strained the short sleeves of his uniform shirt and the muscles bunched and flexed beneath the tanned skin like sharks beneath the water. A gold Rolex gleamed on his wrist and shot rainbow scintillations around the room; that chronograph was the sole remnant to his former life of organized crime.

"... I haven't seen my dad in about twenty years. Emilio's brainwashing did a good job."

"Well, at least you can make up for lost time, Teej. There's still time to be with him." Phil Zeeman was seated at the conference room table. His short ebon hair framed a strong, handsome face and his cognac-brown eyes were twinkling beneath straight dark brows. His uniform was tight over slabbed pecs and muscular legs; the crotch of his breeches barely contained his massive package. He stretched out his boots, giving his partner and lover a big grin. "And I get to meet the father of the guy I'm going to spend the rest of my life with!"

A knock on the door, and Gunnarson escorted an older man into the room. Because of the placement of the doorway, TJ was temporarily out of view from the prisoner. Phil could see the family resemblance immediately - the same slate blue eyes, the shape of the face, the same thick eyelashes. The older Kane was rangy with a slight hunch to his shoulders - it was the type of stoop Phil had seen in those who had been in prison for a long time.

"Just ring me on the phone when you're done, fellas. Extension 1775. The warden's sending up lunch for the three of you." Gunnarson patted the convict on the shoulder and left.

Phil stood and walked over the the older man. He put out his hand and a 100-watt grin creased his face. "Mr. Kane, it's a real pleasure to meet you! I'm Phil Zeeman." He embraced him in a strong hug. Tom was shocked at the display of affection, but tentatively brought his arms up and around the officer. His shoulders were so broad, he could not reach around them. Kane's pulse quickened as he was surrounded by hard, smooth muscular flesh and the faint scent of vanilla. The fabric beneath his fingers was soft as silk and he noticed that the CHP patches had been embroidered onto the fabric as opposed to being sewn on.

"Dad?" Tommy looked over to see TJ, in the same uniform, biting his lip and looking nervous. His son was as ruggedly built - though not as broad - as the other officer and the shock at seeing him was apparent to all in the room.

"TJ! What are you doing in that uniform? Christ! Don't you know what'll happen to you if you get caught impersonating a cop? What the hell is wrong with Emilio? Is he crazy?"

"Oh, he's not impersonating a policeman, Mr. Kane .... he is one ... and a damn fine officer at that!" Phil had released the other man from his embrace, but continued to smile. "We really are California Highway Patrolmen, but our Division has a very close relationship with Lucio Giambi."

"You're a cop? What about Emilio? Or Dominic Franqui? What are they saying about this?" Tom seemed stunned at the revelations being thrown at him. Confused, he looked back and forth at the two officers.

"Don Franqui retired and turned his operations over to Lucio. Emilio's .... dead, dad. I ... I had to kill him."

Kane felt lightheaded and swayed a bit on his feet. With that statement, TJ rushed over to his father and embraced him.

"Dad, dad ... there's so many things I've found out about Emilio, and you ... and me ... and how he set you up ..."

Tom felt the wetness of warm tears on his neck. The moisture trickled down his neck and past the collar of his blue workshirt. Holding his son again in his arms brought back a rush of memories and he too began to tear up.



Kane reached out with a shaky hand and sat down. "You'd better start at the beginning TJ ... this is just too much for me to take in all at once."


* * *

"Tom, that is one of the most inhumane things I've ever heard. I'm ashamed of you." Randolph Franklin looked at his lover and there was no denying the anger in his glance. The two men were snuggled against each other on the couch. The thieves had celebrated a successful caper - Tom's this time - in their usual manner: a good dinner and an even better romp between the sheets.

"Well, how do you propose I have a kid otherwise, Randy? The stork sure ain't bringing one down the chimney." Piqued, Tom Kane glanced back at his lover. He picked up the cigarette pack and tapped one out. The burglar lit it and blew smoke up towards the ceiling.

Randolph Franklin was a highly accomplished jewel thief. And filthy rich. The two had met while robbing different stores in the same building and making their escape at the same time. While Kane worked for Emilio Leone, Franklin worked for himself. For him, the thrill was of planning a caper and pulling it off. The fun part came when he fenced the goods - usually back to the owner. Or the insurance company. The one thing the two men shared was an aversion to violence - they made sure that no one was ever hurt during a heist.

"All I'm saying is that doing that to a woman is beneath you." He stroked Kane's forehead. "You could always adopt, Tom ...."

Kane pulled away from him. "It's not the same, Randy, and you know it. For all the blabber you always hear, he wouldn't be MY flesh and blood."

He pulled his lover closer and gave him a playful kiss on the tip of his nose. "Look, Myrna Braithewaite's been giving me the eye for a long time ... we get married, I knock her up, we have a baby and then I get a divorce. Easy."

Franklin cocked an eyebrow. "And what about custody? The mother usually gets the baby, you know..."

"Myrna ain't too strong in the head, you know what I mean? She's a looker - if you like dames - the lights are on, but no one's home ... And besides, I could always ask one of Emilio's boys to talk to her about leaving town."

Randolph frowned. This was a side to his lover he hadn't seen before. And he didn't like it. Not one bit.

* * *
Despite his protests, Kane went through with his plans to father a child. Myrna was radiant in a gown that she had borrowed from one of the widows in the boarding house. Being a counter-girl in Gimbels wasn't the most well-paying of jobs - but she made do and was a beautiful bride. Tom was grinning ear-to-ear at the ceremony and at the little reception being held in his apartment. He's probably figuring how long he's got to sleep with Myrna until she gets a bun in the oven ... Randy thought sourly to himself. He grabbed a drink and knocked it back in one gulp. If he didn't love Tom as much as he did, he'd leave the burglar for good.

"Oh Randy, I'm the happiest girl in the world!" Myrna Kane threw her arms around the jewel thief.

Poor kid. "Myrna, you deserve every happiness ... if I can ever do anything for you, don't hesitate to call me." He gave her a soft kiss on the cheek. "I've got to go ... take care. Remember what I said."

* * *

(Fourteen months pass)

It didn't take long for Myrna to get pregnant, and nearly nine months to the day of their wedding, Thomas Kane Junior was born. TJ (as he was soon always called) was a beautiful baby, as handsome as his mother was lovely; he had the same slate blue eyes as his father and a thick mop of fine black hair. TJ was a very curious, yet quiet baby; Tom loved nothing more than spending hours holding his son in his arms. Kane's son could spend hours playing with his father's pocket watch and would laugh delightedly when he got the timepiece to chime.

Even before the baby was born, Kane's interest in his wife waned; while she was glad he did much of the household chores, as well as tending to TJ at night, she missed the intimacy the two had shared. The marriage soon began to deteriorate and Myrna developed suspicions that her husband's inattentions were due to his having an affair. After all, she thought, his incredible good looks plus his confident attitude would be a magnet for any woman.

Events came to a head one evening when TJ's mother returned from work early to their apartment. She took off her hat and was about to call out when she heard something that made her stop dead in her tracks.

"God, how I've missed fucking you ..." Tom's voice drifted in from the bedroom. TJ was in his crib in the living room. He had pulled himself up and gave his mother a happy toothless grin.

"Having to screw a dame was a chore, you know that?"

"You're in my blood, Tom ..." Randy's voice was thick with after-sex languor. "I still can't forgive you for using Myrna the way you did to get a child, but I just can't get enough of you. Or your cock. And speaking of your lovely wife, when is she expected home?"

Myrna was in shock.

"About an hour... why?"

Randy's voice took on a darkly erotic edge. "That gives me enough time to pound you senseless, take a hot shower and get dressed for the opera ... I hear that Mrs. Astor is on vacation here and has some rather beautiful new jewelry for me to steal ..."

Tears burned down Myrna's cheeks. Her suspicions that Tom was being unfaithful were true, but she had never expected his infidelity to be with his best friend. Not with another man. She quietly opened the door and left the apartment to plot her revenge.

* * *

Tom entered the boarding house and brushed the snow from the shoulders of his coat. He then took off his hat and shook it out. The day had been bitterly cold and the evening's chill was even more biting. As he headed towards the stairs, Mrs. Reynolds - the elderly landlady - opened her door.

"Mr. Kane?"

"Hiya, Mrs. R. - what's up?" Kane gave the widow a wink and a grin.

She wrung her hands. "Mr. Kane, I didn't know who to call ... Myrna left with a suitcase this afternoon, but she didn't have TJ with her ... I thought I heard a baby crying earlier. Is everything all-"

Before she could finish, Tom was bounding up the stairs. He flung open his door and stood in mute shock.

Every window was wide open and a sub-zero wind whistled through the tiny apartment. TJ was seated in his high chair with only a thin cotton shirt protecting him from the freezing temperatures; he was nearly blue with cold. As the door crashed open, he raised his little head and looked at his father and whimpered. Then his head lolled forward and he passed out.

"TJ!" Tom screamed. He rushed to his son and held him in his arms. He was cold. So cold. He grabbed an afghan from the sofa and wrapped it around the little body. Kane nearly bowled down the elderly woman as he ran out with the bundle in his arms.

* * *

"I'm not pulling any punches here, Mr. Kane - your son is in very serious condition."

The young doctor sat next to the burglar in the emergency room of the hospital. Tom was sick with anguish and worry.

"Severe hypothermia and it looks like the beginnings of pneumonia. He's also got some frostbite. What in God's name happened to him?"

"His damn mother ran away and left him in the apartment alone with all the windows open. I'll kill that bitch when I find her!"

"Well, if she was trying to kill him, she nearly succeeded. It was lucky you came home when you did or ..."

"Or what, doc?"

"Let's not go there, Mr. Kane. We have to think about your son now. He's going to require intensive care and some of the medications we'll need aren't cheap."

Tears welled in Kane's eyes and trickled down his cheeks. "I got cash, Doc. Whatever you need, you'll get. Just get him well again."

* * *

"Where the fuck is Kane? And more than that, where the fuck is the money he's been holding, Frank?" Emilio Leone fumed.

Frank Valentine rubbed his chin. "I'm not sure, boss. He hasn't been home. The apartment's neat as a pin, though. The money ain't there. We looked. The landlady hasn't seen him. I think something's up with the dame he married. She wasn't the neatest housekeeper in the world. We're keeping an eye on the place."

Leone grunted. Valentine was Emilio's brother-in-law and his chief lieutenant. The crime boss admired the way the other man handled the day-to-day operations of his criminal empire - whereas Leone would scream and rant, his brother-in-law handled things quietly, efficiently and with aplomb. When he mentioned this during one of his many tirades, Valentine gave his shoulders a near-Gallic shrug. "Different strokes for different folks, boss. You beat the shit out of someone; I just need to wrap my hand lightly around their throat. Stuff gets done one way or the other."

