Hey everyone welcome to my third story. Bear & Cub is going to be a great story and it's proving well on AO3 (https://archiveofourown.org/users/TuxEdwards). Please take a few minutes to drop me an email to let me know if Bear & Cub is for you: foxfire3730@proton.me

 

"The Universe is Made of Stories, Not of Atoms" -Muriel Rukeyser

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A long Night

 

Clyde Burns

 

I pass the occasional beat cop in the hotel hallway on my way to the door. Yellow crime scene tape decorates the hall, covering every door except the one closest to the Penthouse. Its tape is red. The rookie police officer that got stuck guarding the Penthouse stops me. It's four o'clock in the morning, which is way too early for this shit. "I'm not sure how you made it this far, sir, but this is a crime scene; you'll have to return to the elevator and wait in the lobby," he says with all the authority he can muster, like guarding the door isn't a shitjob and he knows it. 

 

"Dial it down, Boot. I'm LAPD," I say, a little relieved that he didn't recognize me. If I can get through this without someone knowing my past, the better. I watch his eyes look me over: my Elvis sunglasses, which were popular in the 1970s; my messed-up hair, which can only be evidence of a late night of drinking; and my unkempt clothes, which looked like I slept in them. He's not wrong; I can understand his confusion. I take my badge on its chain from under my shirt and hang it on the outside. 

 

"Um, sorry, Detective, I didn't know," he apologizes and lifts the yellow tape that spans the door.

 

"No problem, Boots. Can you find me a coffee and a couple aspirin? Yeah, thanks," I ask him, and I walk past him before he has a chance to say no. I scan the main room of the Penthouse and take a cigarette out of its package, then put it back in my shirt pocket. My first thought is, What the hell happened in here? There are two police officers with cameras wearing blue jackets with the letters `LAPD' on their backs. The snapping of the pictures ring in my hangovered brain. Lighting my cigarette, I concentrate on drawing in the first drag. Nothing keeps me as calm as that first draw of poison. 

 

The room was highly decorated at one time, as all penthouses are. Four naked men lay sprawled across the bullet-riddled couch, covered in blood. The blood pooling on the couch suggests there might have been two smaller bodies there as well. Looking around the room, I don't notice anything else that sticks out. 

 

"Jesus Christ, what are you doing on my crime scene, Burns?"

 

That's me, Detective Clyde Burns of the LA Special Crimes Unit, and this loudmouth asshole is... is... I don't remember, and I don't care what his name is; I just know he's from LA Homicide. "Oh, I don't know. I went for a walk and stopped when I saw the dead bodies. Just for shits and giggles, how about you tell me what the hell happened?"

 

He sourly looks at me and rolls his eyes when the Boot from the door unexpectedly brings me my coffee and aspirin. I thank him, take a sip, and wave my hand, telling Detective Asshole to continue. He looks at his handheld device. I wondering what's wrong with paper and pencil. He begins to breaking it down: "At two o'clock am, five men kicked in the door and began killing the men in the room, then traveled upstairs to complete the killing spree. The thirteen dead are from different areas of the underground. It was some kind of hit, plain and simple. So, the only box I haven't checked is, why are you here?"

 

That's a fair question; to be honest, I don't even know. My Homicide contact called me this morning and woke me out of a deep sleep that was aided by tequila and Ambien, telling me that I better get here before Homicide fucks up the crime scene. "Has anyone moved these bodies?" I ask as I drink my coffee. 

 

"No, of course not. Forensics isn't done yet with the photos. You can't smoke in here, Burns!"

 

A strange room catches my eye. It's just off of the main room, and it almost looks like a laundry room, but instead it's full of lockers, like the ones at the public pool. There is a bench in the middle of the room. The door is covered in blood, and amongst the boot and hand prints is half of a paw print. Over by the bench, it looks like someone tried to clean up bloody handprints, leaving red swirls covering the bench and the floor under it. The red swirls lead to a bent cold air return vent. Something came out of this vent in a hurry. It looks like a cannonball was shot into the room from inside the ducting to do that to the vent. All the lockers seem to be open and empty. "Have you taken pictures of the contents of this trashcan?" I ask, and the lady confirms that she has. I reach in and pull out a very dirty pair of boy's underwear with holes on the butt and one by the Y-fold. I quickly dropped them in an evidence bag. Standing up, I curse my old back, and something else catches my eye. 

