The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Wild Talents

by Wrestlr

Chapter 6: Scotty

Scotty woke up on the narrow bed in their bathhouse room. He had slept a while earlier, then gone to investigate the noises that turned out to be a full-blown gay orgy. After sharing some of that punk guy’s pot that made him horny, letting himself get talked into receiving a blow-job, more pot, reciprocating with a blow-job, and then still more pot that made him sleepy, he had returned here for a nap while Mitch and Ron continued through the orgy. No sign of them now—they must have found other places to sleep, unless they were still somewhere sucking and fucking. How long did orgies last, anyway? Scotty had not even known that bathhouses existed or that gay orgies were possible before last night. Now, he had learned a few new tricks that he wanted to demonstrate on Mitch and Ron. But Scotty had learned something else too, something about himself that worried him: While he was being sucked by that other guy and while he was reciprocating the suck, he had not given a second thought to where his friends were or what they were doing.

Scotty waited until his post-nap erection faded, then tightened his towel protectively around his waist. He needed to piss, badly, and a shower to wash off the pot smoke and sex-stink would be welcome too. He found the restroom and emptied his bladder at a urinal. Beside the row of urinals sat an ancient bathtub. Scotty wondered for a moment why a restroom would have a bathtub beside the urinals; then he decided, after everything he saw earlier, this was a question he did not want to have answered.

As Scotty left the restroom, he saw the punk-looking guy who had given him such good weed and such a good blow-job. The punk, naked except for the towel slung casually across one shoulder, was leaving—that door led to the locker room, and then beyond to the regular world. “Hey,” Scotty called after him, “you got any weed I can buy off you?” Indeed he did, and Scotty followed the punk into the locker area.

The black bodybuilder that Scotty had seen earlier was in the locker area already, almost fully dressed. Scotty was nervous for a moment about someone watching him buy pot from the punk—what if the bodybuilder was a cop? But, “That’s Big Marcus,” the punk reassured him, as if knowing why Scotty seemed spooked. “He’s cool.”

When Scotty had been busy getting high and watching the gay orgy go on around him earlier, he had enviously noticed multiple reasons why Big Marcus would be called Big.

They agreed on a price as Scotty retrieved the cash from his locker. While the punk, still somewhat high, fumbled with his own locker and pulled out a backpack, Scotty turned to find Big Marcus looking at him intently. Scotty had been an athlete long enough to recognize macho dominance tactics, and he had been trained from an early age not to let himself be viewed as a push-over. He straightened his shoulders and met the man’s gaze. Marcus’ eyes were dark brown, unremarkable, except something about them fascinated Scotty, made staring into them easy. Scotty found he did not want to look away.

Marcus put his hands on Scotty’s shoulders, guided him backward, pushed him down. Scotty sat on a bench. The bodybuilder peered at him and shook his head. “Man, those amateurs really did a number on you. Like bulls in a china shop. I wasn’t gonna risk getting involved, but seeing you up-close ... Least they ain’t done no permanent damage yet.”

The punk asked, “You got enough mojo to fix him?”

Scotty sat quietly. Why were they talking about him as if he were not there? And why could he not seem to think clearly? Must be the residual pot.

“Not all of it, but I think I can help some. Least the mess they made makes it easier for me to get inside his head. The mind’s a resilient thing. I can slap a bandage on some of the worst parts, but he’ll have to repair the rest on his own in a few days, if they leave him be. Now hush and let me do my work.” Marcus sucked on his lower lip for a moment. Hi fingertips touched Scotty’s scalp. To Scotty he said, “Shh. Don’t worry, boy—you won’t feel a thing.”

Scotty blinked. The punk and Big Marcus were gone. Had time passed? What just happened? His towel was still intact. He had a bag of pot in his hands. Wait—the punk and Big Marcus were gone? Scotty jumped to his locker. He fumbled with his key, jerked it open. He counted quickly. No, his cash was all there, minus the price he and the punk had agreed upon. The punk had taken only the money he was owed—Scotty sighed his relief—and the punk had added a pack of rolling papers into the bag as a bonus.

After stashing the pot in his locker, Scotty headed back inside to the showers. He heard water running. Mitch, having emerged from wherever he had slept, leaned headfirst against the wall under a shower spray. Mitch had seen him naked thousands of times before—Mitch was familiar—so Scotty’s nervousness faded. He flourished off his towel, tossed it across a bench, and chose the shower head two down from his friend.

“Oh, man,” Mitch moaned from under the spray, head hanging, “I really lost it last night.” Scotty turned himself to get every part wet, and he waited. “I just ...,” Mitch continued. “So much sex ... I just got lost in it. Maybe the Institute is right—maybe being a Talent is as dangerous to us as it is to everyone else. Maybe I do need training. ’Cause last night, I lost control. I couldn’t shut anything out. I came so many fucking times last night!—I probably won’t be able to get it up for at least a week.”

Scotty did not know what to say, so he said nothing. He concentrated on soaping his arms.

He looked over to see Mitch peering at him. “Why can’t I hear your thoughts?” Mitch said. Then his eyebrow rose and he grinned. “Barriers? You’ve learned to put up mental defenses! You’ll have to show me later how you did that.” Scotty was not aware of anything being different about himself, and he did not know how to respond.

Before Scotty could reply—“Hi, guys”—Ron shuffled in, looking still half-asleep and yawning. He was naked, followed by that desk clerk, also naked, that Scotty remembered from the night before. What was his name?—Tommy?—Tony?—Terry? No matter. Ron and the clerk seemed pretty tight earlier. Scotty had been higher on more pot than he had ever smoked in one sitting before, had been loose and relaxed enough to allow that punk-looking guy, who really loved sucking cock, to give him the longest, most sensual blow-job he had ever experienced; and Scotty had not given a fuck where his friends were or what they were doing; but later, once the blow-job was over, Scotty had watched Ron and the clerk fucking and felt somehow jealous in spite of the pleasure he himself had just experienced. He watched them now, their casual ease with each other as they moved under a showerhead together, Ron’s soft expression when he and the clerk began soaping each other’s chest and arms. Scotty blinked when he realized he had seen that expression on many friends’ and teammates’ faces: In love? Ron looked like he was in love. Already?—With a guy he’s known for less than a day?—Can’t be, Scotty told himself, shaking his head under the water spray.

But he knew what he was seeing, and the jealousy was back. What did this clerk have that Scotty did not? The clerk was skinny, lacked Scotty’s muscles; not as cute as Scotty either, he thought—so if Ron wanted a nice body, why not stick with Scotty instead of going with the clerk? The clerk’s cock hung long, longer than Scotty’s, maybe as long as Mitch’s, but surely Ron was not that cock-crazy?—If Ron wanted a big cock, why not choose Mitch’s? Scotty could not understand why Ron, after all his seemingly contradictory talk of them sticking together as a team but doing a bunch of one-time sex with other guys, was so obviously attaching himself to someone who was not one of them. The clerk did something while soaping Ron’s ribs, and Ron giggled like he had been tickled and tried to pull away but did not try very hard. They ended up embracing, grinning like puppies, kissing under the water in a way that seemed somehow far too intimate. Scotty had to look away, embarrassed, for fear that Mitch or Ron would detect the from-nowhere stab of betrayal that gashed through him.

“Knock it off, you two,” Mitch groused. “It’s too early in the morning, and we need to get on the road.”

“Early?” This from the clerk—Teddy?—Tyler? “It’s past noon.”

Added Ron, “And I have an idea for where we can stop when we get to the city.”

Later, dressed, the boys shuffled out the front door into early afternoon sunshine. The clerk checked to make sure the door locked behind them. Ron and the clerk were mind-talking, virtually ignoring Mitch and Scotty, much to their annoyance. Ron and the clerk must have been shutting out Mitch’s attempts at telepathic eavesdropping, because Mitch held his mouth in that lips-pressed-together way he always did when he was irritated.

Ron looked at the clerk with obvious affection, must have been begging him to come along. The clerk looked at Ron and shook his head with an expression Scotty interpreted as wistful regret. The clerk gave them a ride to where they had parked Scotty’s car, saving them the walk, for which they were grateful. While Scotty started Mister Rust Bucket’s engine—sometimes an iffy task that required a couple of attempts—Ron leaned his head in the clerk’s car window, kissing him a last time. Scotty heard the clerk say, “No promises. But yeah, once you have some training, definitely come look me up.” If Ron replied out loud, the sound was lost as Mitch hollered for Ron to get in the car so they could leave.

After a detour into the drive-through window of a taco joint, they left the city limits. Mitch and Ron spent the first hour of the drive congratulating each other about all the sex they had had and discussing what they had learned from last night’s orgy. Scotty did not add much, tried not to listen to them, claiming he needed to concentrate on his driving, but he felt oddly uncertain about what he had experienced. He had accepted a long, lazy blow-job, and had later reciprocated with a clumsy, fumbling suck, but he had had none of the serial fucking and sucking he had watched Mitch and Ron enjoy. Scotty had slept through the first half of the orgy, but in the time that he had been there, he had still seen Mitch and Ron cum far more times than he could count. How are their dicks not rubbed raw? Scotty wondered.

Shortly thereafter, conversation lulled. Mitch nodded out on the front seat, leaving Scotty to do both the driving and the navigating. Ron stretched out in the back seat; when Scotty checked on him in the rearview mirror some time later, Ron had slipped into his own private slumber-land too.

Scotty did not mind that they were getting more much-needed sleep while he drove. He had gotten more shut-eye last night—this morning, he corrected himself—than they, and he felt very much wide awake. The weekend, and especially the last twelve hours, had given him much to mull as he drove. Driving always helped him figure things out.

Part of him had been excited to watch Mitch and Ron fuck and suck and get fucked and get sucked so many times during the orgy. But part of him also felt jealous, wishing his friends had been doing those things with and to him, instead of complete strangers. Scotty figured he had better get this worked out in his head before he said anything to his friends.

And then there was Big Marcus. What had he done to Scotty? Were the defenses Mitch mentioned Big Marcus’ doing? He had said he was doing something for Scotty’s good, but Scotty did not feel anything different about himself, could not sense anything that had been done to him—but would he? What had Marcus meant about damage, and Mitch and Ron, and their lack of training?

While Scotty drove and tried to work through his confusion, Mitch began to dream. Scotty knew because Mitch was somehow broadcasting what he dreamed. Scotty saw the images in his head, like a memory or a fantasy. Mitch dreamed that he was down on all fours, with his ass held high. As far as he could see, a long line of athletic guys with tremendous hard-ons stood waiting, eager to get into his mouth or ass. His dick got rock-hard in his dream. His real-world cock hardened in his pants. So much, Scotty thought, for Mitch not being able to get it up for a week. Mitch’s hand moved to his crotch, and he tugged at his cock through the fabric now and then as he slept.