"I want my money, Frank. Get it and get Kane."

"Sure thing, Emilio. I'm on it." His lieutenant slipped on the camel hair overcoat, pulled the fedora onto his head and headed out of the crime boss' mansion.

* * *


"Oh ... the nurses told me they are gonna miss you so much, TJ ... you were such a good little patient they just wanted to eat you up! After your medicine, we'll eat and then I'm gonna give you a nice warm bath, and wrap you up ... just like a little cuddleb..."

"Hello Tom - it's been a while ... and Jesus Christ, you look like SHIT."

Tom Kane had opened the door to his apartment with TJ in his arms. He froze when he saw Frank Valentine sitting on his couch; long legs elegantly crossed and dapper in a dark blue pinstripe suit. Leone's right hand - "The Angel of Death" as he was called - was devastatingly handsome with thick brown hair pomaded back from a strong face and a small moustache over full lips. Along with him, was his driver, Sammy. The young thug was built like a bull and just about as bright.

Valentine stood up. "Emilio's pretty angry at you, bub. Where's the money from the Donovan heist? And where the hell have you been?" Valentine had barely recognized the burglar. He was haggard and looked like he had aged a decade over only a few months.

"TJ's been real sick, Frank. He's been in the hospital for six weeks. I've been sleeping there with him when I ain't been working."

"Working?"

"Yeah, I got a job in a coffee shop around the corner from St. Mary's. I wait tables, wash dishes, fix things ... I wanted to be close by in case the baby needed me."

"What about Myrna? Where's she been during all of this?"

Kane's face hardened. "The dame left me and TJ. I don't know where she went. Probably back to her sister in Chicago."

Valentine's face had originally been flinty, but had softened as Kane's tale of woe unspun. "You got the money here, Tom? Emilio needs to start laundering it."

A look of fear flitted across the other man's face. "Yeah, I do. But ..."

Frank cut him off. "Go get it. Let me hold the baby." He held out his arms. Tom hesitated but Sammy stepped up behind him. The sense of menace was heavy in the air. Kane handed the infant over to the other man and hurried into the bedroom.

He smiled at TJ. "Hey, sport ... you got your daddy's eyes, you know that?" He kissed the little boy and held him close. The baby nestled into his shoulder and gurgled happily. He jiggled him as he walked around.

Valentine called into the other room. "You've got a beautiful boy, Tom ... I hate to say it, but he's a helluva lot cuter than my nephews. And better behaved. They cry a blue streak all the time."

"Thanks, Frank." came the muffled reply. Kane emerged carrying a damp oilcloth satchel. Valentine nodded to his driver to take the bag.

"Sammy, take this down to the car and warm the Packard up. Tom's coming back with us to see Don Leone." The driver reached for his coat.

"Leave it." The thug gave him a hurt look.

"But boss, it's cold outside..."

"Yeah, and you're going right into the car. You ain't gonna catch a cold ... Scram!" The other man left.

Frank continued to hold little TJ and gave him another kiss. "You said 'But' before, Tom. What happened with Myrna? Not a lot of reasons why a dame walks out like that and leaves her kid behind. Caught you in flagrante delicto with your boyfriend?"

Tom turned white as a sheet. Frank chuckled. "It takes one to know one, bud. I have to be super-discreet around Emilio. He'd put a bullet in the back of my head otherwise without a second thought. She tried to take it out on the baby?"

Kane nodded mutely. He was shocked at Frank's revelation. Almost as shocked finding the horrible note Myrna had left for him when he returned to the apartment after he brought TJ to St. Mary's:


Tom,

I came home early one night to hear you and Randy rutting in bed together. You're nothing but a filthy, perverted man - you disgust me! Now I know why you married me - you never loved me, you only wanted a baby. You took away my happiness and ruined my life - now I'm going to return the favor. I'm going to take away the only thing you ever wanted. With any luck, he'll be dead from exposure by the time you get home.

I hope you and your lover rot in Hell.

M.
Tom had burned the letter and scrubbed the apartment until his hands were raw and bloody to remove any trace of his former wife.

"Bitch. I'll see to her for that. Anything else you wanna let me know? Better me and now than Emilio and later ..."


The burglar paused. "Not all the money's in the bag, Frank. I ... I ... had to pay the doctors and buy medicine for TJ."

Kane sank to his knees and began to weep. "He nearly died, Frank. She nearly killed my baby boy! I've got some dough saved up and the money from the restaurant job... I kept track of every penny I spent ..."

A look of annoyance crossed the mobster's face. "Oh, get up Tommy - I'm not here to whack you. How much did you use?"

"Nine hundred dollars."

Valentine sighed. "I'll talk to Emilio about it. It ain't like you spent it gambling or on painted ladies. Put on Sammy's coat and let's go down to the car, okay?"

* * *
Marguerite Leone checked the osso buco one more time. Almost done. She brushed a stray lock of honey-blonde hair from her face. Emilo Leone's sister-in-law had been married to his younger brother Johnnie. There had been a falling out between the two Leones when the younger had enlisted during the war - only to be killed in a foolish car accident when he returned home from combat, leaving Marguerite a heart-broken widow. Emilio had taken her in and she kept herself busy keeping house for the crime lord. Her beautiful face was marred by sadness and she looked far older than her thirty years.

The kitchen door flew open to admit Frank Valentine, another man and an arctic gust of air. The stranger was haggard and thin; Sammy's Chesterfield hung on his spare frame. What was decidedly strange was he held a baby dressed in a blue snowsuit and a small knit cap. The man looked terrified. Valentine put down the heavy oilcloth bag he was carrying and shut the door.

Frank kissed his sister. "Hey Margie, whatever you're cooking smells great!"

He turned to the other man. "Tom, this is my sister Margie. Let me go and talk to Emilio and then we'll settle things up."

Valentine's sister could see that the other man was shaking, and not all of it from the cold. He was frightened to death.

"Margie, this is Tom Kane and little TJ. Can you get them warmed up and find something for them to eat?"

"Certainly Frank." She was transfixed by the serious slate-blue eyes of the baby held in the other man's arms.

"I'll be back in a bit." Valentine picked up the bag and headed further into the house.

* * *

Leone was examining the ledgers of the bookmaking operations on the west side when a knock on the study door interrupted him. He lost track of the numbers he was tablulating and began to curse.

"This had better be good! Come in!"

Frank opened the door. "All done, Emilio."

"You got Kane and the money?"

Valentine nodded. He didn't look happy.

"What?"

"Kane spent some of the dough..."

Emilio's face began to darken with anger. His lieutenant put up a hand.

"... on his baby. Seems the missus went around the bend and tried to kill his son. He's been sleeping at St. Mary's and working in a diner to make up the money he spent on doctors and medicines."

Anger was replaced by shock on the mobster's face. "WHAT??"

"Yeah, that was my reaction too. He and the baby are in the kitchen with Margie right now."

"The baby's here?"

Valentine sat down on the sofa and gave his brother-in-law a disgusted look. "Emilio, Tom's half-dead and little TJ just got out of the hospital. What did you expect me to do? Leave the kid in a cold apartment by his lonesome while you have the shit beaten out of his father for trying to save his life?"

Leone had the good sense to look ashamed. "How much did he use up?"

"Nine hundred bucks. He's made up a hundred fifteen already." He put the bag on the crime lord's desk and pulled out a small notebook from his pocket. "See for yourself. He's kept track of every penny he spent and every dime he's made up. Not a red cent spent on anything but doctors and medicines. I checked."

Emilio looked uncertain and Frank took advantage of that. He pulled out a cigarette and lit it. "I think we've got some special circumstances here, boss. One, he didn't run off with the dough. Two, he spent it on saving his kid's life. Three, he's trying to make up what he took. And finally, I'll make good on the money for him. Tom's a good egg - you don't find honest burglars like him any more."

The crime boss waved his hand. "Nah, forget about the money. I ain't gonna do anything to him. Dumb bastard suffered enough. I know what it feels like to lose someone..." Leone thought about his younger brother. "Let's see him."

* * *

As the crime boss and his lieutenant approached the kitchen, the two heard something that had been absent in the mansion for a very long time - the sound of a woman's laughter. The men entered the kitchen to find Marguerite holding a beautiful, dark-haired baby. The widow was radiant - Emilio could not believe how lovely she looked. Nor how young.

"Emilio, isn't he gorgeous? Look at his eyes! Have you ever seen such beautiful blue eyes?" She turned the baby in her lap. "TJ, that's Emilio. Can you say 'Emilio'?"

The baby looked up at the crime boss. He raised his eyebrows at the man in front of him and looked back at Marguerite. He turned his head back to Leone and said, 'Meemo!', giving him a grin.

In that moment, everything changed. A black thought crawled into Leone's mind and began to take root.

"Can I hold him?" Emilio asked. Shocked, Kane nodded.

Leone took the baby from his sister-in-law. Frank gave Tom a wink and thumbs up. He held TJ close to him and the baby reached out to run a tiny hand across his stubbled cheek.

"Meemo!" The baby pulled on the crime lord's ear.

"Damn, he's strong! You got a beautiful boy, Kane." Leone kissed the baby who snuggled closer into his embrace; he was confident that the course of action he was going to undertake was the right one for all involved - or ... at least for himself and Marguerite.

"Frank told me about what happened ... I'm still angry about the money, Tommy. Why the hell didn't you ask me for it? What kind of monster do you think I am?"

Kane looked stricken. "I was afraid you'd say 'no', boss. I ... I couldn't risk it. Not if it meant TJ's life."

"Well, you're gonna make the money up. And you ain't washing dishes for it, either. You're gonna be doing a lot more jobs for me."

Leone kissed TJ again as he bounced him in his arms. "That drafty rathole of yours is no good for a baby. You two are moving in here - Margie can take care of him when you're working, can't you, Margie? We got room."

Marguerite was radiant. "Oh, Emilio! I'd love to! Tom - is that all right with you? Please, please say yes!"

The burglar was at a loss for words. He looked at Frank. "He ain't gonna kill me?"

Frank looked as confused as Kane. "Obviously not." Although he didn't show it, Frank was extremely troubled by this turn of events. Emilio was never one for being magnanimous.

Kane's pocket watch chimed. " 'cuse me, boss, but it's time for TJ's medicine..." He held out his arms for his son and fished a bottle of medicine from the coat pocket. He squeezed the dropper and it filled with a dark orange liquid.

TJ took one look at the bottle and looked ready to cry. Kane held him in his arms and rocked him gently.

"You need to be brave for me... you don't want to be sick all over again, do you? C'mon, sport ... take your medicine ... take it for daddy, TJ..."

The baby opened his mouth and swallowed the bitter liquid. He made a face. Tom held him close.

"That's my boy ... that's my best boy..." Kane continued to rock him until he dozed off. "Is there somewhere I can put him down for a bit?" he asked quietly.