 

It's a piece of paper or something like it. I ask the forensic person to make sure she has a picture of it as I dig a hand full of rubber gloves from my front pants pocket, put one on, and pull an old photo from under the locker closest to the vent. The photo is of a family of four. They look well off standing next to a black Rolls-Royce. I recognize the mom and dad; a little boy of maybe ten stands in between them, holding a very small boy of maybe one. The picture is really dirty and has yellowed over time. Why would this picture, of all things, be here? I ask myself. I take a picture with my phone and hand it to the forensic lady with the evidence bag. I excuse myself as I exit the room. The forensic person says no problem, and I ask, "Let me know if you find dog hair here in this room, please, and I'm going to need that picture when you're done with it."

 

She writes down my name, badge number, and request. Scanning the room again, I notice the red swirls coming from the locker room and head to the stairs. Following the evidence, I got stopped by my detective asshole again. I lower my glasses so I can look into his angry eyes with my bloodshot eyes. "This is my crime scene, Burns, not Special Crimes; leave." He takes my cigarette right out of my mouth and drops it in my coffee. 

 

I sigh and respond, "If you think this isn't Special Crimes, then you're not paying attention, and it's a good thing I'm here." I set my coffee cup down on a little table and left the asshole downstairs as I wander around upstairs. 

 

Upstairs, it seems to be all bedrooms with one bathroom. The swirls lead down the hall, and I follow them the best I can, stepping over bodies. Looking in the other room quickly, it's all the same story: one or two dead, naked guys dead on the bed or floor, expensive suits neatly laying somewhere, and the blood pooling showing that a smaller body was laying in the bed. I shake my head and tell myself I hate when I'm right.

 

Back in the hall, the trail of swirls gets harder to follow. Why did someone go through so much trouble trying to clean these footprints and the hand prints in the locker room? Once I get to the door where my trail leads, I'm totally expecting... I can't even say it. I begin to walk in and see the District Attorney and his Bodyguard, naked and very, very dead. That I wasn't expecting. The trail of swirls led to the bed. "Make sure you get pictures of the bed after you move the District Attorney. I need to see the blood pooling under him." The forensic lady writes down my information, and I take one more look around the room. "Please take a picture of this," I ask, and I put on another rubber glove. The flash goes off with a few clicks as she takes pictures of something that looks like a small piece of fabric under the DA in the pool of his blood. I take it by the corner and pull it out of a pool of blood until a pair of light green panties were free. I let the camera go off a few more times, and I take a closer look. The size is small, like maybe for a girl age five, but it's stretched out at its limit and is even has little rips on the waistband. Whoever was wearing this was much older. "Find out if there are anymore girl panties found, please," I ask, trying not to sound like a pervert.

 

She nods, understanding my embarrassment, asking, "Are you saying there were little girls here?"

 

"No, I don't think so, not girls," I respond as I leave the room. I stop at the top of the stairs and light another cigarette, asking myself, "What the hell happened in here, and where are all the little boys?"

 

Bear and Cub

Twenty-Nine Hours Earlier

 

The rains are coming; I have to find somewhere dry for me and Bear to stay, or at least enough money to get us a room somewhere. So, here I sit, on the curve of one of the busiest streets for prostitution. Some days I don't get a john. Men drive up and down the block looking for just the right lady for the night. Once in a while, though, they aren't looking for a lady; they are looking for a guy, and sometimes, they're looking for someone young. 

 

After a couple days of sitting here with Bear laying next to me, a black car pulls up and a man gets out. He walks over and sits next to me on the sidewalk. "May I pet your dog?" He asks, and I shift on my butt a little nervous.

 

"Yes, you can. Do you want me?"

 

He pets Bear and chuckles, saying, "Well, under all that dirt, you look like a very handsome little guy. Red hair, green eyes, real skinny--you've got a lot of big bidding points. How old are you, little guy? What's your name?"

 

"I'm Gus, and I'm nine years old, sir. What did you mean by bidding point?"

 

"Nine years old, that's great. Have you had sex yet, Gus?"