A day or two ago, being hit by dream images like this would have swamped him, Scotty realized, which would have been dangerous since he was driving a few miles over the speed limit on the highway. But now, all he saw were the images like something he remembered or imagined, not something that replaced the real world. Still, Scotty’s cock stiffened in his pants too, and he debated pulling off to the shoulder for a quick jerk-off. Instead, he poked Mitch’s leg.

“Whuzz?” Mitch murmured groggily, blinking, looking at the road ahead.

“You were talking in your sleep,” Scotty said, which he considered partly true.

“Mmnnh,” Mitch groaned, shifted in his seat, and settled back to sleep. But his dream had ended, and Scotty drove in peace.

Until a few minutes later when Ron began to dream.

In the back seat, Ron dreamed of the clerk from the bathhouse. The guy had erect dicks, dozens of them, sticking out all over his body, and Ron could not decide which one to suck on first.

This time, the onslaught of images smashing into Scotty made him gasp, and the car swerved a bit before Scotty recovered control of himself and the steering wheel. His still-hard cock jolted painfully in his pants. The images seemed too strong and too real, almost real enough to block out Scotty’s view of the road in front of them. Was Ron just having an especially vivid dream, or was his telepathy getting stronger? Scotty thought back over the last few days. Definitely getting stronger, he decided, each time Ron used it, like a muscle developing and increasing its capability. Maybe this was what Big Marcus meant.

“Ron!” Scotty called to his friend in the back seat. “Ron, wake up!”

Ron’s eyes were closed tightly. Scotty looked at him in the rearview mirror. Ron’s hand twitched next to his crotch. He was not broadcasting his dream constantly; the images assailed Scotty in waves, as if the telepathic part of Ron was only sporadically connecting to the dreaming parts, like the way Scotty remembered the family dog kicking its leg every now and then when it dreamed of running.

Another barrage, and Scotty got lost for several seconds in the image of sucking a cock growing out of the clerk’s’ elbow, so real Scotty could taste the salty pre-cum and see nothing but the clerk’s arm and the cocks. The vision faded just as the car tire was about to run off onto the shoulder, and Scotty jerked the wheel back into the lane. Fortunately the road was almost deserted.

Scotty slowed, then pulled over, hoping either to wake Ron or at least get the car to a safe point before the next dream-tide came.

Mitch sat up and blinked. “Fuck, I was having the strangest dream.”

“That guy from the bathhouse? Body covered in dicks?”

“Yeah! How’d you know?”

“That’s not your dream. It’s Ron’s.” Scotty brought the car to a full stop. “You see what he’s doing?”

“Yeah,” Mitch said, distracted. He had turned to look into the back seat, was perhaps looking into Ron’s mind.

“Look, you’re both driving me nuts with these sex dreams. Why don’t you climb in the back seat and help him out. We both know what he’s dreaming of, and you’ve been having the same kind of dreams. Maybe popping a load will dial you both down for a little while.”

Mitch smirked. “You gonna be able to keep your eyes on the road?”

“Don’t worry about me. You two have a good time. Just try to keep him from blasting out to the whole world while you play, okay?”

Mitch looked back at their friend. “Man, Ron’s really deep asleep.”

“Then wake him up, dummy.”

“I guess I’ll have to do it the old-fashioned way.”

“Whatever. Just get on with it.”

Mitch pulled off his T-shirt, unzipped his pants, and pushed them to his ankles. Once his feet were free, he climbed into the back as Scotty had suggested. Scotty opened his pants, lifted his hips off the seat, and slid his pants to his mid-thigh, freeing his cock, because he knew what was coming, knew he would not be able to stop it, and wanted to be ready. This way he would not cum inside his pants. Nothing worse than a big sticky wet spot in his pants. He turned the rearview mirror so he could see better. Might as well enjoy the show, he thought.

Pervert, Mitch sent back, and Scotty blushed, having not intended for Mitch to catch his thought.

Ron was sleeping with his back leaning against the door, his head tilted face up, mouth cracked open. Mitch took advantage of that by sliding his finger between Ron’s lips. Ron’s mouth closed around Mitch’s finger and he sucked as Mitch slid it back and forth like a penis.

Then Mitch pushed his finger in farther, and Ron work up gagging and sputtering. “You fucking bastard!” Ron barked, while Mitch laughed.

“What’s the matter? Didn’t it taste as good as the one you were dreaming about?”

“I’ll teach you not to wake me up like that!”

Ron and Mitch wrestled in the back seat, rolled and pushed, squirming against each other and tickling each other. The only way Scotty could tell them apart was by which body parts in the squirming mass were clothed and which were bare skin. Then Ron’s T-shirt went flying, and a shoe, then another. “Now you’re really gonna learn a lesson,” Ron swore. Telepathy flared—Scotty could not identify whose, perhaps both’s, and he gasped. Mitch’s body seemed to be on top and Mitch looked angry, but Scotty knew better. That pissed expression was all part of Mitch’s act.

Ron resurfaced, and tossed his pants into the front passenger seat. Now he was on top of Mitch, slapping a hand on either side of his friend’s skull and holding his head still. “Mitch, you fucker!—I swear I’m gonna—!”

“Oooh, is that supposed to be a threat?”

“You’re about to find out, you giant ass! Now lick my asshole!”

In the confines of the back seat, Ron managed to get his butt into Mitch’s face. At once he began to lower his cheeks down onto his friend’s waiting face. Mitch snickered as Ron fumbled through trying to press his butt closer to Mitch’s face.

“Lick my asshole, dammit!”

Scotty could not see Mitch’s head underneath Ron’s ass, but from all their sex-play this past weekend he remembered well what Ron’s asshole looked like close-up—or at least, what it had looked before the clerk’s monster cock probably wrecked it for eternity. Scotty saw Mitch’s busy arms move; Mitch was not trying to get free but instead gripped Ron’s ass cheeks, spreading them.

Ron ground his ass against Mitch’s face mercilessly, grabbing the hair on his head and yanking at it with a growled demand whenever he felt that Mitch was not lapping hard enough, deep enough. But Ron did not have to do that often, because Mitch seemed to be working hard to please him. Probably, Scotty realized, Mitch knew damn well that in a few minutes he would get his turn, and he wanted to make sure Ron owed him a great ass-licking.

What Scotty expected was happening. Even these new mental defenses he supposedly had were not able to hold back the point-blank bursts. Accompanied by the sound of Mitch tongue-washing his friend’s ass came the wildly erotic sensations Ron could not seem to stop broadcasting. Scotty gasped as the waves, steadier now, washed through him, and his cock stiffened and throbbed. With his buddies going at each other like that and with himself lost in the sex-feelings, everything felt right, but nothing felt like Scotty.

He tried to fight back the sensations Ron was sending. He popped open the car door and staggered out, needing some distance. Yes, distance made these waves easier to resist. His cock bobbed as he hobbled, shackled by his half-lowered pants, toward the front of the idling car.

Why did they need other guys? Scotty had little interest in other men. He only wanted sex with Mitch and Ron. The three of them could easily give each other all the sexual thrills they could possibly need. How could he convince Mitch and Ron to keep the play among just the three of them? Maybe this desire to sample other men was temporary; maybe once Mitch and Ron had some experience, they would naturally come back to an arrangement that closed around just the three of them? Scotty remembered the way Mitch and Ron threw themselves into guy after guy during the orgy, topping, bottoming, sucking, fucking, and more that he had never imagined before. Would they be willing to give that all up just because Scotty asked? Probably not, he admitted to himself. He knew they would not stay together if they kept having sex with other men—last night at the bathhouse had proved it—they would be pulled in too many directions. Scotty had already seen it happening with Ron and that clerk. Just a matter of time. Promising each other they would stay together had been easier before, when Mitch and Ron had not yet known what they were missing.

The next wave of sexual pleasure that breached his mind caused Scotty’s legs to give way, and he sank to the graveled shoulder. His pants bunched around his knees prevented injury, but Scotty did not care.

“Aw, yeah! Suck it, man; suck it,” he heard Ron cry.

Scotty grabbed his stiff rod and stroked it—fast, efficient strokes. He felt the world begin to shudder as Ron started another one of his crashing orgasms. Scotty gasped. His body lurched forward, and he began to cum hard himself, spurting his sperm across the gravel.

He knelt there, panting. The intensity of the orgasm that had overcame him both thrilled and scared him. The sensations felt great, better than anything he had ever felt when masturbating, and they made everything bad go away, at least temporarily, but he had begun to worry about how he might begin to crave them, become addicted to them, like a drug or worse.

Scotty did not want other men. The only guys he wanted to have sex with were Mitch and Ron, and in the last few hours even that had begun to turn scary as their telepathy made the sex more and more intense, easier to get lost in, harder to come back from. Why did his buddies want sex with strangers who did not know or understand them? What would happen if they got involved with others who wanted different things, pulled the three friends in different directions, and what would happen if Scotty found himself all alone? But if things kept getting more intense emotionally and mentally, did Scotty want to remain part of it himself?—Did he need to pull back to preserve himself, to hold on to something that was Scotty himself and not what his friends said he should be? What would happen if Big Marcus was right and the combination of sex and telepathy caused Mitch or Ron to burn out something in him, like an overloaded electrical circuit?—The thought made him nervous.

Scotty would have to answer these questions soon, because they would be entering the big city shortly. This morning in the showers Ron had told them about a place in the city, a combination hotel and apartment building that was clothing-optional and catered to gay men. And damn it all, Mitch had agreed with Ron that staying there for the night or two was a great idea. Scotty supposed he would have to get used to being outvoted two to one.

Scotty wiped the cum off his hand on a patch of grass. The situation in the car seemed to have quieted down. Scotty stood up, pulled his pants up. Time to get back on the road.

Scotty had half made up his mind to drive right past the exit where he was supposed to turn off. Night was coming down on them pretty fast now and he was really tired, if he accidentally-on-purpose missed the turn, they would have no choice but to go on, find someplace else to stay the night, someplace that was bound to have fewer gay men—and be safer for all of them.

“Hey, slow down, or you’ll miss the turn,” Ron snapped from the back seat.

Scotty flicked his eyes at them in the mirror. Mitch and Ron—shirts still off but pants on—had been sitting in the back seat, intently mind-debating something for the last several miles without involving Scotty in the discussion. Whatever argument they seemed to be having, Ron seemed to be winning. Mitch had a faraway expression—similar, Scotty thought as he glanced in the rearview mirror, to when Ron had won at the mind-wrestling back at the cabin. Maybe they had been testing their telepathy against each other’s again? If so, Scotty had not felt the backwash that he normally did. Scotty could not decide whether he was annoyed at being left out or happy to have been excluded. He had been hoping they were not paying attention to the exit signs. He sighed and tried for an innocent-sounding tone. “What turn?”

