Date: Thu, 19 Jan 2023 20:01:21 +0000
From: J. Forrester <niftyencomiums@gmail.com>
Subject: The Spy Who Lubed Me (part 3)

This story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to real people, places and
events is unintentional.

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 (VI) – The Spy Who Lubed Me (part three)

Max is Agent 117. He is on a mission to stop a billionaire named Ernest
Sukerfeel from his insane plan to use technology to make people
impotent. Max also faces the wrath of a powerful politician named Jethro
Renton-Mass, a man with unknown abilities. Max's friend and ally, Cyrus (a
man who can transform his face and body) was undercover to gather
information about Mr Renton-Mass but has now been captured by Ernest
Sukerfeel. Max must now deal with multiple threats: technology, politics
and superpowers... and a naked young man he rescued along the way.


UNDERCOVER SPY

After escaping the SkyCall Telecommunications building, fighting his way
past heavily armed mercenaries, a high-speed chase and then pursuit by
airborne police, Max was a little bit tired. His passenger was also not
thrilled with these developments because he was a young man, facing
backwards on the rear of the motorbike. Also, he was barefoot and bare
naked.

The motorbike Max had stolen was fast and manoeuvrable and travelling along
a riverside pedestrian walkway that whisked him past the police roadblocks
and evading all but the police and media helicopters. Kash informed both
helicopters that they were entering restricted airspace and that Armed
Forces were conducting drone testing in that area. Mid-air collision with
these drones would risk damage to property and life (Kash put the
priorities in this order to solidify his credentials as a military minded
organiser). Kash's computer skills fabricated the necessary documentation
to back up his lies and to get the helicopters to sod off.

Max imagined the police would be very unhappy that `drone testing' had
prevented their pursuit of a dangerous suspect. Max continued on the
motorbike, along the walkway (past parks, gardens and stadiums) until he
was confident he was clear of police resources.

"There is a house not far from where you are..." Kash said.

Max had left the walkway, with poor naked Joey still on the back of the
motorbike, and slowed to a less terrifying speed. Max quickly found
residential streets to get lost in to further evade police. The slowness
was less terrifying but now they were moving slow enough for people to get
longer and more lingering looks at the naked young man on the back of the
motorbike.

"It's on the market for a very reasonable £160,440. I'm working on
getting protection and a car," Kash added.

Safehouses were tricky to arrange at short notice. Best practice was to
find a house for sale and temporarily acquire access. Max got the address
and sped towards it. Kash would organise someone to deliver a vehicle and
then stay to protect Joey.

Max stopped at an intersection just as a group of drunken young men
stumbled out of a late-night chip shop. The laughed hilariously at Joey,
which squirmed and blushed as they looked between his legs at his shrunken
penis. Max roared the engine as he finally started moving again and the
young men were left with their memories of naked Joey.





"The Glasstower is very unhappy, Max," Kash said into Max's earpiece.

"It's not my job to make them happy, it's my job to keep them safe. I keep
them safe by keeping everyone safe," Max replied.

"We'll talk when you get back to Daer," Kash decided. "Protection for Mr
Havecock and a vehicle for you will be at the house in an hour."

"Great. I'll break into this place and see you in a few hours," Max
replied.

He came to a stop a few streets away from the address he'd been given and
turned to Joey.

"Are you ok?" Max asked.

Joey seemed surprised to be asked but he was freezing cold, shivering and
wobbly on his feet when he climbed off the back of the motorbike. It was
June and therefore not cold, not even at night, but the high speeds had
chilled Joey to his bones.

"Not sure," Joey admitted. "I'm cold, Yuri."

Max didn't want to tell the boy his name wasn't Yuri – there was no
point. It was the middle of the night now so Max was able to abandon the
motorbike and then walk with Joey to the address Kash had given him. He put
his arm around Joey as they walked together – Max had not wanted to park
right outside the house in case nosey neighbours called the police on
vehicles they didn't recognise.

He led Joey around the side of the house to the back door where they would
be shrouded in the dark. Max found some surprisingly helpful kit in the
pockets of the mercenary's combat vest which he used to force the back door
open. Repairs would be easy enough. Luckily, the house was not alarmed.

Max pulled off the helmet and goggles that had hopefully protected his
identity from any cameras but when he looked at the young man, he was still
trembling. Joey was literally shivering, his skinny legs bowed in so his
knees were nearly knocking. Max threw his arms around the young man which
Joey reciprocated and then cried.

"Come on," Max said and he lifted the young man to carry him up to bed.

The house was dark and the heating was off because it was unoccupied. Max
couldn't afford to put either of them on to minimise their footprint and
chance of discovery by nosey neighbours. Max put Joey in bed and pulled the
covers over him.





"I never meant for you to be caught up in all this," Max apologised –
unable to look at the vulnerable young man.

It was his fault that Joey had gotten involved and he was ashamed of the
harm that had come to an innocent person.

"Everyone saw me naked," Joey miserably. "People at work... then more
people at work. All those people on the street and the helicopters..."

Max unzipped his tactical vest and started to undress.

"I know," Max said sympathetically.

"My friends and family will have seen me," Joey chittered. "They'll make
fun of my tiny dick."

Despite everything, Joey checked out the monumentally sexy black man who
was now topless and removing his boots.

"You were captured and interrogated, Joey," Max said. "You're a victim."

Joey hoped this would limit the abuse and sarcasm and commentary on his
exposure but would he really be able to tell people any of this? Even if he
did tell his friends and family – they would still have seen his wee
willy. It was mortifying.

Max stood up to drop his trousers and revealed his magnificent ass and
muscular legs. The spy climbed under the covers with Joey, face to face,
chest to chest and groin to groin. Joey's short and shrivelled penis was
cold against Max's bigger, floppy dick. Max wrapped his arms around Joey
and held him tight – Max's body was hot against Joey's cold and pasty
skin. Max thought the young man would fall asleep but as he affectionally
stroked Joey's skin, he could feel the cold and clammy stub of Joey's dick
thickening as he warmed up.

"What are you going to do Yuri? About your friend?" Joey whispered.

"I don't know," Max replied.

He had three plans. A) depended on the resources of SCION (Security
Counter-Intelligence Observation & Neutralization) but the paper pushing
bosses in the Glasstower was mad at him. B) contacting the DPD and ask for
help from the enhanced people, the nu-men. C) was simply a terrible and
dangerous plan.





Joey tucked his head under Max's chin and Max kissed the top of his
head. Max could feel the slim young man getting harder and Max himself was
starting to thicken. Joey looked up and Max kissed his lips. Was Max always
horny? Was there ever not a time to think about sex?

Joey reached down and gripped Max's cock, stroking it until it was a fully
erect ten inches.

"Wow!" Joey said.

Max returned the favour, fondling Joey whose dick was smaller, especially
in Max's big hand, but delightful. Max thought about Ernest Sukerfeel –
a man who was bitter and angry at the world and wanted to share that with
the world. The man was impotent but that didn't mean he could have cuddles
or give head. Max had to play with Joey's penis for a while before it got
hard – the young man was both cold and nervous so his shy dick took time
to thicken. Joey meanwhile could have put both hands on the big, long, fat
cock between Max's legs.

Joey's cock was smaller than Max's by four inches but the boy was still a
great fuck, cute as a button and a welcome distraction.

"Your dick isn't tiny now," Max offered reassuringly. "You want to send
your friends and family an updated picture?"

Joey giggled and wriggled away from Max.

"No! No more pictures," Joey laughed.

"Don't be embarrassed, Joey. You have a really nice dick," Max assured the
young man.

Max was tugging on the six-inch boy meat as he gazed into the young man's
eyes. Despite the ordeal, Joey could not resist Max. It seemed like no man
could resist him.

"Your cock is absolutely enormous," Joey replied enviously. "I liked it
when you fucked me in the office, Yuri. I liked having your big dick inside
me."

"Why don't you fuck me?" Max suggested.

Joey looked surprised. Max had fucked the young man with the tight little
hole when seducing him for access to Mr Sukerfeel's penthouse office. Was
he perhaps returning the favour?

"You mean it, Yuri?" Joey asked and Max nodded. "Is your name really
Tiedup?"

Max sniggered. He had many names. None of them were real. Not even his real
name, not anymore. Max didn't answer the questions, he lubed Joey's hard-on
by dipping under the covers and enveloping the cock with his mouth. Joey
moaned as he felt his dick being sucked and covered with
mouth-lube. Sufficiently slickened, Max came back up and kissed Joey's lips
with penis breath. Then Max turned away from Joey and pressed his ass into
Joey's groin.





Joey pulled the sheets down to see more of Max's body – his back had
faded scars across it. Joey traced them distractedly with his fingers
before lining up his cock and pressing it against Max's hole. Joey tapped
the head of his cock against the sphincter, pressing harder each time until
it started to open. Joey's erection wept precum, the ooze frothing against
the hole as Joey pushed the head of his cock inside. Max reached around and
stroked Joey's soft skin while the young man continued pushing until the
shaft was three inches deep. Pulling back and pushing in, Joey slowly and
gently fucked Max's ass.

Max enjoyed the sensation. It would have been easy to tease men like Ernest
Sukerfeel who could not get aroused or Joey whose hard-on was much smaller
than Max's great fuck stick. But Max always enjoyed sex, seduction,
intimacy and believed size didn't matter. Size was good but it could be
very pleasurable having sex with a six-inch poker.

Their first time – in the dark office just days ago - had been frenzied
and passionate but this was gentle and slow. Joey was breathing hard –
Max could feel it on his back. The smaller and younger man had a nice
technique, probing Max's prostate with slippery nudges.

As Joey fucked Max's ass, Max stroked his big dick.

Max's swipes were long and tight, focussing especially on the exposed
head. Max could feel the veins beneath his fingers and the ridge around the
head of his cock. Max's strokes across the head were made even more
pleasurable by the boy fucking his ass – so much so that milk leaked
from his cock as his prostate was milked. When he felt Joey fully
penetrate, pushing in as deep as he could, Max moaned pleasurable. The
young man was delighted with the response but he was getting tired. It had
been an exhausting several days.

Nevertheless, Joey reached around and put his small, now warm, hands over
Max's and participated in the pleasuring of the ten-inch masturbation. Max
yielded control to Joey – the young man fucking his ass and controlling
his orgasm.

Joey stroked the ten-inch cock with as much enthusiasm as he treated Max's
sphincter.

"Yuri? I think I'm gonna cum," Joey warned.

"Cum inside me, Joey," Max breathed in return.