 

So up front, my face blushes out of embarrassment. If I answer no, will he not want me because I don't know how? If I say yes, will he think I'm a slut? "Does it matter, sir?" I ask. 

 

He looks at me and chuckles. "Okay, so you're a virgin then? That is a huge bidding point. So what's your experience then: oral, handjobs, receiving?"

 

"Um, yes sir. Most of the time, men just like to play with me down there. I've done some sucking too."

 

"That's great," he says, patting my back happily. "I think you're about to earn a lot of money." He hands me a black business card with a five-digit number on it. "Here you go, kid; this will get you in. If you want to earn enough money to live on for months, then I'll see you tomorrow at 11:30 p.m. Can you get to the Beverly Hills Hotel?"

 

"Um, yes, sir, but I still don't understand what you want me to do."

 

"Everything will be explained tomorrow, okay?" Then he stands up and shakes my hand before he climbs back inside the car and the driver drives away. I sat there looking at the car for a few minutes. Is this something I should do? I kind of have a bad feeling about it, but he said I can get lots of money for doing this, whatever this is.

 

"Hey kid," comes a voice behind me towards the alley. I turn and see a man in light blue pants and a business shirt wave me over. I get up, and Bear follows me deep inside the alley. I see the hand waving at me from behind the yellow dumpster at the end of the alley. 

 

I stop about ten feet from him and tell Bear, "Sitz, Bear, Pass auf." Bear sits down and stands guard as I walk up to the man, asking, "What do you want, sir?"

 

He looks around to make sure no one can see us and then fixes his little glasses on his round face. "What can I get for fifty dollars?" He asks real nervously. 

 

I tell him, "You can play with me or I can suck you for fifty dollars, but you can't fuck me for so little." To tell you the truth, I don't let anyone fuck me. It just seems too painful, and no one wants to give me enough money to forget how much it's going to hurt. 

 

"Here is the fifty dollars," he whispers so I can hear him, and he roughly shoves it in my front pocket as he forces my shorts down in one motion. He's done this before. He picks my small-framed body up and out of my shorts, sitting me on a wooden crate. The wood is uncomfortable on my bare cheeks, but fifty dollars is worth it. 

 

He engulfs my little cock and nuts in one mouthful, causing me to moan loudly and bury my fingernails into his arm. I cover my mouth with one of my hands before it draws attention. "No, let's hear it. Tell me how good I'm making you feel," he says, moving my hand from my mouth. 

 

I lick my lips and moan as quietly as I can. His mouth slides down, and my hard cock snaps up as it leaves his lips. I hold onto his head for dear life, begging him for more as his tongue rolls my balls around and around. He grabs my arms and pulls me towards him, crushing my balls into his mouth, and slides my butt over the wooden crate. I beg him to let me go. I can feel his teeth nibbling on my sack, and fear floods my head knowing that he could bite my nuts off at any time. Is that what he's planning on doing? I pull to free my arms with all my strength.

 

He slides down again and forces his tongue into my little asshole. My eyes roll in the back of my head, and my body temperature heats up. I've felt this before. "I'm close, so close, mister," I tell him. His tongue is rooting in deeper and deeper, driving me more and more crazy. My body jerks violently in his grasp as the sensation of euphoria washes over me and I lose control of my body. It's that little in between the seconds that I don't feel anything. I don't feel the aloneness of living homeless, the absence of love you get from a family, or the shame of lowering my self-worth to allow men to do this to me, so I can feel... nothing. My dry orgasm must have scared him because he unexpectedly lets go of my arms, and I unknowingly cracked my head on the brick wall.

 

I blink my eyes open, remembering the blunt pain coming from the top of my head. "How... how, long was I out?" I ask, realizing my mouth is full of cum and seeing the round-faced man, with the little glasses, cumming on my face.

 

By wiping his cock on my face, he smears the last of his sperm onto my cheek. My body feels numb from sitting in one place for so long. I feel so gross and weak. "Good job, boy. You taste great, like all little boys should. I can't believe you knocked yourself out. I hope you don't mind, but I used your mouth while you were out. Although, I think I'll take my money back. I mean, I did all the work," he chuckles to himself as his hand digs in my short's pocket that hangs from my right ankle. 

