Date: Fri, 12 Nov 2004 07:57:57 -0800 (PST)
From: Pete Brown <petebrownuk@yahoo.com>
Subject: Four The Same, Part Nine

It was embedded, I thought - looked OK on my screen,
but evidently one of those odd things that happen.
Here it is  (gay/male/authoritarian).... thanks, Pete

FOUR THE SAME    by Pete Brown    petebrownuk @ yahoo.com

Read all of Pete's stories at
groups.yahoo.com/group/petebrownseroticstories

Part Nine

I went up to the luxurious guest suite in a frenzy of
excitement after I had made my "goodnights" to my
host, and commiserated with him on the unpleasant task
awaiting him.  When I entered the room the five slaves
were salaaming, and to my great joy I found that
Darren had put his short tunic back on and was once
again partially clothed, with his spine and ass
exposed as he knelt there.

I sat on one of the huge, feather-filled couches, and
called the lad over to sit beside me.  As he sat down,
the short tunic of course rode up, exposing the now
'skinned end of his penis to my gaze.  I put my arm
around him, and felt a kind of shudder go through him.

"What's the matter/  Are you afraid of me?"

"Sir, please.  It's not too late.  Help me get out of
here... .the things they've done to me...."

"Nonsense, calm down.  You will be happier if you
accept what has happened to you, and that you are now
a slave.  The old Darren, the skateboarder from East
London, is gone and will never return.  You are a
slave, my slave...."

"But they've branded me, cut my dick, tattooed me....
I've had to do disgusting things with these men...."

"Calm yourself.  Accept the inevitable.  You are a
slave, and an owner needs to mark his property.  There
are in every society important rituals that we go
through called 'rites of passage'.  In our normal
Western world they tend not to be very important, but
they are there:  getting a driver's licence;
eighteenth birthday parties; graduation from high
school or college....  Well, slaves have 'rights of
passage', too, but they are even more important and
significant.  A man only understands that he is truly
a slave, no longer his own free agent, when he feels
his owner's mark on his body and knows that it is
irrevocable.  For your entire life, if you ever begin
to doubt that you are my property, simply feel the
brand on your arm, or on your buttock, and know that
it  tells the world that you are no longer a free man
but a piece of owned property - MY property!"

As I had been saying this, my fingers had been tracing
the brand on his bare arm, and my cock, which had
already shot once this evening, was nevertheless
showing many signs of arousal.

I let my arm wander down and began to stroke and
caress the lad's penis and balls.  I was rewarded by
the delicious sensation of the silky softness of the
sac now that it was shaved, and as my fingers spread
and teased it, the lad started to moan faintly as I
spread and examined the wonderfully firm, yet spongy,
orbs inside.  His cock became erect, and there's a
special feeling, isn't there, when you're holding a
man's balls and his cock stretched along the palm of
your hand to that the tip nuzzles the sensitive pulse
spot on the underside of your wrists?  The more I
teased and gently squeezed Darren's balls, the more
his cock strained at its erection.  Indeed, the warm
pulse spot on my wrist was now covered with his
pre-cum, and  as the tip of his penis slid along this
most sensitive part of me, my own erection responded
with  force against my constricting clothes.

I stopped, pushed Darren slightly away from me, and
murmured, to encourage him, "That's not so bad, is it?
 Now, let's take this silly tunic off you...."

Helping a man undress is one of life's little
pleasures, I always find, and when the man is only
wearing one garment, it doesn't take long!  I helped
Darren pull the light fabric up over his head, and
then, in one smooth movement, I put my arm around his
naked shoulders and pulled his body towards mine.
That's another erotic thing I always find- of course I
love the feeling of one another man's skin against me,
but having a naked man rubbing against my clothed body
is somehow very special.  Not necessarily better than
naked flesh, just excitingly different.  Perhaps it's
something to do with the idea that a clothed man is in
charge, whilst the naked man is vulnerable.  I don't
really know.  Anyway, having the lad naked against me
gave me a further erotic charge, and I could now
gently stroke his belly, feeling the hardening ridges
of his new muscles enticingly under the surface, and
moving upwards to gently tweak his nipples.