"Follow me, Tom - we'll put him in the front guest room..."

Marguerite and the burglar left the kitchen. Emilio looked inordinately pleased with himself. Frank knew the crime lord was up to something but kept his own counsel.

"Frank?"

The other man turned to Leone.

"Find that bitch and have her whacked. And use local talent. I don't want her ever coming back to hurt that baby again."

* * *

Both TJ and Kane benefited from the move; the baby more so than his father. Leone had Kane working on jobs on an almost-continuous basis. TJ was left more and more in the company of Marguerite and Emilio. There were now times that the baby was confused as to whom was truly his father - the man who spent all his time with him, or the other who showed up infrequently but showered him with affection.

Valentine observed the changes in the baby's behavior but said nothing - after years of seeing his sister's torment, he could not bring himself to remind her that the child she doted on was not her own. Marguerite had bloomed again into a beautiful and vivacious woman. Her brother could not bear to see her sink down into the dismal half-life she had endured after the death of Johnnie Leone.

* * *


"Tommy, this job is very, very important. We get this information on Burke, and we're as good as gold - no one will be able to touch us!"

Frank, Tom and Emilio were plotting his next assignment. The police commissioner had been involved in some not-so-legal agreements with Paul Giambi, a former friend and now serious competition to Leone's operations.

"The documents are in a wall safe in the master bedroom on the second floor. Grab the papers and bring 'em back. We'll turn all Giambi's hard work against him!"

The burglar nodded. "OK, boss. Let me work out the details and I should be able to get the job done within two weeks."

"Hey ... it's Margie's birthday next week. You got her a present, didn't you?"

Kane looked surprised. "I completely forgot! Damn!"

"Why don't you and Frank go and pick out something nice for her? Better do it now ... you're gonna be busy!"

"Gotcha boss - thanks for the reminder." Valentine and Kane left the room.

Emilio picked up the phone on his desk and dialed a number. The phone rang several times and then a hoarse, raspy voice answered.

"Ferguson."

"Ahh, Captain! Glad I caught you before you left the station house!"

"What the fuck do you want, Leone? Why the hell are you calling me here?" The whispered voice on the other end was tight was worry.

"I'm arranging to have the Commissioner's home broken into and I thought you'd like to know. If we arrange it properly, I'll get rid of my problem, and you'll get rid of yours."

Silence. Emilio chuckled.

"I know you've been itching to become Commissioner yourself, but Burke's got an awful habit of dodging bullets, doesn't he? Particularly when it ain't one of my boys doing the aiming ... I'm sure that dame of yours would love to mix with the society muckety-mucks, too? Hmmm? Pretty good for a former chorus girl, right?"

"When?"

"I don't know yet. I'll call you."

He hung up.

* * *

"Thomas Kane, it is the finding of this court that you are guilty of charges of burglary and the shooting death of Michael Burke during commission of that act. Since these two heinous crimes were done in tandem, the felony murder rule is in effect. You are sentenced to life imprisonment at hard labor."

The gavel cracked down on the bench.

Kane screamed as the guards hauled him away.

"I never killed nobody! I don't even own a gun! I found the dead guy after I rifled the safe! Damn you! Damn all of you! TJ! What's gonna happen to my baby?"

Frank Valentine stepped up. "We'll fight this thing, Tom. Don't worry about TJ. Emilio's lawyers will get you out. I swear it." Tom gave the lieutenant an anguished look as he was hustled out of the courtroom.

* * *

"Who we gonna use for the appeal, Emilio? Huckstein? Repnikov?" Valentine paced the study of the crime lord. "Something's fishy about all of this ... Tommy never packs heat. He'd rather skedaddle out than hurt somebody, let alone whack them."

"We ain't calling no one." Emilio smiled at his underling.

"Huh?"

Leone continued. "We ain't calling any other lawyer. That prick Burke is finally out of the way and Commissioner Ferguson is in our pocket. You'd be proud of me, Frank -- all it took was one little phone call."

Valentine stared at him. "What the hell did you do, Emilio?" His voice was deathly quiet.

The crime boss laughed. "Everyone's happy - well, except Kane. And he don't matter no more. Margie has a new lease on life, I fucked up Giambi's plans, and ... I've got a boy to raise as my own."

"You goddamn son of a bitch!" Valentine glared at him. "You set Tommy up!"

Emilio's face hardened. "You bet I did. He was nothing but a loser. Never would be anything else. And I got plans for TJ - you wanna see Margie the way she was again after Johnnie died? You wanna see TJ in an orphanage?"

The lieutenant turned away.

"I didn't think so. And you keep that piehole of yours shut. Unless you wanna end up like Mrs. Kane. Capisce?"

* * *
Tom Kane was shaking as his son finished the story.

"Emilio did all of that ... just to keep you for himself?"

TJ nodded. "Frank disappeared for several years and then turned up working for Paul Giambi. Emilio never forgave him; neither did I. Not until Lucio showed me the letters that he had written to me. Valentine made Paul - and Lucio - swear to him that I'd get those letters when I was old enough to understand what went on. Some of the other information I got from Randy Franklin."

"Randy! How is he?"

TJ was somber. "He passed away a year ago in Monte Carlo. He loved you till his dying breath."

Kane's eyes began to fill with unshed tears. "He was right. I did a terrible thing to Myrna. But..."

He reached out to hold his son in his arms.

"... I'dve never had you if I didn't..." The former burglar wiped the tears from his eyes.

Phil cleared his throat. "And that sort of brings us to why we're here, Mr. Kane..." He walked over to the other officer and wrapped a muscular arm around him. TJ turned his head and the two SMD officers exchanged a deep kiss.

Tom looked surprised and pleased. "Call me Tom ... I take then you two are an item??" he grinned. Like father like son. And damn good taste in men to boot! he thought.

"We've been together for three years now. Lucio is flying us and some close friends of ours up to Vancouver to get married. We're making it official."

"And I wanted you to be there with me, Dad. Warden Banks doesn't have any problem with you, umm, 'assisting' a group of CHP officers on an investigation."

Phil grinned. "And I guess you can figure out now who got Warden Banks his job here, sir?"

"Lucio?"

Zeeman nodded.

"Well boys, you've got to fill me in on the rest of your adventures on the flight! "

* * *
This storyline has been kicking around in my head for a very, very long time. However, it was one of those things - like Piaget's stages of cognitive development - that was not going to happen until it was good and ready. I could never start the story, let alone finish it.

As I was developing the character of TJ, I instinctively knew that there had to be a lot going on in his life before faking the argument with Don Leone and eventually killing the power-crazed don. At the same time, I also knew that Emilio Leone was an unmitigated bastard and always had been. Framing a man for murder to steal his child was something I could imagine this blackguard doing without a second thought.

The scene with TJ and the windows is based on an actual incident. The true story involved two women (a mother-in-law and her daughter) taking a baby out in a carriage in the dead of winter with only a thin cotton onesie. The carriage-pusher happened to be my great-grandmother. The baby was my mom. No infidelities involved - Rosalba was just one nasty piece of work.


The story began to coalesce as I was writing the plot outline for my baseball AE story. I put that shoot on hold to finish this work. I really felt that it was something that had to be done NOW.

The Tom Kane character is using the Greyland 'Zutro' mask. I knew when I got him that he was going to be a burglar, but not in what context. Then, I knew he would be TJ's father, but couldn't develop the backstory. Writer's block, I guess. This mask fits quite well, but since it's got a built-in squint, it takes a moment or two to settle onto your face and have your eyelashes adjust to the openings.

For TJ, I ordered a different name tag from Quartermaster and used the same CHP outfit as for Joshua Bateman. No duty belt this time, though - no sense in tempting fate, right? After all, if TJ and Phil were going into a prison, they would have to surrender their arms. Once again, I used the Greyland 'Artist' mask for the burglar turned cop and Dehner boots to complete the outfit.

Sunday, November 15, 2009

Research and Development

I have all the pieces together for the baseball story, and now that things have quieted down a bit, I can start writing. And taking photos. My good buddy Paul put a bug in my ear, as well as Will from the greylands yahoo group - "Did you ever think of having TWO of you in the shot?"

Well, yes I did, but I couldn't figure out the process. Thanks to some sleuthing on the internet, I've customized a procedure that I think is going to work very well for the story. Here's a sample pic I did today:

It's not perfect, but it's pretty damn close. And good enough for the upcoming story!




Sunday, October 11, 2009

Prototype

"You know, for a supercomputer, you're a very impatient man..." Bryce McCollough grinned as he continued with the final adjustments on the cyborg.

The young, blonde-haired, blue-eyed avatar that was ODIN smiled back. "I can't help it. I'm excited about finally being mobile and getting out with the rest of the men. I won't just be a voice in their heads any more. I'll be a part of the team."

The Army captain straightened up from the workbench and stretched. Due to a facility glitch, the air conditioning in his lab had gone out and the temperature had risen to sweltering. The young scientist was working in just a pair of boots and black camo pants; his body gleamed with a fine sheen of sweat.

"Well, he's ready as he's ever going to be. You have your persona all compressed and ready to download?"


He ran a hand through his sun-streaked hair and squeezed the bridge of his nose. Green eyes blinked tiredly and looked at the Nordic avatar.

ODIN paused. "All done. Just finished doing the incremental backup."

McCollough opened a port at the side of the neck and plugged in an optical cable.

"Go for it!"

* * *

Captain Bryce McCollough had graduated with the highest honors from MIT and surprised his fellow students as well as potential employers by applying to West Point. His incredible work in cybernetics had not gone unnoticed by ODIN, and with some slight manipulations (and given tacit approval by Colonel Morgan) the supercomputer was able to arrange for a posting in Saudi Arabia. From there, it was child's play to wormhole the young captain to the hidden desert facility. After a brief introduction to the resources available to him, McCollough agreed to become a part of the Castle's personnel. He acclimated quickly to the nanovirus indigenous to the facility and began work.

* * *

The being on the table had been built atom-by-atom using the nanotechnology resources of the Ranger outpost. A titanium steel skeleton had been created to act as the anchor for the artificial nerves and muscles that surrounded it. Micro-pumps moved coolant, bio-active pheromones and nutrient material to the semi-organic materials and carried waste products away. Nanites within the fluid performed a host of activities - from repair work to structural improvements to electromagnetic scanning. The work that had been done with ODIN's mobile "boys" - LOKI, TYR and THOR - had provided the basis for delivery of materials into the cyborg as well as connectivity to the resources of the Castle. A highly flexible black material encased the artificial body and within it, an integral force-field prevented any outside damage; the force field itself had been tested to an atomic blast of 1.5 megatons with no damage whatsoever.