 

"Steh, Gib Laut!" I shout, and Bear stands up, baring his teeth, and begins barking like crazy!

 

The man pulls his hand out of my pocket and drops the fifty bucks. "Okay, okay, sorry! Here, take another fifty for me face-fucking you too; it's only fair!" He shouts and throws another bill on the ground. He scoots around Bear while I feed my legs through my shorts and pull them up to my waist as I hop down. 

 

"Fuss, Bear, fuss," I tell Bear, and he stops and walks over to me, standing next to me. I pick up my hundred dollars and fix my clothes as the man hurries out of the alley. My butt really hurts; I think I might have a few splinters and cuts. That fuckin bastard messed up my ass. 

 

Me and Bear ran for two hours and even took a break to play on the Splash Pad in the park. This is the closest thing I get to a shower, and after that guy, I need it to get all that crusty cum off my face and off my cock and balls. I'm not sure how long I was out of it, but he had cummed on me multiple times. Cracking my head on that wall really put a knot up there, I think as I rub it gently, trying to wash my hair. 

 

After I'm cleaned up--well, clean for me, that is, hehee--me and Bear race back to the tent camp.

 

By the time Bear and I get to our tent camp, it's late at night. "Bud! Bud! We're back!" I shout as we weave in and out of tents, looking for him. He's the man who looks out for me. He's not like my father. I don't have a family anymore. I have a picture of one that Bud said was in the paper bag he found me in. On the back of the picture was written one word: Gus, but Bud has always called me Cub. He says I was next to a yellow dumpster and couldn't be more than ten months old. I guess he was going to give me to the police, but some of the women that lived in the tents next to him at the time talked him into raising me. 

 

"Over here, Cub, my lad!" Bud yells, "I'm at Anny-May's."

 

I hurry through the tents with Bear hot on my heels. Bud has his old Army jacket on. He's an old Marine veteran. He specializes in dog attack units. He found Bear when he was just a pup in a box with five other puppies. He hand picked Bear to keep and trained him like he did his Marine dogs. Bear was only a couple years old when he found me. So, me and Bear are brothers. 

 

"Look, Bud, I got a hundred dollars!" I show him excitedly.

 

He exchanges questionable looks with Anny and looks back at me. "Cub, where did you get a hundred dollars?"

 

I didn't think about that. I haven't told Bud that I've been... doing favors for men for cash. I've never brought him so much before, and this isn't easily explained away by `I found it.' "I was doing... dog tricks in the park again, and some guy gave me the money," I say with a smile. "Here, Bud, it's for us." Bud gives me a hug and says we can go shopping tomorrow afternoon, and then I can buy something for myself. "...and Bear too?" I ask.

 

"And Bear too."

 

Me and Bear run off and head to our tent, knowing Bud wouldn't be far behind us. I strip naked and toss my clothes in the corner so I can wear them tomorrow. I slip into my sleeping bag, and Bear lays down next to me. "Goodnight Bear... I love you."

 

The Next Day

 

Standing behind the Beverly Hills Hotel, I make sure no one is around, and I take Bear over behind a dumpster and say, "Sitz, Bear," and he sits down. "Bleib, Bear. I'll be right back. Don't move, boy; just stay here. Bleib." I take one last look and run around the building to the entrance. The doorman looks at me strangely and begins to tell me I have to leave: "No begging here, son; you have to go." I show him the black card, and he nods and opens the door for me. 

 

Inside, everything is golden and shiny, and it looks like it has diamonds hanging from it. There are a lot of plants and soft red ropes separating the sections of the lobby. Me standing here is not missed by the people that are sitting around the lobby. My clothes are old and ripped, and by the looks of their faces, I must stink. I quickly make my way to the front desk, stand on my tipsy toes, and slide the black card on it. 

 

The man sees it and smiles. He takes it and writes down the card's number and then says, "Down the hall, to the left. Take the elevator to the Penthouse floor. It's the only room with double doors." Then he gives me back my card. I look around to see if someone is coming to escort me out of the building, but no one is even looking my way now. I head down the hall, past the elevator, and go to the loading bay. Making sure no one is around, I open the back door and say, "Hier!"