“Don’t be a jerk. The next exit is the one we take to get to the hotel I told you about.”

“It’s still early. Why don’t we drive on a little further?”

“What are you talking about, Scotty? I thought we decided ...”

“I know what’s bugging him,” Mitch taunted, rejoining the conversation. “He must be turning straight again, and he’s afraid to stay at a gay hotel. He’s afraid they’ll try to have sex with him and bust his gay cherry ... again.” Mitch and Ron laughed. Sometimes, like now, Ron seemed to bring out the worst in Mitch.

“Is that it?” Ron grinned, though his voice sounded accusatory. “That gay cherry’s long gone, Scotty-boy. When I saw you at the orgy, you had your cock down a guy’s throat and later you had a mouthful of cock yourself.”

Ever since Big Marcus had done something to his head, Scotty felt more like himself—the Scotty from before this weekend, at least—and he knew Mitch and Ron were having more difficulty reading his thoughts. They had said nothing about that so far, aside from a few snippy comments like these, but sometime soon one or both of them would decide to barge into Scotty’s mind to investigate. Right now, driving kept him safe from their intrusions, mostly, since they knew not to distract him. Their wisecracks were just that, though maybe not far off the mark, Scotty thought. Best to laugh it off if he could, before Ron’s mean streak kicked in.

Scotty shook his head and tried to smile and a light tone. “That was different. I was fucking stoned. You know how horny pot makes me. Couldn’t help myself.”

“Fuck that!” Ron spat back, his aggressive side threatening to turn the conversation into an argument. “You wouldn’t have done it if you really didn’t want to. You just keep it all bottled up inside of you.”

“No, I—” Scotty took a deep breath. He decided to be serious and just tell them what he thought, while driving kept him more or less safe from their telepathic intrusions. “Look, guys, I just don’t want the three of us to get broken up.”

Mitch clasped his hands over his heart and rolled moonstruck eyes at the sky. “Listen to that. He sounds like he’s in love.” Yeah, Ron really brought out Mitch’s pissy side sometimes.

“In love with you and me,” Ron groaned, mimicking Mitch’s skyward expression, “except he’s not really gay like us.” Ron looked at Scotty in the mirror. “Listen, I thought we had an agreement. We’re going to try everything that comes our way, right?”

“That was okay with me before,” Scotty tried, unsure how to persuade them. “But now, everything’s ...”

Ron’s voice turned serious. “All right, Scotty, I’ll lay it out plain and simple for you. Mitch and I have been talking about this, and we want to keep trying other guys. We like it, and we’re having fun. Either you go along with the agreement, or we’ll put you on a bus for home.”

“You can’t do that, Ron. Tell him, Mitch. Rusty is my car, and besides—”

“Like hell I can’t,” Ron snapped. “You’re not a telepath. The Institute wouldn’t be interested in you. The only reason we brought you along was because you’re our friend. But you’ve been holding us back from the very beginning, and maybe we’ll do better without you.”

“I won’t go back, Ron. Please, Mitch—tell him.”

No,” Mitch said, scowling, “Ron’s right, Scotty. That’s the way it is. You have to go along to come along. Understand?”

“I—” Scotty shut his mouth, stunned. He knew he would never be able to persuade them. Ron had a vicious side and he liked to push boundaries, see how much he could get away with. Somehow he had talked Mitch into backing him, and the two of them were quite capable of doing anything they said. Scotty opened his mouth, then shut it again. What should he say? The alternative was to leave his friends behind, and they might need him again, like earlier when that bounty hunter had found them. Scotty could not—would not—abandon them. Was all of them having sex with other guys a price he was willing to pay? He loved Mitch and Ron. Was their friendship worth it? Were the three of them together more important than Scotty by himself? He thought for a moment and decided. “Okay.”

Ron leaned closer. “Yeah? No more arguments, then?”

Scotty nodded. “No more.”

Well, if those two wanted him to be a wild fucker, then that was exactly what, and who, he was going to be. I’ll show them! Scotty decided, no longer caring whether they picked up on his thoughts or not. He would have sex with so many men that Mitch and Ron would not see him for days and days. They would be so jealous. He would have so much sex with other guys that he would learn to like it. And maybe he would find some great male lover that he could keep all to himself, and then maybe he would leave Mitch and Ron. Maybe never come back. That would sure show them! That would make them sorry for having busted up their threesome. If he ran off and never came back, that would serve them right!

That’s the exit, Ron mind-barked, loud in Scotty’s head. Take it, man.

“Okay, okay,” Scotty winced. “You don’t have to yell.”

They were heading into the downtown area now, no going back. Not that Scotty would. He had given them his word, so now he was resigned to his course of action. Soon they would find new guys and have sex with them. Only, Scotty’s reasons would be different. And if he needed it, he had that large bag of pot; he could get super-stoned, and that pot-induced horniness would make sex with other men easier.

Finding the hotel took over an hour of Scotty carefully driving through city streets while Ron tried to remember the directions he apparently had not memorized as well as he believed. Mitch wore his best friendly face when asking people in the street for it by name, but he inevitably received snickers and often the wrong directions. They finally found it, close to midnight, then parked Mister Rust Bucket in a garage two blocks down. The parking garage was expensive; still, they could afford it for one night, Scotty decided, because finding a parking spot on the car-lined streets would have taken hours more.

All through the walk to the hotel, with a no telepathy in public rule agreed upon to keep people from calling the Institute on them, Ron kept pointing to good-looking guys nearby and wondering if they were gay. Some of the men they passed cruised them right back—in public!—to Scotty’s shock. He saw Ron’s eyes roam greedily as he openly appraised the nearby men and declared all the cutest ones definitely had to be gay.

Scotty frowned. “The whole city can’t be gay!”

“Who knows? We’ve passed lots of good-looking guys. If they’re not gay, maybe we can convert them, like we did you, Scotty.”

Scotty frowned and said nothing. Maybe his friend meant it as a joke, but Scotty wondered how much truth Ron had just revealed. No, he decided; he still felt like himself and he still liked women, so they had not “converted” him—more like they had opened up a whole new sidebar world of a different kind of sex that existed for Scotty alongside of being straight.

The building was older than he expected. The hotel lobby showed age, but seemed well-maintained. The sharply dressed clerk at the front desk greeted them cheerfully. “Three young men traveling alone, this time of night—you must be the boys Big Marcus told us to expect. He called and made a reservation for you.”

Mitch stepped up—probably, Scotty thought, ready to work this clerk like he had the guy at the bathhouse desk yesterday. The clerk refused the I.D. card when Mitch tried to hand it over: “Big Marcus mentioned your ... special situation. We won’t be creating a record of your visit.” He refused money too: “A short stay has already been paid for, complements of Big Marcus.” Scotty wondered whether he should be suspicious of all this, but the clerk seemed so persuasive. And neither Ron nor Mitch seemed worried.

“You’ll be wanting one large room, of course.”

Mitch nodded. “Yeah.”

“As Big Marcus must have told you, beyond that door this hotel is clothing-optional, which is one of our major draws.” The clerk grinned at Mitch. “For our regular guests, their rooms are on the first through third floors. Big Marcus made a special request for us to give you a room on the fourth floor. That’s normally devoted to apartments, but—well, I think you’ll find the residents there more simpatico, if you know what I mean, to your special situation.” He tapped his temple with two fingertips.

You know what we are? Ron sent, breaking the no telepathy in public rule.

The clerk smiled. “Of course. We consider ourselves something of a haven for those who enjoy male company and a waystation for Talents trying to evade the long arm of the Institute. That’s why Big Marcus recommended us to you. You can’t stay here long, of course—you’re too strong and the Institute will detect you if you’re here more than a couple of days, but in that time we’ll be happy to accommodate you. We don’t have anyone near your levels, of course, mostly low-level Talents of little interest to the authorities, but we are quite discreet anyway. I think you’ll find yourselves among peers.” He slid a key card with their room number across the counter to Mitch and smiled again. “And you’ll also find complementary condoms and lubricant in your room.”

The ancient elevator slowly carried them to the fourth floor. Along the way, Mitch and Ron mind-jabbered about how great being able to just speak right out with their minds would be; here they did not have to worry about anyone knowing what they were. Their thoughts whizzed by so quickly, Scotty could not keep up.

The elevator door opened to a long, well-lit hallway. Their first impression: “Guys, there’s no doors to the rooms!” Ron stage-whispered. Not a door to be seen. This had to be an open invitation to whatever stud might come along and see something that he wanted, Mitch and Ron decided, further proof of how enlightened and progressive this hotel, this whole big city, was. The idea of a lack of privacy, though, made Scotty nervous.

Scotty checked the key card Mitch had handed him—but it wasn’t a key card; it was a simple paper card with a room number on it. Numbers were posted on the door frames. They started down the hall in search of their room.

They passed rooms in which naked guys read or watched videos. A room where two pairs of feet stuck off the edge of a bed; the motions clearly showed the feet were attached to bodies fucking. In another room a naked golden-skinned man just a couple of years older than they stretched into a yoga pose that accentuated his long, lean muscles. “Yum!” Mitch whispered, looking in at him. The man’s perfectly proportioned body impressed Scotty too, and his long-ish cock, though soft, looked like it—

The man turned his head toward them, smiled, and nodded a greeting, and Scotty felt himself blush, embarrassed to have been caught staring.

Their room was across the hall from the yoga man’s. Mitch flipped on the light; he and Ron headed for the bed and fell across it. Scotty changed course into the bathroom, which had the first door they had seen on this floor, and he shut it behind himself. Privacy at last! He needed very badly to be alone for a few minutes, and he hoped neither of his friends would eavesdrop on his thoughts. In the car, he had decided to be a really promiscuous fucker, just to get revenge on them. Now the plan worried him: He would be fucking a whole lot of guys that he did not know or even care for. Taking a dick in his mouth or up his ass from one of his friends, someone closer than a brother, was one thing, but fucking and getting fucked by a whole line of strange cocks? Or maybe he should go the other way: be really selective about which guys he chose to have sex with, select only the best ones, but really fuck the hell out of them when he did. After all, a clothing-optional rule did not mean he had to drop his pants every time a dick walked in the door, right? Yeah, being selective might work better, since a hotel with no doors meant everyone knew everyone’s business; Mitch and Scotty would doubtlessly hear within minutes that Scotty and some guy were doing bed-gymnastics with the gusto of Olympic athletes.

“You okay in there?” Mitch’s voice, accompanied by a soft knock on the bathroom door.

“Yeah, just taking a shit,” Scotty called back, using the least-sexy bathroom act he could think of to keep Mitch from invading his brief privacy.

Finally Scotty knew he could stall no longer. He made a show of flushing the toilet, turned on the sink, and rinsed his hands. He splashed a little water on his face, gazed at himself in the mirror for a long moment.