Max wasn't on the edge yet but he was happy for the excited, seduced boy
and moments after warning him, the young man's cock erupted. Max could feel
the young spunk inside him and then he felt the smack of cock against his
sacrum when Joey pulled out. Max turned over onto his back and pulled on
top of him, kissing Joey in a way that was intimate and passionate but not
romantic.

Max could feel Joey's sloppy schlong wiping and smearing against his bare
skin.

Joey freed himself, stroking Max's chest and then his abs as he sunk
lower. He wanted to suck Max's giant cock. Joey's lips wrapped around the
head and he lifted his eyes to look at the gorgeous man as he started to
envelop the ten inches. Joey held the impressive member with both hands but
more than two inches of cock still extended beyond his grip.

"Wow!" Joey said and then dived in again.

The young man enveloped two inches of moist, hard, manhood and as he
removed his hand he gobbled another two inches. Joey wasn't sure how much
cock he could take...

"Max, there's a car outside for you. Llewelyn is coming in," Kash said into
Max's inner ear implant.

"Understood," Max replied.

Joey was still sucking happily and greedily, saliva a cock snot were
running down the veiny, inflated penis but Joey licked it all up. Max
stroked Joey's face before the young man could go down on him again. Sadly,
Joey wouldn't have time to finish the job.

"Yuri? Are you leaving me here?" Joey asked sadly as he unhappily stroked
the biggest cock he'd ever seen.

"Yes. Someone is in the house; his name is Llewelyn and he's a good man,"
Max replied.

Technically this was only half true. Llewelyn was a good soldier (as a
person he was only ok) turned black operative. Employees of the government
who have questionable ethics get to be called black operatives; employees
of a rancid billionaire (or a detestable politician) who have questionable
ethics are called mercenaries or militias.

Llewelyn had assisted Max a handful of times on complex missions. A team of
black ops as exactly what Max needed now if he was going to stop Ernest
Sukerfeel. Max would find out soon if the Glasshouse would give him such
resources.

"You can't go home until it's safe," Max insisted. "And we might need to
take you somewhere else."

Kash would sort a verified safehouse.

"I understand," Joey said. "Thank you for saving me, Yuri. You're a good
man too."

Max smiled sadly – Joey was a sweet but naοve young man. It was his
fault Joey had needed saving in the first place. As a person, he was only
ok.





MAD MAX

After leaving Joey in trusted hands, Max drove home. During the journey
from Edinburgh to Clyde Daer, Max contemplated everything that had happened
so far and planned what he might do next. Arriving at the Bunker, Max went
to find Kash.

"So, how much trouble am I in?" Max asked without preamble.

Kash had already told him the Glasstower was unhappy which he literally
didn't care about. All that really mattered was if they were going to help
him stop Ernest Sukerfeel.

"Well, let's see.." Kash said coolly.

Kash was shorter and less muscular than Max, a manager and a technical
genius but he squared up to the physically superior man as if they were
about to throwdown. Kash was angry too.

"You had a gunfight in the underground garage of a corporate building in
the capital city, stole a car, had a high-speed car chase through Edinburgh
involving more gunfire, caused two traffic fatalities, triggered a
city-wide police response including the deployment of armed officers and a
helicopter, you stole a motorbike and you're wanted for threatening the
public with a firearm and kidnapping a naked young man," Kash summarised
neatly.

"So what's your point?" Max asked dismissively.

Kash was not amused.

"My fucking point is not that you did any of those fucking things but that
you did them so fucking publicly," Kash shot back. "My fucking point is
that I need to clean up your fucking mess, be your fucking apologist and
make excuses to fucking law enforcement. I need to explain your fucking
actions to the fucking Head fucking Office and the fucking Glasstower are a
bunch of paper pushing fuckers!"

Max took the admonishment in silence.

"Ok, I could have done without all the swearing," Max said.

"Max! They will not help us!" Kash replied.

"Then they're morons. Do they know what's at stake? What we've found?" Max
asked.

"Yes, they do know. I had to give the a full fuc-," Kash stopped himself
swearing again and continued. "A full report."





"They were the ones who assigned me the mission. They designated it Level
Rho," Max bemoaned. "What, they're not concerned about a technologically
advanced apparatus that will make human beings impotent?"

"They are less concerned about reproductive rights than they are about
public spectacle," Kash reasoned.

"What are we, America?" Max complained.

Kash offered Max a "very droll" head-tilt before responding.

"The Glasstower are conducting a review..." Kash continued, aping
management-speak.

"A fucking review? How long is that going to fucking take?" Max shouted
angrily.

"I could have done without all the swearing," Kash responded.

"Touchι," Max said.

"The Glasstower are considering your evidence and are unconvinced there is
a time imperative that necessitates immediate action," Kash told Max.

"What about Cyrus? And there is a time imperative. Now that Ernest
Sukerfeel knows we know, he'll need to act quickly," Max asserted.

"I agree," Kash said and sat down heavily on his favourite chair and took
off his glasses.

Max sat down too and closed his eyes, thinking and fuming. Neither of them
spoke for a few minutes.

"I'm sorry, Kash," Max said.

"I know," Kash replied and paused for a long time. "So what are we going to
do?"

Max sat up straight and leaned forward. Of course Kash knew he had another
plan.

"We need to stop Mr Sukerfeel and get Cyrus back," Max said.

"I mean how?" Kash replied.

"What kind of idiot gets captured anyway?" Max erupted with frustration.

"You've been captured seven times in the last five years," Kash pointed
out.

"Well... yea... but most of those were deliberate!" Max retorted.

"Three of them were deliberate, Max. So MOST of them were..." Kash was
infuriatingly precise.

"Yea, alright!" Max interrupted.

Max laughed and Kash joined in, releasing some of the tension that had
built between them. However, it was time to answer Kash's question: how?





"We need to find the transmitter first," Max said. "Please tell me Cyrus
found that out before he got caught?"

"He connected the remote computer and gave me a great idea for finding the
transmitter," Kash acknowledged excitedly. "Logically the hinderferon
transmitter will require precious metals. Namely caesium, niobium,
molybdenum, barium carbonate, yttrium oxide..."

"I'm not building the damn thing," Max interrupted irritably. "Presumably
these materials are used in next generation technologies. Ernest Sukerfeel
literally owns a communications technology corporation. He must buy a crap
ton of those metals."

"Yes," Kash agreed. "But we know where those businesses are. And I was able
to exclude other technology firms that receive delivery of those
metals. That narrowed it down to a handful aberrant locations."

"Such as?" Max prompted.

"Such as experimental government cybertech companies and weapons
factories," Kash acknowledged. "Of the private businesses, there are a few
leads that the SCION will want to look into."

"And?" Max waited to be impressed.

"Ernest Sukerfeel doesn't own the Isle of Frith off the west coast of
Scotland, south of the Isle of Aaron," Kash revealed. "That's where the
materials are headed."

"He doesn't own the island?" Max queried.

"Correct. But he owns a company that owns a company that... you get the
idea," Kash concluded. "I've been using satellites to take a look."

Kash put his glasses back on and brought up a series of images that Max
studied for a few minutes.

"I thought that island was put under a conservation order about a hundred
years ago?" Max recalled.

"Yea, but have you met the Albion government? The changed the definition of
what can be conserved in an amendment passed in the 1990's," Kash said with
disdain. "Anyway, the paper trail suggests Ernest Sukerfeel took a
controlling interest of a base there about eight years ago."





"So we know where he is," Max said quietly.

"And we know he's employed mercenaries. A lot of them," Kash said.

Kash brought up the numbers on screen and it made for worrying
reading. There was no way to get onto the secure island, rescue Cyrus and
destroy the hinderferon transmitter without help.

"I had three plans. One, get a black ops assignment from the Glasstower but
that plan is up shit creek without a conduct and performance review," Max
began. "Two, I ask Matt and Angelo."

"Hmm," Kash replied uncertainly.

"I'm going to be honest, I'm not happy about it. Their team is a bunch of
kids with untested powers," Max was thinking about their safety and whether
they'd be a help or a hindrance.

"And plan three?" Kash asked.

"Ernest Sukerfeel has a large army and he'll be enroute to his island soon
to turn on his buzzkill machine. I need more men, transportation and less
red tape," Max said.

"Yea?" Kash prompted – his dark eyebrows knotted behind the frames of
his glasses. "So what's plan three?"

"I don't want to tell you," Max replied.

"Why?" Kash asked suspiciously.

"You'll just get mad," Max insisted.

"I'm already mad," Kash said.

Then a look of realisation crossed Kash's face like he'd just been
slapped. They'd had a conversation just like this one a few days ago when
they'd been talking about...

"No!" Kash said.

"Go stand over there. Out of striking distance," Max said hastily.

"No!" Kash said.

"Yes," Max said with the tone of a man with a terrible plan.

"You're right, I'm gonna to get mad," Kash admitted.

"Kash, I'm going to asks Jethro Renton-Mass," Max said.

"Fuck off," Kash replied.





BED NEMESIS

After reacting furiously to Max's plan, Kash simmered down to apoplectic.

"I thought you hated that guy?" Kash said.

"I do," Max agreed.

"You think he's a supervillain in waiting and literally want to assassinate
him," Kash continued.

"All true," Max admitted.

"You suspect him of global political manipulation to destabilise
governments and first world societies," Kash reminded.

"Yes, on three continents," Max agreed.

"So why in the name of Satan would you go to Jethro Renton-Mass?" Kash
quizzed.

"Because he has links to the Risico militia. He uses them for personal
protection. He has the resources I need and he has them now. I have the
leverage to persuade him because I have the DrNo62 decoder I stole from
him," Max replied methodically. "Also, Ernest Sukerfeel has Cyrus but Cyrus
is masquerading as Rider Topsman..."

"And Rider is JRM's chief of security. He probably won't want Rider in the
custody of someone like Ernest Sukerfeel," Kash realised.

"It would be a big risk, I imagine," Max added.

"Ok. So how are you going to ask him?" Kash wondered.





A few hours later Max walked into the Moonscraper. He'd washed, slept and
changed first before heading back to the Clyde Daer city centre skyscraper
where JRM had an office and living space. Max had only been there a few
days ago when he had stolen the decoder. So much had happened since
then. Max loitered conspicuously around the atrium and then took a seat in
a waiting area.

"So your plan is to get captured?" Kash had asked wryly through Max's inner
ear implant.

"Yes, but on purpose so now I'm even on the deliberate vs accidental
capturing," Max joked – not bothering to conceal his communication.