Bryce stood back and admired his handiwork. Like himself, the cyborg body was 6'1" tall, and the ebon skin stretched tightly over the well-developed and powerful synthetic muscles. The captain stroked the slabbed pecs and was tracing the rifts and valleys of the tight 6-pack abdominal plate when the dark optical sensors glowed to life with a silvery phosphorescence.

A midnight-black, muscled appendage reached up to lightly grasp Bryce's bicep and ebon fingers stroked a line down the arm to rest its hand over the captain's. He marveled at how human the hand and arm of his creation appeared and moved.

"Oh, that feels incredible! I'm trying to process what I'm experiencing right now."

The cyborg's speechbox was also a work of art; his voice was a deep, clear tenor with the slightest of English accents. The grille over his lower face was composed of the same black material with two silvery olfactory sensors located in the upper section.

"C'mon, let's get you up." Bryce unplugged the cable and helped the cyborg sit up on the table. ODIN looked around the room.

"It's so different seeing things from this perspective." His voice held a note of wonder.

"Can you stand?"

"I think so. I've been using the simulator programs to prime my motor coordination at activation."

The dark being pressed black palms onto the table and gently laid his feet on the floor. He took one step and tripped. McCollough grabbed him before he fell. The cyborg looked up at his creator as he held him in strong arms. Bryce found himself growing turgid as he cradled his prototype.

"I guess theory and practice really are two different things." The voice contained a rueful chuckle.

"That, and you're not used to wearing boots in the simulator, either!" Bryce had fitted the cyborg with MX boots - standard issue for Castle personnel on assignment.

The captain held his hands out to the cyborg; the ebon unit took each in its own. Bryce slowly led him walking around the room. The mobile computer was soon able to walk normally without assistance.

"This is great!"
He did a backflip and landed perfectly balanced on one hand. "Just needed some last minute adjustments! Woo-hoo!"

"H-Bar generator working, ODIN?" That piece of technology had engendered a good many arguments from Colonel Tyler Morgan, but in the end, the scientist won out.

"Uh-huh. Green across the board." The mobile version of ODIN walked through the wall of the lab and entered again through the door. "You know, I could really scare the crap out of Danny and Gabi with this ... but I'm too responsible a computer to do that. Maybe for Halloween, though ..." he mused.

Bryce put an arm around his creation and stroked the muscular shoulders and back. The cyborg shivered with pleasure. "I think Colonel Morgan would really like to meet the newest member of his team."

* * *

Colonel Tyler Morgan was examining a large map spread out on his desk. Tony Drummond - one his best field commanders - pointed to several areas on the document. He had removed his jackal respirator to reveal his smooth dark undermask. The captain's red and black exoskeleton glinted evilly in the overhead lights.

A heavily muscled and armored arm moved over the map. "As you can see, sir, we have a nest of insurgents trapped here ... and here. Right outside of Delaram. I'd like to see if Danny can work his magic from a distance. We could use some good intel from these people."

"Excuse me, sir ... you have a moment?" McCollough's mental voice echoed in the Colonel's head.

"Anything wrong, Bryce?"

"No ... no ... just some new developments I need to talk to you about."

"Fine ... come on up."

* * *

A light knock on the door interrupted the colonel and the field commander. Tyler could sense Bryce at the door, plus the mental echo of another one of his men. He couldn't place the psychic signature, but it was maddeningly familiar.

"Come."

Bryce entered the office along with the other man. Morgan noted that his cybernetics expert was only half dressed with a two-day growth of stubble and the other soldier was wearing what must have been a newer model of the Castle's stealth suit. The thin black material was stretched tightly over his incredibly chiseled physique; integral silver lenses covered his eyes and a black web belt was slung low over his hips. The Army Ranger wore boots and exo-skeletal braces on his wrists. Tanner also admired the codpiece straining to contain the young man's massive package. Even at this close distance, the mental signature of the other soldier hovered just outside of his recognition. Tyler found himself growing aroused just looking at the other man.

Morgan grinned. "I see you were in a rush to get up here, Captain... what can I do for you two?"

McCollough chuckled. "A/C glitch, sir. It was unbearably hot in the lab. I wanted you to check out the new prototype..."

"The new stealth suit, hmmm? Looks intimidating. How does it feel, son?"

"It feels incredible, sir!" The Ranger moved closer to the Colonel and embraced him. Morgan was surprised at first, but wrapped his arms around the other man as he gave him a crushing hug. He felt the other soldier's crotch grind against his own, further inflaming the stirrings of an uncontrollable lust rising within him. Tyler noticed that Drummond was reacting in a similar fashion.

"I never thought I'd be able to hold you like this, Colonel!" The Ranger's voice was full of joy.

The faint accent further confounded Tyler Morgan. Why is this man so familiar? Why can't I ID him?

Bryce leaned against the doorjamb and smiled. "I think you need to crank down the pheromone production a bit, RIG ... you're making the Colonel and Captain Drummond ... uncomfortable..."

"I am? Oops, sorry sirs."

"Rig? ..."

"Colonel, sir ... Tony ... meet the newly repackaged ODIN ..." He made a small bow.

"The name's RIG... if you called us both ODIN we'd never know whom you meant!" The cyborg leaned against the desk and crossed his arms. Although the solid grill prevented any expression on the robot's face, the voice held the same notes of humor that Tyler knew so well from his massive (and sessile) counterpart.

Tyler and Drummond were dumbfounded.

"I don't believe it! This is amazing!" Tony walked over to the unit and stroked the well-muscled chest. The synthetic pectorals felt just like a human's and were arousingly warm to the touch. Ink-black hands reached up to gently cradle the field commander's face.

"Ahhhhhh..." Drummond reeled as the robot delicately stroked his ebon-masked cheeks and traced delicate designs around his uncovered lips. A quiet deep-throated chuckle escaped the speaker grille.

Bryce cleared his throat. RIG stopped. Both cyborg and field commander looked slightly guilty at the exchange that had taken place. "He's a little overwhelmed with the quality and quantity of sensory inputs right now sir, but he's acclimating quickly. I'd like to run him through some basic Ranger training with firearms and combat maneuvers, if that's okay with you..."

"Fine ... fine ... welcome to the team, OD- ... I mean RIG ..." Tyler was still fighting down the unbridled passions that had swept over him.

"Thank you, sir! Thank you!"

* * *

Bryce looked on with pride as his creation went through his paces. At the firing range, in maneuvers, even in hand-to-hand combat - RIG performed flawlessly. It was the perfect melding of the humanoid body with the Castle's controlling intelligence. The Rangers adopted him as one of their own, and soon was being included on the regular mission rosters.

In the locker room showers, RIG received a surprise. The team had been on a mission in Afghanistan that had nearly gone awry - saved only by the cyborg's quick thinking.

* * *

"That one." Drummond's mental voice echoed in the cyborg's head. "If I can make him think he heard something, and head this way, d'you think you can probe him?"

"Just get him close, Tony - I'll manage the rest." the cyborg's mental voice was light, but determined.

The five Rangers - RIG included - were hiding in an abandoned outbuilding overlooking a ramshackle collection of huts and dilapidated concrete structures. Natives moved in and out, shouldering weapons, cooking, doing other normal activities that belied the twisted intent that saturated the mental aether. The Castle warriors were in full battle gear - their black and red armor and jackal masks giving them an unearthly and menacing appearance. They were completely silent - the conversations between the soldiers flowed back and forth strictly mind-to-mind.

The insurgent twisted his head and looked in their direction. He said something to one of his companions, picked up a rifle and headed towards the hidden group. The man approached the building with caution, and then sprayed the inside of the small house with a fusillade of bullets. Thanks to the integral molecular shielding on each of the men, the ammunition bounced off harmlessly off their armor. The terrorist then kicked in the flimsy wooden door; RIG's ebon arm shot out and pulled the surprised Arab into the room.

His vulpine eyes widened with fear - he had expected to see a group of bodies sprawled lifeless on the floor. What he did not expect to find a group of armored aliens staring back at him. The insurgent opened his mouth to scream, but the cyborg clamped a black hand over his mouth. Molecule-thin nanoprobes snaked out from the cyborg's fingers and insinuated themselves into the other man's body. The probes traveled upwards, following the olfactory nerves into the brain. Moving at nearly the speed of sound, RIG's extensions enveloped the terrorist's brain and began mapping and copying the information found within it. The unwashed man slumped unconscious in the Ranger's grip.

"Should we take him back to have Danny twist his knobs?"
RIG asked.

The lookout shook his head. "Uh-oh. Here comes the rest of the welcome wagon." Several more ragtag soldiers were approaching the Ranger's hideout with rifles drawn.

RIG made a decision. "There's no time." He removed his hand from the captive and wrapped it around his neck. And squeezed. Muscles and vessels ruptured; cartilage and bone were crushed to bits. He threw the lifeless body onto the ground; the head only connected to the body by the filthy skin. "I've got a full copy. We can do a virtual interrogation later."

The situation then went from bad to worse.

The cadre of Rangers had been trapped by the group of hostiles approaching the abandoned building. Suddenly, the air was filled with the sounds of screams and mortar fire as another group of regular Army combat troops arrived to attack. The Castle's secrecy was of paramount importance, and exposing their existence would have been disastrous. After all, the Castle's charter specialized in the blackest of black operations. The cyborg utilized his own wormhole generator to get each man back to the base and barely disappeared himself when the first insurgent broke down the door and set off the explosive charges he had planted.

* * *

RIG stepped into the showers next to Tony Drummond and let the warm water sluice over his ebon frame. He enjoyed the camaraderie of his fellow Rangers and - he admitted to himself - he found the humans of the facility more and more sexually attractive. The cyborg was experiencing urges and desires that were still new and surprising to him.

"Thanks, Rig - you really saved our asses back there." Tony gave him a wide grin as he rubbed the soap into his chest, making his firm pecs and abs gleam in the overhead lights.

"Glad I was there, Tony. You know I'dve done anything for you guys." RIG had removed his auxillary codpiece in the shower; his ebon tool hanging 6" soft and his synthetic sac hung heavy and low.

The field commander stared at the black package and licked his lips. "Ops like this always make me so goddamn horny ... Christ Almighty, McCollough built you into such a fucking stud..." the Ranger captain moved closer to the cyborg and wrapped a muscular arm around the dark waist. He pressed himself against the other being and began to nibble at the artificial skin around the robot's square jaw. RIG reciprocated by trailing an ebon hand down the well-defined back and giving Drummond's ass a gentle massage as the warm water cascaded over the two of them.

"Oh, Jeez ... the brains of a genius and the body of a god ... I'm surprised you and Bryce haven't fucked each other's lights out yet..." The two Rangers sank to the floor as RIG's ebon tool began to lengthen and grow hard.

* * *

McCollough had finally drifted off to sleep when a knock on the door roused him to semi-wakefulness.

