Date: Thu, 19 Mar 2020 13:22:43 +0000
From: J. Forrester <niftyencomiums@gmail.com>
Subject: Anthology II - Assport Control Chapter 2

This story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to real people, places and
events is unintentional. Please enjoy in safe and legal manner. ADDITIONAL
NOTE: I think it is pretty clear who the villains of this story are. Their
views are not my views; I think they're a bunch of cunts!



ANTHOLOGY

You are travelling into an alternate dimension. Do not adjust your
connection to reality. Here we find a universe of infinitive possibilities,
of extraordinary powers and incredible circumstances. Welcome to the
Anthology...



Anthology (II) - Assport Control, part two

Sean Mills is Special Advisor to aspiring tyrant, President Horace Hump,
and the architect of laws that use gratuitous humiliation and sexual
exhibitionism as a punishment for enemies of High Office. However, now Sean
and his son Paul have been caught by the very laws he created and it's not
going well. Stripped in an airport (assport control), Sean's exposure is
about to take his son down with him.

Nothing will ever be the same...



THE PARTICIPATION AMENDMENT

Paul and Sean looked hopefully at the Border and Transport Police Chief
whose grin offered a total lack of reassurance.

"In accordance with the Participation Amendment, your dad will help you,"
Chief Bloom dropped the bombshell; "Sean, take off your son's clothes for
him."

The clapping, hooting, hollering, whistling and cheering picked up again.

Sean looked around at the spectators, which he tried not to do because he
didn't like to be reminded of how many there were. They were all around him
but the biggest crowd were arranged behind him due to the layout of the
terminals and their security gates. The crowd was three rows deep and more
people were jostling to join either end of the makeshift gallery.

"Fuck off, I'm not getting naked..." Paul protested arrogantly.

"You'll regret it if you don't shut the fuck up," Chief Bloom warned
quietly; "Now, Sean, get to it."

Sean turned to his son, presenting himself in profile to the big crowd and
directly facing the second biggest crowd which would only get bigger as
more people arrived for their security check. To strip his son, Sean was
going to need both hands and that would leave his genitals exposed.

It was bound to happen anyway – the whole point of the search was to
humiliate. Knowing you could face such humiliation ensured you didn't try
to travel without the right documentation; that you didn't try to enter or
leave the country illegally; that you complied with the law. Hell, even
when you did comply, some BTP officers found ways of exposing eye-candy
just for the hell of it.

That was why it was called Prerogative Search. Prerogative (noun): a
special right, power or privilege exclusive to a particular individual or
class such as an official body.

Sean turned to his son and didn't even wait. He gripped the bottom of his
t-shirt and pulled it up. Paul was surprised – so much so that he just
stood there without resistance as his dad began undressing him. Paul was a
keen sportsman and it showed in his physique. Paul's chest, arms and
abdomen were all quite sculpted and if he'd been a few inches taller he'd
be even more of a stunner.



Paul wasn't short but he was a lower-average height for a
sixteen-year-old. He'd seventeen in a few months and starting his final
year of High School by the end of the year. After that? Well, that depended
on if the idiot got out of the mess they were in right now.

"I can't believe you were so stupid!" Sean admonished him.

Paul raised his arms like a child, passively allowing himself to be
stripped – perhaps because his head still felt fuzzy from the drugs he'd
taken that morning. Sean's eyes were drawn to the perfectly smooth concave
of Paul's armpit but his senses were overwhelmed by the smell. As Sean
whipped his son's t-shirt past his face, he caught a whiff of intoxicating
boy-musk. The unique teenage boy smell that made Sean's dick push out a
little. There was no way the crowd would miss his dick inflating – not
with so many watching and recording his every move.

His son's t-shirt was sweet and mixed with the scent of sweat, skin and
deodorant. Again, Sean thought of the boy from President Hump's More K
Ozeru resort – spread out on the bed, his rosy hole proffered as he lay
on his back and his legs were lifted over Sean's head...

Sean tossed the t-shirt at Officers Brian and Smith.

Paul's chest was smooth – not a single hair was visible on his chest or
abdomen which were muscular and well-developed from his keen swimming
regime. Paul's arms were thickening too, his biceps impressive for his
age. Sean couldn't see hair in his son's armpits but Paul had already
dropped his arms.

"What did you take? When?" Sean questioned his son.

Paul happily cycled, skated, sunbathed, ran, slept and a wide variety of
other activities without a top on but he felt exposed in the moment after
his body was revealed. He was on the school swim team which requires
Speedos for crying out loud, why did shirtlessness make him feel so
exposed? Maybe it was the catcalling?



Maybe it was the fact it was in the airport, in front of his dad and in
front of an audience. Moreover, Paul knew video of this would go online
– his naked dad would be online already. Paul tried not to think about
the idea of boys he went to school with watching this as it was
live-streamed.

Paul was being stripped naked by his nude dad. This was so humiliating!

Just being shirtless had made Paul feel very shy and he covered his chest,
especially his nipples, like a blushing kid. He looked at his dad – his
naked dad – and could help but look at his dad's penis. His dad was
circumcised, unlike Paul, so the head was exposed. It was flaccid and
stubby at present and

Paul wondered how big it got – then he felt embarrassed for wondering
how big his dad's cock was.

Paul switched his attention to the pattern of hair on the man's chest and
legs – though his dad's head was almost bald but for the shortest of
blonde hair. Would his hair look like that if he didn't shave for the swim
team? Paul wasn't even sure how much he needed to shave – he just liked
the shaving parties with the other boys. The lather. The soap. The
showering.

Paul's thoughts were all over the place – what had his dad asked him?

"What did you take?" Sean repeated impatiently.

"I took some Celsius-233. This morning... when you went to your stupid
meeting," Paul replied.

"My meeting wasn't stupid... well, no, actually it was," Sean conceded.

It had been pointless but perhaps conveniently infuriating too? Was it
Sean's paranoia or had a lot of variables conspired to get him to this
moment? A trap – that's what he kept returning to. Now that Whenever
Sean thought about it, it was obvious - Sandy Warn planned all of this to
trap him.

"I didn't think things like this happened to people like us," Paul
complained.

Sean agreed but he had underestimated Legate Warn.



Sean crouched down and tugged at his son's smooth and bony ankle. Sean
could usually tell the difference between natural hairlessness – the boy
at More K Ozeru – and shaved skin that created the effect of smoothness
but he found it hard to tell with Paul's legs.

Sean tugged again and Paul took the hint – lifting each foot until Sean
had pulled off his sneakers and left the teenager barefoot.

If he was barefoot on the beach with sand between his toes and running
through the surf, Paul would think nothing about being barefoot but it was
the public exhibition of the event that made him self-conscious. Were his
feet small? Would pictures of his toes be drooled over by the foot
fetishists?

Paul swept a hand though his air and caught a glimpse of his own armpit
– it too was devoid of hair and Paul barely suppressed a cry as he
realised the whole world would soon know he was totally hairless.

There was a social media app called XXXPoseBook that hosted videos and
pictures of people humiliated by the Prerogative Search
procedure. Toplessness, armpits, feet, asses, boners, masturbation... the
categories of media were multiple and terrifying.

How many of his pics would be on that app?

While Sean was still crouched down, he reached up for the button of Paul's
shorts. His son looked down at him in surprise, recalling his dad was
naked, and Sean could see a look of pity mixed with embarrassment and
disgust.

Once unbuttoned, Sean unceremoniously yanked down the shorts where they
bundled around Paul's bare feet. Paul's humiliation was punctuated with
giggles as the spectators saw his red briefs – why had the worn briefs?
Fuck! Paul stepped out of the shorts and Sean slid them across the floor to
the goons – Officers Brian and Smith - waiting to box them up.

Sean remained at eye level with the crotch of his teenage son. If it were
someone else's son, he'd already have shoved his face in the pouch of the
briefs and kissed cloth-covered boy-cock. Sean savoured those moments; the
smell of sweat and the tang of piss-drizzle. Fuck, stop thinking about
that.

Sean stood up and looked around the crowd, tempted to cover his genitals
again but attention was now very much focused on the beautiful boy. There
was expectation surrounding the imminent exposure of a teenage
penis. Sean's penis was dangling obscenely close to his son's crotch yet he
felt a foreign emotion called empathy. Sean felt more embarrassed for his
son than for himself.



"Nice panties!"

The running commentary wasn't helping either.

How would Paul be able to go back to school after this – his status
knocked by the bastards this shithole. Credit where it was due, this was a
powerful move by Legate Warn. Special Advisor Sean Mills was already naked
on was exposed to the public in just his underpants - in a moment, they'd
be gone too.

"Mr Mills, do you want to take your son's undies off now?" Chief Bloom
asked.

Might as well get it over with – Sean put his hands on his son's smooth,
muscular thighs and slid them up towards the hip.

"Dad, please don't," Paul pleaded helplessly.

He was so used to his dad being in control of a situation. They had no
control now.

"You didn't answer me," Chief Bloom admonished Sean and ignored Paul.

"What?" asked Sean.

"Do you want to take your boy's undies off him?" Chief Bloom asked.

Sean felt sick having to say the words but his hands were on Paul's hips,
waiting to pull down the briefs, and he found himself loathed to admit...

"Yes. I want to take my son's undies off him," Sean replied.

There were hoots of mockery and revulsion from the mass of people in the
airport – they had assembled and continued to assemble to watch the
total degradation of the Mills family. Sean was minded to recall his
euphemism for Prerogative Search in airports – assport control.

Sean had no control now.

"Take his little briefs down then, Mr Mills," Chief Bloom allowed.

Paul had tensed since his dad's hands had contacted his bare skin. The
sensation was very pleasant. Paul was after all a horny teenage boy. Sean's
hands were apologetic as they rested on the waistband of Paul's briefs. If
it wasn't his own son, Sean knew he'd be enjoying this... even though it
was his son he was enjoying it.