"Excuse me sir, can I help you?" someone eventually asked him.

Max had been lounging around for an hour. He hadn't approached the
reception, he hadn't met anyone, called or texted anyone – he had simply
waited. He had relaxed, meditated and checked his eyelids for holes when he
dozed off.

"A coffee would be great," Max replied.

"That's not what I meant," the young man said humourlessly.

Worth a shot.

"This isn't a coffee shop, sir. Do you have an appointment?" he asked.

"No. But I am expected, I expect," Max grinned.

Before the young man could respond, the executive lift doors opened and a
young man or boy stepped out. He must have been renowned because as he
walked towards Max, the young man hurried away. Max waited for the boy,
tapping his thumb and forefinger together several times in a gesture that
looked almost anxious.

"Hello, my name is Timmy Kotes," said the boy. "And what is your name
today?"

Max watched the young man's face – his pretty eyes and lips were
particularly inviting. Max was a tall, broad and muscular black man who
towered over the short, slim marshmallow of a boy.

"The names Knott. Shepherd Knott."

"Yea?" Timmy responded sceptically. "Well, sorry I kept you. I was tied
up."

"I've been Tiedup before too," Max flirted.

"Yuri can't be serious," Timmy punned.





Max was watching Timmy's lips carefully, barely hearing his words, reading
his body language and trying to ignore a tinnitus induced headache.

"Hans up if you think I'm serious," Max replied.

"I'm Bound to believe anything you say," Timmy said.

Max smiled tightly. He had known Jethro Renton-Mass would know all about
him and Cyrus had indicated Timmy was his right-hand man or tight
hand-boy. Timmy seemed to be very well informed about Max's identities. Max
reminded himself that Cyrus considered Timmy to be extremely dangerous. Max
had told Kash everything Cyrus had told him about Timmy's mind control
abilities and his probable weaknesses – they had added to their files.

"Come with me," Timmy ordered.

Since that was the entire point of Max's arrival, he had no issues with
following the boy to the executive lift. The lift doors opened and they
stepped inside.

"We can take a hand glider up to the nineteenth floor if you like?" Timmy
suggested.

"I do enjoy my hand gliding over things," Max admitted and Timmy giggled
appreciatively.

Surely they had exhausted all the puns by now?

Max was tempted to rile Timmy by asking if it was true he had a fear of
heights but restrained himself – knowing an enemy's weakness was an
advantage especially when they did not know you knew.

"Mr Renton-Mass is busy at the moment," Timmy told Max. "He has asked that
I keep you entertained until he's ready for you."

"What did you have in mind?" Max asked as they both stepped out of the lift
on the seventeenth floor of the Moonscraper.

Timmy led the way to his own private room, opening the door and beckoning
Max inside. Max had read a lot about Timmy – how the boy or young man
enjoyed using mind control to sexually manipulate men and how no-one was
exactly sure how old he was. Timmy was incredibly cute and Max estimated he
was anywhere from sixteen to twenty years old. He looked young even before
Timmy added any mental manipulation – unless he had already manipulated
Max's perception?





Max was nursing a ringing in his ears that was making it hard to
concentrate. The tinnitus reminded him of all the times before his inner
ear implant when he had suffered from the ailment – particularly when he
was a Second Lieutenant fighting in... where ever. Max concentrated back on
Timmy who was dressed in black trousers and a skinny white shirt – was
he deliberately going for a schoolboy look?

"Do you want to see me naked?" Timmy asked.

"Not really," Max replied because he knew Timmy would like the reluctance.

"Don't you like boys?" Timmy asked.

"I like men," Max replied.

The truth was, Max was not too concerned with boys or young men or men –
if they had an ass and a cock, he'd fuck them or let them fuck him.

"Well I'm only a boy," Timmy said scandalously.

Max watched his lips as he said it with glee and derision.

"You should come here and take my shirt off," Joey demanded.

Max examined the sultry way Timmy stood, waiting for Max to
obey. Languidly, Max moved closer to Timmy. Max put his fingers on the
collar of Timmy's shirt and started to unbutton it. As each button
released, Max saw more of the creamy and smooth skin underneath.

Timmy was undeniably beautiful. Though Max would deny it if he had to.

Max slipped the shirt from Timmy's slender, bare shoulders and it fell to
the ground.

"Take my trousers off me, Shepherd," Timmy ordered.

Timmy used the toes of each shoe to prise them off while Max squatted and
opened the young man's trousers. Timmy loved this part – having a new
play thing and seeing how easy it was to get them to do whatever he
wanted. He was disappointed in Shepherd, which obviously wasn't his real
name, because he was so easy to control.

Timmy liked a challenge. He loved it when a man resisted, when a man
desperately tried not to strip him. Timmy had taken to choosing mortifying
underwear (SpongeBob pants or cartoon animals). The men always looked at
the bulge inside them with a mixture of desire and disgust – because he
told them to feel that way. Resistant men could never resist for long –
Timmy was strong enough to override Jeffrey and he was a fellow mind
controller. Timmy delighted in meanness and cruelty – waiting for those
men to pull his underpants down, for his flaccid penis to release, for the
man to put it in his mouth and as it got hard say something that would fill
the man with shame.

"I'm only fourteen."





Max pulled Timmy's trousers down to reveal very small yellow briefs with
blue dots on them. They were deliberately juvenile, Max assumed. The very
effort refreshed Max to assume the young man was much older than he
pretended to be. Timmy's behaviour had elements of performance in it. Timmy
stepped out of his trousers and stood barefoot in his undies in front of
the big man.

"Oh no, I'm only wearing my underpants," Timmy bit his lip. "In front of a
big, strong man. I'm so embarrassed."

Max stood up, looking down on Timmy with a smile.

"I can see that," Max said. "Let me see your ass!"

Timmy was happy the man wanted to see his petite little butt and turned for
him to get a good look. Max smacked it, causing Timmy to yelp with
surprise. Then Max pulled the waistband to look inside and check out the
diminutive and peachy cheeks of the delinquent young man.

"I've got a huge cock, Timmy. I could ruin that ass," Max threatened
amiably.

"Oh I've taken big dicks before, Shepherd," Timmy replied.

"I didn't say big. I said huge," Timmy turned towards the seductive man.

Timmy felt drawn to Max – perhaps excited by the promise of something
huge or turned on by Max's assertiveness even though he was in control.

"How huge?" Timmy asked as Max touched the front of Timmy pants with
surprisingly gentle hands.

Max cupped Timmy's genitals through the fabric of the small briefs. The lad
put on a good show but Max would bet he had a decent sized dick hidden in
there.

"Ten inches," Max revealed in a whisper as he pressed his chest against
Timmy's bare back.

Timmy felt himself getting hard just at the thought of being fucked by a
ten-inch dick. Timmy all but forgot he was trying to sexually tease and
torment the man to unsettle him. After all, Mr Renton-Mass wanted him to
meet the spy and didn't want him too confident. Timmy rounded on Max and
grabbed his balls with a respectable grip.

"Get on your knees and suck my dick," Timmy commanded.

Max read his lips and dropped to his knees. Max pulled sharpy on the little
briefs and the semi-hard cock inside sprang up excitedly. Max wrapped his
lips around the head as he pulled the foreskin back and then he enveloped
the boydick with his mouth. Once it was slick, Max used his saliva to wank
it to full hardness. Max stroked the young man's dick which was a very
decent seven inches long. The taste of the slime coming from the penis was
sweet and morish. Max sucked the head and then put out his tongue to lick
the shaft from balls to frenulum.





"Do you like boys?" Timmy asked.

Timmy asserted a little non-verbal push as he asked the question. Max felt
it... something... like someone was rearranging the furniture in his head.

"I like twinks as much as the next man... if the next man is a man who
likes twinks," Max admitted.

Timmy laughed at the answer. Especially since the big black man was on his
knees and licking a young white dick like it was hard candy.

Max found himself arranging his thoughts to answer the actual question
asked, not the one intended. Timmy wanted Max to say he liked boys but Max
interpreted it to mean boi's. Max resumed sucking the cock while stroking
Timmy's legs. They were feathery with sprigs of hair that Max could feel
under his touch.

Timmy knew time was running out and he would be remiss to not at least see
the ten-inch cock.

"Stand up and let me see that huge cock of yours," Timmy said – using
Max's own word for the impressive appendage.

Max stood up and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Do you have the taste of my dick in your mouth?" Timmy mocked.

"Yes," Max replied.

Max unzipped his trousers and opened the button. He hefted out five inches
of flaccid meat which Timmy weighed in his hands. It was big even without
being hard. Timmy was impressed.

"Do you want me to make you hard, Shepherd," Timmy asked.

"Maybe we should get down to business," Max said evasively.

"Making you hard is business," Timmy replied – enjoying Max's
resistance.

Timmy stroked Max's penis until it started to get hard. Timmy was still
hard himself so when he touched the tips of their cocks, a sticky strand of
silvery slime connected the two. Timmy pulled on Max's cock, occasionally
knocking it with his own, until it was fully hard. Fuck! It really was ten
inches.

"You can look at my ass while I get lube," Timmy `suggested' forcefully.

Max did look – the petite little but was pretty.

"Come here," Timmy said.

Max walked towards the young man who handed him lubricant.

"It's my first time, Mr Knott," Timmy said innocently – batting his
eyes.





Max could see Timmy's words were meant to inflict the idea of chaste
innocence but it knew it wasn't true. Max wondered how many first times the
young man had pretended to have. The spy would have liked to lube Timmy
– despite his appearance he was a bottom-leaning vers. Max lubricated
his ten-inch cock.

"You should fuck my little ass with your big cock," Timmy said.

"I don't know if you should... you said your just a boy," Max feigned
hesitancy that was undermined by the sloppy sucking noise of masturbation.

Timmy grinned wickedly.

"Oh, you should have sex with me, Shepherd," Timmy insisted. "Put your big
dick inside me."

Max didn't even need to look at the young man to know what he wanted –
what he had ordered Max to do. Timmy didn't need to order or command
though. Max had had sex multiple times for the purpose of a mission. Timmy
– however old he was – was just another hole.

"I don't know if you can take it," Max added just to provoke the arrogant
boy.

"We're about to find out," Timmy replied.

Timmy bent over and spread his cheeks, his legs parted and waiting for Max
to push in. Max pressed the slick head of his cock against the boy-hole and
pushed. The head of Max's cock was bloated, looking almost like an
arrowhead. The arrowhead slipped in and Max advanced the shaft.