 

Bear bolts from behind the dumpster I hid him behind. We hide behind some boxes, and I take my bag off and take out a pair of black sunglasses and a white cane with a red tip. "Okay, boy, you know what to do," I say, putting the glasses on and beginning to unfold the cane. I take the plastic handle on his harness and let him lead me down the hall. A few people see us but pay us no mind. A blind boy with his seeing-eye dog can pretty much go anywhere unquestioned. We even get an elevator to ourselves. There are very few times that Bear and I are separated. It's the only reason Bud lets me run the streets with him. 

 

The long elevator ride ends, and I look out the door first and see that the coast is clear. Bear leads me down the hall to the room with the double doors. Suddenly, the question of what to do with my protector gave me panic. If I show up with a dog, the deal might be off. The last room on the left has its door open. I hurry to it and take off the sunglasses and fold the cane, putting them in Bear's harness. I stack some boxes next to a big vent in the back corner and tell Bear to stay and give him the guard command.

 

I lock the door and close it, so no one will be able to get in there. I already feel weird, like without Bear, I'm exposed. 

 

Taking a deep breath to calm down, I reach for the door knob and open the double door. The doors only move a few inches when a man finishes opening them, pulling them out of my hands. He's a huge man in a gray suit. His gaze is piercing, and I almost peed myself. "Hey, I remember you!" Says a man over on the couch. "Let him in, Bo." He steps aside, and I step past him to see the most expensive-looking room I've ever laid eyes on. Everything is white and trimmed in gold. If it's not white, it's made of glass, like the handrail upstairs and the shelves that hold books and little glass and gold art. I hold up my card, and the man tells me, "Keep it close, don't lose it, and I'll explain the rest later. First, though, I need you to join the other boys in that room and strip all your clothes off like they did. I believe you're the last one."  

 

I turn to head into the room, and that man grabs my butt and gives them a squeeze. He tells me that I've got a nice ass, and even though I always feel weird when a man tells me that, I say thank you. Walking into the room, I see nine other boys. Some were already naked, and the others were still taking off their clothes. My willy begins to stir, and I shift my weight so it has room to grow. I take off my backpack and pick a locker. Looking around, I think I'm the youngest, then I see a giggly boy hopping up and down, making his dick jump around as he plays grab ass with one of the older boys. I quickly take my shirt off and toss it in the locker. With a calming breath, I drop my pants and underwear at the same time. 

 

"Wow, you're even dirty under your clothes," says a voice behind me. I throw my jeans in the locker, and my holy underwear falls out, landing at my feet. A little hand reaches for them and gets them before I can. "Look at these! How old are they?"

 

I turn around, and the youngest boy stands there with a boy my age. "Hi, I'm Gus," I offer. "My friends call me Cub. I'm new here."

 

The little one tosses my underwear in the trashcan and says, "I'm Michael. You don't need these anymore. After today, you'll be able to buy as much underwear as you want."

 

"I'm Tommy, me and Michael have been doing this for a few months," says the boy my age. 

 

Before I can say anything else, the man who gave me the black card enters the room and announces, "Okay, settle down, boys. You all need to take showers and wash each other well. Don't forget to put at least two fingers, maybe three, on your partner, Michael. You have tiny fingers." Everyone laughs, and Michael gets shoved a little, and his cheeks blush. "After you're all clean, I want the older boys to check. Clint, Jose, check holes and hoods, got it?" 

 

The two older boys nod, and Jose pinches one of the other boy's bottoms, making him squirm, and the boys laugh again. The man hurries us into the large standing shower, and I would have thought the playing would continue, but once in there, everyone was all business. I have at least three boys washing my body, and when Michael slides his fingers in my butthole, I have to hold onto Tommy's shoulders. 

 

"Wow, you're so tight, I can only get two in there, and I really had to push the second one in. You're a virgin, aren't you?" Asks Micheal.

 

"Yeah, of course, aren't you?" I answer, getting a giggle from him. 

 

"Not for three months at least," he says as he twists his finger and pulls on my hole like he's trying to stretch it out.

 

"Owe, careful!"

 

Tommy holds me tightly and then whispers, "Hold on, Cub, he's got to stretch you, or what's coming next is really going to hurt."