"Dad, please don't..." Paul pleaded.

With teasing slowness, Sean lowered the briefs. The lower they got, the
greater the expanse of smooth, hair-free skin. Even once Sean reached the
root of his teenage son's penis, there still wasn't a single hair. Behind,
the spectators could see Paul's bubble butt appear –peachy, round mounds
that were moist in the crack.

Sean hadn't knelt or crouched so he had to bent over, pushing his own ass
out for appreciation, as he stooped to push his son's briefs down enough
for his ass and flaccid penis to fully flop out.



Paul immediately covered his genitals with his hands – just as Sean had
done initially. Sean pushed the briefs past the teenager's knees and with a
wriggle of his hips, which set his asscheeks wobbling, they tumbled around
his ankles.

Stooped over, Sean caught a whiff of boy-cock. He loved that smell.

Paul's eyes were downcast, which meant he could see his dad's dick
again. Fuck! He was naked in an airport far from home and surrounded by
strangers. Fuck!

"Paul Mills, give me your underpants," Chief Bloom said.

Paul's fuzzy brain was clearing so he was cognizant of the futility of
protesting. He made brief eye-contact with the man in charge, then looked
at Officers Brian and Smith. They were nice-looking men but now wasn't the
time to think like that. Paul looked at his dad who was now standing up
straight and not bothering to cover his penis anymore – he didn't see
the point now it had been seen and recorded and consigned to the internet.

"Give them the briefs and we can get on with this charade," Sean said
bitterly.

Get on with the charade? There was more?!

Paul tried not to move too much, keeping his hands clamped over the goods
while he slipped his bare feet out of the briefs and slid them towards
Officers Brian and Smith.

"Stage one processing in accordance with the Prerogative Search Act is now
complete," said Chief Bloom; "In order to proceed with your assessment, Mr
Mills, you will be expected to comply with further instructions."

"Yea, yea, whatever," Sean said.

"Mr Mills, your fraudulent ID card is a class-A offence with an attached
sentence for deportation. Your answers will determine our next course of
action for your travelling companion," Chief emphasised.

Sean glared at the BTP officer – straight out of the handbook he had
written himself. Go for the family and friends. When processing an
individual, their companions can be dragged into the assessment if viewed
as accessories to a failure or transgression.

"I could have one of my officers search your son for concealed drugs but I
think it would be a good lesson for you and more appealing to the
spectators if you did it," Chief said.

"Please, Chief Bloom... he's an innocent kid," Sean tried.

"An innocent little boy by the looks of him," Chief Bloom replied callously
and scandalously.



"He's a hairless wonder."

"Smooth as a Ken doll."

"Touch your little boy, daddy."

There were more cheers – loud and rowdy – as the audience anticipated
the next development. Sean had seen some Prerogative Searches become
pornographic in their content, all while regular people huddled around and
watched and recorded it.

"How old is the little fucker?"

Sean could feel the mob mentality; the spite, the cruelty, the
self-reinforcing viciousness.

"Tell everyone how old you are, Paul," Chief Bloom ordered.

"I'm sixteen," Paul muttered.

"Louder," Chief Bloom demanded.

"I'm sixteen years old. I'm nearly seventeen," Paul replied.

The crowd thought the needless addition was hilarious – like a kid
saying he's sixteen and three quarters. Sean cursed himself for trying to
appeal to Chief Bloom – he was just upping his humiliation of Paul, not
taking it easier.

"Paul, put your hands on your head," Chief said; "Now!"

Paul barely avoided whimpering as he took his hands off his penis and
testes and put them on his head. It was a marvellous reveal of a stubby,
uncircumcised, little dick - unlike Sean's his had not expanded (yet) –
and balls which hung down an inch or two inside a saggy sac.

Paul's hairless pits were on show too and although he had a gorgeous,
well-developed physique for his age (sixteen and three quarters, lol),
being bald below the neck was humiliating. He didn't need strangers seeing
this.

Paul choked back tears as he watched the audience train their cameras on
him – people all over the world would see these naked pictures. Fucking
XXXPoseBook!

"Please let me cover up? I don't want people I know to see me like this,"
Paul pleaded.

"Paul, don't..." but it was too late.

Chief Bloom sneered at the boy.

"Officer Smith," Chief called over; "Take out Paul's mobile phone and turn
his camera on."



Officer Smith obeyed because Chief Bloom was his boss but he felt
enormously guilty.

"Start taking pictures," Chief Bloom ordered; "His ass first. We'll work up
to the dangly bits."

Officer Smith took pictures of the kid's sweet ass before coming back to
the front. The spectators in the airport were filming the BTP officer as he
took pictures of the teen – that was another popular subgenre on
XXXPoseBook. Pictures of someone naked getting pictures taken of him!

"We don't want Mr Mills feeling left out, Officer Brian," Chief Bloom
added.

Officer Brian retrieved Sean's mobile from the box but found it locked.

"What's your passcode?" Officer Brian asked – he imagined taking
pictures of the posed and exposed man and felt conflicted by the thrill and
guilt.

"I can't tell you that. I won't tell you," Sean replied; "As Special
Advisor, that phone is secured to the highest level the country can buy."

"Which country?" muttered Officer Brian glibly.

"Whatever," Chief Bloom responded dismissively; "We'll just have to content
ourselves taking naked pictures of your teenage son. Head up, Paul."

Paul was forced to look straight into the camera as full-frontal pictures
were taken of him.

"Wait a sec," Chief Bloom said.

The big man stepped forward and pulled back on Paul's foreskin to reveal
the head of the boy's penis. It had remained flaccid which was all the more
humiliating for Paul. His hairless three-inch limp dick was being pictured
with his own phone.

"How many pictures do you have?" Chief Bloom asked.

"Thirteen," Officer Smith answered.

"Let's make it up to sixteen," Chief Bloom mocked the sixteen-year-old;
"Cover your little dick, kid. It'll add something to the pictures if it
looks like you were trying to hide the pathetic worm."

Paul covered his penis while three more pictures were taken and then he was
told to put his hands back behind his head. Chief Bloom took the phone and
laughed as he tapped away on the display.

"I'm uploading these pictures to your personal XXXPoseBook page, Paul,"
Chief Bloom said.

"No! Please don't!" Paul begged.

"I've added the caption, THIS IS ME! My name is Paul Mills," the BTP Chief
look up and added; "There goes your social media anonymity."

Paul's heart was hammering as he thought about the level of exposure.

"I've also sent the pictures to everyone on your phone's contact list..."
Chief Bloom whistled.

Oh my fucking god!

People in his hometown, his friends and kids at school would see those
naked pictures of him. His hairless, flaccid wiener would become viral
around school. They'd love it too – he was an arrogant jerk with an
entitled attitude and behaved like he was impervious.

"Wow! Three hundred and fourteen contacts. Embarrassing," Chief Bloom said
wickedly.



"You fucking bastard," Paul spat venomously.

Sean understood the anger and had indulged in it himself, but it would only
make things worse. If Chief Bloom was bothered, he didn't show it but Sean
fully expected reprisals.

"Sean, why don't you pat your son down and make sure there's nothing hidden
that we just can't see," suggested Chief Bloom.

People would watch Sean fondle his son, of course they would. He would too
if he were the spectator. Sean also knew he had no choice and that the only
option that might help Paul was to do as he was told. Paul hadn't figured
it out yet but Sean was compliant to save Paul from a worse fate.

Sean put hands on Paul's biceps and worked his way to the elbow and then
along the forearm; he repeated the process for the other arm and all the
while, Paul kept his hands on his head. Next Sean slid his caress into his
son's velvety armpit and the teenager wriggled a little but Sean moved past
that and worked his hands down Paul's body until he got to the pelvis. He
reached around Paul's back by stepping closer, like he was giving the boy a
hug, and stroking his shoulder blades and then down his spine.

Sean stroked the centre of Paul's chest, brushing sensitive nipples and
causing Paul to tense. Sean wasn't to know that his son's nipples were
connected directly to his dick, which was starting to get excited from all
the touching even if it was from a man in his late thirties... and also his
dad.

Sean crouched to stroke his son's legs – thighs, knees and calves. Sean
liked legs and Paul's were long and lean and soft and glossy. Sean stroked
down and then back up and on the upwards sweep he pushed his hands around
the back and grabbed Paul's buttocks.

Sean's dick was now a very obvious semi and so was Paul's. Paul might have
been under average in height for his age but his dick wasn't – he just
didn't want to reveal that to an airport full of strangers with cameras
everywhere.

"We saw a reaction when you touched that little ass, didn't we?" Chief
Bloom jeered.

The spectators cheered affirmatively.

"Turn around and let your dad look closer at that ass," Chief said.



Paul hated his own compliance with this ridiculous ceremony. It wasn't
meant to happen to people like him – monkeys and foreigners and enemies,
oh my. But not him.

Yet, Paul obeyed as he turned to face another direction increased his
awareness of how many people were watching – he was full frontal to a
massive crowd of people of all ages and genders. A group of boys at the
front of the crowd caught his eye; they were his age and dressed in shorts
and t-shirts. They were cute and recording him with camera phones –
which Paul found quite exciting.

Paul imagined being in their place or looking up the video of their ordeal
on XXXPoseBook and knew he'd be jerking off to those images forever if his
dad's hands were peeling his buttocks apart.

Wait! WHAT!?

Paul's train of thought – boys, boys and more boys – was interrupted
by the sensation of his dad's hands groping his ass cheeks.

"Pull your buttocks apart, Paul," Chief Bloom told the distracted teen.

Paul looked over his shoulder and planned to protest again but the BTP
officers Brian and Smith were at the ready to "help" him if he didn't
obey. Things were bad enough already. Paul peeled his cheeks apart and Sean
found himself looking into his boy's tight ring.