Scotty opened the bathroom door to find Mitch and Ron. He half-expected them to be clothing optional by now, maybe even fucking, but they were still fully dressed. They were also leaving. Mitch told him, “Ron and I are going to find something to eat. Want us to bring you back something?“

“Naw,” Scotty replied, feeling hurt that they expected him to stay behind. “I’m not hungry.”

Alone in the room, Scotty sat on the bed and considered what he would do. He had more money with him than Mitch or Ron, and more money in the bank too, though withdrawing it would be a red flag for anyone looking for them. With money, he could really teach them a lesson if the going got tough—he could take his money, his car, and just leave them right here alone in this big, expensive city.

“Who needs them, anyway?” he said to his reflection in the mirror on the closet door. The thought made him feel big and courageous. So now if his sex plan backfired, he had a fallback, though he still needed to work out where he would go with his money, car, and clothes. Back home?—A possibility. He missed his parents, the family dog, the home he had grown up in, basketball practice, even school. They had only been gone for a couple of days; hardly a blip on the schedule. Scotty could fit himself back into his old life easily. Nothing would be the same without Mitch or Ron, but Scotty would cope; he would find new friends, better ones. Or maybe he would go somewhere else?—Some completely new place where he could make a life on his own. That idea sounded more exciting but also scarier. Well, no need to be like Mitch and plan everything to the nth degree; some things he could work out later.

Happy now to have a plan, he lay down on the big bed. Making his brave dreams, wondering how he could keep them private from his mind-snooping friends, Scotty began to play with his cock through his pants, massaging, stroking, squeezing. Just the idea of being courageous enough to go out into the world alone excited him emotionally, though physically his cock only responded halfway and stalled.

Scotty wondered whether he had time to jerk himself off. Mitch and Ron would be gone a while. When they got back, they were sure to go at least one round of sex and sucking and fucking before they all got some shut-eye. Scotty wondered whether he should shoot a good load now and beg off later, or save it for sex with his buddies so they would not get suspicious.

No, what he really needed, he decided, a nice, hot shower. Something to relax him and take away the sweat, road grime, and tension of the day. He had expected to be feel scared, alone in the big hotel room in the middle of a strange city, with Mitch and Ron nowhere nearby. But instead Scotty was feeling somewhat elated, nervous but in a hopeful way. He gave his cock a few more gropes through his pants, and it hardened. Clothing optional? Well, okay, he decided. Just like being in the locker room, right?—No big deal. He kicked off his shoes, stood up. T-shirt up and off over his head. Pants down and stepped out of. No big deal. He could do this. His hard-on bounced in the air as he walked to the bathroom.

He left the bathroom door open. All the rooms on the floor were open just like his, so an intruder could just as easily walk into some other room as his. He was as safe as if the door were locked and bolted, and anyway his friends would be back pretty soon. Besides, so what if someone walked in and saw him naked?—Guys saw each other naked all the time in locker rooms, and just looking was not the same as touching or fucking. He could always say no, and he was physically strong enough to fight off anyone who failed to take the hint. Nothing to worry about at all. He was as much a man as anyone.

Scotty turned on the water. Waiting for it to warm, he looked at himself in the mirror, turned his face, examining various angles. He considered his reflection; he thought himself good-looking, and the girls at school seemed to think so too, as did Mitch and Ron. Tonight he confirmed that his skin was clear, his hair looked okay. He could use a shave; he had not shaved all weekend—no time, with all the sex-play—and though his stubble did not grow quickly yet, it had accumulated over the days. And he noted that someone had stocked the bathroom counter with the accoutrements likely to be needed by three young guys traveling without much gear: soap, shampoo, toothpaste and three packaged toothbrushes, plastic-wrapped disposable razors, shaving cream, a strip of condoms, a small bottle of lube. Were their needs that obvious? Scotty shook his head and chuckled.

He stepped into the shower. The water felt great; just what he needed. Scotty leaned and let the water sluice off of him. Then he turned his body a different way and let the heat penetrate other body parts for a while.

He was not aware that someone else was in the bathroom room while he saw a shadow against the shower curtain. Scotty called over the water, “That you, Mitch? Ron?”

An unfamiliar male voice replied, “No, my name’s David. Will I do?”

Scotty sucked in a nervous breath. “I’m not alone.”

“You mean there’s someone in there with you?”

“No—I mean, my friends—they’ll be back soon.”

“Doubt it. I saw them get snared by Spider and go into his room—or her room—whatever; it seems to change from time to time. That’s as far as they got. And if I know Spider, which I do, they’ll be gone for a while.”

“Those bastards!”

David chuckled. “Hey, not their fault. Spider doesn’t have much juice, but when he—she—weaves his web, he gets what he wants. And everybody wants to meet the new telepaths we heard were coming to stay a while. I’m betting that’s you and your friends.” Another chuckle. “Listen, why don’t you come out of there, before you get all wrinkled like a prune.”

This David sounded friendly enough, and anyway he was just a guy, right? Scotty turned off the water and pushed the shower curtain back with a firm flourish, displaying his naked wet body to his visitor. Scotty intended the sudden reveal of his naked body to shock his visitor, a jock-ish way of saying, Here I am, nothing to hide, but his visitor was naked too, and Scotty found he himself the one taken aback.

David was the well-built man they had seen doing yoga across the hall. Nude, his all-over golden coloring made him look Latin, and his body had the trim muscles of a natural athlete; he had the casual bon homme and confident smile of a jock too. Scotty relaxed a bit. He always felt more comfortable around athletes like himself. David’s relaxed attitude made him feel as if he was back home with the basketball team.

“Hand me a towel?” Scotty asked, since David was leaning his bare ass against the bathroom counter between Scotty and the stack of folded towels.

“Sure, as long as you only use it to dry yourself. Be a shame to cover a gorgeous dick like that.”

“Uh ... Thanks?”

Scotty tried to smile and took the towel that David passed him. As he worked the thirsty terrycloth across his wet chest and down his stomach, he took a good look at the visitor. Scotty had been impressed earlier when he glimpsed David through the doorway doing yoga poses, but this close, seeing him clearly, Scotty decided that David was more than just good-looking. His body was lean, muscular, the body of someone who took great care of himself. And his cock, while not as big as Mitch’s—but whose was?—seemed a respectable size. Big balls in a low-hanging sack. Mitch had been correct: David was positively beautiful, for a guy.

Scotty ran the towel alongside his cock. From the hungry way David was looking at his meat, Scotty decided the man must have come here looking for some action. But was Scotty ready to give him some? Won’t that show Mitch and Ron, Scotty gloated, imagining how they might come back and find he had scored with one of the residents before they did—and the one Mitch had thought was so hot, at that!

Scotty saw David’s cock twitch. “I’ll stay keep you company a while, if that’s okay?” David said, his voice low and lust-husky in a way that made Scotty’s balls tingle. “Keep you from getting lonely, since you’re new in town.”

David moved closer. Confronted with the fact of sex with him, Scotty felt his resolve crack. Suddenly nervous, defensive, he struggled for a joke to break the tension. “Uh, is that what you call it?—Keeping guys company?”

“Well, I could have just come right out and said, ‘Let’s fuck,’ but some people think that’s rude.” David quirked an eyebrow and smiled like a hungry wolf. “A sexy kid like you? Who wouldn’t want to fuck you? And a telepath too?—So fucking hot.”

“I’m not a kid,” Scotty said, puffing up his chest to seem as manly as possible, “and I’m not a telepath.”

David seemed surprised—and then disappointed. “I thought ...?”

“My two friends are telepaths. I’m just a guy. Normal.“

“Oh. Me too—a Normal, I mean. I just like having sex with telepaths. There’s nothing better than having someone in your head when you cum. I guess it’s kind of a fetish. I just assumed you ...”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be. I do Normal guys too sometimes. You’re really cute. Let’s fuck anyway.”

Scotty found something about David’s forthrightness extremely exciting, but he had no desire to let the guy fuck him. This time Scotty would be the man and do the fucking. He would show Mitch and Ron that he was just willing to try out other men as they were. They would be back any second now, in spite of what David had said, and they would walk in and catch Scotty fucking David, and they would know. He would show them! He was going to fuck this sexy guy. Give it to him right up the old shit-chute, and right where they were, in the bathroom. It seemed so much sexier that way—less formal and less planned than going to the bed. Scotty liked the idea of having Mitch and Ron catch him doing something that seemed spontaneous. That would show them.

Scotty said, “Okay, man. I got just what you came here looking for, and I’m gonna give it to you, nice and hard.”

From the way David’s face lit up, Scotty knew his tone, almost growling and incredibly manly, had been exactly right, and his confidence rose. His cock began to rise too.

“You think you can fuck me, kid?” David said quietly. “You sure got some balls; I’ll say that for you. I usually do the fucking—been a long time since I took it up the ass. You got a damn nice dick, though. Tell you what: you can fuck me first, if I get to fuck you next.”

Scotty smirked. A next time? Beyond proving himself to Mitch and Ron, Scotty was not sure he wanted a next time with David. Besides, when they left the hotel in a day or two, Scotty would never have to see David again. If Scotty did not want a next time, all he had to do was stall for a day or two. But for now: “Sure. Pass me that bottle of lube,” Scotty growled, “and bend over the counter.”

The visitor did as Scotty ordered, planting his elbows on the counter, and spreading his legs wider. This was it, Scotty realized, his chance to have sex with a man without Mitch or Ron influencing him. Now Scotty would be the one in charge, and he would learn whether he could go through with his plan to fuck around, or whether Mitch and Ron were the only guys he wanted to fuck. David was attractive, even if he was a stranger. Maybe a hot, willing ass was just what Scotty needed. Fucking this guy would be a great experiment—might even feel good too. Either way, Scotty was going to have some certainty when he was through with David. And afterward, he never had to see the guy’s face again. He and his friends would not be staying in this hotel for long.

David pushed his back toward Scotty. He waited patiently, letting Scotty take his time and touch wherever he wanted. But to Scotty this still did not feel like fucking Mitch or Ron. They were his best friends, and he loved them like brothers; he knew every inch of them before he ever touched. And during the sex, they had both told him how to go about whatever they wanted, either with their minds or their voices. Now Scotty was expected to play that role, and he was not entirely sure how to take charge, but now he had to carry out the act, if only to prove he could.

Big and well-muscled as the yoga man was, he did not tell Scotty to hurry up, or demand that Scotty touch him somewhere else. David was taking the submissive role, but doing so did not make him seem weak. He stayed bent over the counter as Scotty had ordered, and allowed everything. Scotty ran his hands over David’s solid back. He kissed David’s shoulder blade. He reached around and toyed with David’s nipple. Scotty was pleased to find that even a guy from a big city could simply be still and accept whatever was done to him. Suddenly, Scotty’s own often-passive role with Mitch and Ron did not seem quite so embarrassing. He was finding he liked being in charge—knowing he was in control gave him a flush of excitement—but maybe being controlled was not so bad either. Maybe Scotty would be able to handle the obedient role they usually expected him to play a whole lot better as long as he could also play the controlling role from time to time.