 

I nod and grit my teeth as Michael roots around in my ass. He pulls his fingers out and smells them. Then Tommy bends over and asks me to do it to him. Soaping up my hands, I start with one finger and then add another one. "How am I doing?"

 

"Good, take your fingers out and smell them. If they smell like soap, you're done; if not, finger fuck me some more, okay?" I nod and smell my fingers. They smell like soap, so I stop. 

 

When we're all done, we file out of the shower and back to the lockers. The man is on the bench with a cardboard box next to him. "You boys clean? Good, good," he says while he checks each boy's butthole, stopping when he gets to me. "Hey, there's a beautiful boy under all that dirt." He says it with a chuckle. He checks my buttcrack and tries to slip a finger in my hole, but he has to work at it. At two knuckles, he pulls it out and smells it, then smiles. "Good job, boys. Good job!" he compliments us, and then he reaches into the box and pulls out a bunch of collars, all different colors. Each of them has little bells on it. They remind me of a collar you put on a cat. 

 

The man gives me a green one, saying that it sets off my eyes. Tommy helps me with my collar, and I jingle the bell. "I like it. I might wear one from now on," I say, smiling at my new friend. 

 

"If you do, you'll get more johns," Tommy says, smacking my butt, making some of the boys laugh. 

 

"Okay, okay, here are your panties," the man says, handing out different colored panties. They match our collars, and I just hold mine.

 

Looking up, I ask, "Aren't these girl underwear? These green ones really tiny, I'm not sure they'll fit?"

 

"Make sure they fit, little guy. The tighter the better, the higher the bid. They're soft and silky with a little lace; it will drive the bidders crazy," the man says. I force my legs into the panties and pull them up, but I have to slow down because I hear them rip a little. They smash my balls and cock up against my body very uncomfortably. I'm about to ask for another pair when the man continues, "The bidders will be coming out soon, and once we start, you will come out one at a time. The men will bid on you, and the highest bidder gets you for twenty-four hours to do whatever they want. Just remember, you can't say no to anything. Then after that, you boys get the penthouse for two days to heal up and recover or play with each other, up to you. Keep the black card with you. We do this once a month, and it's always on the third Friday of the month. You get $1000 and a bonus of one percent of your winning bid, so shake that ass and do a good job for the man that wins you tonight, so he'll tell the others, and next month, maybe they'll bid higher."

 

The boys seem excited, but I'm really nervous. I didn't realize that this is an auction, and the man who wins can do anything he wants to me. It must be very obvious that I am having second thoughts because Michael grabs me and kisses me on the lips. His tiny tongue teases my lips until I open them and accept it. The kiss is long, and even though the others are "ooo'ing" and "ah'ing," I want it to last forever. His little hands cradle my head, and when we pull apart, a thin spittle connects us. He stays close, and when it breaks, he whispers, "I know you're nervous. You can do this. It's going to hurt, but you can get through it. Doing this changed my life. I'm not alone anymore or dirty all the time. People look at me now instead of going out of their way to look away. Maybe your master will be nice to you. I've had some nice guys. Then tomorrow, if we're both okay, maybe... you and I, can... play."

 

There's an innocentness to his voice, and for some reason, I just want to take him right here, right now, and suck his stiff cock till he passes out from the pleasure of my tongue. But we have a job to do first. I can hear the men entering the room, and the boys get more excited. To be honest, I'm starting to feel it too. 

 

"Cub, you have to go first. You're a virgin, and they want everyone to have a chance to bid big," Tommy says as he rubs my shoulders. "Remember, show off that tight butt, try and think of whatever you have to do to get a woody, and smile. Remember, this is supposed to be fun, and they will bid higher if you're happy."

 

"Gentlemen," announces the man that must be in charge, "if I can have your attention, we will be starting the bidding on our boys for the evening. Please remember to bid big for your favorites; don't let anyone else have them. We will be beginning the auction tonight with a new boy."

 

"Go," Tommy says, pushing me a little, "that's your cue."

 

I walk in and get my first look at the men. One or two of them are handsome. The rest are kind of fat and weird-looking. They're all in suits, and most of them have men standing behind them the size of football players. Cigar smoke fills the room as the cat's call begins. It kind of feels good to have so many men staring at me. Looking at me in my green panties. I walk over to the white coffee table, and the man in charge picks me up and sets me on it. He turns me around and rubs his hand on my butt giving my dick the tingles. "This is Gus, and he's our virgin for tonight. He is giddy, ticklish, and a cocksucker by trade. We're starting the bids at five thousand dollars."