"The body scanner indicated your son had something stashed in there so you
better check," said Officer Smith.

"Poke around and see what you can find," Officer Brian added.

Sean pressed his index finger against the pink sphincter and felt it
tense. It was soft and yielding, opening like an iris with the gentlest of
touches. With his finger in his son's ass, Sean had a complex mix of
emotions – this was being done to degrade, dehumanise and demoralise him
and Paul. Yet, Sean was enjoying it too. The sex pest inside him enjoyed
boys, young men and men – it was something he'd kept a secret like any
good closeted politician. Staunch politicising of things like sexuality was
something politicians forced on other people; do as I say, not as I do.

Paul could see Officer Smith out the corner of his eye. The young officer
was taking more pictures – with Paul's mobile phone. Fuck!

As Sean worked his finger deeper, he felt something inside and realised
that for all the other contrivances, there really was something inside his
son's ass. With another finger or two, he was able to root it out and the
condom-like wrapping popped out like anal beads.



It was arranged just like anal beads, a central thread and pouches ranging
from the size of a hazelnut to the size of a walnut that were rough to the
touch – tablets lay inside. As Sean tugged the anal beads free, each
bulge popped from his son's ass with a satisfying sensation that was
setting Paul's cock on fire. Sean could see his son's glutes tensed
satisfyingly as his ass was finally empty.

What Sean could not see was that Paul was now fully hard – Sean was
fully erect too but as he was crouched down it was hidden for now. Sean was
proud of his eight-inch uncut cock; it briefly occurred to him to wonder if
Paul had a big erection too but he was too focused on the petite ass in
front of him.

Officer Smith broke into one of the bunches and examined a shield-shaped
capsule.

"Celsius-233," Officer Brian commented; "All the kids are into it now."

"That stash would be worth thousands," Officer Smith said.

"You idiot," Sean hissed at Paul; "You didn't need to smuggle this
yourself. I'd have got you all the junk you wanted."

Sean was still crouched behind Paul, who turned to apologise and hit his
dad in the face with his cock. The sight of that happening rose the roof
– laughs, whistles, demands for an action replay.

"I hope you got that on camera?" Chief Bloom asked Officer Smith.

"I did," Officer Smith replied – still holding Paul's mobile.

The phone was pointing at the boy whose dick was now in his dad's
face. Paul was embarrassed but Chief Bloom told him to stay where he was so
Sean was left looking at the seven inch one-eye of his son's cock.

"It wouldn't be fair to send teenage boy on his way without dealing with
that, now would it?" asked Chief Bloom rhetorically.

There was a buzz of agreement from the spectators. It was always helpful
when the spectating audience wanted more – it made the depravity all the
easier to manage. Degrading another human was no small task but Sean had to
confess, they were doing a good job.

Making him strip in public.

Making him strip his son in public.

Making him fondle his son.

Making him finger his son's ass.

Making him suck his son's cock.

He couldn't have planned it better himself.



LIKING THE TASTE OF IT

Sean couldn't believe this was happening to him. The worst thing was the
lack of control – he didn't care about filthy foreigners or class
enemies who had experienced this. That was their problem, not his. What
troubled him was that he had been lured into this by a clever enemy – he
was sure Legate Sandy Warn was behind it but what did the Egalitarian man
think he was going to achieve?

That Sean would learn the error of his ways?

Want to make amends?

"Do you want to get your cock sucked, Paul?" Chief Bloom asked.

Paul looked at the handsome man.

"Say it. Ask him to do it," Chief Bloom said; "Ask properly."

Paul knew what was being asked of him. He hoped that compliance would
engender leniency but he couldn't even be sure of that. Paul hung his head,
catching sight of his long and weeping cock. What he was about to say
brought him great shame and he knew it was being recorded by spectators on
phones and the airport security cameras and with his own phone – ready
to be sent to everyone he knew.

"Suck my cock, Daddy," Paul said; "Please suck my cock."

"Daddy?" muttered Officer Smith as he held the camera phone.

Sean's eyes flitted around the spectators and then returned to the
delicious penis in front of him. Sean preferred to top and preferred to be
the man getting sucked but he had a decent mouth. Indeed, despite his top
preference, he did enjoy he taste of a good teenage massive uncut
tumescence.

Sean reached up and wrapped his hand around the hot rod of boy-meat. It
felt thick and firm and heavy – it would only need a couple of strokes
to be ready for his mouth.

The feel of Paul's cock in his grip was hard to put into words. Sean
focussed on his interest in young dick rather than who the dick belonged
to. President Hump's parties were a place where one could get all the young
dick you wanted but this was beyond all imagining.

Sean liked the taste of fresh, creamy boy-juice so he savoured the moment
when he pursed his lips to kiss the tip of Paul's cock. The taste was there
on the sticky head – pre-cum had left an almost clear bead of natural
lubricant. Sean liked that up, dragging his tongue across the eye of his
son's dick.



Paul tensed up but held still – he'd had a blowjob before but this
felt... weird... different... weird.

"We know you're a cock gobbler, Mr Mills," Chief Bloom said, causing Sean
to stall; "Suck your son's dick. Go for it."

Sean wondered how they could know that, what they knew or if they were just
winding him up.

It didn't seem to matter now; besides the dick in front of him looked and
tasted delicious. He kissed it again and then pressed his taught lips
against it. Sean's lips parted as he pushed his face towards his son's
groin and impaling his mouth on the erection.

Voices from the spectators occasionally caught Sean and Paul's attention.

"I can't believe he'd do that to his own son."

"It's not like he has a choice."

"Looks like he enjoys it though."

"Look at the kid, he's lovin' daddy's mouth."

In Paul's youthful excitement, a premature spurt of cum shot into his dad's
mouth. He had plenty more in reserve in his balls but it gave the man a
taster of what was to come. The unexpected surge spilled over Paul's cock
and dribbled from Sean's mouth; he slurped it up in an obscene display.

Sean massaged Paul's smooth testicles while slowly moving his face back and
forth, feeling the length of the shaft hit the back of his throat. When he
looked straight ahead, Sean could see the hairless pubis of the
sixteen-year-old. It was so smooth that he'd never be able to tell there
had ever been hair there. There wasn't even a hint of stubble.

Sean eventually looked up – still noshing on his son's cock - while Paul
looked down and they were locked for a moment, just the two of them, of
union. Paul hadn't yet fully realised his sexuality and Sean's preferences
were rooted in perversion and power. Power gave Sean pleasure.

The pleasurable moans from his teenage son reminded Sean that he was not
the one being pleasured right now. But it still felt good.



Even sitting on his knees, yielding his mouth to a younger man, made Sean
feel powerful.

Boy! Not a man. He's just a boy, you sick freak. He's your son, you
disgusting man.

Sean had learned to ignore the voice of internal conflict. The feeling of
pleasure he had from gobbling cock couldn't last. Sean knew this was the
calm before the storm and when the storm hit, his power would be gone. His
career would be ruined and he would...

Sean was trying not to think about the inevitability of his fate. He was
sucking Paul's cock so his son wouldn't share that fate. Sean reached for
his own cock which had gone largely unnoticed and certainly unattended. He
gave the eight-inch cock a couple of tugs. His fingers came away sticky
with pre-cum and sweat.

"No, no. Leave your dick alone. We'll deal with that in a minute," said
Chief Bloom.

Sean moved his hands to Paul's incredibly smooth legs. Starting just above
the ankle, he stroked upwards and then back down. As with the teen's groin,
Paul was amazed at how smooth skin could be – his fingers didn't feel a
single prickle of stubble.

Sean's caress found a vulnerable spot behind the knee but kept going until
the man could cup the petite little cheeks of Paul's butt. It was a
forbidden touch in full view of hundreds of eyes and their cameras but that
just made it more exciting.

Sean wondered – with Officer Smith recording with his son's own phone
– if Paul would ever live down the shame of this scenario. Then Sean
could feel Paul's hips start to thrust and pound - pushing deeper into his
dad's face. Sean's nose found itself rubbing the spot where wiry hair
should be while pre-cum and saliva dribbled from his mouth; Sean pulled
back and swallowed, wiped his lips with his hand and then slurped the cock
back into his mouth.

"Oh my god, I'm going to cum," Paul warned.

"Cum on your dad's face," Chief Bloom said. "I'm sure all the kids at your
school will appreciate the cum shot."



Paul pulled back before Sean could react and with three strokes, his cum
shot between his daddy's eyes. Sean felt hot splashes on face; his eyes,
nose, lips and chin caught shots or dribbles as the spunk cascaded down the
man's face. Sean licked at it and looked up that blissful face he had
made. Sean was happy he had made Paul happy.

"Boy seed all over daddy's face."

"Should have bred daddy's throat."

Sean was aware of the crowd and the cameras and the lewd comments, but he
couldn't stop them and he was dammed if he was going to let anyone think he
wasn't tough enough to take it. The weaklings who bemoaned this treatment
and whined about human rights and sexual abuse were just pussies.

"Paul enjoyed that a lot," Office Smith said; "I'll upload your blowjob to
XXXPoseBook."

"You did a great job, Sean. You really helped out your little boy out
there," Chief Bloom said outrageously.

Sean felt himself getting angry again. Despite wanting to show he was tough
enough; his bravado was cracking. He'd just sucked his own son's cock, of
course it was cracking.

"Are you ready to admit you forged you ID card?" Chief Bloom asked.

"I did not forge my ID. It was tampered with," Sean said and he felt a
flash of anger; "Even an idiot like you should be able to tell that. If you
were the right colour, you wouldn't have done this at all."

Gasps were followed by silence.

"That was very disrespectful," commented Officer Brian in a slow drawl.

"It would have been more impressive without spunk all over your face,"
added Officer Smith.

"Yes," agreed Chief; "I guess we'll just have to continue with the
examination and see if Mr Mills is more honest after the next stage."