Timmy moaned – expecting the cock but yet still unprepared.

"Oh fuck!" Timmy whined.

Max paused and stroked Timmy's creamy, smooth back with his hand.

"Do you want me to stop, boy?" Max asked.

Timmy looked over his shoulder at Agent 117 and sneered.

"Did I tell you to stop?" Timmy asked.





Max stabbed his cock forward, pushing five inches in without
warning. Timmy's legs were nearly shaking as Max pulled back and pushed in
several times. Max looked over his shoulder again – enjoying the mixture
of pleasure and pain that came with penetration from such a huge penis.

"Push it all the way in," Timmy told him.

Max pushed in until his balls swung against Timmy's perineum.

"Pull your cock out," Timmy ordered.

Max pulled his cock out of his own volition and watched Timmy finger his
own hole, massaging the sphincter. He looked happy enough as he turned and
knelt down, taking Max's cock in his mouth and fellating him. Max held
Timmy's ears, face-fucking him with the same enthusiasm as he'd fucked
Timmy's arsehole.

Max had to admit, Timmy was a talented cock sucker. Max was surprised the
boy didn't have him on his knees sucking dick but if the dirty young man
wanted to do all the work, he was fine with that. Max grinned as he
approached his orgasm and didn't bother to warn Timmy. When blasts of spunk
released, it washed down Timmy's throat and the boy wore a surprised
look. He pulled his face back and watched shots of cum hit him in the face
as the taste of semen continued to coat his tongue.

Timmy grabbed the ten-inch dick and stroked it near the base while sucking
the remainder of the cum from the sloppy head.

"Wow," Timmy said.

Right then, the door behind him opened and Timmy looked over his
shoulder. He rolled his eyes at the interruption.

"Hi Jeffrey," Timmy said.

The young man climbed to his feet. His cock was hard and sticking straight
up – hard as a nail.

"We're ready for him," Jeffrey said.

"He's in the middle of something," Timmy replied.

Timmy wasn't sure why he'd allowed Max to have his orgasm before he's had
satisfaction but he didn't want to pass up the chance to have this hot man
suck his boy-cock.

"Mr Renton-Mass says now," Jeffrey insisted.





Both mind controllers were powerful with incredible powers over normal men
but Jethro Renton-Mass was not a normal man. Angels were to nu-men as
nu-men were to no-powered humans. Jeffrey accepted that he worked for JRM
while Timmy was wont to imagine he worked with Mr Renton-Mass.

"You want to see his dick? It's ten inches," Timmy told Jeffrey.

Timmy stepped aside so Jeffrey could see the handsome black man. The spy
didn't put his cock away, though he could have if he'd wanted to. He
allowed Jeffrey to see his massive, wet cock that was just starting to
droop.

Jeffrey looked between the dressed but exposed spy and the naked boy. Timmy
had got another one. He was a beautiful young man but the trouble was, not
even Jeffrey knew if he was seeing the real Timmy or if Timmy was creating
a mind-controlled mirage of himself.

"Let's go," Jeffrey ignored the question.

"Fine," Timmy said huffily. "C'mon!"

Max could barely hear the Timmy's voice over the persistent ringing in his
ears but he recognised annoyance and the disappointment. Timmy had wanted
his dick sucked and didn't like his fun being interrupted.

While Max pulled his trousers and tucked his shirt in, Timmy pulled on
trousers but no underwear, slipped on comfy trainers and put his shirt back
on.

"Hans, come with me and Jeffrey," Timmy said – unnecessarily using a
controlling voice.

Max followed Timmy, catching Jeffrey's eye as they walked towards
him. Jeffrey was a handsome man in his late thirties – the expression on
his face was more guarded than Timmy who wore his interests on his sleeve.

Timmy buttoned the shirt up while they walked, leaving the top button
undone and the shirt not tucked in. Jeffrey opened the door to a conference
room with a table that sat ten people but there was only one man in the
room.

That man's name was Jethro Renton-Mass.





Jethro Renton-Mass was dressed in a high-quality black suit and tie with a
white shirt.

He was thin but not weedy, his chest looked surprisingly toned and his
upper arms were not bulging but were clearly strong. At just over six feet
tall, he had a matchstick appearance. The man was clean shaven with grey,
calculating eyes surrounded by rectangular black rimmed spectacles and dark
eyebrows flecked with grey hair. Jethro Renton-Mass was almost completely
bald except for very short grey sideburns that joined equally short hair
above his ears and around the back of his head like a crown.

He was not only a very handsome man but downright sexy.

And evil.

"Good afternoon... Agent one-seventeen," the man said. "I am Jethro
Renton-Mass."

He extended his hand and Max didn't flinch, he grasped it and felt the firm
handshake of a man who knew many types of power. The man was well informed
about Max's numerical designation as Agent 117 (but this knowledge was
undermined by Timmy already using it) but the spy knew his interest had
been excessive sometimes. Of course JRM took notice of people who looked
into him.

"And what name are you going by today?" Mr Renton Mass enquired.

"Shepherd Knott," Max replied.

"Oh yes?" the man replied with an arched brow.

"Not Yuri Tiedup? Not Hans Bound?" Timmy asked with amusement.

"Not Major Iain Flemyng?" Jeffrey added with more seriousness.

Clearly, JRM's team were all well informed about him.

"Not Emory Qoyi?" Mr Renton-Mass asked.

Max wasn't able to hide his surprise at this one. That was his name. A very
long time ago. His friends called him EmQ. Max hadn't gone by the name
Emory for twenty years – he had changed it in his teens before joining
the Armed Services.

Mr Renton-Mass sneered with satisfaction (at catching Max off guard) but he
didn't really care what the spy called himself. He too had had many named
over the centuries he had been alive. Jethro moved to the head of the table
where he sat down.

"Sit down," Timmy commanded.

Max moved to a chair on JRM's right while Timmy and Jeffrey sat opposite
him on JRM's left.

"You have shown a great interest in me over the years, did you think I
wouldn't notice?" Mr Renton-Mass asked.

"My interest has always been side-lined by the Glasstower," Max admitted
– at the behest of political pressure, he was sure.

"So, why are you here... Mr Bind, is it?" Jethro Renton-Mass asked.

Max Bind. Shepherd Knot. Emory Qoyi It didn't matter.

"Max is fine," the spy replied since the pretence was unnecessary.





"Max, why are you here?" Timmy asked forcefully.

It wasn't just in his voice this time. The demand for an answer was pushed
with non-verbal force that felt... strange... Max wondered if people
usually noticed the boy's attempt at mind-control.

"I came to ask for your help," Max answered.

"With what exactly?" Jeffrey asked.

Jeffrey was standoffish and all business but he didn't push the
question. Jeffrey felt Timmy was wasting mental effort since Max had
clearly come for a purpose and therefore did not need to be compelled.

"Ernest Sukerfeel. He's..." Max started to say.

"I know who he is. Skip to the part where I have any interest in this
conversation," Mr Renton-Mass interrupted.

Max felt his head spin as he saw through the irritation and realised that
he wouldn't have been granted an audience if Mr Renton-Mass wasn't
interested. Max wondered what the man already knew about Ernest Sukerfeel.

"Mr Sukerfeel has created a transmitter that will make anyone within range
impotent by implanting biochemical instructions to inhibit sexual desire,
sexual ability and sexual satisfaction," Max elucidated without preamble.

"Sounds far-fetched," Jeffrey responded.

Max half smiled – that's what Cyrus had said. They were clearly well
matched. JRM, Max noticed was sitting back thoughtfully. Mr Renton-Mass had
long suspected Ernest Sukerfeel of having an ambitious plan but no-one in
SCION or any other intelligence community he had access to had gotten close
to discovering what it was. Jethro considered himself intrigued by the
implications of the technology.

"Fuck that!" Timmy said. "What am I going to do if I can't get a boner and
make men fuck me?"

"Read a book?" Mr Renton-Mass suggested. "Why would I help you stop him, Mr
Bind?"

"Because Ernest Sukerfeel has Rider Topsman in his custody," Max
replied. "You fired him when I took the decoder from your vault and he came
to me to get it back. I made a deal with him that he could have it if he
helped me. I still want help stopping Mr Sukerfeel and you still want the
decoder."

"You stole the decoder from my vault," JRM clarified. "You didn't take
it... you stole it."

Max shrugged.

"That's all you are, Mr Bind. A thief, an abductor, a thug and a witless
stooge," Mr Renton-Mass accused.

There was a brief pause after the insult struck.

"Well that's not fair, I also like to kill people," Max replied.





Jeffrey cracked a smile at last, Timmy tried not to find it funny and even
Jethro Renton-Mass registered amusement.

"I'll be honest," Max added. "That comment would be really hurtful if your
opinion was one I'd asked for, or respected or had any interest in."

They were all less amused now. JRM did not appreciate disrespect so he
looked at Timmy and Jeffrey but didn't speak. He didn't need to – they
knew what to do.

"Did Rider betray us?" Timmy demanded.

Max was using a variety of tools to resist Timmy's control. Answering the
question asked rather than the one intended was one way of misleading them.

"No. I haven't seen him in years," Max replied.

Which was true because Rider wasn't Rider, he was Cyrus, but it implied
that Max meant before a few days ago. Max considered Rider interchangeable
for the real Rider Topsman or Cyrus Hyatt.

"Is Rider working with you?" Timmy verbalised.

"He agreed to help me to get the decoder back for Mr Renton-Mass," Max
reiterated.

"Rider has been hiding something from us. Did he tell you anything
relevant?" Timmy commanded an answer.

"He told me you and Timmy can control minds, which I already knew," Max
admitted. "You know he was dishonourably discharged, right?"

Max had intended the comment to divert the conversation.

"Of course I knew," Mr Renton-Mass replied. "Is he gifted?"

Max was surprised by the question but hid it better than when JRM had known
his real name. Max had anticipated Mr Renton-Mass would suspicious. No
matter how good Cyrus's infiltration was, he wasn't really Rider Topsman.

"Rider Topsman? Not that I know of and not that he ever told me," Max
answered. "Unless he doesn't know himself."

Jethro Renton-Mass chuckled at this and leaned back in his chair. He seemed
genuinely amused by Max's comment for some reason.

"If I help you, perhaps you would consider doing something for me?" JRM
asked.

"I'm already doing something for you. I'm returning the decoder I stole
from you," Max retorted.

"Perhaps you could work for me?" Mr Renton-Mass asked.

"I don't think so. I hate you," Max said tactlessly.