"Bryce? Can I come in?"

"Yeah, sure. Be right there." The captain wore only a loose pair of pajama bottoms and his silky golden hair was tousled from tossing and turning. He yawned as he opened it to see the cyborg standing out in the hallway. The scientist stared critically at his creation.

"Everything OK? Any problems during the last mission?"


McCollough was wide awake now. Why is he here at this time of night?

"No, I overheated some power couplings ... but everything checked out fine." The robot entered and paced around the room. He seemed agitated. That's new. He sat down on a bench. He fidgeted and wrung his hands together.

"I need to ask you something..."

"Sure."

"Have you ever killed anyone?"

Bryce went still. "Is that what happened today?"

The cyborg nodded. "I enjoyed doing it. And that's what's upsetting me. After I accessed his memories, I found out he had killed at least twenty soldiers. Am I a monster?" He looked at McCollough with anguish in his voice.

McCollough sat next to him. "We're soldiers, RIG. Sometimes we have to do things that serve a greater good. They're not always pleasant. Sometimes it even feels good doing them. But you're no monster. If you're having feelings of uncertainty - even though in this case, it's unnecessary - that proves you're no monster ... you could never be a monster."

The ebon shoulders relaxed. "Thanks. I needed to talk to someone about it. Of all the men here, I feel the closest to you. We share something that no one else can or ever will. You created me."

RIG reached over to stroke the scientist's face. "I ... I love you, Bryce."

McCollough's pulse roared in his ears. He returned the gesture and the robot tilted his head to gently trap the stroking hand between his angular jawline and muscled shoulder. He unsnapped his codpiece and his massive black tool tumbled out. It was beginning to lengthen and harden.

"I love you too, RIG."

“You want some of this, Bryce?” he asked shyly.

“WHAT??” He was shocked at the forwardness of the robot.

“Do you want some of this?” He continued to stroke his rigid member in front of him. “I can’t get my mind off of you. You are so damn intoxicating and I ... all I want is for you to touch me.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely. I’ve been with a few of the other Rangers, but it wasn’t anything that I truly wanted. Just to satisfy my urges. And my curiosity. You, on the other hand, have been a fantasy to me.”

The scientist couldn’t believe his ears. He had to admit to myself that he was curious what it would be like to be with the cyborg - someone ... something he brought into being. Would it be different than with others? He could already see that their cocks were identical. After all, he had modeled the robot on his own physiognomy. It would almost be like being with himself. That thought got his dick throbbing in the loose pajama bottoms.

“If you’re sure, RIG.” As he nodded in affirmation, McCollough reached out his hand to stroke the other's cock. The cyborg melted under the ministrations.

“Oh, my God, Bryce. That feels so incredibly good to me.”

With that, the cyberneticist took the robot's hand and led him back to the sleeping area. He sat him on the side of the bed so that his legs were dangling off the edge. The captain gently guided him onto his back and kneeled between his legs. He started to massage his inner thighs, kissing each point where his hands had been. As he worked his way up the strong ebon legs, McCollough reached his full balls.

As Bryce began the firm, seductive massage of the cyborg's orbs, he began moaning loudly. Clearly, RIG had not been touched in this way. He leaned forward and began flicking his tongue over the dark sac. The scientist gently sucked one and then alternately the other encased spheres into his mouth, laving them with his warm saliva. As RIG squirmed in erotic passion, Bryce began his journey up the tall pole toward the crown of the robot's pleasure. Without missing a beat in the rhythm, he tightly slipped his lips over the head of the unit's ever-expanding cockhead and began his slow descent down the thick shaft. Upon burying his nose in the other's crotch, he knew that this exploration was going to result in some of the best sex of his life… and possibly of the cyborg's, as well.

Bryce kept his rhythm steady, in the same beat as a hot, R&B grind. The robot was responding in kind. His hands swept over the other's sandy hair and he joined in the rhythm with him. The dark hips were gently thrusting forward as he buried his rod deep in his captain's throat.

“Bryce, stop! Please, I’m going to erupt! I’m not ready!” The scientist ignored his plea. He knew that even if the cyborg came, this wouldn’t be the end of their time together.

McCollough picked up the tempo and soon RIG was grunting deep in his vocalizer. Scalding fluids pummeled the captain's insides. Shot after shot of nanite-filled fluid fed his passions.

After he had quieted himself, the captain guided him fully onto the bed, cradled the dark head on his shoulder and began kissing the chiseled black chest.

“Why did we wait to do this?” Black fingers slowly traced intricate whorls on the other's pecs and abs.

"I didn't want to force you to do anything. That's not my style. I was praying you felt the same way about me as I did about you."

“Where do we go from here?” he asked.

“Let’s play it by ear.”

As the captain suspected, this truly was just the beginning.

* * *

Happy Halloween! Okay, you were probably expecting a blood-and-guts, horror story with ghouls and whatnot. In fact, one of my buddies who saw the draft asked the same thing! After my "Jake" story, I wanted to do something a bit on the softer side.

Another buddy was looking to make himself a cyborg outfit and was looking for some black leather or vinyl boxing protectors. That got me to thinking about what a cyborg in my world would look like. The wheels started turning and I figured with a little extras here and there, I could develop a "killer cyborg."


While the concept of a cyborg kept churning, the story didn't. How many "killer cyborgs" or robots have you seen?
Plenty! I wanted to do something different. And different I did! Since I had developed ODIN and LOKI already - computers with personalities - why not give ODIN a body? Once that was established, the story basically flowed out of my fingers.

I added the interrogation scene to give a little whiff of horror into the story and that actually made the rest of the narrative flow much, much better! Thanks Paul!


RIG - another Norse God - became the "son" of ODIN. It didn't take much - I had the boots, the rubber bike mask and as I've mentioned before, I LOVE my Spexter suit. Since the boots gave the cyborg a bit of a mechanical appearance, I wanted to echo that concept around the wrists - enter Allsport Wrist Braces. These little beauties are composted of velcro foam and hard plastic with hinges - perfect for the robot's arms.


So folks, I hope you enjoyed the story and I want to wish everyone a very happy, safe and completely PERVY Halloween!

Saturday, October 10, 2009

Plaything

"I'm almost in ..." the hacker mumbled as he typed furiously on his keyboard. "C'mon, c'mon ... just a little more ..." The young man was typical of his breed; unkempt, somewhat non-communicative and lacking completely in social skills. But his abilities were legendary, and Ethan Aguirre had hired him specifically for his talents. He laid his hands on the thin shoulders and gave them a gentle squeeze. His cufflinks gleamed in the overhead lights.

"I only hire the best, Eugene ... and I know you can do it." He trailed a finger across the back of the hacker's neck and the young man shivered under the gentle touch.

"Thanks, Mr. Aguirre. In a moment we should have complete access to ... GodDAMMIT!!"

The hacker watched as his carefully constructed virus blew apart. The screen flickered and died as the two men saw weeks worth of work dissolve before their eyes.

"What happened?"

"I don't know. That counterattack was the most comprehensive thing I've ever seen. It was like the defenses knew exactly what I was doing before I was doing it."

"You think someone was watching you?"

"No one works that fast, Mr. Aguirre ..." the hacker looked angry and fearful at the same time. "But no automated system could be that creative either. I've got to think of another way in."

"Let's regroup tomorrow, Eugene ..." Aguirre looked at his watch. "I've got to go. I have a deposition to take." He stroked the young man's back as he left the apartment.

The young man shivered. The lawyer scared the hell out of him and aroused him at the same time. He leaned back in his chair and stretched. Time to decompress a bit after that unsuccessful attack. Maybe chat up Charlie Lee; a good game of Resident Evil 5 would get those creative juices flowing. At that point, his Blackberry beeped to indicate a text. He picked it up and clicked to view the incoming message.

"I enjoyed our little game, but playing with fire will get you INCINERATED. Walk away and don't look back. I don't give second warnings."



Eugene began to tremble. His cyber-identity was a closely guarded secret and his smartphone had more security built into it than the presidential version. Whomever the DA was having him try to hack into wasn't worth the danger. He knew when he was outclassed.

* * *

"We could always arrange an accident, Lucio..." Dash took a sip of his coffee.

Lucio Giambi had arranged for this meeting and the several men were enjoying breakfast in his penthouse apartment/office. The sun poured through the large windows, bathing the group in a warm wash of light. Present at the meeting were TJ Kane, powerfully arousing in his CHP uniform; Bobby Cromwell and Xander Cannon, taking some time from shooting their latest Thor video release; and Dash Carpentier, Lucio's partner and lover. Two other people - Giaan Khamar and Ariane Zutrovna - indicated that they would be a bit late.

"That won't work, Dash." TJ stroked his chin. "Believe me, just getting rid of him won't solve the problem. You need to make sure that the investigation will stop, and stop permanently."

"I agree with TJ." Cromwell spoke up. He broke open a roll and spread butter on it. "In addition, you have to make an example of Aguirre. You don't kill him. You ruin him."

The object of the discussion - Ethan Aguirre - was the recently appointed district attorney that had began a concentrated assault on Giambi's legal and illegal enterprises. Lucio had weathered cocky and self-confident prosecutors before; what was different this time was that Aguirre's investigations had come perilously close - at least to Lucio's top systems genius - to breaching one of his organization's firewalls. Giaan had needed some extra muscle - in the form of ODIN's assistance - to deflect the attack and shore up their defenses. The young crime lord needed some advice. TJ and Bobby represented a wealth of experience and knowledge from the now-assimilated Leone and Franqui crime families. Xander - running Lucio's new businesses in the Pacific - was also present. Giambi found it pleasantly surprising how well the geneticist had taken to running a criminal enterprise.

A knock at the door, and Giaan and Ariane entered. The handsome desi was dressed in a pair of snug cargo pants and a tight ringer t-shirt that rippled across his broad chest; Ariane looked breathtaking in a red silk blouse, a black pencil skirt that highlighted her long legs, and spiked Louboutin heels. Both the systems genius and the twisted Russian psychologist were smiling.

"We've got some great news, boss!" The indian beamed.

Giambi arched an eyebrow. "You won the lottery?"

"Even better zhan zat, Lucio." Zutrovna looked extremely pleased with herself as she curled sensuously into a chair.

"It turns out zat Aguirre had taken the CLEAT exam a few times ... and the score vas ... impressive... Giaan found his tests buried in zome archive..."

Ariane smiled at the darkly handsome programmer. He continued. "One of the exams was before Ariane's modifications, but the score is consistent... we needed to hand code that exam to make an accurate comparison..."

Lucio cocked an eyebrow. "Well?"

"Three hundred. Give or take a point."

Shocked, Xander and Lucio looked at each other. Of all the men in the room, they knew the incredible significance of that measurement most of all. Giaan's grin grew even larger.