Scotty felt so strong and powerful. So much more manly now than even if it were Mitch or Ron he was about to fuck. David was a couple of years older, far more experienced and worldly, and he had one gorgeous ass. Scotty ran his hands over the sides of David’s unfamiliar body, and his fingers tingled at the feel of David’s hard muscle and smooth skin.

Scotty knelt behind David’s spread legs and pressed his palms against the hard-muscles of David’s ass. David had the lightest down of hair back there, and feeling it reminded Scotty that he was about to fuck a man, not a girl, no matter whether he closed his eyes and fantasized about the things he had done with females so far. A man—a real man! He reached around and groped for David’s cock, which he found hard and pulsing. Knowing he had given this man a hard-on—well, that excited Scotty too. His hand gripped the proof of how much David wanted him. Was what Mitch and Ron felt when they were in charge? This sense of power: exhilarating! Scotty gave David’s cock a stroke or two, and his own cock jumped with excitement as he explored David’s erection: a nice seven-incher, not as large as Mitch’s, thankfully, but larger than Scotty’s, maybe about the size of Ron’s. Scotty hoped maybe he could sample that dick some other time, maybe get David into a great sixty-nine. That thought shocked Scotty. What was he saying? Another time? Was he becoming just like his friends, willing to suck and fuck with just any man that came along? Scotty shook his head to dismiss that idea.

Still, knowing he had a more experienced, more muscular, better-hung man bent over and submitting to whatever Scotty wanted to do to him was such a rush! He would worry about everything else later, after this experiment was finished. David’s hard-on throbbed, and the feel of another man’s cock in his hand knocked all other thoughts out of Scotty’s head, except for getting into that nice, hard ass just as quickly as possible.

“How long you think my buddies will be gone?”

David replied. “Maybe all night. Spider’s got a telepathic angle, so they’ll have lots to talk about. And Spider’s a real horny motherfucker too, if they decide they want to do more than talk.”

“So we’ve got plenty of time?”

“Yup. And just so you know, I like a nice, long fuck.”

Somehow that struck Scotty as being funny, and he snickered. The confirmation that Mitch and Ron would not be back soon disappointed him at first, but then Scotty felt pleased; now he could afford to take his time, play with David’s body and ass some more. He rubbed his palms all over the guy’s ass, and just knowing what he was about to do made him feel hornier and hornier. Yeah, this had to be what Mitch and Ron felt, he decided. Being in control felt almost as good as dominating a basketball game. No wonder Ron liked mind-zapping him so much.

Scotty leaned forward, bent his head around David’s shoulder, pulled David’s face around, and kissed him. Scotty plunged his tongue into the man’s mouth before David had a chance to do it to him. Yeah, Scotty thought, being in charge rocks! Kissing a guy was new to him—he had kissed Mitch and Ron, but did that count?—and Scotty found he did not mind it so much. A mouth was a mouth, and kissing a guy felt a lot like kissing a girl where the mouth part was concerned, except that David kissed back more aggressively than any girl Scotty had experienced. Scotty broke the kiss, sucked in a breath of air, and went back for more kissing. Just a week ago, back home, he would never have dreamed he would ever kiss a guy, and yet here he was: hundreds of miles from where he grew up, in a big city, with his tongue in another guy’s throat. He wanted to think he was willing to try anything now, but he knew that was not the case, not yet—he still had limits, even if he was pushing at them right this very moment.

David broke the kiss to gasp for breath. “Fuck, you’re a good kisser! If you fuck half as good as you kiss, I have to might kidnap you and keep you all to myself while you’re here.”

“I don’t think my friends would go for that,” Scotty laughed, though he felt oddly flattered that a guy—a guy!—thought he was a good kisser, “but they weren’t here now and what they don’t know won’t hurt them.”

Scotty wondered whether his buddies would mind if he decided to have sex with another man for a while; would they think this was a great idea, or would they be jealous and possessive? They had already seen him get a blow-job at the bathhouse—was that really less than a day ago?—and they would probably encourage him to go further, do more. He was not happy about that part. He wanted them to be jealous. More, he wanted David to think that his friends would be jealous.

“Get ready,” Scotty told David. “I’m gonna fuck your ass. Gonna fuck the shit out of you!”

“I’ve been ready ever you told me to bend over,” David smirked. “But it’s been a while. Better work on my ass first—don’t just stick it in. And use plenty of lube.”

Scotty barely remembered Mitch talking to him like that, and the shower back at the cabin where just a few days ago his friends had first taught him about ass-fucking. Now he was reliving the past, but in his own private way. David braced his palms against the counter and spread his legs further apart, like he was going to be frisked, which made Scotty giggle—why would someone need to frisk a naked man?

Scotty moved close to David’s back and took a second to rub his hard dick-head across the guy’s ass cheeks. He got a wiggle of anticipation out of David, who hissed, “Lick my ass, man!”

“Gonna fuck you! Gonna fuck you!” Scotty said the words more to himself than to David. He needed to remind himself that he was in control. Maybe David was telling him to lick his ass, but Scotty was the one who decided what to do; Scotty was the one in control. He knelt, David’s ass now directly in front of his face. Scotty found himself wishing Mitch and Ron would walk into the bathroom right then and see what he was about to do. They both would have to respect him then! Maybe they would even stop treating him like some kid they had to drag along and show how to do everything, even though they could not possibly know that much more about sex than he did. He was the one who had already fucked a couple of girls, right?—He had plenty of experience!

Scotty stared at the ass pressed toward him, just inches away from his face. He still could not believe that he was actually going to fuck this man. Scotty realized suddenly that his cock was hard, had been hard since he told David to turn around, stood hard and ready to fuck the hole in front of him, even though it was a man’s ass. Scotty did not dare touch his cock for fear he would climax immediately. He needed to see this fuck all the way through to the end.

“Come on,” David grumbled. “Quit stalling and lick my ass.”

“What the hell,” Scotty muttered to himself. He would have plenty of time for reflection later, after he did the deed. He put a hand on each of David’s ass cheeks, parted them to expose the hole better. Though Scotty had seen David doing yoga poses earlier, the man’s hole and crack looked pristine—no trace of sweat of funk. Good. Scotty was not sure whether he would be able to go through with this if he encountered ass-funk.

He bent forward and pressed his face into David’s ass crack, just like he had done to Mitch and Ron. He stuck out his tongue and licked.

“Damn!” David spat out. “Fuck, your stubble feels good on my ass.”

Scotty took another swipe at David’s hole with his tongue. He was doing it!—He was licking ass! David gasped and grunted as Scotty licked more confidently, pressing his tongue more firmly across the pucker and the crack, then probing right at the center of David’s hole.

David moaned, “Yeah, stud. Eat my fuck-hole!”

Scotty felt more confident, went at his task with more enthusiasm. While this might have been easier with Mitch or Ron forcing him, telling him exactly what to do and what felt good, Scotty found that he was quite capable on his own, judging by the sounds David made. Scotty closed his eyes, tried to focus on the task of licking and tongue-drilling. Lick now, worry later, he told himself. He pulled David’s ass cheeks farther apart to get better access.

Scotty’s mind was full of chaotic, conflicting emotions. David was a stud, muscular, masculine, all-man; and now he was bent over and letting Scotty eat his ass, and moaning like Scotty was doing a really good job of it. No sense holding back now, Scotty decided. He went after David’s ass with gusto, determined to drive the man crazy with pleasure.

David’s thighs trembled and he shoved his butt harder against Scotty’s face and lapping tongue. David mewled like a horny slut, with little grunts: “Yeah! Ungh! Yeah! So good! More!”

Scotty slobbered all over David’s ass-slot, not caring about anything except making David moan more and louder. Let the guys in neighboring rooms here! Let the whole floor hear! The neighbors would tell Mitch and Ron, and then they would be so jealous. His tongue in David’s ass was just a prelude to a deep ass-pounding, and Scotty’s cock throbbed at the thought. Scotty tried tongue-flicks that fluttered, twisted, and stabbed at David’s hole.

Scotty squeezed David’s ass cheeks, finding he appreciated the round, muscle-hard feel of them, even though they belonged to a man. David obviously worked hard to keep himself in shape, and Scotty respected that too. David’s big, shaven balls dangled down between his open thighs and banged around as he squirmed back and forth under Scotty’s tongue assault. Inspired, Scotty suddenly reached between David’s legs and grabbed his nut sack, used his grip to pull David back against his face by the balls, not hard but enough firm hand-pressure to make David understand he was serious. David responded by bending further forward and wiggling his can against Scotty’s salivating mouth, all the while gasping, “So good ... So good ...”

Soon David bucked and twisted his head back toward Scotty. “You got my fuck-hole nice and wet. Use your finger—get it loose for that dick.”

Scotty wet his index finger and pushed it into David’s ass lips. Mitch’s ass and Ron’s were tight. A lot of lube was required. Would David’s squeeze as tightly? Scotty had fucked a couple of girls, and their cunts were loose compared to his friends’ asses; would a guy like David who lived in a gay clothing-optional hotel be loose like a cunt? Looser?

Scotty’s spit-wet finger slid into David’s ass, which seemed tight enough. He was uncertain about this part, not remembering too clearly what he and his friends had done when finger met ass. Poke, poke, poke. In and out. Was that all he was supposed to do? He had fingered girls, and they liked the in-and-out, but they also liked other things. Maybe a little up-and-down? No change from David. Guys were built differently from girls; guys did not have a clitoris. What did guys have? A prostate? Where was it? Scotty tried to remember his biology lessons—school seemed so long ago—and then tried to remember where that special spot inside his own ass was, where a dick in his butt felt the best, and where his own fuck-strokes had made Mitch and Ron moan the loudest. Maybe press down a little? He felt something rounded and hard. “Fuck!” David burst breathlessly. Success! Gloating, Scotty went after that spot mercilessly.

David’s eyes seemed unfocused and his mouth hung open as he groaned in pleasure. He looked crazed and dazed at the same time. Fuck, yeah, Scotty congratulated himself. This must be what a fuck-trance looks like. I’ve practically got him in a fuck-trance, and I’m not even a telepath! Mitch and Ron ain’t got nothing on me!

“I want your cock,” David announced over his shoulder. “Put your cock up my ass. Do it now. Fuck me now! Give me your cock!”

Right now Scotty wanted to fuck David’s ass more than anything else he could think of. “Lube. I need some lube.” Where the fuck has the lube gone?

David fumbled on the counter, and after a moment he passed back the small bottle.

Scotty finger-worked what seemed like a generous amount of lubricant into David’s butthole, then slicked his cock with plenty more.