"I could use a man with your gifts," JRM persisted.

"My gifts as a thief, abductor, thug and stooge?" Max re-joined.

"Oh no, I mean your real gifts. Your enhancement," Jethro Renton-Mass said
coldly.

"What?" Max with confusion.

"Perhaps you didn't know yourself?" Mr Renton-Mass mocked. "You're a
nu-man, Agent one-seventeen."

"But that's..." Max started to say. "That's impossible."

"I know," Jethro Renton-Mass agreed.





Max knew this couldn't be true. It wasn't hyperbole to say it was
impossible – everything Max knew about the Specially Enhanced Xenogony
told him he couldn't be one of them. He'd have known.

"Did you really think you were just naturally charismatic? Friends and
allies, antiheroes and enemies all falling at your feet. Did you never
wonder why?" Mr Renton-Mass asked as if he were speaking to a stupid
person.

"Did you seduce me?" Timmy asked. "Because that's normally my job."

"Did you really think you were so irresistible that you could take off your
shirt or kiss a man or show them your ten-inch erection and they'd give you
access to a billionaire's penthouse office?" JRM goaded.

"Are you saying I'm not charismatic?" Max recovered.

"The Denego Potentia Department have always had a gift for finding
nu-men. They found you over a decade ago but decided you were volatile,"
JRM accused.

"That's true," Max agreed.

"And disobedient," JRM added.

"That is also true," Max said

Max was being flippant but if it was true that he was enhanced or gifted,
he was mildly offended to not be recruited.

"And frankly not gifted enough," JRM stabbed. "You possess seduction and
low-level arousal augmentation. That's all."

Perhaps that was why even Ernest Sukerfeel had been compliant with his
seduction and even why the man, without a boner, had been on the verge of
orgasm.

"I won't work for you," Max said. "I want your help and you want the
decoder. You should take Rider back too, he's a terrible man. You deserve
him."

Max was asking for a lot in return for the decoder but it was a valuable
tool that Jethro Renton-Mass would rather not be without. What Max hadn't
said about Rider was as interesting as what he had said. Moreover, the
transmitter Max had mentioned was very intriguing...





"You expect me to give you resources and personnel? Presumably the
Glasstower have hit pause on your mission then?" Mr Renton-Mass asked
rhetorically. "I want the decoder returned immediately."

There were only three DrNo62 decoders in the world and he had purchased it
at great cost precisely because it was such a remarkable piece of
technology.

"I'll have it delivered to your reception within the hour," Max agreed.

"There is a time imperative?" Mr Renton-Mass asked.

"Yes," Max replied curtly. "We need to leave immediately."

Max was surprised it had been so easy. Perhaps his seduction powers had
smoothed Mr Renton-Mass's compliance.

"Take him to De Burs. You can use the 1K Falcon and take Team Two with
you," Mr Renton-Mass said to Jeffrey.

Max knew from an earlier briefing from Kash that De Burs was the name of a
former air force base that had come into JRM's possession. Team Two must
refer to a unit within the Risico militia that Mr Renton-Mass
employed. What was it with powerful men and private armies?

"Ernest Sukerfeel is a genius. I'd like to meet him as part of our
agreement," Mr Renton-Mass said added Max.

"Sure," Max replied.

Max did not trust JRM – it had been too easy. On the other hand, he had
come to the Moonscraper confident that he could barter for help with the
decoder alone. Still, it felt too easy.

"You can leave now, Mr Bind," Jethro Renton-Mass told Max and then turned
to Timmy. "Stay for a moment."

Max and Jeffrey stood up and headed for the door. Jethro Renton-Mass did
not speak to Timmy until the door was closed.





FIVE MINUTES TO MIDNIGHT

"I don't like him," Jethro Renton-Mass told Timmy.

"Which one, Max or Jeffrey?" Timmy asked glibly.

JRM sat back in his chair thoughtfully. Timmy was a gifted but immature
young man. He was shallow, vain, disorganised and frivolous. Yet, he could
be insightful and their interests were aligned.

"I had come to rely or Rider, Jeffrey and you," Mr Renton-Mass
admitted. "But one of you will betray me."

"Not me," Timmy said. "But I will deny you three times if you want."

JRM rolled his eyes.

"Is that why you fired Rider?" Timmy asked. "Max thinks you should take him
back. He was almost insistent."

"You noticed," said Mr Renton-Mass with some surprise.

Timmy shrugged modestly.

"I do not trust Rider. Max may or may not know what he's hiding but he's
hiding something," JRM insisted.

"I did ask him," Timmy pointed out.

A mind controller was a powerful thing and Timmy was confident he had
asserted his influence.

"Rider's hiding something," Mr Renton-Mass repeated. "Maybe you could ask
him when you rescue him?"

"I'd love to," Timmy grinned. "But why not get Jeffrey to ask him?"

The boy was too clever for his own good when he wanted to be.

"Why do you think?" Mr Renton-Mass snapped.

"Because you don't trust him anymore than you do Rider," Timmy replied.

"Correct. Timmy, I want you to do something for me," Mr Renton-Mass
began. "The transmitter. Max want's to destroy it. Make sure that doesn't
happen."

"You think you can use it for Plan A?" Timmy inferred.

"You're too clever for your own good," Jethro Renton-Mass told the boy.

"Thanks," Timmy took it as a compliment.

Discussion over, Timmy stood up and headed for the door.

"Do you trust me?" Timmy asked when he reached the door.

Jethro Renton-Mass looked at him for a long moment. The boy had never
looked more like a young man than he did at that moment. He was eager and
ambitious.

"If I do, I may ask you to help me with something else," Mr Renton-Mass
said ambiguously.





Max had been introspective on the lift down while Jeffrey made a series of
calls and sent instructions on his mobile device. Jeffrey led the way to
one of several identical vehicles and took the driver's seat while Max
climbed into the passenger's seat. Settled and on their way, it was time to
talk.

"Did you really not know?" Jeffrey asked Max.

"No," Max replied.

Max didn't want to talk about – he had too many questions and too much
to do. Max tapped his thumb and forefinger together several times and then
kept the pads of the digits pressed together until he heard sound. Jeffrey
watched him and could see something had changed in the man.

"Don't mind me, but if we're going to talk I should be able to hear you
properly," Max said.

"Are we going to talk, Max?" Jeffrey asked doubtfully.

A look of revelation crossed Jeffrey's face as he realised what Max had
said. He was trying to hide it but he was impressed.

"You couldn't hear Timmy, could you?" Jeffrey asked.

"No. I only have 20% hearing so I have an inner ear implant," Max replied.

"How did that happen?" Jeffrey asked.

"I was tortured eight years ago during the war in Afghanistan," Max
answered.

"The American's did that to you?" Jeffrey asked sadly.

"Hm, yea. Remember when war crimes used to be a crime?" Max responded
dryly.

President Horace Hump hadn't just been a tyrant in the Federated American
Republic. He was world renown as a violent despotic thug. Jethro
Renton-Mass had been a political advisor to him before returning to Albion
before the so-called president's fall.

"Anyway, it's enhanced my hearing and lets me interface with technology as
well as communicate with my handler," Max listed pragmatically.

"Max, your comms are back on. Are you ok?" Kash asked.

"I'm fine Kash," Max replied. "Give me a minute ok?"

"Sure," Kash replied.

"It helped you to resist his mind control?" Jeffrey put forward, trying to
work out how.

He was driving towards the edge of Clyde Daer, leaving the city and headed
a few miles outside it.

"I was given to understand that Timmy is lazy and uses verbal instructions
as a default. Something about such commands being processed by auditory
neurons via the cochlear ganglion," Max said.

He had been listening.

"Who told you that?" Jeffrey asked – but he already knew.

"Someone whose time will be up if Jethro Renton-Mass finds out about him,"
Max said – pulling up his sleeve to reveal a watch that was crudely
drawn on his wrist.

It was a coded message – Cyrus had said he'd shapeshift a watch onto his
wrist if he was ever found out. Max wouldn't know that unless Cyrus had
told him. The hands, appropriately, were at five minutes to midnight. It
was a doomsday clock.

"Is Rider ok?" Jeffrey asked, warming to the spy he'd just met.

"I really don't know," Max admitted. "But if we're going to save him, I'm
going to need you to trust me."

"Why would I trust you? I don't know you, Max," Jeffrey replied.

"I'm going to need you to trust me," Max reiterated.

Since Jeffrey was still deciding to trust him or not, Max spoke to Kash.

"Kash, we're headed to the airfield," Max updated his handler. "The De Burs
air force base."

"I'll update the file. If he's letting you see it, he must think we know
about it," Kash observed.

"Probably," Max agreed.

"How did things go?" Kash asked carefully.

"Yea... good... really, really good..." Max replied.

"He gave you everything you asked for?" Kash asked gravely.

"Yes. In exchange for the decoder," Max responded.

"Sound suspiciously easy," Kash decided. "What's he up to?"

"Unclear," Max said. "Why is Mr Renton-Mass helping me?"

The question was directed to Jeffrey.

"We are all in grave danger," Jeffrey said after a long silence.

"Because of this mission?" Max asked.

"This mission is your mission. I'm talking about my mission," Jeffrey said
anxiously. "My mission and Cyrus's. Mr Renton-Mass is obsessed with nu-men
and Angels. Finding us and gathering us together."

"Why?" Max asked.

"I don't know. I'm hoping Angelo will be able to tell us," Jeffrey
asserted.

"If we succeed here and stop Ernest Sukerfeel, destroy his transmitter and
save Rider... He'll know you betrayed him. You won't be able to go back,"
Max said.

"If we save Rider, it'll be worth it," Jeffrey replied.

Neither of them could call Rider by his real name until the mission was
over. They finally arrived at the decommissioned airfield that was now
owned by Jethro Renton-Mass. The political advisor truly was powerful and
influential. Officially, Mr Renton-Mass led the Senior Ministers Advisory
Taskforce – it was his unofficial capacity that worried Max. A man
powerful to finagle access to an air force base and employ a militia was
not to be underestimated.

Jeffrey's identification was checked and Max was approved for entry too,
Max took in every detail he could. He could see several hangers and the
airfield may not be in the purview of the Albion Armed Forces anymore, but
JRM had some clearly military grade equipment.

They parked and walked towards small transport plane. Max recognised it as
a 1K Falcon with a capacity of 15 troops and equipment. In the only open
hanger, Max could see an SG1-X302 fighter. It was equipped with air-to-air
missiles. So was the 1K Falcon. Team Two were loading the plane and Max
waited anxiously to begin the end. He had to stop Ernest Sukerfeel.