There's something very special about a man's nipples,
I always think,  On most of the beefy "blue collar"
men I usually go with, the nipples are big and
pronounced, and with a little stimulation become rock
hard, jutting  proudly upwards.  Moving the palm of
the hand over them then causes me pleasure, and is
generally most agreeable to the man, too.  But
Darren's were still only the nipples of a lad not yet
properly fully developed - they were hard and sharp
even before I stroked them, and generally undersized
for his body.  I was nevertheless gratified to feel
his body gently begin to move sensuously against me -
I like a man to have responsive nipples, and so was
glad that my slave was like this.

It was time now to explore the lad's training,, I
thought.  I put my hand behind his head, feeling the
stiff brush of his cropped hair against my palm, and
gently began to move it down, towards my crotch.  He
seemed to resist a little at first, but as his head
got closer to the fly of my trousers, he began to give
in and bent almost resignedly to what he knew was
inevitable.

He didn't seem used to the concept of buttons on the
fly of suit trousers!  Odd, as so many Jeans these
days seem to have them.  But on hand-tailored Saville
Row suits, they are of course the norm.  He fumbled
for some moments, then my cock felt the blessed relief
as it forced its way through the fly of my boxers then
thrust upwards via the opening in my trousers.

I didn't want to say anything, didn't want to disturb
the atmosphere that was building, so I gently guided
his body off from next to me on the couch so that he
was kneeling between my outstretched legs.  Now I once
more used my hand to guide his head down on to me, and
experienced for the first time his lips and tongue as
they began to caress my cock.

Having your very own slave, a man that you own
completely, begin to pleasure you is a simply
indescribable experience.  I had of course had many
previous men attending to the needs of my cock with
their mouths, but this time was special.  Was it that
I'd never had a sixteen year old do it to me?  Was it
his nakedness and my clothes?  Was it the though that
my cock was already covered in drying cum from my
spontaneous ejaculation earlier, so that the lad must
be tasting, even now, my seed?  Or was it that I owned
this man, this slave now worshipping my cock?  He was
mine, mine to command, mine to own, mine to do with
exactly as I pleased, and he had no choice in the
matter.

As he ministered to me my excitement mounted, so much
so that I almost shot again.  I knew that even with
this intense stimulation I would be unable to cum
three times that evening, so after a few minutes I put
my hands on both sides of the lad's head and gently
raised his face up off me.

"Good boy, Darren....", I said softly.  "You've been
learning, haven't you?  Did you do this to the four
slaves?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good... You've learned well.  But do you remember
what we did last time... Do you remember taking my
cock up your ass?  Well, it's time to do that
again..."

"Please, sir, no..."

"Now, slave, don't be silly.  Do you also remember how
I had you spanked last time, when you tried to disobey
me?  Slaves do as their masters command, remember.
Didn't the other slaves teach you that?  "

The boy looked almost sheepish, and I knew that he
understood what  he needed to do, and had been "trying
it on" to attempt to avoid the inevitable.  I
contemplated for a few moments having him spread out
on the back of one of the slaves and spanked, or even
caned, for his attempted insubordination, but I had a
more pressing and urgent need to use his body in
another way.  Getting to my feet, I led him over to
the giant bed and commanded him to kneel on the edge,
then stood there as the four slaves clustered around
me, helping me undress.

I stood between Darren's calves  as he knelt there,
and gently parted his buttocks.  His pink pucker was
now clearly visible, the fine rim of hairs that had
been there last time having been cleared away.  His
balls seemed more prominent, too, hanging there
without their protective thatch, and as my finger went
to tease his sphincter, one of the four slaves
coughed, politely.

"Yes, slave?"

"Sir, the slave has been prepared for you, sir.  He is
cleaned out, stretched, and lubricated.  But of course
if you require additional work done on him, to ease
his passage for your member..."

I shook my head, and began to play the end of my cock
up and down his ass crack as I had done before,
relishing the excitement that coursed through me. I
would have enjoyed doing this for a very long time,
but did not believe I could hold out, so I positioned
myself at his entrance, and pushed in.

It wasn't all that easy.  In spite of the lubrication
and stretching that had evidently gone on, the boy was
still not experienced at taking  cock, and there was a
lot of unnecessary noise and shouting as I forced my
way in and buried myself up to the hilt.  He calmed
down, though, as I began my rhythmic pistoning in and
out of him, and his cries did that thing that is
always so pleasing - they synchronised with my
thrusts, so that we were in complete harmony.