Xander leaned back in his seat and gave the others present a feral grin. "Well, well ... that changes the landscape! With that information, I have just the person to take care of him ... 'ruin' is too mild a word for what Jake Sclafani is going to do to our rather persistent district attorney."

* * *

"FUCK!" Aguirre slammed down the phone. Ethan was a ruggedly handsome man, with thick, wavy, raven-black hair and grey eyes. His muscular physique was barely disguised by the expensive shirt he wore and his trousers were cut to perfection, showing powerful legs beneath the worsted wool. He opened the collar button of his shirt and pulled down his tie in frustration. Ebon hair peeked out of at the hollow of his throat. After being incommunicado for over a week, Eugene - his hacker for hire - had developed a yellow streak and refused to assist him any further. Four months of work down the drain! His darkly hirsute hands ran through his hair and he let out another stream of invective. Goddamn Giambi! How did he get to him? He grabbed his jacket and headed out of his private office. His assistant looked up with surprise as he slammed the door behind him.

"I'm leaving early. No calls, no beeps, and no pages until tomorrow!"

He stormed out of the building.

* * *
The cell phone trilled. Sclafani flipped it open.

"G'day, Dr. Lecter..."

Sclafani chuckled. It was deep and full and contained more than a hint of the purest evil. "Gage, love - how are you? To what honour do I owe this phone call?"

Jake Sclafani was an enigma. An ex-fighter, the thug possessed a brilliant, albeit twisted mind and a near-infinite capability for inflicting physical as well as psychological terror. In addition, he was an amazing chemist. Gage Hewitt had followed a serpentine trail that led to the other man and recruited him into the criminal organization he was building along with Xander Cannon.

"I have a job that I think you'll enjoy Jake. Something a bit off the beaten path..."

"I'm listening ..."

"We need to have someone snatched from the States. Not killed, mind you..."

"Uh-huh ..."

"We'd like him to be one of your 'special projects' ..."

Jake perked up. Oh, this was going to be fun. "You really know how to make a bloke happy, Gage. Anything you want me to do in particular for the finished product?"

"No. We've always been very happy with your results. I'll leave the details to you. I'll messenger over the plane tickets and other reference materials."

"Sounds good, mate! Thanks!"

* * *

Aguirre continued to fume as he got in his car and drove away. His mind was only half on the road when he heard a crash and jerked in his seat. He looked in the rearview mirror to see the rough-looking man in the pickup behind him look apologetic. I don't need this shit right now ... He motioned to the man to follow him off the highway and onto a side road. The man got out of the truck and pulled off his cap. He wrung it in his hands as the two of them inspected the damage. He was bald with a mean look about him and had a dagger-shaped tattoo on his neck.

"Mister, I'm so sorry ... it was all my fault. Just got here and still not used to driving on the other side of the road."

The other driver had an Australian accent. "My brother-in-law owns a garage. I'll pay for the repairs. Let's not get the insurance company involved? Please?"

He knelt down. "See? It's not that bad. Looks like we can just replace the fender and the light cage ..."

Ethan squatted down to look at the area of damage. He felt a sharp sting in his neck and saw the man holding an empty hypodermic as he blacked out and crumpled to the ground.

* * *

DISTRICT ATTORNEY VANISHES!
Santa Monica Daily Press 
April 21, 2009


Police are still tracking down leads and information regarding the disappearance of District Attorney Ethan Aguirre. Aguirre's late model Lexus was found abandoned on a side road just north of the Vincent Avenue exit. Local police are encouraging anyone with information regarding the disappearance to contact them at 310-555-1456.

* * *

Ethan woke with a burning thirst. His lips were cracked and his throat was parched; the last thing he remembered was bending down to look at his taillight with the Australian. He forced open his eyes to see his naked body immobilized on some hard metal platform. Rubber gaskets covered his powerful wrists and ankles; over them and around his chest and waist, heavy metal bands kept him clamped to the table. Where the fuck am I? The room was stiflingly hot and sweat poured off his naked body, making it glisten in the overhead lights. Despite of (or maybe because of) the situation, he found himself thick and hard. The smell of his own sweat, combined with the bitter scent of fear, only served to unconsciously arouse the lawyer further.

Aguirre heard a noise and weakly turned his head. A door opened and the Australian came into the room.

"G'day, Ethan ... glad to see you're awake. Feeling better?"

"Wha ..." the former DA croaked.

"Here ... take a sip." Jake held up a sports container with a built-in straw to the other man's lips. Ethan pulled the cool water into his mouth. "Not so fast, love ... you'll get cramps. Slowly." Aguirre greedily finished the water, albeit at a slower pace.

"Where am I? Why did you kidnap me?"

Sclafani stroked the other man's chest. "You've upset quite a lot of people, Mr. Aguirre. It seems someone put a contract put on your life."

The lawyer thrashed in his bonds. "Giambi! Damn, him!"

Sclafani clamped a strong hand onto Aguirre's jaw. "Listen to me! Lucio Giambi didn't order the hit. He bought off the contract!" His eyes bored into the captive man below him. "Do you understand?" The baldfaced lies slipped effortlessly past his lips. Jake could be wired up to a polygraph and emphatically state he was Diana Ross without the needles moving a millimeter.

"Huh?"

Jake continued to stroke the other man's chest. "That's right. You would have been dead except for the man you were trying to prosecute. Seeing you now, I'm glad I didn't have to kill you. I have much better plans." One side of his mouth quirked upwards in a lopsided smile.

Ethan shivered despite the heat in the room. "What do you mean?"

Jake kissed the center of the lawyer's chest. "Think of me as your saviour - which I am - and your creator. I'm going to make you into what you've always wanted to be." He brushed a lock of soot-black hair back from Aguirre's forehead. "I'll be back soon."

* * *
RUNAWAY DA? - BANK HAS DAMNING PROOF
Santa Monica Daily PressMay 10, 2009


Tips continue to pour in for the ongoing disappearance of District Attorney Ethan Aguirre. While much of the information has resulted in dead ends, an unsubstantiated report has surfaced describing a man matching Aguirre's description on a flight to Australia. Police have not responded to repeated requests for further information on this new development. Bank records obtained by this publication indicate a substantial withdrawal of funds a few days before Aguirre's sudden disappearance. Anyone with further information regarding this matter should contact 310-555-1456.

* * *

Sclafani continued to attend to the captive attorney each day. Despite his rough appearance, Aguirre's captor/savior was exceedingly gentle with his prisoner most of the time. Each day, he forced the other man through hours of weight training and exercise at gunpoint. After a cool shower, he was marched back into his cell and again shackled to the table. The room was always kept uncomfortably hot and Ethan welcomed the cool drinks that Jake brought him several times a day.

Today was different. Jake entered the room and clamped a heavy metal band around the other man's waist and locked it in place. He then undid each of the clamps on the lawyer's wrists and attached them to the restraints built into the metal band at his midsection. Aguirre knew better than to resist anymore...

* * *

The first time Jake had released him from his bonds, he had tried to escape. Jake wore a sleeveless rubber top with a pair of latex chaps. A black latex jockstrap with a red stripe down the middle barely disguised the huge package it was holding. Ethan gave the Australian a right uppercut that staggered him and rushed out the door. He got as far as the end of the corridor where another heavy metal door barred his exit.

"Ethan, you little bastard..." Aguirre spun around at the sound of his captor's voice.

Sclafani rubbed his jaw and smiled at the other man. "Not bad, bloke ... but that was a tap compared to what I've had thrown at me. Love, one thing you haven't quite learned yet is that I own you. I bought you. You're my property. And ... I can do anything I want to you."

In a flash, Jake landed a series of blows that had Ethan crumpled on the floor and wheezing painfully. Blood dribbled from a split lip and a broken nose. Jake pulled the rubber jock aside and pinned him to the floor. Then with his knee, spread the other man's legs apart. Ethan continued to moan in pain.

“So thought you were going to get out of here, eh?” Sclafani snarled, “Well mate, tonight you’re going to be a piece of ass. The first time of many. Get used to it!” He rubbed a finger over Aguirre's pucker. “Mmmm...nice and tight, but not for long…” and he gave an evil laugh that made the lawyer shudder.

He stuck his long, thick finger into his mouth and then pushed that finger against the captive's tight ass; shoving it in roughly to the first knuckle.

“Aaaahhhhh!!!!” Ethan screamed.

“You’re going to be such a good slut, boy.” The captive lay there weakly struggling as Jake slammed the finger the rest of the way up into his hot slippery chute. His ass gripped the other's fingers. Sclafani slammed another digit in and Aguirre screamed as his ass burned. The district attorney's cock betrayed him by hardening and his Master smiled down knowing that he was right and Ethan was fucked ... fucked in every way possible. "Good boy..."

Jake slipped his fingers out of his slave's hole and lined up his big, thick 9” cock against it and slammed every inch deep within him. Ethan cried out, tears pouring down his face and mixing with blood as Sclafani penetrated him hard and rough - pistoning in and out, truly owning him. The Australian's balls pounded his ass as he fucked him over and over again. Aguirre could feel that sack tighten and fill as he got close to erupting; Jake bent over and bit down on one of his nips -- he looked into the other's face and said, “Who owns you, boy? Answer me!

“You do,” Ethan whispered in a mix of agony and pleasure … And as he said those damning words Aguirre felt Sclafani's cock pulsate as he shot load after load into his waiting sweaty hole.

* * *

Another time, Ethan woke to find Jake staring intently at him. The room lights had dimmed and he could just make out the figure of his captor. Sclafani clamped a hand over his mouth and nose, cutting off all air to the shackled attorney. He struggled within his bonds as the hand clamped down tighter; black stars swam before his eyes. His entire body felt electrified and he felt himself grow and thicken. Just as fast as it had appeared, the strong hand was removed and Aguirre sucked in draughts of air. Jake's hand clamped down again and although Ethan's body spasmed from the lack of oxygen; he felt his cock swell and his balls churn. The hand was removed again as the lawyer's body struggled to recuperate.

"No. No more. Please. Jake. Please..." Aguirre panted.

"Your mind's saying 'No', boy... but your body's saying 'Yes' ..." Sclafani chuckled as he trailed his hand down the ridged abs and brushed a rough thumb across the sensitive slit. Ethan erupted. A pearlescent arc splattered his across his stomach and his settled within the deep crevasse between his pecs.

"See? I know what you need Ethan, even if you don't want to admit it. Even to yourself." Jake rubbed the spunk into the other man's chest. "I'll be back in the morning to clean you up before your workout."

He left the captive with tears rolling down his face and the smell of sex in the air. Aguirre sobbed in the darkness. He's right He's right He's right He's right He's right He's right echoed deep in his head.