"Kash, my ride is nearly loaded so I'm about to head to the Isle of Frith,"
Max updated his friend.

"Cool. Bring me back something nice," Kash replied.

"I will," Max promised.





EYE SPY

Timmy arrived shortly after Jeffrey and Max and soon after that, the 1K
Falcon took off with the three of them and ten soldiers on board. Max
wondered if the soldiers of the Risico militia knew what kind of man they
were working for. The private army would be in good company when they
arrived on the island and encountered Ernest Sukerfeel's band of brothers.

We few, we happy few.

Ernest Sukerfeel must have detected them – hell, everyone on the tiny
island had probably seen the 1K Falcon approaching. It landed on an
airstrip on the east side of the Isle of Frith, with Team Two dividing into
two teams as stepped off and making their way on foot across the
tarmac. They would meet again in the hanger at the north end of the strip.

There were two mission objectives: rescue Rider Topsman and destroy the
hinderferon transmitter.

Exactly what the transmitter did – a device that would render anyone
within range impotent – was known only to Max, Jeffrey and Timmy. The
others did not need to know. The only thing the troops needed to know was
that the transmitter had to be stopped from going online. While one team
located and rescued Rider, the other would set explosives to destroy the
transmitter. Once both missions were complete, they would rendezvous and
take Ernest Sukerfeel into custody together. Easy.





Cyrus was cold.

He was cold because he had been stripped naked. He was sitting in a
concrete cell and he had a bed and a blanket but he hadn't been fed since
arriving. Cyrus considered himself lucky that he hadn't been killed by
Ernest Sukerfeel. Perhaps he was spared because he had appealed to the
villain's better nature.

No, but really, he was lucky to be alive.

Cyrus had surrendered in the parking garage to mercenaries who didn't know
what to do with a disarmed man who couldn't fight back. None of them had
expected such a fierce battle. Several of their men were dead and they'd
have loved to kill Cyrus but they were aware of an approaching police
presence and another body on the ground would just mean more questions.

Besides, their employer would want to talk to the prisoner.

They took him to Ernest Sukerfeel who also didn't know what to do with him
because he didn't know who the fuck Cyrus was. Mr Sukerfeel was frustrated
by Cyrus's lack of compliance while Cyrus let away just enough information
to justify keeping himself alive. Mr Sukerfeel decided Cyrus must be a
friend or ally and that Hans Bound might try to save him so he took the man
who had called himself Rider Topsman and departed for his island.

Time was of the essence now. Ernest Sukerfeel guessed he had less than
twenty-four hours to realise his destiny, to get the hinderferon
transmitter online and then it would be too late to stop him.

Cyrus had been an exasperating person to interrogate. Eventually, everyone
gave up and Ernest Sukerfeel locked Cyrus in a cell. The genius had better
things to do. Cyrus had tried to escape the cell but the mechanical lock,
while uncomplicated, was heavy and he had no way to unpick it. Being naked
had been the source of humour amongst the guards who took turns opening the
door and standing in the dark corridor, their silhouettes hid their
features as they laughed at him and make lewd comments. Which was just
rude.

Rider was a good-looking man and Cyrus enjoyed his sexy body. He idly
contemplated shifting into another appearance but it would raise too many
questions and he would still be naked and the biggest risk was that someone
would know what he was.

Cyrus heard a plane flying overhead and activity outside – an unexpected
visitor or visitors had arrived. Gunfire followed and an occasional
grenade. The distant sound of a firefight was still going when it was
joined by a very close-by sound of gunfire. A few moments later, the door
of his cell unlocked and swung inwards. Whoever was in the hall was
shrouded in the darkness just as the guards had been but then a voice
came...

"Rider? It's me. It's Jeffrey."





Cyrus saw Jeffrey enter the room and felt almost lightheaded.

"Rider!"

Jeffrey ran to Cyrus and embraced him. Cyrus felt warm hands against his
cold skin and then lips against his. They kissed but Cyrus felt embarrassed
by his nakedness.

"Jeffrey... how did you get here?" Cyrus asked.

"I flew. In a plane."

Cyrus chuckled at the joke. Flying was not one of Jeffrey's powers –
that he knew of anyway.

"You're not alone. I heard gunfire," Cyrus commented.

Jeffrey had sat back on the bed, gazing at the sexy and naked man with
lustful intentions. Rider had a great body – muscular and enviable. His
penis was flaccid but all Jeffrey could think was how to change that.

"Your friend Max or Hans, Yuri, Shepherd... whatever his name is... he made
a deal with Mr Renton-Mass."

"Jeffrey, he shouldn't have done that," Cyrus said mournfully.

"You're worried he's made a deal with the devil?"

"I know he's made a deal with the devil," Cyrus responded.

Jeffrey leaned in and kissed Rider again. The naked man leaned against the
wall and straightened out his legs. Jeffrey surprised him by climbing onto
Rider's lap and grinded into the flaccid crotch and muscular thighs as they
engaged passionately.

"Do we really have time for this?" Cyrus asked between tongue battles.

It was hard to concentrate. He felt dizzy, tired, hungry and... and... he
couldn't get the fog to clear. When Cyrus looked at Jeffrey he felt a way
he hadn't felt for a long time.

"Max and the others are busy planting bombs and looking for Ernest
Sukerfeel. Nothing was more important to me than finding you though."

"Because you love me?" Cyrus asked embarrassedly.

He wasn't embarrassed by the sentiment but because Jeffrey had said it and
he had not said it back.

"Of course I love you, Rider."

"Jeffrey, I know I haven't said it back yet. I just... I find it hard,"
Cyrus replied.

Cyrus had told Jeffrey why it was difficult for him; technically he was
still married to Matt, they had lost their son nearly three years ago and
Cyrus found it hard to move on.

"I know. Don't worry about it. Here, let me make something else hard."





Jeffrey climbed off Cyrus's lap and knelt on the floor at the edge of the
bed, between Cyrus's knees. Jeffrey grasped Cyrus's dick and started to
stroke it. Despite himself, Cyrus started to get hard. It was an
inappropriate and impromptu moment and as much as Cyrus wanted it, they
should get out and help stop Mr Sukerfeel's evil plan.

"Jeffrey, we should join the others," Cyrus said.

"Stay with me, Rider. I'll make you feel so good."

"Ok..." Cyrus moaned as his cock engorged.

Cyrus was overtaken by his desire to be pleasured. His hard-on was hot and
hard and the hand gripping it stroked with a tight fist and enthusiastic
swipes.

"Rider, I think Mr Renton-Mass is onto us."

"Why?" Cyrus asked.

Jeffrey reared up and leaned over, taking the erection in his
mouth. Jeffrey sucked the sticky juices from Cyrus's cock and lubricated
the shaft with his mouth.

"Jeffrey, what does JRM know about us?" Cyrus asked seriously.

"It's ok. Calm down."

Cyrus felt his unease settling as Jeffrey spoke soothingly.

"He doesn't trust me anymore."

"Does Jethro Renton-Mass trust anyone?" Cyrus asked with a grin.

Jeffrey looked beautiful. Cyrus couldn't take his eyes off his lover... it
make Jeffrey uncomfortable and his lover stood up before replying.

"I guess he doesn't."

Jeffrey had only stood to get undressed. He unfastened his trousers and
lowered them, revealing a half hard dick. He pulled off his boots and
worked his legs and feet out of the trousers.

"But something is different since he fired you, Rider. I think he knows."

Cyrus felt a chill going down his spine. Knows? Knows what? If JRM knew
Jeffrey was working for the SEX Men and that Cyrus was not really Rider, it
would change the nature of the conflict. It would quickly escalate beyond
the cold war they had engaged in so far.

"Jeffrey, does he know about me?" Cyrus asked.

Jeffrey hung his head sadly. Jeffrey had such luminous eyes and gorgeous
lips. He knelt on the bed, still facing Cyrus and moved so close that their
chest's touched. Cyrus remained naked but Jeffrey still wore his tactical
vest though he was nude below the waist. Jeffrey's legs were spread with
Cyrus groin between his thighs; Jeffrey positioned his ass over Cyrus's
cock and lowered himself onto the erect rod of spongy hardness. He reached
behind himself to grasp the erection and hold it steady as he pressed the
head against his sphincter.





"How could he know?"

"I haven't always been perfect, Jeffrey. I cover up my mistakes well but
Jethro Renton-Mass notices things. It's possible he noticed how I tricked
him," Cyrus replied.

Cyrus moaned as his cock penetrated the tight hole of his lover. It was
tighter than it had ever been before and Cyrus felt the dizziness
intensify, the pleasure building.

"Rider... Ride me..."

Cyrus thrust up into Jeffrey, whose arms wrapped around Cyrus's
neck. Jeffrey kissed Cyrus again and again, then down his neck.

"You think he's figured out you're spying on him?"

Jeffrey asked the question so casually as if their exposure would not be
dangerous and end their inside track on a powerful enemy.

"Yes," Cyrus replied.

"And that I've been using my powers to cover up for you and to help you
find out his plans?"

Jeffrey pushed down on Cyrus's lap so he was fully penetrated. Cyrus was
balls deep inside his lover, his cock weeping with pleasure while Jeffrey
was delighted by the excitation of his prostate.

"Yes," Cyrus answered again.

"And what if he knows your other secret, Rider? Show me... show me how you
tricked him."

Cyrus moaned again and felt persuaded by Jeffrey's words. They had never
done this during sex before but Jeffrey had seen Cyrus change his form;
Cyrus did so sparingly and carefully to minimise his risk of
discovery. Alone in the cell with his lover, Cyrus felt safe.

Over a few seconds, Cyrus's skin bloated – Jeffrey's expression changed
as he watched his lover transform into Jethro Renton-Mass. Rider's
handsome, stern facial features and muscular frame became a sexy, bald
headed and slender man.

Cyrus continued to pleasure himself on Jeffrey's... cock... Jeffrey?

"Jeffrey?" Cyrus said in JRM's voice.

The mental completion of the transformation always longer than the outward
appearance. Neural plasticity allowed him to imitate voice as his brain was
reconfigured. Cyrus felt sick, a twisting in his guts, the dizziness...

Jeffrey came inside Cyrus just as the veil collapsed and Cyrus realised it
wasn't Jeffrey sitting on his cock.

"Timmy?" Cyrus said with horror.