Afterwards I pulled him close to me as I lay in the
bed, still breathing hard.  I'd been amused to see
that as soon as I'd pulled out of him one of the
slaves had rushed up and begun to clean my cock with
his tongue, whilst another knelt behind Darren's naked
ass and proceeded to lick traces of my semen away from
his hole - having these four slaves around to perform
little services like this dramatically added to the
overall feeling of eroticism, and I began to wish that
I owned more than just a single slave.

"So, Darren.... You've been educated.  But not in
taking your master's cock.  We'll remedy that as time
goes on, until you begin to properly appreciate the
feeling of my hot cock inside you - there can be few
greater pleasures for a slave - well, for a man,
actually - than to feel a cock sliding in and out of
him.  But don't you know this - when you were being
trained, did you not get to fuck other slaves?"

"No, sir.  They taught me the eight ways to masturbate
another man, and how to please a man by taking his
cock in my mouth, and down my throat.  But they had
been told that you wanted to train me to take your
cock, sir, and so they didn't  bother any further."

"But you've lived with these four slaves, I believe.
Don't they fuck each other?  Didn't they fuck you?  Or
let you fuck them?"

"Oh yes, sir.  I've often watched them fucking.  But
of course they didn't touch me, as they knew of your
prohibition.  And they'd never let me fuck them - they
call me 'kid', and say I'm too young.  And, anyway,
they say that they only really enjoy other proper
grown man dicks."

"So would you like to try fucking, Darren?  Would you
like to see why I want to use your ass?  Yes, I think
I'll have you fuck one of these slaves do that you are
better able to understand what I am doing to you.  Is
there  one of them in particular you want to fuck?"

"Sir, Matt, sir!"

The four slaves were now standing in a line close to
the bed.  I thought I saw one of them flinch slightly
as the lad said this, but it was only the merest tiny
unconscious movement, not enough to warrant a
punishment..

"Which one is that?", I asked him.  "I can't tell them
apart."

"Oh I can, sir.  It's easy..."

I thought that there must be very small differences
between the men that only someone who lived with them
could appreciate.  I thought of asking him about this,
as it would be a trick to amuse my host the next time,
if  I could identify his supposedly "identical"
slaves.

"So how do you do that, Darren?"

"Oh,. It's easy, sir, they all smell differently!"

""No, you're not telling the truth, boy!  They must
all smell the same - they live together, bathe
together with the same soap, and all of you eat the
same slave chow.  There's no way that their bodies can
end up smelling differently.  Now, tell me the truth,
before I get one of them - any one of them  - to spank
you!"

"No, sir!  I'm not lying.  It's true...."

"Well, we'll have a test.  And if I do  find you're
lying, I will not only have you spanked, but will
personally cane you."

I'd noticed on my previous visit that there was a
well-equipped study area in a far corner of the room,
and now I strode over there, enjoying the sensation of
the utter freedom my nakedness bought to me.  I
rummaged around on the desk, and found one of those
marker pens you normally use for writing presentations
on flip charts, and came back.  Darren was half
sitting, half lying, on the bed, watching intently as
I went up to the first of the four slaves and demanded
to know his name,  I used the marker pen to "simulate"
the tattooing that regular slaves had of their names
on to his pecs, then repeated this on each  of the
four slaves - as I believe I've mentioned, these four
did not bear the normal slave tattoos, to keep them
all exactly alike.

I pulled Darren's skimpy tunic down on his head, and
used the ends to tie it as if it were a blindfold.
Taking him by the arm, I led him around the room and
convinced myself he could not see out at all - it was
quite amusing, actually, as I led him towards one of
the huge floor cushions, and he stumbled and fell into
it, so I was certain.

I then "shuffled" the slaves around in their line, so
that he could not possibly know which one was in which
position, and then brought him over to face them.
Holding his wrists behind his back so that he couldn't
use his fingers to get any sensation from their skins,
I told him to begin.

He knelt, then shuffled along on his knees in front of
the four slaves, leaning forward to take deep breaths
from their genital areas.  Then he recited "Steve,
Ray, Matt, Marc".    I looked at the names that I had
scrawled on the slaves, and saw that he was indeed
correct.

I undid the blindfold, and he saw me laughing.  "You
were right, Darren - so you get to fuck, without being
punished.  Now, it was Matt you said you wanted,
wasn't it?"