* * *

Jake undid the clamps around his ankles and Ethan swung his legs off the table; he put his bare feet on the floor and winced. Jake caught the expression of pain that fleeted across his slave's face. Sclafani had let Aguirre's nose heal by itself; it was now slightly bent and with a large bump. The Australian found it extremely erotic.

"What's the matter?"

"My feet are tingling." He opened and closed his hands. "My hands feel a little funny too." Sclafani gripped some chest hair between his fingers and yanked. Ethan expected to feel pain, but the hair came out easily. Too easily. His Master smiled. "Time to start you on the antidote, you handsome bastard."

Aguirre had lost a good deal of the cockiness that had defined the high-powered district attorney. Over the time of his captivity, he had realized with despair that he was totally dependent on the other man. That - more than anything else - had sapped his will and his independence.

"Antidote? You've been poisoning me?" A spark of anger tinged with fear could be heard in his voice.

Sclafani patted his ass. "I've been giving you low doses of thallium acetate. Used to be used as a rat poison, but at the levels you've ingested, it has a different effect. That tingling you're feeling means that it's done it work. It permanently kills all your hair follicles."

Aguirre looked at him in shock. Smiling, Jake Sclafani continued. "I like my boys smooth. That tingling is the beginning of nerve damage. Oh, it's completely reversible ... if treated now. If I don't give you the antidote, soon you'll be paralyzed and unable to breathe. 'Course, I have no intention of throwing away a perfectly good slave. C'mon Ethan, let's get some Prussian Blue into you and get you all nice and tidy..." Jake attached a spreader bar to the restraints around Aguirre's ankles.

* * *

Ethan and Jake left his cell and traveled down the corridor. Aguirre was sick with the thought that the man beside him had been slowly poisoning him, yet knew that he would be well cared for; that dichotomy made his head spin. Jake opened a door and gently pushed his captive in.

"Stand by that wall, love. Let me get ready."

Aguirre shuffled away from his captor as Jake opened a drawer and pulled on a pair of surgical gloves. From a cabinet he removed a large plastic container with a screw top and a glass jar containing a blue powder. He measured a portion of the blue material into a sports drink container, added water and shook it vigorously. He pulled the lawyer to the center of the room and hooked the spreader bar into hooks set into the floor. He then proceeded to unfasten his wrists from the waistband and bind them to a spreader bar hanging from the ceiling. Ethan was stretched tight, but not uncomfortably so. The Australian then removed the metal strap from his midsection.

"Mmmmm .... you're as fit as a Mallee bull now ... but I think you need to do a few more side planks..." Sclafani stroked the other's chiseled midsection. Aguirre guiltily reveled in the caresses from the other man. "Here, drink up." He held up the container's straw to the attorney's lips. "No drama, Ethan ... you'll be fine." Aguirre drank the liquid. "Good boy. You're very special to me - remember that."

Jake moved over to the container and opened it. A citrus scent wafted into the air. "This is a very strong hair remover. Whatever the thallium didn't kill, this will finish off. But before I put this on, let's get you prepped."

The Australian grasped a handful of hair and yanked. Just as easily as his chest, a clump of Ethan's hair drifted to the floor. Aguirre jerked his head away. Sclafani slapped him hard - open handed - across the face. "One dose of the antidote won't do you much good. Stand still! I know what's best for you!" Once he finished with the other man's head, he moved down to the crotch. When he was done, the former DA was surrounded by a pile of dark thatch.

"Ahh ... that's way better!" Jake brought the container over and began to slather the material over the other man - on his head, his face, his neck, on his chest and arms and down his back. He continued to slather the creme down the attorney's legs and spread extra amounts onto his crotch and into his pucker. When he finished, he stood back and smiled - admiring his handiwork.

"I'll be back in a tick!"

* * *
Jake returned in about a quarter hour, dragging a bucket full of water into the room with him. The Australian knelt down and wrung out a sponge floating in the bucket. Humming to himself, he began to rub off and rinse the creme from the captive. Sclafani proceeded upwards on the body shackled before him, leaving smooth, muscular skin in his wake. Ethan stared down at his glistening, hairless body and found himself growing painfully aroused. His cock - now free of any obscuring hair - looked larger and thicker than ever before. He stared at it in fascination as it grew dark and turgid with desire. Being immobilized as he was, and having the other man wash him was intensely erotic.

After removing the creme from the American's neck, he took a smaller sponge and began working on his face and head. "You're a right gorgeous bastard now, Ethan ..." Sclafani ran his lips across the hard line of Aguirre's now-smooth jaw. "Close your eyes, love ... I don't want to get any of this runoff in them."

Ethan's lids closed. He felt Jake place something at the edge of left eye and with a slight tug, felt his eyelashes come loose. Aquirre's eyes flew snapped open in panic. The captor stroked the face of other man. "I told you I like my boys smooth ... no hair at all. Close your eyes, love - we're almost done."

Aguirre's eyelids fluttered shut again. Sclafani kissed the now hairless eyelid. Aguirre felt the mechanism on the right side of his face. With another mild tug, the lashes were removed from the other eye.

"Keep them screwed tight, love ... I've got a little more hair remover to wash off."

Jake proceeded to finish wiping off Aguirre's forehead, removing his eyebrows and the last vestiges of his dark hair. A powerful hairless slave now stood before him. Now for the final steps.

"You can open your eyes now." Jake stripped off his gloves and moved over to the counter to uncover three large hypodermic needles. He lifted the first one to the light and tapped it to remove any bubbles. Sclafani pushed a switch and the upper spreader bar was hoisted towards the ceiling. Ethan found himself painfully stretched and unable to move an inch. Every muscle in his body cried out in protest. The Australian tied some rubber tubing around Aguirre's massive bicep and tapped the inside of his elbow until the vein popped up.

"I discovered this combination quite by accident ... this first shot is a residual poison. Once I administer it, it never leaves your body. The results are spectacularly painful ... and deadly ... if you don't regularly take the antidote."

Sclafani wiped the skin with an alcohol pad before sliding the needle in and pushing down the plunger. Ethan moaned as the poison coursed down his arm and into his body. His captor picked up the next needle and slid it into his arm.

"This one is a synthetic hormone. It makes sure you're going to have fun."

He chuckled. "It fixes your sex drive at a much higher level and also makes you sexually more versatile. It's also going to loosen any self-consciousness or inhibitions you may have. That's a good thing since the antidote to the residual poison is semen. You're going to need to fill yourself up with cum every twelve hours. But then again, you're going to be hungry for cock all the time now ..."

Ethan screamed himself hoarse as a pulsing wave of lust spread throughout his body. He panted in pain and shock, each exhale exposing a ripped and shredded muscular abdomen.

"There's also some selective memory loss ... never was able to fix that ..." Jake said matter-of-factly.

Ethan's head dropped forward in exhaustion and Jake loosened the spreader bar holding the attorney's body taut. The Australian released Ethan from both sets up restraints and let the young man collapse onto the floor.

Then, as if he had been mortally shot, Aguirre's lungs expelled screaming air and all the muscles in his body surged in one final convulsive motion. Ethan struggled and cried out . . . but his moans only accentuated the futility of resisting the changes being wrought within his body.

Jake pulled out a chair and watched the other man writhe before him. "The battle to resist is pointless, love. You'll learn that your most important assets are your chute and your lips that wrap tightly around a cock. Your servitude will center around it. Your life will revolve around it. Do you understand, Ethan?" There was no response.

Slowly, almost imperceptibly, Aguirre broke. His mind cracked from the kidnapping, the poisoning, the beatings and this final, exhausting ordeal.

Ethan's panting slowed and stopped. He began to sob. He raised his head to see Sclafani move towards the door. His body experienced an emptiness so frightening that he cried out to his captor, extending his trembling arms to touch him. "NO, Jake! Please...don't leave me! I NEED YOU! Please ...do whatever you want to me . . . please! ...FUCK ME! Oh God, Oh God ... I need some dick! I need it NOW!"

Jake stopped and turned. And like a drunken sailor, the handsome hunk slowly crawled to the feet of his owner, prepared to submit his flesh to the thustings he now acknowledged he wanted and needed desperately. With trepidation, he touched Sclafani's booted feet. "Jake, Jake, please, please ... fill me up, plow my ass, fuck me hard, do anything you want!" His muscled body was wracked with sobs. Jake squatted down and held him; the Australian rocked him gently and stroked the hairless head.

Sclafani picked up the last needle. Ethan looked at him.

"What's that?"

"You've been through a lot today, love. This one's just a sedative. It'll give your body a chance to get used to it's new equilibrium." As the needle plunged home, Aguirre felt a wave of dizziness sweep over him as he sagged, unconscious, in Jake's arms.

* * *

Ethan Woodward woke up and stretched. He walked over to the washbasin and splashed some water on his face. He stared at the rugged, hairless visage in the mirror and smiled. Damn, Jake was right! I look so fucking good without any hair! He massaged his hard cock and balls encircled by the heavy steel ring. With the exception of that piece of body jewelry, he was naked. Jake kept him that way, but he enjoyed being naked anyway. Woodward sighed and fondled his rock-hard abs and thick pecs, tracing the plateaus and deep crevasses of his body. He loved looking at himself and feeling the hard muscles of his incredible physique.

The door to his small room opened, and Sclafani walked in. He gave his property a deep kiss. "Good morning, Ethan love ... ready for some breakfast?" Ethan sank to his knees in front of his owner.

Again, Sclafani was wearing a sleeveless, tight black latex shirt with latex chaps that hugged every inch of his powerful legs. He wore a black latex jock with a red stripe down the middle. Woodward waited with anticipation for him to pull it aside and expose his tool to be serviced. Jake chuckled and pulled aside the latex covering his erect cock.

Ethan began to lick the thickly veined nine inches and soon swallowed it whole. The two men established a powerful rhythm, with the hairless slave holding onto the hard ass of the Australian, as Jake held his smooth head and thrust himself in and out and down the other man's throat. After a short time, Ethan felt the thick meat in his mouth swell and valiantly tried to swallow the huge load being ingested by him. Sclafani bellowed as he pumped his seed into the kneeling man. Finally, he pulled out. A dribble of silvery goo escaped Woodward's lips as he smiled up at his owner. His tongue darted out to grab the remaining fluid.

He laid his head against a rubber-clad thigh. "Thanks, boss. You're so good to me."

Sclafani had been quite thorough creating a new identity and integrating a set of memories for his slave. "Ethan Woodward" had been born into a dirt-poor family and had joined the US Marine Corps to escape his life of squalor. Unfortunately, he found that his urges could not be controlled among so many handsome, muscular and dominant men. One night, he quietly left the base and found himself in the seedy outskirts of Melbourne. Jake had taken him in, taken care of him and made him into the sex machine he was now. Ethan loved cock - and Jake made sure that he was never without it.