“Would you please stop playing around back there,” David ordered, scowling, “and just fuck me already?“

Scotty knew now that the guy really wanted it. “Okay, you asked for it!” He knew he sounded kind of rough, but he had to let the guy know he was in charge. “I’m gonna fuck you so hard,” Scotty declared. “Ready?” Scotty’s belly kept fluttering nervously. He moaned as he slid the tip of his dick up and down over David’s asshole.

“Sure.” David sounded offhand, as if growing bored that this was taking so long.

Well, fuck that, Scotty thought. What did he care whether the guy’s ass was or was not sufficiently lube-slick yet? He knew sometimes getting fucked hurt, especially at first. Deep inside, Scotty admitted maybe he wanted to hurt the guy a little. Wanted to make David feel some pain, just a bit, because of his impatience, or because of what Mitch and Ron were forcing Scotty to do. And if David got hurt more than just a little, then that was their fault, not Scotty’s.

Scotty knew that he better hurry. His balls were churning and he could easily cum without even getting the tip of his cock into the guy. But his hands shook so much that he could not seem to guide his dick in there. “Shit!”

“Having trouble?”

“No. Uh ... no.”

David looked over his shoulder. “You have fucked a guy before, right?“

“Sure. My friends and I—we—lots of times.” Scotty did not want David to feel all superior just because he had more experience. Scotty needed David to think he was confident and manly.

“How about I do that for you?”

“Uh, sure, I guess,” Scotty said, not quite knowing what David meant or what he offered to do.

David grabbed Scotty by the wrist and pulled him into the bedroom area, pushed him down on the bed, face-up. David stepped up onto the mattress, straddled Scotty’s hips, lowered himself. Scotty’s cock was not as long as Mitch’s but was thicker, much thicker. Would David be able to stretch his ass around it? Scotty watched as David reached back and took a firm grip on Scotty’s slick dick. He felt David tilt his cock, and then David slowly lowered himself. A series of sensations hit Scotty: Cock-head against asshole, pushing into asshole, starting to penetrate asshole. David’s sphincter seemed to envelop Scotty’s dick like a tight little mouth. Scotty gasped as the lubed tip of his meat pushed through the ring and his shaft began to stretch the hole. This felt terrific, hotter than a furnace, and he wanted to plunge all the way inside. He pushed his hips at David’s ass.

“Shit, man!” David admonished. “Take it easy! Let me do the work, okay?”

Being scolded brought out a sadistic feeling in Scotty—he would show David!—and he forced his dick straight ahead, without even thinking what he would be doing to the guy’s ass by ramming into it so hard.

“Shit!” David yelped and glowered down at Scotty.

Scotty’s turn to smirk: “Glad you like it.”

David ignored him and instead focused on pressing Scotty’s body down with his hands and lowering his ass onto Scotty’s hips. David’s eyes were clamped shut, and he whispered what sounded to Scotty like nonsense syllables.

David ground his butt cheeks against Scotty’s pubes. Scotty grinned sarcastically. “Nice and full now?”

David did not seem to notice. “Fuck, yeah,” he whispered intently. “Big, thick dick! Fuck, yeah!”

With his cock fully inside David’s body, Scotty felt confident and arrogant as a son-of-a-bitch. He felt like the strongest stud that ever lived. And his cock felt like the biggest and best cock ever. Bigger and better than Mitch’s dick could ever be, even. Fuck Mitch! Fuck Ron too!

David lifted, moved his ass up, gliding along the length of Scotty’s dick. “Nice dick. Fucking nice, big dick. Let’s go, kid! Fuck the shit out of me!”

Kid? Scotty was no kid. He was only a couple of years younger than David himself. Well, he would show David he was a man, not a kid. Then David’s asshole did this clampy-massaging thing around Scotty’s cock, and the zap of pleasure up through his nervous system made Scotty forget all about the insult.

“Been a long time since I fucked a Normal,” David gasped. “Long time since I got fucked too.”

Scotty pushed in and thrilled to the grunt of pain coming out of David’s mouth as the last of his supercharged dick slid all the way home in David’s ass again. “Nice tight ass,” Scotty moaned. He reached for David’s nipples. At the bathhouse, one of the guys had played with Scotty’s nipples, pinching and pulling and twisting a little, and that felt kind of good, so he decided to try the same things on David’s tits. “Nipples,” Scotty corrected himself. “Girls have tits; guys have nipples.”

David looked down and asked, “What’s that,” reminding Scotty that he was not alone.

“Nothing. Shut up and let’s fuck!”

When David began to move, Scotty could not speak any more. All his strength was drawn to his hands on David’s chest, and his hips and overheating dick working against David’s ass. He pushed harder, and David moaned, not in pain but finding real pleasure in the fuck now. David arched his spine, threw back his head, eyes shut, biting his lip, and worked his body up and down, masturbating Scotty’s cock with his ass. David’s erection stood straight out over Scotty’s stomach, occasionally smacking Scotty’s abs when David slammed his ass down on Scotty’s groin.

“Fuck me hard, kid. Fuck my ass.”

Scotty ignored the kid remark again and focused on their bodies moving together.

“Fuck my ass. Fuck me so hard I can’t walk for a week.”

“Uhrr-ugh,” Scotty replied, as whatever smart-ass comment he started to make got drowned out by another quivery zap of sensation from David’s snapping sphincter.

Their voices were chains of grunts and groans and moans coming from deep inside their throats. David’s body rode up and down on Scotty’s cock, from that cock being buried all the way in, to just the head being inside, the ass-ring gripping Scotty’s cock just behind the flared crown. Scotty felt he was fucking like a champ. No way would David be able to tell Scotty was still new to butt-sex with guys. Once he had gotten past the problem of getting his cock inserted, Scotty figured out how to move with David’s body as if he had been doing this every night for years, letting David’s muscular legs and torso do most of the work. The way they moved together seemed like a dance, clumsy bodies but beautiful sensation. Scotty felt like the star attraction, definitely the M.V.P. And he knew that he was doing a great job because David was moaning louder and louder, and the bed was squeaking louder and louder too.

The fuck seemed to last an hour but only minutes must have passed. Hands on David’s hips, Scotty pumped at that ass as fast as he could manage. The heat. The clamping pressure. Scotty hoped the more experienced man was suitably impressed with his cock-action because he knew he could not last much longer. Scotty grabbed David’s erection and stroked it. He wanted David to cum first, wanted to show David that he had more stamina. David’s cock felt so hard and scalding hot in Scotty’s hand.

Lust climbed through Scotty, and nothing was more important than his cock in David’s ass and David’s cock in his hand. Scotty enjoyed the rush. He was fucking a great-looking guy, but even more than just the great feel of his cock in that asshole, he liked the sensation of power over another person. He had taken a man, more worldly and experienced than himself, and with each heavy lunge of his cock into that great asshole, he was reducing that man to a quivering mass of moaning flesh. When he felt the first warning tingles of his orgasm begin, Scotty knew his cum was going to be a fast one, and the best one he ever had.

David beat him to the climax. He gurgled something incoherent, and hot wetness squirted out of his cock, coating Scotty’s fingers, dripping on his stomach. Scotty was too far gone too, and began shooting into David’s butt. Scotty’s body bent upward like a bow, eyes pressed shut, firing his load as deep as he could reach into that ass, every muscle tensed, and then—“Ahh, fuck!"—every muscle went limp, body falling back on the bed, panting, too spent to move.

David dropped heavily onto the bed beside him, not touching him, just there, a couple of inches between them. “Thanks, kid. You were pretty good, I guess, for a Normal.”

Right That kid insult again and the telepathy fetish that Scotty could not fulfill. His doubts provided other failings: Pretty good for a beginner, pretty good for having no idea what to do. Was this the sort of placating thing adults said to each other after they had mediocre sex? Scotty suddenly realized: That really was mediocre sex. Sure, David was beautiful, for a guy, and the friction of that ass on Scotty’s penis felt good and made him cum, and David came too, but something had definitely been missing, was still missing. He did not feel bonded with David. With Mitch and Ron, Scotty felt a connection—they had years of shared experiences and affection—but David was just some guy, a convenient body Scotty had used for an experiment. And the experiment had told Scotty just what he needed to know; David bore no blame if Scotty did not like the results.

Worry about that later, Scotty told himself. Right then, he had just cum, and he saw no reason to spoil whatever he could still enjoy of the afterglow. He closed his eyes and savored how drained he felt.

Scotty dreamed that he was fucking David in the shower. He knew he was dreaming, and he knew he was fucking David’s fine ass. Mitch and Ron returned from wherever and caught them, just as he had hoped. Both of his friends cheered to see what a great fucker Scotty had become. Crowded in the bathroom doorway, they opened their jeans and pulled their hard cocks out as they watched Scotty nail David’s ass in the shower. Mitch’s cock and Ron’s popped out, hard and throbbing, and they beat their meat gleefully with their gazes glued on Scotty’s inspiring performance. Scotty fucked with impressive skill. His wish had come true: Mitch and Ron had found him in the driver’s seat for a change. Now he would show them that they were not the only ones who could go out and grab the world by the balls. Scotty grinned as his friends beat their hard-ons; for once they were the ones unable to resist the force of Scotty’s fuck. He looked down at David, bent forward, taking Scotty’s cock up his ass. David was pretty far gone in lust, his eyes dazed, mouth gasping under the shower spray. Scotty knew that all David wanted was to cum and to be filled with his cum.

Cum, cum, cum, Mitch and Ron were cheer-chanting, like this was a basketball game and Scotty was about to make the winning shot. Scotty lost control of his weapon, spiraled into orgasm, and he slammed his dick into David’s butt with a last heavy lunge. His hips smacked hard against David’s ass. He came hard in David’s ass, shooting every cum-burst into David’s firm, round butt, shooting, shooting—.

Scotty opened his eyes. The early stages of dawn were beginning beyond the crack in the curtains. Morning? Scotty was not in the shower; he lay face-down on the bedspread. He was shirtless but wore his jeans. His crotch and stomach felt sticky—he had cum in his sleep, his cock pressed happily between his body and the bed, the final tingling dick-pulses and ripples of his orgasm just now ending. Just a dream, a wet dream whose powerful afterglow left his body feeling limp and pleasantly languid, a big load of cum emptied into his pants. He yawned and looked around, groggily. David was gone. Ron slept beside him, on his back, mouth cracked open, naked, a morning hard-on in full force. Beyond him, Mitch lay on the far edge of the bed, equally naked, on his side, his back to them.

Scotty’s bladder demanded relief. He eased himself off the bed, crept into the bathroom, passing the chair. Memories came back slowly. After David had left, Scotty had pulled on his pants, somehow once again nervous about other residents seeing him naked, maybe using of the lack of doors to take sexual advantage of him while he slept. Before he turned off the light, he slid the chair into the path from the door to the bed as an early warning system: anyone sneaking into the room at night would trip over the chair, which would wake Scotty.