Sean worried what they had planned. Reciprocity perhaps – would they
make his Paul suck his cock? Ordinarily he would never pass up a blowjob
but this was just cruel, right? Sean wasn't some filthy foreigner or class
enemy – he wasn't meant to be treated like this and it kept him
hot-headed and angry.



"Officers Smith and Brian, we found the contraband up Paul's ass but maybe
we should inspect Mr Mills too... just to be sure," Chief Bloom suggested
to his squeamish subordinates.

"In case the full-body scanner missed it?" said Officer Smith; "They have
both committed serious infractions with at least one qualifier for
Compulsory Relocation."

"A further search would be in line with Prerogative Search, the
Participation Amendment and the Mutual Rendition Amendment," Officer Brian
rationalised.

Whatever you need to tell yourselves boys. Chief Bloom didn't give a shit.

"This is fucking ridiculous!" Sean protested

"A ridiculous fucking... Good idea," Chief concurred; "Mr Mills, bend over
this table."

Sean stood up, his legs shaky from crouching and kneeling as he sucked
Paul's dick. There was a gasp when people saw Sean's full-blown erection
properly; now that it wasn't tucked in his groin and partially
obscured. His cock was eight inches long and a beautiful fuck-tool.

"Wow," Paul muttered.

Paul had snatched a look at his dad's cock and nearly came a second
time. He'd never seen a dick that big in real life and although his cock
was long – his dad's dick was even longer and thicker.

Sean approached the desk, gripped the edge and bent over, arms extended and
ass stuck out – he knew the playbook well enough to know they were
reaching for the anal camera. Also known as a dildo.

Paul was beckoned forward – padding along on his bare feet towards his
dad's ass. Now knowing what was coming, Paul was less certain; even less so
as he was handed a sliver baton the size of a police truncheon.

"You are going to fuck your dad with this," Chief Bloom said; "Don't worry,
he can take it. Can't you, Mr Mills?"

The silver truncheon/ dick was about six inches around and since Paul was
about to put it in his dad's ass, he looked at it with wide eyes. It was a
pretty big phallus to fuck a guy with. Officer Smith squeezed lube from a
bottle onto the top of it and the lubricant dribbled down the length of the
baton.

Instinctively Paul stroked the silver cock, greasing it up nicely for what
was coming next. As well as girth, it was very long and Paul tried to work
out how much he could push in without hurting his dad.



Could his dad take six or seven inches? The shaft was marked in centimetres
and Paul estimated he could advance it by fifteen to eighteen centimetres
– his dildo at home, the one hidden under his bed, was nearly that
size. Paul and his dad had never talked much about sex – that's what sex
education was for.

Not that state schools got sex-ed...

"Let's teach teenagers to be abstinent," Sean had said with a wild cackle
that everyone in High Office thought was hilarious. Played well with the
religious crowd who loved to keep their younglings ignorant.

...but Paul went to a remarkably expensive private school so his education
was good. Anyway, Paul didn't talk to his dad much about sex but he also
knew that he'd just had the best blowjob of his life.

No first timer could suck a cock like that.

Maybe has dad had taken it in the ass before too?

"The end of the probe has a camera," Officer Brian said while Officer Smith
filmed them.

"Probe. Yea right."

"Dildo time!"

The spectators knew that this was not inspecting Sean's asshole for drugs
– it was all part of the humiliation. Cruelty was the point and Sean
would be forced to experience every inch of it.

"Just advance the probe gently to begin with," Officer Smith added.

"Push it in, then pull it back out. Do the hokey cock-y... in, out, in,
out, shake it all about," Chief Bloom said guffawing.

Sean wasn't even asked if he was ready – he just felt the tip of the
`probe' press into his cheeks and then wriggle around until it found his
anal sphincter. Sean didn't blame Paul – the horny teenager was excited
and distracted – but the BTP officers could have checked he was ready to
be invaded.

Sean recalled instructions regarding examinations just like this:

Bear true to gratuitousness and unnecessary shame; make the obligation
compulsory, without mental preparation or opportunity for evasion.

The threat of exams like this had been enough to drive away foreigners,
quell enemies and ostracise allies. Sean thought the Prerogative Search Act
had been very effective and being trapped by it by Sandy Warn of the
Egalitarian Party didn't change his mind about that. If anything, Sean
felt...

The probe spread his hole, which in itself was pleasurable, and slowly slid
deeper. Sean could feel the sphincter dilate, spreading before the head of
the probe which had a rounded bullet-shaped at the tip to help ease the
muscular ring open.



Sean felt increasing pressure as the probe slid inside him while his
sphincter clamping onto the solid phallus. The probe glanced past his
prostate and Sean felt a throb in his groin. Milky excretions leaked from
the tip of Sean's cock, leaving a snotty deposit on the desk.

Sean moaned and pressed his hard cock into the desk where the pressure
against his aching erection made more pre-cum and took him closer to
orgasm. The `probe' was thick but not unbearable – quite the opposite
– and Paul was being careful.

Still, Sean wished his son would push it deeper and harder.

"Tell him you want more," Chief Bloom stage whispered.

"Push it deeper, son. Fuck me harder," Sean said.

It wasn't difficult to say the words, it really was a pleasurable fuck. The
sliding in and out, sometimes deep and sometimes shallow was handled
expertly by the boy. Paul knew how to aim for the prostate and when to give
Sean a moment for recovery before stabbing and thrusting again.

Sean knew the officers would want to make a show of his orgasm and it
worried him. Sean could think of multiple ways to make him blow his load in
front of all these cameras and spectators; the only question was, what was
the most humiliating way that Chief could think of?

As Paul pulled the shaft back, he put his hand on his dad's back to steady
him. The centre of Sean's back popped with vertebrae, each a little hill
that Paul was tempted to kiss but resisted. Paul looked to the officers to
check he was getting it right. Officer Smith was engrossed in Paul's camera
phone.

Paul's own phone displayed him totally naked behind his dad who was also
totally naked and a fat silver phallus fucking the man's hole under the
tender control of the teenage boy. Paul could only imagine the comments his
friends and peers were making to the pictures and video they'd received
from him so far.

Meanwhile, Chief Bloom and Officer Brian were exchanging comments that were
punctuated by Chief Bloom checking his watch. Sean was sweating and panting
from the sexual exertion. He was too distracted by the phallic ass-fucking
to notice the checking of the time, otherwise he might have anticipated the
next thing to happen.

A commotion on his left pulled Sean from his ecstasy induced miasma. The
crowd parted reluctantly but each person who moved in turn began to
grin. Sean discovered why a moment later – the national news team had
arrived.



FAMILY DYNAMICS

Faux Newz 45 had established itself as the "debunker of Egalitarian
propaganda" during President Horace Hump's rise to power. However, everyone
knew it was now controlled by High Office – it was an extremist melting
pot of misinformation, outright lies and propaganda. It peddled nonsense to
people who gobbled it up but not because it had any real value – it was
more like a dog eating its own shit and vomit just because it liked the
taste.

High Office galvanised power by denying facts, peddling lies and
undermining the very concept of truth. This is how you control a people and
persuade them to vote for you. You use a well-oiled propaganda machine that
persuades people there is no truth, no right or wrong, no evidence –
only confusion, only point of view and biased opinion.

In this way, any criticism of Presidential misbehaviour can be
characterised as a character attack. When the Egalitarians had rallied to
stop President Hump's cruelty and abuses of power, President Hump decreed
Conclave should not have the right to question him. It was a
self-reinforcing cycle of tyranny with public support garnered through
misinformation.

Legitimate news stations were the one's portrayed as dangerous
propagandists. The free press had golden handcuffs to cover any story they
liked as long as the narrative was not critical of the President or High
Office or the Orthodox Party.

Sean himself saw to it that those news organisations were not shut down
completely; they lent credibility from time to time, for example when High
Office made achievements such as substantially lowering unemployment.

Unemployment had dropped due to the population falling. Also, there was no
minimum wage anymore, child labour was acceptable, wage equality was
abandoned and people had to work 60 hours across three jobs just to make
ends meet – but crucially unemployment had fallen and if news
organisations would just stuck to the positives if they knew what was good
for them.

No mentioning the fact that foreigners had contributed a lot more (A LOT
MORE) to the economy than they took out, no mentioning the fall in GDP, no
mentioning the rise in cost of living representing a real-terms wage cut,
no mentioning that people weren't counted as unemployed if they were unpaid
volunteers, unpaid carers or worked even one hour a week.

Just stick to the facts. Unemployment fell.



Faux Newz 45 arrived with multiple cameras – all of them trained on a
naked Sean Mills, Special Advisor to President Hump, getting ass-fucked
with a big silver `probe' by his own son who was equally naked.

"Is that kid hairless?" asked the cameraman with a disconcerting laugh.

Sean hoped that it wasn't being broadcast live – then he could at least
limit the damage to his reputation. If it was live it would be more
difficult to control the narrative; usually, a sanitised version would
broadcast on air and the uncensored version leaked online. Sean remained
convinced that Legate Warn had orchestrated this to teach him a lesson but
he could fire it back as a partisan move of hostility. Faux Newz 45 would
help push that narrative even if they were the one's filming right now.

"Wait! Is that Special Advisor Mills?" asked the reporter.

"Fu- Wow..." the cameraman said.

The cameraman avoided swearing – it would be uncouth to swear on TV
(thought the man filming a nude teenager pounding his dad with a dildo).

"And that must be his son," the reporter agreed; "Funny, I thought his son
was older... isn't he sixteen?"

"If it is SA Mills, should I stop filming?" asked the cameraman.

"No," the reporter replied; hungrily watching the family dynamics.

Sean continued calculating even as his humiliation grew. It might even work
in the Orthodox Party's favour. They could portray the Egalitarians as
dangerous dissidents, attacking High Office appointees; Sean was
formulating the best way to spin this as a reason not to trust the other
party.