I took the slave by his arm, and pushed him down onto
the bed, on his back.  "Grip your ankles!", I
commanded him, and watched as his muscular body curled
up, his buttocks spread apart, and the dark brown of
his hole was revealed.    I snapped my fingers to
indicate that one of the lounging chairs should be
drawn up, then settled into it, before commanding
Darren to position himself between the slave's thighs,
and begin.

Actually, I always enjoy seeing one man fucking
another, and I like to watch it from behind:  there's
something really exciting, I find, in seeing the
thrust of the buttocks in and out, the way that the
muscles in the thighs and calves all stretch and
contract, and the sight of the man's back bent
forwards.  Now, seeing my own, young slave thrusting
away between the muscular thighs of this older slave,
I was entranced.

Like  all the young, though, he could not control his
body and the spectacle lasted for only a very short
time.  I could see his thrusts getting longer and
harder, then, in that appealing way that only a man
who is truly enjoying it can do, his head went back,
his hips thrust forwards one last convulsive time, and
he gave a great shout of "Oh, Jesus fucking
Christ....!"  Then his whole body seemed to spasm, and
his buttocks jerked convulsively two or three times
more and my imagination supplied me with the feeling
he must be experiencing as his after-shots spurted out
of him.

I was amused to see that in spite of not having any
experience, he did what you would expect after a fuck,
and collapsed forward on to the chest of the muscular
slave.  The slave reacted very badly, I thought:  he
should have gripped Darren, with his legs around the
lad's waist, to show that he enjoyed still having the
cock buried in him, but he just lay there.  I had half
a mind to punish him for his sullen attitude, but I
wanted to sleep and knew that a caning of the slave
would give me even more erotic thoughts and make it
more difficult to rest.

So after Darren had had his cock cleaned, I took him
into my arms in the bed, and ordered the slaves to
turn out the lights.

The following morning there was no time for further
excitement, and as I breakfasted with the Sheikh I
recounted to him the incident of Darren being able to
scent the slaves and identify them.

"I have a tiny problem, anyway, my fiend, that you
have brought to my attention.  Although these slaves
are externally identical,  there are differences in
their genes and basic biochemistry as they are not
true quadruplets.  Even after all this time, my cousin
still is upset about the stunning victory  I scored
over him with these four, compared with his identical
twins.  I have heard rumours that he has been trying
to infiltrate spies into the palace to collect DNA
samples, but if a test based just on scent alone is
possible, his task will be so much easier!"

We laughed and talked on, but it did occur to me that
in this life, everyone has problems, everyone has
worries.  The Sheikh's concerns and worries might be
very different from my own, and very different, I
suppose, from those of the slaves whose lives he ruled
so absolutely.  But, never the less, they were, to
him, just as important.

THE SLAVE'S STORY

It was really stupid of young Darren to select Matt as
his fuck.  Firstly, there's been that long-time
antagonism between them, for reasons none of us quite
understand.  It started almost on day one, and really
showed up when Matt took charge of Darren's
cock-sucking training and used the collar, rather than
gentle persuasion.  Perhaps Darren thought he was
getting a little revenge, but that's just fucking
dangerous with a big strong guy like Matt!  Secondly,
of course, Matt doesn't like to take dick at all
really.  I'm sure I've told you that he and I
generally like to "top", whereas  Marc and Ray don't
mind  taking it - it works out well, as we all get
what we like.

Normally we are so alike that when we're with a client
we can arrange it so that if the client wants to be
fucked either Matt or I does it, and if he wants to
fuck slave ass, then we supply Ray or Marc.  Even if
the client thinks he's picked out the one he wants to
use, we manage to fool them just by changing places
when they're not looking!  They really can't tell, and
I think it's best for them, actually, as they get
really enthusiastic participation from us.  Of course,
if we were ever found out and a client complained,
there'd be hell to pay - but, in a way, that makes it
just that bit more exciting for all of us.

With our names written on our bodies, though, no such
deception was possible, and I knew Darren could anyway
tell which of us he was fucking.  I could see the look
of fury that passed across Matt's face when Darren
announced his choice, and when he realised that he was
going to be taken "missionary", so that we could all
watch his expressions, it must have been even worse
for him.