Except Mitch and Ron had come back sometime during the night and crawled into bed without waking him. So much for his makeshift warning system.

Scotty pissed, then took off his pants, cleaned away the spunk from his wet dream. No way could he wear these pants again, not with the embarrassing huge cum stain in the front. If Mitch and Ron saw, they would tease him about it all day. He ran water on the stain, hoped maybe to wash enough of it away, but his pants would still be unwearable for hours until the fabric dried. Scotty hated wearing wet clothing. He hung his pants over a towel rack. He would tell Mitch and Ron he spilled something on himself; they would believe that. Had they brought in a backpack with more clothes when they checked in?—Scotty tried to remember, but he thought not. Well, he decided, maybe he would just have to go along with the clothing optional policy after all, at least until his pants were wearable again. No problem, he told himself; no need for shame if he was proud of his body, right? Who cares who saw him? Just like being in the locker room, right? Would not be so bad as long as not too many other residents were around.

Scotty looked at his naked body in the mirror. David had sure seemed to like his looks the night before. He remembered the way David’s body had felt while they fucked, all hard muscles and tight skin, and that clenching pressure of David’s ass around his cock. Scotty’s dick lurched, and in spite of having cum minutes before, he wondered if he had time for a quick jack-off before—

Ron staggered into the bathroom. “Morning,” he slurred, as he sidled up to the toilet and began to piss. “Why’s the chair in the way out there?”

Scotty did not answer but yielded the bathroom to the pissing, farting creature that was Ron first thing in the morning. He pushed the chair back to its normal position.

“Ohhhhh!”

Scotty looked up. Mitch was awake too. Having decided the demands of his morning wood outweighed a full bladder, Mitch was stretched out on the bed, on his back, stroking his erection. Scotty wondered what having a cock that big must feel like.

“Can’t keep your hands off your favorite toy, can you?” Scotty mock-scolded, trying for a smile.

“Me? You’re the bad boy who started fucking as soon as we left last night.”

“You knew about that?”

“The whole floor knew about it—and we didn’t have to be telepaths either. Next time, if you don’t want anyone to know, don’t keep moaning like a bull in heat and making the bed squeak like it’s an earthquake.”

Scotty blushed and looked away.

“Of course, Ron and I got to eavesdrop a little more directly, since we could pick up on what you two were feeling. Hey, don’t look at me like that. What do you expect? We’re only human. Now, you want to come over here and give me a hand? Or a mouth? Or some of that ass?”

Scotty felt Mitch’s telepathy caress the outside of his mind. Scotty immediately thought of walls, trying to block Mitch out. Shit, Mitch was getting to be as bad as Ron! “Stay the fuck out of my head, Mitch.”

Mitch shrugged and kept stroking his cock. Have it your way. But is that what you really want?

Mitch’s thoughts eased across the outside of Scotty’s mind, a light, seductive touch, and Scotty was tempted to give in, to let Mitch in. But: “Stay out of my head, Mitch. Just jack off if you’re going to, and leave me out of this.”

Mitch grinned and tilted his oversized cock this way, then that, showing off its length. You sure that’s what you want, Scotty? Another mind-caress. Yeah, Scotty decided, Ron was definitely being a bad influence on Mitch.

Mitch was trying to seduce him, Scotty knew, and trying to make him lower his new defenses. If Scotty continued to say no, would Mitch accept that answer? Or would he lose patience and just punch his way into Scotty’s mind. And what would happen when Ron came out of the bathroom and they ganged up on him?—How long could Scotty hold out against both of them?

Last night had proven that male sex meant something different for Scotty. For Mitch and Ron, sex with guys meant I’m horny and I want to use your body to get off. For Scotty, sex with Mitch and Ron meant We’re closer than brothers and I want to give you the gift of feeling good. On a physical level, Scotty enjoyed the sex with Mitch and Ron, but last night had proven to him that he was not wired for sex with other guys in general, and he did not want to let Mitch or Ron change him. But would his friends accept that?

Standing there naked, with Mitch’s gaze raking up and down his body, Scotty felt physically vulnerable. A week ago, Mitch would never have looked at him with such open lust. Or did he, and Scotty just never saw it?

He felt mentally vulnerable too. A week ago, Mitch would never have been able to go into his head and make Scotty do whatever he wanted. No, strike that—Mitch would have been able to do it; he just had not. Just because Mitch had not done something yet did not mean he would never do it.

Scotty realized: He disliked being afraid of his friends and what they might do with their telepathy. He loved Mitch and Ron—they’d grown up together—and he wanted to believe they were the same great guys he had known all along; but the more they used their new Talents to do just whatever they wanted without concern for his desires, the more he felt afraid that he would cease to be himself and become just a meat-puppet for them to use. Surely Mitch and Ron would not go that far, would they? What if they did without meaning to?

Meat-puppet?—Nice image. But that’s more Ron’s thing than mine. You don’t have to be afraid of me. C’mere and I’ll prove it.

Scotty felt compelled to take a step toward the bed, Mitch, and Mitch’s hard-on; he barely resisted it. “Don’t, Mitch.”

But Scotty, you know how much you like it. You know how good my dick feels in your hand. Don’t you want to stroke it? Maybe taste it? Not even just a little? Just a little? What do you say, Scotty? Maybe just a little? The mind-caress seemed firmer, as if Mitch was preparing to use more effort to crack into Scotty’s mind. Mitch had always hated being refused.

In spite of his fears, Scotty felt his balls tingle. After this past weekend, some part of him had come to associate his friends’ mind-touches with the promise of sex and orgasm. They were horny guys, after all, and Mitch’s erection was proof of his arousal. Besides, Scotty was more than a little flattered that Mitch found him attractive and wanted to have sex with him. Maybe just this once—

No, Scotty needed to stay resolute. More forcefully: “I said no, Mitch.”

C’mon, don’t be like that. You know you want to. Maybe just a little? You know how good it’ll feel, for both of us. You know—

“Mitch, drop it. I said no. And keep your telepathy out of my head.”

Ron’s voice, calling over the sound of the running shower: “Keep it down out there, you two.”

Had he shouted that last part, Scotty wondered. Surely not? But Mitch stared at him with a surprised expression, open-mouthed, and a raised eyebrow. Maybe Scotty had shouted.

“Just ...,” Scotty started, “jack off if you’re going to, and leave me out of it.”

Mitch nodded, avoided looking at Scotty. I bet Ron is horny. He stood up, and his lengthy erection swung in the air. I need a shower anyway. Invitation’s still open, if you change your mind. Then Mitch disappeared into the bathroom, followed by the rustle of the shower curtain.

In a few moments they would being having sex, Scotty knew, and they were likely to broadcast arousal to every mind in range. If he stayed in proximity, that would probably overload his mind with lust again, like before on the road. Scotty needed to get out of there, but with his pants wet and hanging in the bathroom, he had no clothes and could not leave the hotel. Since Scotty was more muscular than his friends, their pants would not fit him. Too, he had no place to go and knew no one else here. Not altogether true, he realized. He knew David, though he had hoped to avoid the man, following the embarrassment of their sex last night.

Scotty walked to the room across the hall. Was he really thinking this through properly, he worried. Was that vague damage Big Marcus mentioned affecting his judgment? Scotty did not feel damaged; what he felt was a need to avoid the loss of self that lately accompanied Ron’s broadcasting whenever he was horny. Was David’s room far enough away? What other option did Scotty have? He took a deep breath to steel himself, then knocked quietly on the door frame, as if David’s room had a door. “Uh, hi.”

David stood at a closet. He was surprised to see Scotty. Scotty was surprised to see David wearing a pair of socks and a T-shirt but no pants. He had thought clothing optional meant no clothing ever.

“Hi,” David said, his tone uninterpretable. “I was just about to leave and go get food, and then I have to go to work.”

“Work?”

“Yeah. Some of us have jobs.”

“Oh.” Well, of course. Life in the big city must be expensive, and living here would not be free. Still, Scotty’s stomach twisted at the word food, demanding breakfast. “Can I come too?“

David narrowed his eyes. “Look, you’re a cute kid, but last night was—”

“I know,” Scotty said, though not really. “I just mean, I’m new around here and I don’t know any good places to eat yet.” That sounded plausible.

David studied him, then nodded, relenting. “Well ... Okay. But you can’t go out like that. Go get dressed and—”

“Can I borrow some clothes too? Mine got kind of messed up, and my friends and I are having an argument and ...” Shut up, shut up, shut up, Scotty chastised himself, ashamed at how much personal mess he had just revealed.

David sighed. Scotty prepared for him to refuse, after hearing all the drama packed into Scotty’s last statement, but David said, “Here,” and tossed Scotty a folded sweatshirt and a pair of sweatpants from the closet. David was wider through the shoulders, and Scotty was taller, but sweats would adjust enough to fit. As David turned away and reached for a pair of pants for himself, Scotty wriggled his head and arms into the shirt, trying to figure out a way to sneak past the sex-broadcast that must be in full force by now to get his shoes and money. Which did Scotty dread least?—The Mitch-and-Ron-fucking-like-bunnies feelings that might overcome him if he got near the shower, or asking David to borrow shoes and cash? Asking seemed as though it would push David too far.

Scotty’s head popped through the neck-hole. Ron and Mitch stood in the doorway, naked, not dripping wet, but not completely dry. “There you are, Scotty,” Ron scolded. “Mitch and I want to talk about what you just—”

Scotty doubted talking was what they had in mind. Mitch had that glassy-eyed look again, and Scotty feared Ron was firmly in charge.

Ron noticed David on the other side of the room. Since David had not out on his pants yet, Ron’s eyes zeroed in on his swinging dick. “Well, hello there. We’re Scotty’s friends. Don’t bother getting dressed on our account.”

“Uh, hi,” David said, seeming displeased at the prospect of Scotty’s drama following him across the hall and into David’s space.

“You’re hot,” Ron said. “In fact, I wanna see more ...” Strip. Show me everything you got.

Scotty had heard the echo of Ron’s command, but it must have been a shout in David’s mind. David stood frozen. His cock was in the early stages of stiffening. He spoke slowly. “Show ... Okay ...” David dropped the folded pants, lifted his arms, lifted his T-shirt, lifted it off his head, dropped it onto the floor. He stood there, displaying his body, naked except for his socks, to Ron. “Fuck, man, you’re strong,” David cooed appreciatively. His cock was almost fully hard, and Scotty knew Ron was about to give it, and David’s telepathy fetish, a good workout. “So strong ...”

“That’s a real nice cock,” Ron hissed as he concentrated and took another step into the suddenly too-small room. “Scotty and us—we share everything. I bet you’d like to share too, wouldn’t you.” Get on the bed.