 

The men begin to raise their hands, and the cost of my virginity begins to climb. At $50,000, the bidding seems to stop. I smile and rub my crotch a little like I do when I'm on the street looking for a john, and I get the bid up to $65,000 from an old, heavier man. He's not the fattest guy here, but he definitely looks to be the most important person. "Going once, twice..." the announcer says, then a younger man with red hair, maybe twenty years old, bids $70,000, making the room go quiet. The heavier man turns, looks at the red-headed man who just entered the room, and scowls. The younger man looks handsome, and if he just ran to get to the room. 

 

The heavier man sits back down and calls out, "One hundred thousand dollars." The handsome young man looks upset, and he turns to leave. The room breaks into applause as the auctioneer says, "Going once, going twice, sold to District Attorney McGee."

 

Tommy is next. The announcer says he's been doing this for two years and is very experienced. The bodyguard walks over to me and picks me up. I put my finger tip in my mouth, trying to make myself look younger as he carried me through the other men heading to the stairs. The other men took that chance to feel my smooth legs and smell my feet. Smelling my feet makes me feel... gross. The bodyguard takes me to the master bedroom and sets me on the bed. After some time, the buyer enters and begins to take his jacket off. 

 

"Are you really a virgin?" He asks me, and I answer by nodding my head hard enough to make my bell ring. He smiles and finishes taking his clothes off. He pushes me down on the bed and pulls my legs up so he can take my panties off. "You're so smooth and sexy. Do you know you're sexy?" 

 

"Yes, sir, please be gentle with me. I've never had a real man before," I tell him, spinning my tale. 

 

The man is somewhat repulsive, but I only have to tolerate him for a short time. He walks in front of me, and I get a good look at his junk. His dick is relatively small, and I breathe a sigh of relief, thinking that this might not be so bad, but then I observe his bodyguard stripping as well. The old man hands me a glass with some red juice in it, and I can't stop myself from asking, "Um, sir, is your bodyguard joining us?" I begin drinking; it's some kind of fruit juice with a weird taste. 

 

"Yes, of course, I love fucking little boys, but I'm getting old and can't perform like I would like. So, when I need a break, Johnson takes over; that way I get what I paid for," he says with an almost evil smile. 

 

Now I'm sweating like crazy and my mind feels fuzzy, but when he drops his pants and I see his cock, I start crying. It's got to be at least seven or eight inches long. "I believe that cock will kill me, sir." I whimper as the old man refills my glass.

 

"Don't worry, little one, I'll be getting you ready," the old man says as I quickly drink the second glass, and he takes my cock and balls in one mouthful. Why do old men like to start with this? It drives me nuts. His tongue work is probably the best I've ever experienced, but I'm having trouble focusing on anything other than the sensations around my crotch. I can't feel anything but what he's doing to me. I am in seventh heaven, hollering and moaning like crazy. I didn't even realize my legs were up by my ears, and before I could lay them down, that old man forces his cock into me. 

 

Soon, my entire body feels like jelly. I am unable to even groan. Something as simple as blinking takes an eternity, let alone the time it takes for his cock to travel from the opening of my hole to the deepest part of me. My eyes lazily travel to who's between my legs, and it's not the old man anymore; it's the bodyguard. He's reaching so deeply that I can feel the pressure in my eyes. The room spins and my face is smashed into the pillow as the longest dick I've ever seen forces itself deep inside me, so deep I think it's rubbing my spine. I try and squirm from underneath him, but his hands are so strong as he pushes my chest into the bed.

 

After an amount of time passes that feels like forever, I think my mind is beginning to come out of the daze that it's been in. I think I can feel my fingers. I'm being fucked like a dog again, and the soreness in my ass indicates that they've been passing me back and forth for a considerable amount of time. Looking at the clock next to the bed and it says they've been fucking me for four hours. I even think I peed on the bed a while ago. I look between my legs and see cum pouring out of my asshole with every thrust. Then another dry orgasm slams into me, and whatever was in the red juice is definitely wearing off because I feel the massive force of it as I moan and cry out for mercy as he pounds my ass.