There was nothing Matt could do about it, of course,
as to disobey the master's orders would have resulted
in all of us being whipped, or worse, and so he had to
just lie there and take it, as Darren ploughed into
him.  I mean, I think Matt was being stupid, actually,
as with a lusty young guy like Darren, the whole thing
was over almost as soon as it had begun.  And it's not
as if Matt isn't used to being fucked - in spite of
his preferences, it does happen, you know, especially
when we've all been taking part in some big orgy or
other.  So he could have accepted it with good grace,
and I don't think it wad very nice for the kid at the
end when Matt basically ignored him, and didn't hug
him, or wrap his legs around the kid to hold him in,
or anything.

The next day was scary, actually.  Once the master had
got up and bathed with Darren, and dressed and left,
all five of us were alone.  Before we could stop him
Matt pounced on Darren and started to really slap him
around, grabbing him by an arm whilst using his other
hand to slap the kid's ass, then throwing him down on
to the ground and starting to kick at him with his
bare feet.  It was a  much as the rest of us could do
to pull Matt off him - he lashed out at us as we tried
to intervene, and even poor Ray got punched in the
fracas.  It was jolly lucky that none of us was
seriously hurt or damaged - we were kind of expected
to be bruised and so on occasionally, as some masters
might be hard with us, so a few surface problems could
be explained away.  But if we'd broken an arm or a
leg, or even damaged any of the furniture, then
incredibly severe punishments would have been handed
out to all of us.

As it was, even when Matt had seemed to calm down, he
still wasn't happy - and that night, in our cell, he
took Darren hard.  This had never happened before as
we had been told we were not to fuck the lad as his
master wanted him saved, and, as far as we knew, this
prohibition still held.  But when we tried to stop
him, all Matt said was "Look, his master fucked him
last night.  So I'm going to fuck him now- no one will
be able to tell whether the stretching of his ass is
caused by his owner, or by me!"

There was no way, short of having a major fight, that
we could do anything about it in the cramped cell, so
Matt just got on with it.  He had Darren on his knees,
with one of Matt's big arms around his waist, holding
his ass up into the air, then just fucked him.  When
Darren started to cry out and complain, Matt's other
hand at once went over his mouth to stifle the cries,
and all we could hear was the slap, slap, slap of
Matt's body slamming into Darren, Darren's muffled
cries of protest, and Matt's triumphant sounds as he
climaxed.

Darren spent the rest of the night cuddled up against
me, and I thought he was going to cry because he was
hurt, mentally if not physically.  Instead, he
whispered "Is this is what being a slave is like,
Steve?"

"Well, yes, I suppose so.  Some of the guys you'll be
put with will be really rough and tough with you, just
as Matt was then.  But some of them will be kind, and
gentle, and then you'll really enjoy it."

"How do you mean, Steve?"

"Well, do you remember when we were teaching you to
suck dick?  You didn't like it when Matt kept forcing
himself down your throat, did you - when he held you
onto his dick with the training collar?  But then,
afterwards, when the rest of us taught you how nice it
is to lick a dick, to kiss it, to rub your lips all
over it - that's fun isn't it?"

"I guess so..."

"Well, the rest of sex is like that.  If you're a free
man, you can choose how to do it.  But as a slave you
have to go along with what your master wants.  So if
your master wants to be hard and cruel, as Matt just
was, you've just got to accept it.  But most masters
just want to feel the hot muscles of an attractive
slave against them, and to enjoy the slave's skilled
attentions to them.  When it's like that, it can be
pretty good."

"But you like fucking, don't you, Steve?  You don't
like taking anyone else's dick up you, do you?"

"No, Darren.  I don't.  I like fucking.  But if I have
to, then I don't have any choice, do I, as a slave?
So I've learned to accept it, ad understand that it
doesn't go on for very long."

"Well, perhaps I'm like you then, Steve."

"How do you mean?"

"Well, I didn't much like being fucked by my master.
And I hated Matt taking me as he did.  But when I was
fucking Matt yesterday, it felt fantastic... You know,
when I was thrusting in and out of him, I was in
control, I was using his body to enjoy myself...."

"Well I guess it is a bit like that for me, Darren.
And if we were free guys, we could always choose to
fuck like that.  But we're not - we're slaves, and we
don't have any choice.  So you just have to learn to
accept it...."

"Can I fuck you, Steve?"

"What?"