Timmy had ejaculated just seconds before Rider recognised him. Well, not
Rider – whoever had been pretending to be Rider. Someone who could
change their physical appearance. Timmy could loss control when he was
distracted and cumming inside Rider or Jethro Renton-Mass or whoever the
fuck was able to look like both of them was certainly a distraction. But
that wasn't why this man was able to see Timmy now – Timmy hadn't
dropped the veil of his deception; the man had seen through it somehow.

Timmy had told the man: "Rider? It's me. It's Jeffrey."

It had taken constant persuasion and perception filtering to maintain the
lie. It was harder work to imbue a silent mind controlling instruction
(rather than verbal control) but it was worth it. Like when he tricked men
into seeing a younger boy and making them want to fuck him
anyway. Something about the shapeshifting process had cleared the lens of
Timmy's lie.

"Shhh, do not move," Timmy ordered.

Cyrus, aware of the control, tried to push back but it was hard. If
anything, his discomfort, resistance and con-consent turned Timmy on. Timmy
lifted himself from Cyrus's cock. And grinned delightedly at the naked man
who had just fucked him. Cyrus's cum leaked out of Timmy's ass, dribbling
down his thighs.

The man was not Rider but he had confirmed the relationship with Jeffrey
was real. Now Timmy knew Rider was a shapeshifter, Jeffrey was a traitor
and...

"Are you and Jeffrey working for Angelo and Matt Tempest?" Timmy
demanded. "The SEX Men?"

"Yes," Cyrus replied against his will.

Timmy unzipped his tactical vest and then removed it and then pulled off
the tight black base layer underneath. Timmy was a skinny, naked boy before
the man that looked very much like Jethro Renton-Mass. Oh, the fantasies he
was already having. But Timmy resisted them. He had other fantasies.

"Change back into Rider Topsman. Now!" Timmy commanded.

Cyrus's transformation began immediately – as if outside his
control. Less than ten seconds later the naked man was Rider again. His
sloppy cock was still oozing cum. He still couldn't move because Timmy had
told him not to.

"Touch my willy," Timmy said.

His voice was not as authoritative but the instruction was no less potent.





Cyrus obeyed, reaching out and then fondling the soft and pulpy penis. It
was only a few inches long and topped with sparse pubic hair. Timmy's inner
thighs were almost hairless too. The young man was slim and twinky – he
looked young enough to be Cyrus's son.

"So, you're a spy. Eye spy with my little eye, something beginning with
suck it," Timmy said.

Cyrus clamoured over the bed and, on all fours, put his face forward to
lick the flaccid prick. He lifted one hand to stroke the limp penis, which
expanded and firmed. Cyrus kissed the hardening shaft and then sucked on
the head, cupping Timmy's balls with the one free hand.

The young man had a big cock for so small a body. The seven inches leaked
strands of mess as Cyrus pulled the dick out of his mouth to catch a
breath.

"Don't waste it, Rider," Timmy warned.

Cyrus slurped the strands of precum back into his mouth and dipped under
the dripping cock to lap up the emissions.

"Keep sucking. Then we can go," Timmy said.

"Go?" asked Cyrus.

But then Cyrus had to start sucking again.

Timmy put his hand on Cyrus's head which bobbed up and down on the
seven-inch boner.

"I'm sure Mr Renton-Mass will want to meet you. He'll probably just kill
Jeffrey. And Max? Well, he turned out to be quite interesting," Timmy
mused. "I'm sure we could make use of someone with his talents."

Cyrus continued to suck the cock of the contemptable young man. Timmy
didn't even have the courtesy to warn him when he finally came, shooting
ropes of goo into Cyrus's mouth. Timmy was inspired in this spite by Max
who had done the same to him.

"Eat it. Drink it all, Rider," Timmy commended.

Cyrus swallowed and pulled the cock from his mouth to lick it
clean. Cyrus's tongue licked up the entire shaft and then suckled on the
head of the boy-cock.

"That was great," Timmy said.

Cyrus knew he was running out of time but he couldn't think of a way out.

Timmy turned and looked over his shoulder – Risico team two were in the
corridor waiting for his command.

"You can come in now," Timmy said. "We're ready to rendezvous with the
others."

Timmy grinned at Cyrus, who felt afraid for his friends but he couldn't
escape. If only there was a way to warn them.

"You should go to sleep now. Sleep!" Timmy ordered.

The naked young man pushed the thought harder than he needed to and Cyrus
lapsed into a deep sleep he couldn't wake up from. Not until it was too
late...?





DEVIL DOESN'T CARE

Max, Jeffrey and half of team two had made their way across Ernest
Sukerfeel's base towards the hinderferon transmitter. At least, Max assumed
the tall, metal transmitter-looking thing was the impotence
transmitter. They planted explosives and Jeffrey ordered them to be linked
to a single detonator that was kept by Max. Jeffrey made sure the Risico
militia had no choice about this.

While they were doing that, Timmy and the rest of team two were saving
Rider (Cyrus). Neither Max nor Jeffrey were happy about Timmy retrieving
Cyrus but Timmy wasn't happy about Max and Jeffrey being in control of the
explosives so no-one was happy. Max's primary mission was the hinderferon
transmitter and Jeffrey was supposed to be keeping an eye on Max.

Mission complete, they were supposed to rendezvous with Timmy in the main
hanger, where they hoped they would find Cyrus safe and sound, and then
confront Ernest Sukerfeel together. However, after taking receipt of the
detonator, Max unceremoniously deserted Jeffrey and the team.

"I'll meet you at the rendezvous point," Max said before racing off across
the compound.

"Where are you going?!" Jeffrey shouted after him.

Max was going to find Ernest Sukerfeel. Alone.

Most of Ernest Sukerfeel's mercenaries had been drawn out by team two but a
few remained behind. Max was well armed but tried to wound rather than
kill. Inside the main building, Max began his search. His ariel assessment
of the building as they came into land made the north side of the building
the most obvious place to find the villain.

Heavy double doors opened into a large, pretentious space. The dιcor was
lurid, rich and gaudy. There was another pool and Max guessed that was how
Ernest Sukerfeel maintained his admittedly respectable physique. The man's
long and pretty legs were bare, his chest covered by a robe that dropped to
his mid-thigh. For an egotistical rogue, he was very casual.

If it wasn't for the megalomania, he might be an alight guy.

Moreover, Max did feel sorry for him. Pitied him even. Impotence was no
laughing matter and Max had naively or arrogantly hoped the man might have
changed his mind after realising he was still sexually capable even without
an erection. Max wondered if Sukerfeel's erotic response to being fingered
was just due to his erotic powers?

"Mr Bound again," Ernest Sukerfeel said with frustration.

The man sounded defeated. He had seen and heard the arrival of a hostile
force and knew he was defeated. He was a scientist and a businessman –
unused to this kind of conflict. He was out of his depth. Naively, in
employing mercenaries, he had thought he would be unstoppable. He really
didn't know what to do now.





"You can call me Max," said the spy – almost gently.

His name didn't matter anymore.

"Max... you did say you'd stop me," Mr Sukerfeel acknowledged.

But it wasn't over yet. The madman hadn't had enough time to activate his
device. It wasn't a toaster or a Wi-Fi router – it was a complex
system. He just needed more time but he hadn't expected a small army or so
many guns.

Ernest Sukerfeel wasn't used to mercenaries and guns, bullets and bombs and
fast cars. He wasn't used to spies. His secret island had been a holiday
home for fuck sake!

"And you said I'd try," Max replied.

"I was so close, Max. I wasn't quite ready," the man admitted.

"I know," Max pacified.

"If I recall, I criticised you for your devil may care attitude," Ernest
Sukerfeel remembered. "But the devil doesn't care."

The man was self-pitying. He strolled and pouted and kicked the ground like
a huffy kid.

"I'm here to put an end to your machinations," Max asserted.

"A machination? I'm flattered," Mr Sukerfeel said without modesty. "Though
machinations are usually artful, are they not?"

"Or designed with an evil purpose," Max pointed out.

"I'm not evil. This world will breed into oblivion, Mr Bound..." Ernest
Sukerfeel tried to argue.

"Oh shut up. You're not doing this for the good of mankind. You're doing it
because you can't get a boner but you're still somehow a total dick," Max
interrupted.

Max's sympathy had evaporated as the man tried to justify his mad
intentions.

"A shameless shagger like you wouldn't understand," Mr Sukerfeel spat.

Max rather thought that if Ernest Sukerfeel understood, he would have
abandoned his plan after Max had fingered him. Mr Sukerfeel didn't need to
end everyone else's sexual enjoyment just because his was handicapped.

"I'm here to stop your evil plot," Max reiterated.

"It's not a plot, Mr Bound. It's a scheme," Ernest Sukerfeel replied
pompously.

"What's the difference?" Max asked.

"A scheme involves organising or contriving a plan, a plot is to conceive
that plan," Mr Sukerfeel responded.

Max looked at him for a long, annoyed, silent moment.

"Oh," Max said dryly. "Ok."

Then Max raised his gun and fired three times into the man's chest.





Ernest Sukerfeel staggered back, surprised and in great pain. He wouldn't
be in pain for long though. He'd be dead in a few seconds. Max raced to his
side as the man hit the ground, his leg tangled under him. The man's robe
had fallen open to reveal his chest and abdomen, his swimming trunks and a
bloom of blood over his heart.

The blood ran over the man's ribs, staining the robe beneath him. His
breaths were sharp and panting and fast but his heart was destroyed. Ernest
Sukerfeel looked up at Max pleadingly.

"I'm sorry," Max said sincerely.

Ernest Sukerfeel must have been brilliant to plot and scheme such a
magnificent invention but if the device could transmit hinderferons – to
inhibit sexual desire performance and sexual satisfaction – what else
might it be able to do? The transmitter was technology that can inspire
chemical alterations to neural biology.

Could it destroy free will, empathy, induce rage?

Could it allow universal communication or inspire peace between enemies?

Max couldn't plan for the best. Technology created for good and bastardised
for evil was one thing but this technology was fearsome and too many
villains already knew about it. Max couldn't allow the hinderferon
transmitter to fall into the wrong hands nor allow the man who made it to
help anyone else build another one. Killing Ernest Sukerfeel might not
prevent the technology for arising from the ashes but it would slow down
anyone who might try.

"It's... it's not... fair..." Ernest Sukerfeel gasped.

"I know," Max replied but he wasn't sure Mr Sukerfeel was alive to hear
him.





TIME'S UP!