It didn't matter that it was President Hump, Sean Mills, the Orthodoxy and
their bankrolling bunch of self-serving bastards that were the greatest
threat the country had ever faced. The people would believe what he told
them to believe. What, were they believe what they saw or what he told
them?

"I am Tommy Hanes reporting from Apprentice airport where an incredible
turn of events is taking place. We do not have complete details but you can
all see that Special Advisor Sean Mills and his young son are being
processed by Border and Transport Police under the Prerogative Search
Act. Both are completely naked and...



Sean had never hated anyone as much as he hated Legate Alexander Warn right
now. The bastard was ruining his life and the only thing Sean could do now
was make sure Paul didn't suffer the same fate as him.

"...the probe must be at least seven inches long and is going very deep
inside in search of contraband," the Tommy Hanes continued. "It is quite
unexpected to see Mr Mills totally nude and as you can see his teenage son
appears to be totally hairless. Family dynamics in Prerogative Search is a
standard procedure but they must be mortified. We can see Paul penetrating
his own father with a phallus and the images sure to spread uncontrollably
online."

"I think we can conclude you have no drugs up there, Mr Mills," Chief said.

Paul pulled the `probe' out and Sean's sphincter closed with a little
leakage that trailed down the back of his thigh. Sean straightened up and
wanted to cover his dick but it was too big and too hard and he would have
looked more foolish for doing so.

"You keep calling me that but I thought you didn't believe me when I said I
was Sean Mills," Sean replied for the benefit of the camera.

He might be naked to an audience of millions but they were his millions
– he could get his supporters on side.

"I thought you said you were?" Chief said disbelievingly; "Are you ready to
admit your ID really was forged. It would make it easier on you."

"My ID wasn't forged," Sean said hurriedly.

"I hope you aren't suggesting we are wrong?" said Chief Bloom; "Border and
Transport Police report to High Office to prevent enemies from harming our
country. Are you questioning the integrity of High Office policy?"

Sean had to confess, that was a clever reply that left Sean criticising his
own policies and High Office or agreeing he was being fairly treated which
is how he would portray this procedure under any other circumstances.

"No. Of course not," Sean agreed.

He had to make the concession, though he was loathed to look weak in front
of the spectators, the news cameras and his son. His son – Sean looked
at Paul. Paul's naked body would be all over the news too. Paul's school
friends would not only have pictures and video sent from his own phone but
by now they'd be able to see him on the news headlines!

Dammit, if his office was watching, they could save him.



"As you can see, Mr Mills is being processed under the Prerogative Search
Act and its associated ordinances and amendments. He was caught using a
forged ID card. His son was caught smuggling drugs and processing will
continue for attempting to travel under the influence of illegal drugs and
attempting to transport them," Chief explained for the cameras.

Always important to control the narrative – it was something Sean said
in his internal memos around High Office.

"Mr Mills has been unresponsive to standard corrective measures," Chief
said.

Stripping a man was a standard corrective measure.

"He has been resistant to moderate correction," Chief added.

Sucking his own son's cock was a moderate measure.

Sean would have argued he had complied with both measures but argument
never got anyone anywhere. Arrested for resisting arrest was still a thing
and this was but an extension of that illogical sham.

"We have attempted innovative correction to persuade him to be honest about
forging his ID," Chief continued.

Innovative correction – getting fucked with a massive phallus.

With each announcement he could hear the crowd getting more and more
riled. They had turned against him – against him! Didn't they know who
he was? Didn't they care? This wasn't fair – he is Sean Mills. Special
Advisor Sean Mills.

"We will need to use and advanced correction. A special correction," Chief
added ironically; "For a special man."

The lights, the sounds, the cameras.

There would be no way out of this, would there?

This was the moment Sean knew he was beaten.

"Mr Mills, ID card forgery is an immediate qualifier for exile under the
Compulsory Relocation Act. We can also hold you indeterminately under the
Indefinite Detention Act. Do you care about your son Paul, Mr Mills?" Chief
Bloom asked.

Sean had known this would be the final threat – that Paul would share
his fate for exile. That was why he had obeyed until now.

"If you don't want Paul to join you in exile..." Chief Bloom began his
ultimatum; "Fuck him before you leave."



FUCKED IF YOU DO, FUCKED IF YOU DON'T

Yes, Sean had anticipated they might ask that.

Sex, depravity, humiliation – they were all in the tool kit. They were
all no holds barred methods of destroying a person. The irony was that if
you were facing these measures, you were probably metaphorically fucked
anyway – Sean would have nothing to gain from obeying any of this if
he'd been travelling alone.

"Dad, no. No way," Paul protested – meekly covering his softening penis.

The spectators and Paul's own mobile phone and the Faux Newz 45 cameras had
been recording everything and the boy still felt enough shame to cover up.

"Paul..." Sean began patiently.

If he'd been travelling alone, Sean would have known he was fucked
anyway. But he had something to loss – he didn't want Paul to suffer the
same fate as him. He knew that the demand to fuck his son in public in
front of cameras was a final exertion of control, power and cruelty –
that was the whole point of Prerogative Search.

"I'm not getting fucked by my own dad, you bastards," Paul said.

"This is an interesting development," said reporter Tommy Hanes;
"Sixteen-year-old Paul Mills is arguing with the Border and Transport
Police."

"Paul... I'm going away... and I might never see you again," Sean said. "I
will be deported and I know the rules better than anyone. You don't get to
come back. If you don't do as your told right now, you'll be exiled too."

"I don't care," Paul whined but he did care.

"I didn't work this hard for my own son to question the laws I made," Sean
reprimanded the boy. "You will do as you're told."

Paul shrank from his dad's warning glare. He didn't want to be exiled. He
didn't want to obey either. How could a law that was blatantly wrong be
legal?

"Paul Mills, are you going to follow the instructions given to you by the
BTP Chief?" asked Tommy Hanes.

"Yes," Paul answered defeatedly.

"You are going to bend over and let your own father penetrate your anus
with his penis?" the reporter said with a cruel smirk.

"Yes," Paul answered.



"Uncover your dick again."

"Get it hard."

"Cum with daddy inside you."

The heckling from the spectators were a gentle reminder of how many people
had a front row view of the live event. The spectators had never stopped
watching or recording everything that happened. The Faux Newz 45 cameras
were recording and even Officer Smith was still taking pictures and video
using his own mobile phone.

"Come and stand closer to the cameras," Chief Bloom said.

Paul had tears in his eyes as he followed his dad towards the national news
cameras. His hairless nudity was being caught on film and soon much worse
than anything else that had happened so far would happen.

"Do as they say and you get to go home, son," Sean said, with a comforting
arm over Paul's shoulders.

Paul just nodded – he was scared, nervous and the drugs had worn off so
he wasn't as stupid-high as he had been for the first half of this
ordeal. Sean and his son stood in front of the Faux Newz 45 cameras, in
profile which caught their lean bodies.

"Face each other and make them hard," Chief Bloomed commanded.

The man and boy started paying with themselves. Paul found himself looking
at his dad's otter-like chest and Sean took in the sight of the smoother
than smooth teenager. Soon their erections were protruding. Paul's seven
inches and Sean's eight inches faced each other – Sean grabbed them both
in one grip, wanking them against each other. Feeling their dicks skate
against each other was a bewildering experience for them both. Sean stopped
when he saw pre-cum leaking.

"Do you have protection?" asked Sean.

"For what?" Chief Bloom asked condescendingly.

Sean knew better than to embarrass himself by asking again – he was
being told to go in bareback.



Paul turned around without prompting – offering the camera a
full-frontal flash as he did. Paul bent over, pushed his ass out and put
hands on his knees. Sean stroked his cock and took a moment to wonder if
his son had any experience with anal penetrative sex. He certainly hadn't
been squeamish about filling his ass with something resembling anal
beads. Paul hadn't been perturbed about being fingered in the ass either.

Sean continued to stroke his dick, spreading pre-cum over the head, while
gazing longingly at the petite, peach-fuzz ass in front of him. He wished
he was back at President Hump's More K Ozeru resort with an anonymous
little bitch instead of his son but the ass before him was a thing of
beauty.

Sean stepped closer and stroked his cock up and down Paul's taught,
muscular ass crack. Paul squeezed his eyes shut but that didn't tune out
the hoots and whistles of the spectators nor the murmurs of the camera crew
as they set up multiple angles.

Sean put a little pressure between the buttocks while putting his hands on
the mounds and using his thumbs to part the cheeks. Spying the smooth and
pink ring of muscle, Sean admired the lovely hole; despite the attention
and the depravity of it, he was excited to proceed.

Sean was, surprisingly graciously, offered lube to grease the eight-inch
rod of his cock - the spongy head soaked up moisture and shone in the
bright light of the airport. Sean's big cock touched the tight chute of his
son's ass and Paul's legs shook with anticipation. Gradually increasing the
pressure, Sean felt the head of his cock spread the sphincter and then it
popped inside.

Paul's ass was warm and moist and the teenage boy let out a little cry of
pleasure; he could feel the long and thick cock advancing slowly, spreading
his hole which tightened around the shaft.

Paul had been fucked by a Buddy from school but he had never been bare
backed before and he certainly never anticipated his first time doing that
would be with his own dad. His dad had an eight-inch cock – an inch
bigger than his own – and it pushed deeper and deeper.

Paul felt his dad hold his hips; Sean was buried all the way inside his
son's ass, his pubes spraying against the fair skin of his son's
sacrum. Holding Paul's hips, Sean pulled the shaft of his cock back until
he felt his sphincter tug on the head of his cock; then he pushed back in
while pulling his boy towards him.



Bent over, hands on his knees, was a stamina test for Paul's back and
thighs; moreover, he had no free hands with which to jerk himself. The need
to masturbate was mitigated by the deep plunges of Sean's cock which caused
Paul to moan while Sean grunted from the effort.