"Steve, please... I want to try fucking another guy.
Can't we do it now...?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"I told you - I don't take dick.  Now, get to sleep,
or else I might follow Matt's example, and fuck
you...."

"Oh, come on, Steve... Pretend I'm a master and you
have to let me fuck you..."

Well, this conversation could have gone all night, and
there was just no way I was going to let him fuck me,
was there?  But he was so horny - his dick was
stabbing into me, and something had to be done.  So I
threw one arm around him to stop him getting away,
then called to Marc to come and wank him!  As you
know, Marc's always ready for a bit of a laugh, so as
I held Darren's wriggling body, Marc wrapped his big
fist around Darren's dick and jerked him off.  No harm
done - except to Darren's pride, I suppose.

To tell you the truth, I wasn't looking forward to the
next few weeks, as it didn't seem that Matt and Darren
would get on well as  they used to.  But the following
morning, our lives took a turn for the worst!  We'd
always known, I suppose, that we'd be sold one day.  I
mean, there's usually a limited life for a slave who
works in the pleasure rooms as the clients get tired
of seeing the same old bodies.  We'd had a good run -
more than five years, I guess, and we'd always talked
about what might happen to us then.

We knew that our master was the ruler and the richest
guy by far in the place, and I think we imagined that
he'd send us off to the auction rooms and we'd e
bought by someone else for his enjoyment.  Or,
perhaps, we might be sold to one of the brothels we'd
heard about in the city.  In a way, grim though that
prospect was, it seemed it might be preferable - a
brothel would be able to buy all four of us, whereas a
private person wouldn't:  even if he could afford it,
he wouldn't want to be seen to be competing with our
master, we reckoned.  So the best we could hope for in
a private sale was that we might be sold as two pairs,
and we reckoned then that if we were careful, we might
manage to be split in the way we wanted:  me and Marc,
and Matt and Ray.  Actually, if Matt was going to
carry on behaving in the way he had, I wouldn't have
been that sorry to see the back of him!

Anyway, that morning, instead of going down to the
exercise yards and rooms, we were simply told to
report to the palace loading bay as we were to be
shipped out.  And that was it!  No goodbyes, nothing.
Five years of our lives, and it was all over, just
like that.  Well, I suppose we had no "stuff" to pack,
as we didn't own anything - not even a stitch of
clothing.  All we had was the skin we stood up in, so
I suppose we were the ultimately easy-to-move people!


We all kind of hugged each other as we stood on the
loading bay.  In spite of what I'd thought about Matt,
it's hard to say goodbye to a buddy you've lived with,
worked with, and fucked with for five years, isn't it?
 And Marc was close to tears, as it was by no means
certain that we were going to be able to pull off our
plan to keep together as two pairs.  This fucking
slavery was so cruel, so unjust - four guys who really
liked each other, who were real fuck buddies, were
going to have their lives torn apart just because our
owner had tired of us!  It was all so fucking unfair:
they shouldn't treat men like this.  But then, of
course, we were not men - we were slaves, mere
chattels of our owner, who could do as he liked with
us.

A truck eventually drew up - it looked just like a
delivery truck you used to see when we were free men
all over the place, just delivering boxes and stuff to
small businesses.  The doors opened, and we were
herded inside - there was a neat row of manacles along
one wall, and one of the guards simply fastened us in.
 We barely got to see the outside of the palace that
had been our home for five years as we sped away, and
we were so unhappy, so very unhappy, believing that
this was the last time that we'd all be together.

It became clear, however, that we were not heading for
the slave markets - these were in the downtown area,
and as we pulled up the ramp on to the country's one
major motor road, we saw that we were heading out of
town.  We bumped along, and after an hour of driving
through the empty desert countryside, Marc suddenly
said "Oh no!  You see what this means, don't you?
They're sending us to the mines!"

He sat there then, his head sunk in his hands, and I
put my arm around his shoulders to try to comfort him.
 "Hey, Marc, is can't be all that bad - at least we'll
all be together...."

"But you don't know, Steve, what it's like..."

"Hey, it can't be all that bad.  I've heard the
stories, sure, about how no one ever comes back.,  But
after all they want us for the work we can produce, so
they're not going to treat us all that badly.... And
we'll be together, as I said.  We're used to working
out, so doing real work will be just the same...."

"No, Steve, you don't understand!"

End Of Part 9