Max almost felt sorry for murdering Ernest Sukerfeel but it was part of the
job. Mostly he lamented the man dying knowing that his dream had ended in
nothing. Max left the sleeper where he lay down and made his way to
rendezvous with the others.

The waypoint was located in a terminal at the northern end of the
airstrip. Max knew something was wrong the moment he walked in. Team two
had returned and the divided force reunited – the militia of ten men who
worked for Jethro Renton-Mass. It was Jeffrey whose stance alerted Max –
he was tense and contemplative. Timmy on the other hand was almost crowing.

When Max got closer he saw a naked and prone figure – Cyrus. He still
looked like Rider of course but Max was suspicious of Timmy's giddiness.

"Oh, you found him?" Max said.

"Yea," Timmy replied.

"Shouldn't we cover him up?" Max suggested.

"I like him this way," Timmy chuckled at the naked man.

Max chanced a glance at Jeffrey who was clearly unhappy and concerned.

"Jeffrey says you have the detonator?" Timmy said vaguely.

It was a faux casual remark. Max could tell Timmy wanted the detonator. Max
had already readjusted his inner ear implant again – ringing returning
to his ears and voices muffled. His other senses were heightened to
compensate so Max could tell team two were on alert.

Max ignored the question and took a blanket from beside Cyrus, placing it
over the naked body of Rider Topsman. Only his friend's arm remained
exposed, the rest of his body was covered by the blanket. Max stayed there,
squatting beside Cyrus and thinking.

"Max?" Jeffrey interrupted the contemplation.

Max stood up and turned back to Timmy and Jeffrey.

"Time's up," Max said.

Jeffrey knew what it meant but his face didn't change, his eyes glanced at
Cyrus where he saw a watch tattooed on his lovers wrist where there had
never been one before. So, Cyrus had been discovered and that meant both
Jeffrey and Max should assume they were in immediate danger.





They had come to stop Ernest Sukerfeel, destroy his transmitter and save
Cyrus. Surrounded by a small militia, there was no way to complete that
final objective.

"Anyway, we should get on with it," Max said.

Max reached into his vest and pulled out a detonator.

"Stop!" Timmy ordered.

Max wasn't looking at Timmy and barely heard his voice over the din of his
tinnitus so he felt little more than a suggestion to obey but he did
hesitate and stall, feigning compliance.

"Why?" Max asked.

"Because I told you to," Timmy said – he was a young man used to getting
what he wanted.

Jeffrey shifted his position slightly and Max looked at Timmy with interest
as if he wasn't sure why the tables hard turned on him.

"Give it to me," Timmy said.

Without hesitation, Max tossed Timmy the detonator.

"You're not going to destroy the hinderferon transmitter, are you?" Max
asked.

"Of course not," Timmy sneered.

"And me?" Max said.

"You might come in useful," Timmy said condescendingly.

Timmy was smiling with self-satisfaction – he had the detonator; he had
discovered Rider's secret and now he had a rather useful spy as his new
puppet.

"Where is Mr Sukerfeel?" Timmy asked keenly.

"He's dead," Max said bluntly.

Timmy's smile snapped to an unhappy line. That had not been a part of the
plan (well, it hadn't been a part of his plan – Max had known all along
what he'd need to do).

"You killed him?" Timmy asked angrily.

The audacity of the boy to be annoyed about this given the number of people
he had killed was outstanding.

"Of course I killed him," Max replied pragmatically.





Max was taking in the details of his surroundings. Once it all started he
wouldn't have long before Timmy knew he was not in control. Max needed to
trust that Jeffrey had understood the signal and that they would need to
leave Cyrus behind.

"Mr Renton-Mass was right," Timmy asserted. "You're nothing but a thug, a
thief and murderer."

"Well that's not fair," Max responded nonchalantly, reaching into his vest
and taking out another detonator. "I also like to blow things up."

"Stop!" Timmy commanded.

Max paused very briefly and then took great satisfaction is sneering and
pressing the switch on the top of the detonator. Somewhere in the distance
there was the sound of an explosion and the subsequent renting of metal and
the collapse of a large structure.

"You fucking..." Timmy spat in what looked like the start of a tantrum.

The childish temper was interrupted by a fist to the side of his face as
Jeffrey punched him so hard, the young man was thrown to the ground. Max
pulled a gun from his belt and ran for the nearest door which was
thankfully the very one the needed to get to.

Max tapped his fingers together to reset his inner ear implant and cast a
look over his shoulder to check Jeffrey was with him, which he was. One of
Mr Renton-Mass's militiamen raised his weapon and was about to tell them to
stop but Max shot first and he dropped.

"Max? How's it going?" Kash asked in his ear.

He had detected the reactivation of Max's implant.

"About how you'd expect for one of my missions," Max replied.

"That bad, eh?" You want me to shut up?" Kas asked.

"Just for a minute," Max replied.

"Glad you're not dead," Kash said before going silent.

Behind him, Max heard Jeffrey firing and Timmy ordering the men to "shoot
that fucking asshole."

Max pulled a grenade from his belt and lobbed it over his head, then put
his shoulder into it as he barged into the door. The door burst inwards
with Max barely stopping as he and Jeffrey bolted down the corridor.





"I'll cover," Max said.

Max stopped and turned while Jeffrey continued on. Max fired bursts from
the semi-auto rifle that he'd had slung across his body and the three men
who were about to pursue thought better of entering the shooting gallery of
the corridor. The Risico militia dissuaded, Max ran after Jeffrey.

"Turn right," Max shouted.

"I know," Jeffrey replied.

Max was pleased Jeffrey had realised the escape plan – Ernest Sukerfeel
must have flown to the island. His aircraft was in an adjacent
hanger. Jeffrey and then Max entered the hanger and were impressed to see
an NX-01 aircraft. It was a customised private jet with a spacious aft
compartment big enough for eight people and two in the cockpit.

"Kash, I'm going to need a flightpath authorised," Max said.

"Head to the Racetrack," Kash told him.

The Racetrack was a private secret service base that Max didn't usually
have access to. Max already knew who Kash had gotten authorisation
from. Kash was a very smart man who seemed to have predicted exactly what
Max was going to need. And who.

"Can you fly?" Jeffrey asked hopefully.

"Yes," Max replied succinctly.

The steps were down and the door open. Max raced ahead and leaped up the
steps with Jeffrey following and closing the door.

"You realise they can follow us with the 1K Falcon?" Jeffrey pointed out.

"Yea," Max responded with a chuckle as he sat down and initiated start up.

"It has air-to-air missiles," Jeffrey told him.

"To use them, it would need to be in the air," Max pointed out.

Max turned in his seat as the engines roared to life and tossed something
to Jeffrey. Jeffrey caught it – it was another detonator. As the NX-01
started to move, Jeffrey pressed the detonator. An explosion erupted nearby
and as the NX-01 exited the hanger, Jeffrey could see smoke billowing out
of the one they had left just moments ago.





"I may have planted a small explosive on the number two engine," Max
explained. "Not too big. Couldn't risk it being discovered. And..."

And he didn't want to kill Cyrus or Jeffrey if anything went wrong. Jeffrey
scrambled into the co-pilot seat where he could see shame written on the
other man's face. Max had planted the explosive on Mr Renton-Mass's plane
because he had anticipated the worst.

"You knew we might not get him back?" Jeffrey asked.

The NX-01 was gathering speed and preparing for lift-off.

"Yes, I knew. I couldn't risk them following us if it all went wrong but I
didn't want to hurt you or Cyrus if I couldn't get you both out," Max
confessed.

"Hey, as long as your mission is complete, who cares? Right?" Jeffrey asked
bitterly.

The plane took off into the air, leaving the island, Timmy and Cyrus
behind.

"It wasn't like that," Max said. "And I'm not just going to leave him
there."

"No?" Jeffrey asked hopefully.

"I promised I would help Cyrus with his mission. I'm sorry I really fucked
it but it's not my fault Timmy figured him out," Max said. "Now we need to
get Cyrus back and we still need to figure out what Jethro Renton-Mass is
up to."

"And you're going to help me do that?" Jeffrey asked.

"Max, I hate to butt in but if you're going to bail out of this mad plan,
now is your last chance," Kash said in Max's ear.

"We might need a bit more help," Max admitted to Jeffrey.

"The SEX Men," Jeffrey murmured.

"Yes. The Racetrack is one of their sites," Max told him.

"Guess we're getting involved then," Kash said impishly.

"Yes Kash, we're getting involved," Max replied.

Jeffrey had been gathering information for the team but he had been deep
under cover and had yet to meet the rest of the team face-to-face. While
Cyrus trusted him, Jeffrey wasn't sure Angelo or Matt did.

"So we're joining the team are we?" Jeffrey asked.

"Yes. We need to save Cyrus and stop Jethro Renton-Mass and Timmy from
whatever they're planning," Max said.

"If Timmy hurts Cyrus..." Jeffrey threatened.

"He won't. Cyrus is too valuable for his ability and his knowledge. Jethro
Renton-Mass will want him alive," Max predicted.

"You don't like Mr Renton-Mass, do you?" Jeffrey asked.

"I admit killing him would be a pleasure," Max said.



Max Bind will return in...

The SEX Men







Nifty has archived this story separately from the other stories in the
Anthology series so catch up with Angelo, Jeffrey, Timmy, Matt, Jay, Milo,
Steve and Hugh via the link below. There will be an epilogue to this story/
prologue to the crossover entitled The SEX Men. I intend to submit the coda
to the Anthology archive:

https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/sf-fantasy/anthology/



Please check out my blog via the below link for a list of easter eggs
contained within this story.



I am literally writing The SEX Men now and hope to share it this
summer. Stay tuned to my blog or the sf-fantasy section. It would be
awesome if you enjoyed this story and even more awesome (awesomer?) if you
contacted me to let me know.



Many thanks to the Nifty Archivists, please consider donating to help keep
the site up and running (I receive NO financial compensation for my
stories): http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html



Feedback to authors is their only compensation and motivation.

Email me: niftyencomiums@gmail.com

My blog: https://niftyencomiums.blogspot.com (updated frequently with
teasers for upcoming content)

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

My Twitter: @niftyencomiums1



My stories so far:

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

Complete series: School Exhibitionism, The Symposium, The Embarrassment of
Riches, Do As You're Told and A Series of Embarrassing Events.

Ongoing (series): Noah, the Embarrassed Nudist.

Ongoing (interconnected) short stories: Anthology.

Short stories: Aiden's Accidental Autoerotic Assignment, Jogging Joe's
Jaunty Journey and Peter's Past Posing Pictures