The slave sank bank on his haunches and began to stroke himself. He rubbed the copious amounts of pre-cum onto his shaft as it grew larger and more purple with need. He began to pant with exertion as he neared his climax.

"Ahhhhhhhhhh!!!" a stream of pearlescent silver erupted from him, splattering his chest and face. He wiped the fluid from his cheeks and broken nose and licked his fingers clean. He then proceeded to gather the material from his torso and transfer it to his mouth. What was left he rubbed into his skin.

"I've got a surprise for you, love ..."

Ethan looked up. "Really?"

Jake nodded. "You're going to a party tonight ... and you're the guest of honor!"

* * *

After an extremely strenuous workout and having his ass pounded by his owner, Ethan took a shower and relaxed under the warm water. His chute burned with the pleasant pain and he looked forward to the party tonight. Jake had brought him his outfit - a pair of camo pants, black boots, a combat cap and tight, black leather gloves. Just looking at the clothing made him hard.

Woodward left the shower and toweled himself dry. He slipped on the pants and started lacing up his boots. The camo pants were snug and each time he moved, the rough material rubbed against his slit; he started to leak. I hope I can control myself until we get to the party. He placed the cap on his head and pulled it low so his eyes were shadowed by the brim. Finally, he slipped on the black leather gloves. Ethan eyed himself in the mirror and grinned. I never looked this good in uniform before!

Jake knocked on the door and opened it. He was in his latex outfit again. He stood in shock at the young man before him. Ethan looked worried.

"Do I look okay, boss?"

Sclafani recovered quickly. "You look amazing, Ethan! I can tell right now they'll be no lack of interest in YOU tonight!"

Woodward stepped forward and embraced the Australian. "You know boss, I'd be nothing without you. I was lower than dirt. Thank you for taking care of me and training me right. I'll make you proud of me at the party!" Ethan gave the other man a gentle kiss on the lips.

Jake returned the kiss and stroked the other man's back. Ethan sighed and snuggled into the other man's embrace. "You've made me proud right now, boy. You're everything I wanted you to be. Are you happy?"

"I've never been happier in my life!"


"Now a couple of things to know before we leave. All of the men at the party are in a paramilitary group ... always respond with 'Sir' when you talk to any of them, okay?"

The hairless slave nodded.

"The commander is a very strict man. If he tells you to do something, you do it. No questions asked." Jake grinned. "He's also very handsome..."

Ethan smiled and licked his lips.

"... and he's outside ... he wants to give you a once-over first."

Gage entered the room and it filled with his presence. He was dressed in a skintight t-shirt over snug blue jeans and sported a short buzzcut. A light stubble covered his square jaw and cheeks. The commander's blue-green eyes drilled into the slave and he gave him a wicked grin. The crooked scar bisecting his right eye gave him an intimidating appearance, and he exuded an aura of barely contained violence.

"Mmmmm ... you've a good looking boy here, Jake. But looks aren't everything. Let' see if he's good enough for servicing my men."

Gage grabbed Ethan by the crotch of his camos. He yanked on his package and pulled him further into the room; the commander kicked the door shut. He felt the slave's package, his ass, his legs, his tight stomach, his chest, arms and back. When he backed off, Ethan could still feel his hands feeling him up all over his body. The rough handling aroused something deep within him.

Then it started. "Nice body, boy" he said as he ran his fingertips over Woodward's chest, paying extra attention to his nipples. He rubbed and fondled them as he moved over the six pack abs. His gentle, yet firm hand tickled the slave's stomach and made him quiver.

"I think you need a good skull-fuck, what do you say about that?"

"Sir, yes sir!"

Ethan sank to his knees, put his teeth on Gage's zipper and pulled down. Hewitt was commando. The slave then fished out his dick using tongue and lips; it was about five or six inches soft.

"Oh, wow ..." he looked at the heavy steel PA at the tip of the other man's tool.

He put the cock in his mouth and rolled it around, moistening it with his saliva and savoring the taste. It began to lengthen and thicken, until Woodward was hard pressed to wrap his lips around the huge package of meat. Gage grabbed him on either side of the head and began to thrust. The commander pulled the slave's head forward and pushed his tool deep into the other man's throat. Hewlitt established a brutal rhythm but the slave managed to keep up with the other Australian. Ethan nearly choked, but kept going - Jake had trained him well. With a scream, Gage pulled Ethan's face into his crotch and exploded down his throat. Hewlitt put a booted foot on the slave's chest and pushed him to the ground.

"Christ Almighty! He's amazing!!!" The commander panted.

"I told you he was good..." Jake snickered.

Gage grinned at the prostrate man. "Ethan, you're going to make my men VERY happy..."

Ethan wearily grinned back.

* * *
"SETTLE DOWN LADS! SETTLE DOWN!" Gage bellowed. The men in the studio - in various stages of undress - looked expectantly at their commander. Passions had been running high, and the smell of sex hung in the air. Already, some of the soldieri had begun to engage each other, while others looked on hungrily. "Oliver! If you can stop fingering Daffyd for a moment??"

"Sorry, Gage. You know what a fucking cocktease Daffyd is ..."

Hewitt gave him a mock-serious frown. "That's besides the point, Oliver." He paused. "You've all gone through some extensive training these few weeks, and all of you passed with flying colors! I promised you in the beginning that I'd have something for you at your graduation, and it's right outside the door ..."

"What is it, sir?" Taigh Ranney asked. Taigh was a former jewel thief and now one of Gage's top assassins. His short spiky hair framed a strong, handsome visage and a 100-watt grin split his face. He was wearing a white tank and black rowers. The shorts were opened to show off his oversized bulge barely held in place by a white jock.

"Who ... not what, you handsome bastard!" Gage grinned. He opened the door and six sets of eyes stared at Ethan.

"Gents, I want you to meet Ethan - he's your graduation gift!" He paused. "MEN! WHAT IS YOUR PROFESSION?", he bellowed.

Six clenched fists pumped into the air. "HOOOO! HOOOO!" Six throats roared back. Staring at the array of muscular male flesh in front of him, Ethan looked like a little boy on Christmas morning. Hewitt opened the hidden zipper in the back of the camo pants and gave the slave's muscular ass a squeeze.

"Go ahead, Ethan ... have fun. Make the men happy."

Woodward beamed. "Thank you, Sir. I will! I will!"

The twins - Cable and Bran Stirling - were the first to make a move. The two were trained as battle couriers. Nothing and no one could stand in their way when they were on a mission.

Cable was closely shaved with a heavily tattooed sleeve running down one muscular arm. He also wore a fatigue cap similar to Ethan's. Bran was wearing a faded red ball cap with a white t-shirt and not much else. He had a closely cropped dark beard and an elaborate tattoo circling his large bicep.

Bran gave Ethan a hard look. "Blowjob. Now."

Ethan turned his cap around and dropped to his knees. "Sir, Yes Sir!"

In the meantime, Cable had grabbed a container of lube and was proceeding to thrust his thick eight inches into the slave's hungry chute. The two brothers worked into an effortless give-and-take as they attacked Ethan from both ends.

Jake and Gage looked on in satisfaction.

"I still can't believe that he was a district attorney! He's a pure power bottom now! God, he loves dick!"

Jake laughed. "Complete psychotic break. After I gave him the thallium treatment, he was teetering on the brink of madness anyway. He had all the psychological indicators of a perfect slave - he just needed the right stimulus to bring those latent desires to the fore. A couple of custom chemicals I mixed up, some post-hypnotic suggestions with false memories, and there you have it ... 'Ethan Woodward', former marine, and now, cocksucker extraordinaire!"

"Lucio is going to be quite pleased with this, Jake. Great job as always."

Jake stared at his creation. "Thanks, mate ... By the by, look at the way he's stroking Cable's tats ... what do you think about me inking him up?"

Gage stroked his chin. "I think he'd look good in a full torso tribal. He's got the build and it would make him happy, wouldn't it?"

Jake nodded.

"Lord, I love my job..."

* * *

A (PORN) STAR IS BORN
Santa Monica Daily Press
October 21, 2009



The disappearance of District Attorney Ethan Aguirre has come to a surprising close, much to the chagrin of the mayor, police and other employees of the district attorney's office. This paper had followed the tip regarding a man resembling Aguirre traveling on a plane to Australia and the withdrawal of a large sum of cash several days prior to his disappearance. Ethan Aguirre - now "Ethan Woodward" -- makes regular appearances in a series of gay pornographic films distributed by Thor Pacific, PTY. Apart from some minor cosmetic changes - Aguirre appears to be completely shaved from head to toe, heavily tattooed, and sports a broken nose - identification was 100 percent positive. From Charles McKesson, the VP of the film studio -- "We have no knowledge of Mr. Woodward's prior occupation or activities. He applied for a position with Thor Pacific, we gave him a screen test and he was a complete success. Our sales have picked up considerably since his introduction and we hope to have him appear in many more films. He's a natural."

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There have been a few times that I've stepped out of my "comfort zone" and this was one of them. Like the request I had before for the Henry Cavill story, this request came from a friend that wanted to see a bit more of the BDSM side of the demimonde. I took it on mainly for providing a vehicle for my SPFX Thug mask - the alter-ego I created named "Jake."

Jake - in my opinion - was to be everything that I wasn't; sadistic, cruel and completely amoral. This was the hard part, since regardless of their professions - crime boss, assassin or vampire - all of my characters do possess some degree of humanity. Jake was to have none of that.

The original plot outline called for Ethan to be kidnapped and poisoned and have full knowledge of his predicament as a sex slave. I was also going to have him be forcibly inked and that particular action would have triggered a complete mental breakdown. Then he was to be the permanent "Rubber Toy" for SMD once he was "trained" in Australia.

However, that part of the story was giving me problems - mainly, because it was too complicated. I was introducing too many moving parts which was adding very little to the story itself. So I trashed that idea. I like the way I ended the story better. It's cleaner - and in my opinion, this is something Lucio would have done. He's removed an impediment to his operations and at the same time, made him a profitable part of his business.

I also found that for the latter parts of the story, I needed to flesh out Ethan's trans formation from DA to slave. This necessitated a second photo shoot to show the depths to which Aguirre was brought. I also seem to be obsessed with muscular bald men (with or without ink) lately, so I also indulged my fantasies here with that, too.

Toxicologically, thallium was often used as a poison and one of it's names was "inheritance powder." It's use as a depilatory too was frequent, but soon lost its cachet due to its unfortunate side effect - death.

Finally, I wanted to give a nod to '300' in the way Gage rallied his cadre of rogues. These new soldieri are a part of Lucio's pan-Pacific operations. For my own well-being (and yes, vanity), I've also been assiduously doing some fairly intense exercises modeled on the 300 workouts you see on Youtube. I have to say that they are working, as you can see in the Ethan shots. I'm in better shape now, than I was when I was in my twenties!