They were both exhausted by the events in assport control and yet the
sensations were mind-blowing, blowing away any other thoughts or
feelings. Sean's naked cock was wrapped up in the warm cocoon of Paul's
ass; the petite mounds in front of him were tight globes that invited one
of two actions.

One, Sean wanted to bite the cute little ass but his mouth couldn't reach.

Two, Sean wanted to slap it. That he could do.

"Ouch," Paul said pathetically.

Sean took a hand off Paul's hip and like a cowboy on a bucking bronco
raised his hand, leaned back, ploughed in and slapped Paul's buttock. Paul
yelped but Sean pulled back and slapped again, harder this time and then a
third time.

"Oh, fuck," Paul howled.

Chief Bloom muttered to Paul – the audience could not hear but Paul did
and it was with shame that he said his next words.

"Fuck me, daddy. Fuck me," Paul shouted.

"What a revolting thing to say," reporter Tommy Hanes commented.

To the sound of disgusted laughter, Paul felt pre-cum oozing from his
enlivened erection. The foreskin of his cock was peeled back and clear
sticky fluid dribbled from it like drool from the mouth of a sexual deviant
watching a sixteen-year-old getting fucked by his dad.

A sticky stream of pre-cum stuff trailed from his cock and spilled over
Paul's toes. Paul could barely keep still, jittering from excitement and
elation and arousal. He was going to cum again at any moment – untouched
and precipitated exclusively from getting ass-fucked.

Sean was close to cumming too. He concentrated on pushing the sensitive
head of his cock past his son's tight sphincter a few times and felt the
orgasm edge nearer. Finally, Sean submitted to it and began to slide the
shaft back in – deep as it could go. Sean felt his balls swing like a
hairy pendulum, colliding with Paul's bum and making obscene slapping
noises.

Sean gave a series of short thrusts and his cock let loose. Sean's cum
spilled inside his son, filling Paul's ass with spunk, jizz, scuzz,
ball-juice. Paul moaned and whined with pleasure and he could feel the hot
soup of his dad's sperm inside him - breeding inside him.

"Pull your cock out," Chief Bloom said after he was sure Sean's cock was
done shooting.



Sean obeyed and a couple of strokes prompted another spurt of cum over the
small of Paul's back. Cum was oozing from Paul's ass and dribbling down his
thighs; Sean gazed at the creampie and hoped he'd be told to push the scum
back inside the hole but Chief Bloom had a different idea for the Special
Advisor.

"Get on your knees and deal with that," Chief Bloom said – pointing at
Paul's ass.

Sean was too exhausted and – he admitted it – beaten to
resist. Wasn't this the point of this punitive power? Sean dropped to his
knees while Paul straightened up; the teen had never been fleched before
and didn't know what to expect. The sixteen-year-old's ass was moist and
leaking and although Paul was uninitiated, Sean knew what to do.

Sean pushed his face between Paul's buttocks. He could smell sweet sweat,
musky teen, fresh ass and even fresher cum. His tongue spread out and
licked across the hole and then up and down the crack of Paul's ass. Paul
moaned again and his hands flailed as he sought purchase on something,
anything, that would help him survive the onslaught of ecstasy. Paul held
his mouth and whimpered through it as his dad ate his ass – he could
actually feel the tongue wiggling inside the rim of his butt.

Eating his own cum out of a teenager's ass was always fun – Sean just
hadn't anticipated such an enormous audience. Nor for the teenager to be
his own boy. Hundreds of people were present for the live event in the
airport and Faux Newz 45's cameras would broadcast to millions. Still, it
was a beautiful creampie and Sean ate it while holding his son's legs and
lovingly caressing them.

"Don't you think Paul should get to cum again?" Chief Bloom coaxed the
crowd; "Does he look like he could pop again?"

Tommy Hanes gave Chief Bloom a thumbs up who had been given the thumbs up
via his earpiece.

"Sean, you can bend over now. I don't think it will take Paul long, will
it?" Chief Bloom asked.

He was almost mocking of the horny teenager and the young propensity for
not lasting.

As Sean bent over for Paul to return the fucking favour (pun intended), he
could see the news team change position increasing the exposure of his
nudity (bare arse and deflating cock) but also capturing the moment of
penetration.



Paul also had no condom but he too received a generous squirt of lube; he
wasn't sure he needed it since his cock was soaked with sweat, spit and
pre-cum. Paul parted his dad's ass cheeks again and this time it wasn't a
`probe' he pushed against the hole. Paul pushed his penis inside his dad
and worked into a rhythm that stroked his seven-inch cock.

The sphincter wrapping the shaft of Paul's cock was a semi-rigid embrace
that would be more than enough to take him to orgasm. He could hear the
slap of his balls against his dad and the slap of skin as his pelvis made
contact with buttocks.

"Oh... my... Fucking... god," Sean said.

"Get a close shot of the hairless root as the kid fucks his daddy," Tommy
Hanes said to his cameraman.

"Officer Smith, make sure you get some good shots of Paul and his daddy for
his friends at school," Chief Bloom said.

Everyone seemed to enjoy maligning the family affair but somehow, Sean and
Paul were too busy to notice. Paul slid hid hands up his dad's back,
gripping his shoulders. Paul contemplated a grip on his dad's neck but
resisted – it felt too sexually aggressive. Besides:

"Oh my... I'm gonna..." Paul said.

Paul came and after the first spurt he was pulled back by Officer
Brian. The second spurt shot onto his dad's back and then Paul was spun
around to face the Faux Newz 45 camera and Officer Smith (aiming Paul's
phone at him) where a third, fourth and fifth shot of hot jizz pumped from
his cock. Paul continued to face the cameras as his orgasm completed
itself. With diminishing returns, Paul's cock erupted streams of cum,
eventually slowing to a trickle that flowed back down the outside of the
shaft, over his balls and spilling onto his feet.

Paul eventually grabbed his dick because he'd never orgasmed like that
before and his cock felt like a tap that wouldn't turn off. Slowly, the
pressure in his balls fell and the flow abated. Paul's hands were a mess of
cum.

"Eat it, you hairless little bitch. Wipe it on your face," Chief Bloom
said.



Sean had managed to turn around, feeling wet between his legs. He watched
his son push his sloppy fingers into his mouth and slurp the cum off them;
then Paul smeared the remaining jizz mixed with saliva all over his face.

"Paul?" Sean said quietly.

Paul turned back to his dad and saw a look of sadness. When his dad stepped
closer, Paul moved too. Paul felt the scratch of his dad's chest hair and
their most intimate parts, still far from soft, mashed together. They
embraced for a moment because Sean knew they would only be given a moment.

The show was over, people would be pushed onto their flights and the
cameras would leave and the broadcast of their debasement would be
sanitised for national broadcast but left uncensored online...

The only had a moment left to be who they were before.

"Take Paul somewhere he can get cleaned up and changed. He has a flight to
catch," Chief Bloom said; "I hope you've learned your lesson not to smuggle
drugs?"

The find of Celsius-233 in his ass felt like a long time ago. Paul was
pulled out of his father's embrace and he saw a totally defeated
expression.

"Go. It's ok, son," Sean said simply.

Sean knew that Chief Bloom had discretion over Paul's fate – he could
have used Compulsory Relocation to deport him too. Or worse, Indefinite
Detention which would have led to a pretty boy like Paul being sold
to... someone like Sean Mills?

Chief Bloom was letting Paul go and it was not lost on Sean that such
clemency was not guaranteed. Perhaps it wasn't clemency though – Paul
would have a tough year at school ahead of him. The fact that the Big-Four
laws were not all being used against his son made Sean wonder:

Perhaps it was a sign of someone weak behind the plot... like Legate
Warn... unable to bring himself to completely ruin a teenage boy's life.

"Take Sean to a holding room," Chief said.

Sean was numb but aware of hands on his slippery body – they didn't take
advantage though. The hands just kept him steady, marching him through a
crowd who commented on the stench of sex coming off him.



WHAT WE KNOW

Sean looked up when the holding room door opened and he heard someone
approach - a moment later a man came into view.

"I knew it," Sean said; "I knew it was you."

Legate Alexander (Sandy) Warn sat down in a chair opposite Sean Mills. The
man couldn't help but notice how attractive Sean was – momentarily he
was able to forget how grotesque and cruel he was. The lean body, the furry
chest, the bush of pubes above a fat penis - just for a moment, Sandy was
able to appreciate Sean exclusively for his aesthetic appeal.

"I knew it was you, you piece of shit," Sean said.

The moment was over.

"I'm sorry your son got caught up in all this. Are you alright?" Legate
Warn asked.

"Are you kidding me? After what you've done to me?" Sean asked.

"Perhaps you feel you have been treated unfairly?" Legate Warn asked
blandly.

Sean looked at with disdain but he had to admit:

"Well played," Sean said; "It was an excellent trap. I'll give you
that... I'll give you that."

"It didn't have to be like this," Legate Warn said; "You must see how wrong
it is now... to treat human beings like this? To treat any human as less
than human. Help me to put an end to all of this."

"Help you?" Sean replied; "You really must be kidding."

"The alternative is relocation and you know there are no options to
return. No appeal, no way back," the Legate said.

"Are you trying to... warn me, Mr Warn?" Sean said ironically.

Legate Warn didn't smile; he'd heard every joke about his name.

"Funny, I've never heard that one before," Warn replied humourlessly.

"What's funny is that you try to act morally superior. But when it came to
it, you did to me what you claim to believe is wrong. The Egalitarian's are
hypocrites," Sean said.



"Oh, so you do you think how you were treated was wrong?" Warn asked,
ignoring the criticism.

"Of course," Sean exploded emotionally.

"But it's ok to treat immigrants, visitors and other citizens like that?"
Warn enquired.

"Filthy foreigners, threats, class enemies..." Sean insisted; raising his
voice and clenching his fists.