 

The bodyguard begins to pull his long thick cock from my ass. It grinds on my boy-button very slowly driving me speechless unable to form something as simple as a moan. The popping sound of it leaving my hole is alarming, but not as disturbing as the stabbing pain of my insides as now there is a void. The old man climbs onto the bed right after the bodyguard dismounts, and I hold up my hands, begging him with slurred words, "Please... ssssir... no more; I can't take anymmmmm... I can't take anymore."

 

"Now, be a good boy," the old man says, and he painfully grips my legs, spinning my ragdoll of a body on my back. "...and spread those legs wide for Daddy." He pushes my legs wide into the splits, and it feels like they're being dislocated. "That's right, hold that position; I want to see our cum ooze from your ass," he adds, laying his head down next to my ass as I scream in pain from his grip on my legs. I can feel my butthole open and close as cum blurps out. 

 

Fireworks! I hear fireworks, and I can't tell if it's the juice or if it's real, but the old man releases me, and my body collapses on the bed. I'm so exhausted, I can't do much but turn my head to see what's going on. 

 

The bodyguard, with his viciously long, thick cock, gets a gun from on top of the dresser and heads for the door. Wood splinters explode from the door, and Mr. Long Dick takes three in the chest. The door is kicked in, and the old man takes a lot of bullets, along with the bed around me. He falls on me, pinning me down, and I can feel a few more bullets hit him. Without warning my mind fog clears and an incredible pain shoots through my left leg. I don't know what to do, I want to scream so bad, and he'll know I'm not dead! So, I hold my mouth closed with my hands as a hot liquid begins to cover me.

 

The guy with the gun leaves the room, and the pain in my leg clears enough of the fog in my head to register the other boys screaming as gunshots fill the penthouse. I push and pull myself from underneath the old man biting a pillow the whole time to muffle my screams as I pull my leg free. I rest behind the bed holding the hole in my leg with my hands. Everything in the penthouse became quiet, and I can hear the gunmen talking back and forth in a weird accent I'd never heard before. The voices become more muffed telling me they're all downstairs. I tell myself I have to go. I have to get enough courage to creep to the door and look around the hallway. Limping the whole way there, I see bodies of men and a couple boys, all naked, littering the ground. My bloody feet slip and slide on the marble-tiled floor, so I have to use the wall to steady myself, leaving bloody hands and footprints behind me. 

 

I hurry down the stairs, taking them one step at a time, and I pass four men and two boys who were killed so fast, the men still have cocks in the pre-teen asses they were fucking. I close my eyes to it and hurry into the locker room. Opening the locker, I get my backpack out and then reach back in for my shirt, using it to stop the bleeding from my leg. When I go for my shorts, a man wearing all black with a large machine gun walks in and says something to me that I don't understand. He backhands me across the face, and I hit the ground hard, scattering everything in my backpack over the floor. Taking out a photo, he compares it to me, then smiles as if he found some kind of treasure. Putting it back into his pocket, he bends over and grabs my wounded leg, dragging me towards him, kicking and screaming in pain. The only thing I can think of doing is to yell with everything I have in me, "Hier, Bear! Fass!" 

 

It's a soft rumble at first, but enough to get the man's attention. He looks at me confused when the rumbling turns into banging. He pulls on my leg even harder as I kick off his advance with my good leg and yell again, "Hier, Bear! Fass!" The gunman's eyes go wide as the cold air vent above me rips off the wall, and my one hundred-pound savor jumps over me from the duct and bites onto his arm. "Fass! Bear Fass!" I scream as my black lab uses his weight to offset the gunmen's balance and drags him down to the floor. From there, it is only a quick movement for Bear to change his bite from the gunman's arm to his neck. Soon after that, the man dressed in black stops moving. 

 

I crawl around the room and collect what few things I own, shoving them back into my bag, and then grab my shirt placing it back on the bullet hole in my leg. Using my free arm I pull myself into the ducting. Once inside, I turn and see Bear with his jaws still around the gunman's limp neck and tell him, "Lass es! Aus!" Bear lets go of the man and looks up to me with his cute doggy smile, then jumps into the duct after me.