"Religious minorities, homosexuals, transgender people," Legate Warn
humanised the people Sean was trying to vilify.

"Freaks and vermin," Sean insisted through clenched teeth.

"You like having sex with men, don't you?" Legate Warn asked without
judgement; "Homosexuals are considered enemies. You still don't see what
you've been doing is wrong?"

Hypocrisy and cognitive dissonance allowed Sean to ignore the comment about
his sexual proclivities. Besides, having sex with men or boys wasn't wrong
– being gay was wrong. There's a difference.

"You're a failure, Legate Warn. You achieved nothing. Even if you send me
away, President Hump will bring me back," Sean said confidently.

"You think so? To bring you back would undermine one of his signature
policies. They're called the Big-Four for a reason," Legate Warn said,
leaning forward; "If an exception can be made for you, why not others?"

Sean knew it was politically complex but excuses could be made. President
Hump was their esteemed leader and no-one would question him even if he was
wrong.

"You don't know him," Sean said; "I am his most loyal advisor."

Legate Warn's expression became sad and he sat back in his chair.

"I am so sorry," Sandy said.

"You're sorry?" Sean asked.

"I didn't do this to you, Sean. This wasn't my trap..." Legate Warn said
slowly.

"What? Then who..." Sean started to ask but faltered; "It can't be."

"It is," Legate Warn answered; "President Hump organised this. All of
this... to get rid of you."



"You're lying," Sean said.

"No."

Sean watched Legate Warn carefully and he felt it deep down that the man in
front of him was telling the truth. But that was impossible.

"It took some time to appreciate the threat President Hump posed. And by
the time we did know, it was too late to stop him twisting the government
until it was unrecognisable. Twisting Legates and Prelates and using their
selfish desires for money or power," Warn said methodically; "You extended
presidential terms and allowed the President to decide when Synod and
Conclave were re-elected. Synod allowed the President to decide when or if
he could be investigated and stole the power of Conclave to hold him to
account. You worked hard to disenfranchise voters and dismantle the
opposition..."

"How do you know President Hump orchestrated this for me?" Sean interrupted
irritably.

"We have a pretty good intelligence network inside High Office. Like I
said, it took us some time," Legate Warn responded; "Now we know almost
everything."

"I doubt that," Sean scoffed.

"We know you're planning a snap election in three or four months," Warn
countered.

Sean's jaw dropped – he was impressed, and disturbed, that they knew.

"You think springing it on us will leave the Egalitarian Party unprepared,
but we're always prepared for electioneering. We know that you've
calculated the people are getting restless with High Office. You can con
some of the people some of the time; but you can't con all the people all
of the time. If President Hump is going to get re-elected..." Warn said the
word sarcastically; "He needs to grab it now while his lies can still
poison the outcome and delude the naοve."

"You're not as stupid as you look," Sean muttered.

"One more faux election and by the end of summer you can dismiss term times
altogether and the Orthodox Party will pass the Perpetuity Act," Warn
continued; "No more elections."

"Fuck, you really do have good intelligence," Sean agreed guardedly.



"I believe you call it strategic infiltration," Legate Warn answered.

"Hmm," Sean replied noncommittally.

"President Hump overstayed his welcome, extending his reign well beyond
what any man should have ruled. His supporters voted for him because enough
of the `right kind of people' were getting hurt that they didn't mind some
of them would suffer too..." Legate Warn continued.

The right kind of people: gays, class enemies, blacks, observers of
non-Christian religions, disobedient women, filthy foreigners – to name
a few.

"They especially don't mind if it's other Hump supporters are the
losers. Afterall, they're always hoping it's another who is suffering
rather than themselves," Sandy said; "But now more of them are suffering
than are relishing the pain of others. They're on the turn, Sean."

"President Hump's supporters are loyal," Sean said but he had a doubt.

"His supporters have been betrayed by the President and where one trust
ends another lie begins," Sandy commented.

"And how do you intend to win this election? You don't think we know how to
make sure that doesn't happen?" Sean asked snidely; talking politics, he
could almost forget he was still stark bollock naked.

"You mean by deleting people from the electoral roll, closing polling
stations, imposing unnecessary ID checks and electronically changing votes
in the booth? By electoral interference and leaving voting machines
vulnerable to cyber-attack?" Legate Warn quizzed rhetorically; "By
intimidation and outright lies to people who have learned not to believe
the truth?"

Legate Warn was fearsomely well informed. Sean wondered if the man knew the
electoral interference wasn't going to come from hostile foreign nations
– or not just from them – but from corporations employed by the
President himself to steal the election.

"We can't fail," Sean said smugly – forgetting he wouldn't be a part of
it.



"Except Egalitarian's have been backing up all eligible voters on the roll
and enrolling literally every eligible voter. We've been creating firewalls
and data-protection software. We've been processing election-fit ID cards
for those who don't have them," the Legate continued; "We've learned by now
that High Office and the Orthodoxy will never agree to electoral
security. So, we'll campaign to show Hump for what he is – a tyrant –
and in the weeks before the election we'll stealthily update every voting
mechanism to make them secure and ensure the election free and fair."

Sean listened silently and realised his spineless enemies planned to allow
the people to actually decide who ran the country. That was unacceptable.

"You just hate the power of your opposition," Sean sneered.

Sean felt naked as he lost his grip on the conversation. He was naked, but
you get the drift.

"You think you can legitimise tyranny by rebranding it as the opposition. I
understand what Orthodox politics are supposed to be. I think it can be
selfish and top heavy and it doesn't have the interest of the poorest at
heart..." Legate Warn replied; "But if you're not poor, it makes sense to
vote selfishly. But I do hate tyranny. I hate the idea that good men like
me didn't do enough to stop it. But we will this time. We will."

Sandy Warn reflected on the Orthodox Party's old ways of persuading people
to vote – zombie policies; that is policies that should be long dead but
linger on and eat people's brains. Policies that are anti-common sense,
anti-evidence and anti-intellectual. Tax cuts pay for themselves (ha ha,
good one) and climate change denial are among the old guard of zombie
politics that persuade people to vote for delusional and unachievable goals
using policies that Orthodox politicians know do not work but sound
good. People keep falling for it.

"You can't possibly think you'll succeed by winning a legitimate election,"
Sean said disdainfully; "There are no legitimate elections anymore. Even if
he loses..."

"He will. I guarantee you he will," Legate Warn interceded.

"Even if he losses," Sean spoke over the man; "He'll never concede. He'll
never give up the High Office," Sean promised.

"The power doesn't lie in the High Office, it lies with the President and
if Hump losses, he stops being President that very same day. He won't have
a choice. But I know what you're what you're planning..." Warn paused;
"Marshall law. That's not going to happen, Sean."

Sean Mills looked at Legate Sandy Warn with hatred. He hated the man who
knew more than he could possibly have predicted. He shifted uncomfortably,
feeling a chill on his naked skin.



"You don't think the military apparatus can control the squealing,
wretched, pinhead puppets of this country?" Sean asked boastfully.

"I think you overestimate the administrative and structural controls you
have over our military and police," Legate Warn observed; "But do you know
what I think? I think most of the serving men and women of this country
won't follow illegal orders to round up citizens, frustrate an election or
allow a duly deposed President to stay in office just because he doesn't
want to leave. Their duty is to protect the people from evil doers... even
one who sits in High Office"

Sean sulked like a child – the very idea that they could loss
control. They? He wouldn't even be a part of it now but he was still
defending his President.

"Even if you win... you can't possibly think President Hump will just stand
down," Sean said.

"When he losses, he won't be President. We'll show him to be a corrupt,
profiteering, lying, cheating manipulator," said Legate Warn; "The
Egalitarian Party isn't proposing a revolution. We're not usurpers or
traitors. We want to show the people their democracy has been eroded and
stolen. We don't even need to lie because that is what President Hump is
planning... but it's always important to control the narrative."

Always important to control the narrative – Sean's own signoff phrase on
internal High Office memos. Legate Warn's intelligence held no bounds.

"If you've got it all figured out, then tell me why President Hump wants me
out of the way?" Sean asked.

"You're a threat to him, his authority and his vanity. He knows you want to
become President. He knows you were plotting to take High Office..." Legate
Warn explained. "Tyrants don't appreciate that kind of thing."

Sean didn't say anything and after a minute, Legate Warn stood up to
leave. His eyes took a peek at the naked man's dick – but only a peek.

"You really are going to send me away, aren't you?" Sean asked, a chill
running down his spine.

"It can't go on like this. The nationalism, the deportation, the isolation,
the cruelty, the camps..." Legate Warn said and then with sincerity, he
added; "Maybe the next President will grant you clemency. I hope so, for
your sake."



Sandy Warn and Sean Mills were both thinking about the same thing as they
parted ways. Paul Mills was going to be on his own and was going to have a
tough time.

Sean knew his son was lazy and could try harder at school, Paul took after
his father in terms of political values but really, the boy was soft
too. Paul tried to emulate Sean's ignoble attitudes but Sean saw how feeble
his son was and he hoped Paul would toughen up and fight back and avenge
him.

Meanwhile, Legate Warn hoped the boy survived the humiliation of returning
to school after being recorded in sexual congress with his own dad. It
depressed Sandy that it had happened.

That was the irony – Sean still didn't think that mistreating people was
wrong, only that he should not have been mistreated. Sandy meanwhile
couldn't help but see all the victims and the lives that were affected;
victims, their friends and family and co-workers. It didn't stop with
hurting just one foreigner or one person with a different political
outlook.

Agreeing President Horace Hump is wrong doesn't mean abandoning all of
one's traditional values but it should mean saying no to any more needless
victims. Too many victims, that's what worried Sandy.

"I hope we're ready for what comes next," said Pete, Legate Warn's aid.

The young man was enthusiastic, idealistic and moral and just what the
country needed. Sandy hoped there would be a place for him in the
future. Election or not, revolution or defeat; there would always be a
place for good men.

"I think we are. I've got top men on it," Warn replied.

"I'd like to meet these men," Pete joked.

Legate Warn laughed and the two caught each other's eye. Neither said
anything but there was an attraction that they busily ignored. Legate Warn
stepped out into the open air where he could take a deep breath. Sean Mills
was gone but the wheels were in motion and High Office would make the next
few months very busy.

Unsolicited, Pete spoke up again.

"I think you'll be a great leader one day, Mr Warn," said the young man.

"I didn't plan on becoming a great leader," Sandy Warn replied.

"We know. That's why you'll be great," Pete stated with naive
assurance. "Do you mind if I ask... why are you still single? You're a very
handsome man."

Sandy blushed and rubbed his head with his hand while thinking of a reply.

"My sex life is like a general election," Sandy said at last; "Every five
years and deeply unpopular."

The younger man just nodded then said; "...At least it's deep."



YOUR PREROGATIVE

[FIFTEEN MONTHS LATER]

"...Shown and gazed upon, as the rarest of monsters are, as his litany of
crimes were laid bare. The trial of former President Horace Hump continues
and the people are invited to see the tyrant."

The news headlines on the radio pumping into the locker room ended and
moved onto popular music but Paul wasn't really listening.

He was in the school showers and wiping his mouth. High School was pretty
much over and he'd almost miss his mouth being used as the post-match cum
bucket – ever since they saw him naked on TV, getting sucked by his dad,
fingered by his dad, fucked by his dad...

On his last day of school, Paul was on his knees in the shower after a swim
meet and letting the boys cum in his mouth. It was a long way from what had
happened during his first week back after assport control.

Paul had come into school to find literally thousands of printouts of
him. He was naked in all of them. His genitals covered in a few but fully
exposed in most and erect in many. There were pictures of his bare
ass. There were pictures of him getting sucked by his dad, fucked by his
dad, barebacking his dad.

His XXXPoseBook was overloaded with comments, his mainstream social media
accounts were inundated with remarks and he couldn't go anywhere without
giggles and pointing.

The pictures were everywhere. They had been emailed around the entire
school district and it came up at every swim meet and football game. The
pictures were displayed on the electronic noticeboard in the common room,
where video clips also played throughout the day.

That was all on the first day and by the start of the second week, comments
became physical. Paul was in the showers - naked, soaping up and hairless
– when four boys in their final year (a year older than him) each
grabbed a limb. Paul was carried from the shower into the locker room and
from the locker room into the corridor outside the sports hub. From there,
wriggling and pleading, Paul was carried into the trunk corridor of the
school and past reception.

Paul was naked the whole way and squirming but the four boys just laughed
at him and the students they passed were mixed between shock and
amusement. Worst of all, Paul's end destination was a packed room – the
school cafeteria. At lunchtime.

Paul was dumped, barefoot, naked and exposed – his limbs still held –
as the cafeteria erupted into laughter, pointing and jeers. One leg was
released but only so the boy could touch Paul's balls and touch his dick
until it sprang to half-mast.

The second worst humiliation of Paul's life was cut short but not by a
teacher.

One, then two then dozens of boys came to Paul's defence. People Paul had
made fun of or insulted or called inferior and threatened with reprisals
from his powerful dad... they came to his aid. The undesirable people his
father would have hated – of course they knew what it was like to be
treated unfairly.

After that, the bullying... well, it didn't stop but it reduced to a level
Paul could endure.



On his last day of school, Paul was on his knees after a swim meet with the
boys on his team cumming on his face and in his mouth – but it wasn't
bullying or cruelty. It was a team bonding experience. Paul loved cum and
they boys loved facials.

Paul didn't mind that people knew he like cock. Lots of cock. There was one
cock in particular that he liked.

"Hey," said Buddy.

"Hey," Paul replied.

The noise of the last of the boys leaving the locker room was dying away
and they were alone.

"Does it ever strike you as ironic that supposedly straight guys line up to
cum on me and in my mouth?" Paul asked.

"Aww, I didn't know there was a line," Buddy jokingly replied.

"You're front of the line..." Paul said; "Every time."

Paul had come out as gay at the start of his final school year. It was a
moment overshadowed by former President Hump attempting suicide after
losing the election and being busted for so much crime he was looking at
1000 years in prison.

Paul was courting a handsome black Jewish lad called Leonard but he went by
the name Buddy. Paul had fallen far from the tree... actually he was more
like an apple that fell very near the tree and rolled farther away as time
went on. Under his dad's shadow, Paul had been mean and cruel and said all
the things his dad said. In his dad's absence, Paul was trying to reform
himself.



"You can get dressed anytime you want," Buddy said.

Paul looked down and remembered he was still naked. How could he forget?

The shower had washed away the masturbation juice from his hair and face so
Paul turned off the water and towelled dry. Buddy was quiet which was a
foreboding sign. As Paul started getting dressed and he could tell Buddy
wanted to say something.

"What?" Paul asked.

"The news... it's a hell of a thing..." Buddy said.

Over a year since the fall of Horace Hump's High Office but the news was
still dominated by the fallout. There was no civil war – there was no
appetite for neighbours to kill each other over it when all they were
looking for was a better job, affordable medicine and schools for their
kids.

The people weren't politicians. The people left the fighting to
them. Politicians came and went as they always did in elections.

President Hump lost the election – a lot. The Orthodox Party was
decimated in Synod and weakened to minority in Conclave. Arrogantly, almost
inexplicably Horace Hump had played all his cards at once and lost
everything. It was almost as if an advisor had persuaded Horace Hump to
pursue re-election in all the offices at one time. Almost as if that
advisor didn't have Horace Hump's interests at heart – perhaps someone
who had leaked information about Sean Mills, the election, the
interference... It was almost as if that advisor had worked from within
High Office to destroy tyranny.

The new President had proposed a new party system so the focus was not on
two competing political giants but a spectrum of options. She also
advocated for proportional representation to better reflect the will of the
people they were supposed to represent.

"Have you seen your dad lately?" Buddy asked.

Paul dropped his eyes and pulled a t-shirt over his head to avoid
eye-contact a little while longer. Sean Mills had been repatriated by the
new President who was sworn in the day after the election. All nationals
were restored and a phased system of integration and deportation was
implemented. They couldn't indefinitely hold people but the Egalitarian
Party didn't have an open-door policy either – but they were fair about
who would stay and who should leave and everyone was treated like a
person. Granted permission to come home, Sean Mills was grateful but he
knew there was a catch.

Y'know... all those crimes he committed.

"I'm visiting him at the weekend," Paul said.

The prison was a monstrosity that Paul hated visiting but his dad was his
dad.

"Is he ok?" Buddy asked.

"Most of the time," Paul answered.

The military, police and prisons all had people who had been appointed by
High Office specially to mistreat people. Cleaning house after that would
take years. Sean Mills suffered occasional reprisals from fellow prisoners
as well as guards – some who were in it for the mistreatment and some
who hated Sean for his time as Special Advisor to pure evil.

"My dad was a powerful man and now he's nothing... like me," Paul said
meekly.

"You're not nothing Paul... You're everything to me," Buddy promised.

"Aww, that's so sweet and gay," Paul chided facetiously.

"Anyway... I was wondering if you'd like to spend some time with me this
weekend?" Buddy said.

"Like friends or friends-plus?" Paul teased.

Paul was dressed now – shorts and t-shirt – but he rubbed his silky
leg against Buddy's fuzzy one.

"Like boyfriends," Buddy said.

Paul didn't reply right away. He liked Buddy – as a friend, as a
friend-plus and even as a prospective boyfriend. Paul was eighteen and just
hadn't grown up in a world where you could be publicly gay (or Jewish,
Muslim, Black, Brown, minority, ethnic, disabled, transgender, queer...)
there were so many things that the High Office had maligned for eighteen
years.

However, the world had changed and he desperately wanted to be himself in
that world.

"There's something I need to tell you," Paul replied at last.

"Yea?" Buddy replied.

Paul took Buddy's hand and they left the locker room together.

"I'm a bottom all the way. Versatile if I need to be but I just wanna get
fucked," Paul said.

"That suits me. I love a bottom," Buddy admitted.

Buddy punctuated this with a grab of Paul's ass.

"So, this is mine now... yes?" Buddy asked.

Paul nodded.

"So, what should we do now?" Buddy queried his boyfriend.

"Search me," Paul answered; "It's your prerogative."

THE END



This airport humiliation premise was suggested by a reader but the dramatic
component is my own - I hope he reads & enjoys the final result. I was
inspired by the great works of Ray Bradbury (Fahrenheit 451), George Orwell
(1984), Aldous Huxley (Brave New World) and Sinclair Lewis (It Can't Happen
Here); all excellent dystopian visions of the future. Dystopia... can you
imagine such a thing? There are several covert and overt references to
these stories within Anthology II.

The country in this story is (deliberately) not named and the political
leanings of the parties are also not explicitly identified. While the story
offers an unsettling, but hyperbolic, vision of the world; Assport Control
is intended to be enjoyed as a gratuitous and humiliating romp through an
airport strip search. I hope all my readers have enjoyed this story and I
have plenty more coming this year. Take a look at my blog next month for
the first hints of Anthology III (due June 2020).

Donate to Nifty: http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html

Stories so far by J. Forrester:

https://www.nifty.org/nifty/authors.html#jforrester

Chronological order: School Exhibitionism, The Symposium, The Embarrassment
of Riches, Do As You're Told, Anthology.

Feedback to authors is their primary compensation and motivation.

Email me: niftyencomiums@gmail.com

My blog: https://niftyencomiums.blogspot.com

My newtumbl: https://niftyguy.newtumbl.com/

A final note: I hope everyone stays safe during the Covid-19 crisis.

J.xx