Scotty said, “Ron, don’t ...,” as David climbed onto the bed, slid himself into its center, but Scotty found himself unable to do or say more. He was transfixed, unable to move.

His interruption had, however, brought Ron’s attention to him. That’s enough out of you, ordered a voice in Scotty’s head, sounding mostly like Ron’s but Mitch’s too. If Ron had control of Mitch and was using his telepathy as well, how long could Scotty hold out? I’m tired of your bitching. Sit down, shut up, and don’t move. It’s my turn to have some fun with your friend, and you’re gonna watch. When I’m through, we’ll deal with you and this rebellious streak of yours once and for all.

As if pushed by an invisible hand, Scotty found himself compelled to sit on the chair. His arms found the arm rests—and stayed there. Scotty found himself unable to speak, unable to make his hands or feet move from where they rested.

Gonna fuck your ass so hard, Ron was purring to David as he put his knee on the bed and leaned forward.

“No ...,” David’s voice cracked. “I’ll fuck you ... but ... m’ass ... off-limits ...”

Ron’s mind-voice sounded amused. Scotty got a piece of your ass. What’s so special about him?

“Jusss ... happened ... Don’t usual ... get fucked ... Hurts ...”

Poor guy. I know what will get your mind off the pain: more fucking.

“Spider!” David called out. “Spider ... Hel—”

David’s voice cut off when Ron ordered, No more talking. Stop fighting me. These were not just instructions—they were powerful compulsions. David would be unable to resist. Scotty could feel Ron’s gloating. Though a Normal, David had experience dealing with telepaths, probably knew how to resist them. But to Ron?—Ron loved a challenge, if he knew he was likely to win. The idea that he would have to force David to fall under his control really seemed to appeal to Ron, made him push into David’s mind even more forcefully. Scotty could feel that from the way the echoes of Ron’s mind-orders were getting louder, clearer, in his own head.

Over the last several days, Mitch and especially Ron had become much stronger every time they used their telepathy. Just how much stronger would they become? And then how much of the old Scotty would be left?

Ron had gotten up behind David. Ron’s dick had been hard since he had spotted David. Now, with his hands and thoughts, Ron guided David onto his hands and knees. David must have stopped fighting Ron; he did not appear to resist at all. Or maybe Ron had found a way to override any struggle.

Mitch stood passively in the doorway, arms limp at his sides, cock limp too. His glassy expression told Scotty that trying to appeal to him for aid was hopeless; whatever was going on inside Mitch’s head, he was not conscious enough to register Scotty’s silent appeals—and if Mitch did pick up Scotty’s thoughts, Ron was sure to intervene. Whatever Ron had done to Mitch was not a fuck-trance, but it seemed close.

Obviously Ron had learned a lot over the course of their adventure—too much. From Scotty, Ron had gotten the idea of fuck-trance, a way to overcome all resistance by keeping a guy’s mind focused on sex and empty of everything else. From that bounty hunter, Ron had learned that he could go into another telepath’s mind and find a way to use the guy’s Talent to bolster his own. And from the bounty hunter and Mitch, Ron had learned how to make the mind believe something so strongly that it simply refused to acknowledge any evidence to the contrary.

Knowing nothing was really wrong with his voice or his arms or legs, though, did not seem to help Scotty break Ron’s command to sit down, shut up, don’t move. He simply could not seem to think of how to speak, could shake the absolute conviction that, no matter how hard he concentrated, his limbs simply would not move. As a basketball player, Scotty practiced a fine level of control over his arms, whether dribbling or shooting for the basket—aim, force, speed, if he thought it, his body obeyed. But now: nothing. Not even a twitch. How did Mitch say he broke the bounty hunter’s mind-spell? Something about finding the part within his mind that did not belong and snapping it? That might be easy for a telepath, but Scotty was not accustomed to thinking of his mind as a thing with parts, and he was unsure how to even start searching.

“Nnnnnuh ...”

David’s voice brought Scotty’s attention back to the bed. Ron, on his knees, knelt behind David on all fours. Ron had a hand and a small bottle of lube resting in the small of David’s back as he guided his cock into David’s asshole. Ron frowned, concentrating. David pushed his ass back, moved it in a faint circle. Scotty wondered whether Ron was making David do that little trick Mitch had showed them, how the grinding motions of a man’s ass would surely help open up that tight hole.

“Nrrh,” David moaned. “Too much ... Too ... Stop ...”

Ron’s hips moved forward. He looked up at Mitch and Scotty and grinned. “Okay, fuckers, here we go.”

The force of what Ron broadcast smacked into Scotty’s mind almost like a physical blow. He felt David pushing backward, and Ron pushing in, and Scotty gasped as he felt—as if it were happening to him—the sharp pain of Ron’s swollen cock-shaft starting to slip into David’s recently fucked asshole. Everything would be all right, Scotty told himself, once he—David—they—whatever—got past the pain of entry. The pleasure would come soon, once the waking-up nerves got over their distress.

Ron thrust again, and another stab of pain made Scotty wince, and his hand came off the arm rest. So he could move!—The unconscious flinch proved it. But when he consciously tried, his hand stayed limp. Dammit! Scotty swore, not caring whether Ron heard.

David might not have liked to get fucked, but he knew how to get fucked, knew how move so he derived some pleasure from the act, and Ron was manipulating him through that. The fuck looked clumsy to Scotty; Ron had none of the style or grace Scotty had seen in downloaded porn videos, and Ron was concentrating too hard to spare much attention for improving how his body moved with David’s. But the hard mind-pressure radiating off Ron had begun to pick up flecks of enjoyment, as David got used to the intrusion and began to find pleasure in it and as Ron’s cock began to register the blissful pressure and slide, in and out of David’s ass-clamp. Scotty felt he was simultaneously fucking and being fucked, his cock feeling what Ron’s dick felt inside David, and his ass burning as David’s did from Ron’s invading meat.

A fiery flash, almost agony, shot through Scotty as Ron pushed in hard, burying his cock finally all the way in David’s used hole. Scotty could feel Ron manipulating David, making him relax, preventing his muscles from tightening up too much, to help David through the pain. That reassured Scotty that, while Ron could be cruel, at least some of his friend’s capacity for kindness remained.

The relaxation commands took too hard a hold on David’s mind, and his arms buckled, his shoulders sagging toward the mattress, tilting his ass still higher into the air to meet Ron’s thrust-and-pull motion. David stopped moving his own body, and now Ron was doing all the work. Ron moved himself a little more slowly—Scotty could feel the horniness Ron radiated, and the desire to push his meat in David’s ass full force with every stroke, but instead Ron was moving less aggressively, as if holding back to let David adjust to each one. Scotty sensed Ron’s satisfaction as his new, decelerated strokes led to David’s ass muscles relaxing, which made his fuck-work much easier. Ron was able to slide in, slow and steady, all the way to his balls every time.

That’s it. Open up. Relax. Let me in.

The pain was gone and Scotty felt their combined pleasure. Nothing left but the stroking and the resulting pleasure, which would soon start to build as orgasm approached—still some time off, but getting closer. The sensations were seductive, and Scotty wanted to relax himself into them completely, fall back into them, lose himself. In spite of having had no choice, he was starting to like the physical part of what he experienced. Or maybe Ron’s last orders to relax and let me in was not intended for David at all, but for Scotty himself? Scotty felt himself sinking, almost too submerged to care.

Ron had David on his back, legs over Ron’s shoulders and Ron’s cock deep in his ass. Ron had a grip on David’s erection and stroked him hard and fast, in time with Ron’s fuck-strokes in David’s ass. Scotty could feel Ron’s glee at having complete control over the situation, over David and Mitch and Scott, all three of them. The sex-sensations that Ron was blasting into Scotty’s head had him at the cusp of cumming. His cock was hard and he longed to stroke it, but he still could not move his arms. He could only sit and ride the spiraling arousal as his cock throbbed in the air. From the look of his hard-on, Mitch was in similar straits.

Scotty’s balls rode up, gathering force. David moaned in bliss, beyond any pain now, and approaching his climax.

See how much you like it when I’m in charge, rang Ron’s voice in Scotty’s head. That voice was still part Ron and part Mitch, too loud, too strong, too much to resist. Like a yell, it punched its way into his head. You like how good this feels, don’t you.

Yes, Scotty thought back helplessly, because part of him did like it. Part of him craved it, and part of him feared it, but the fear part kept going quiet—Ron’s doing?—and Scotty’s dick kept throbbing, and he needed to cum soon.

You know how deep I am in your head, don’t you?

Yes, Scotty thought back.

No more complaints. No more rebellion. You’re gonna go along with everything I say, aren’t you.

Yes.

Good. Work with me now. We’re going to make you a nice, obedient friend.

Scotty was not sure how to do that, but his body jolted as if Ron’s hand on David’s cock was teasing his rod too, as if Ron’s cock drilling into David’s ass was hitting Scotty’s prostate. Whatever Scotty had been thinking about slipped away. Ron was broadcasting harder now. Louder. More forcefully. Scotty felt spiraled out of his own head, somehow, and he felt—sensed—

He knew—

Others. There were others down the hall. Scotty could feel them getting pulled into Ron’s telepathic quagmire. The telekinetic with barely enough juice to affect a coin toss. The mute twins whose telepathy connected only to each other but not to anyone else. The pyrotic who could warm objects by a few degrees. The emotion-reader. They all felt the fuck like a floodlight in their heads and were helpless against the psychic onslaught Ron was unleashing. And near the far end of the hall, something dark that preferred to stay unseen. Something surrounded by lines and threads. Something awakened by Ron’s broadcasting, which was so loud now the Institute’s scanners in nearby schools, churches, malls, and other public gathering places must surely be registering it. Spider?—Was that Spider? David had tried earlier to yell to Spider for help, before Ron silenced him. Scotty tried to call to the dark mind in the middle of the threads, in hopes that this was Spider and he or she could help. Scotty was no telepath, but with all the telepathic energy Ron was radiating, maybe Scotty’s thoughts could be heard, if Spider were listening? As Scotty tried to reach out, something began to stretch toward him—no, toward Mitch and Ron.

Ron had now yet noticed. His growing orgasm had brought his mind back to his body and the point where it intersected David’s at the hole he fucked. David gurgled something incoherent, and that sound made Ron’s intensity climb higher. Ron still had not developed much style, but his body was strong and he delivered powerful cock-strokes, in and out, fast, hard, and he matched them with a clamped grip on David’s cock. His tempo was gaining force with each stroke.

Scotty perceived somehow, rather than saw, threads of something, not black exactly but dark, slowly creep in at the edges of the room. Thin. Barely there, and not there at the same time. Scotty perceived them through his awareness of what was on the periphery of Ron’s senses—Ron was throwing around too much telepathic energy. Would he burn himself out?

Scotty pulled hard at his muscles, trying to fight the intense feelings that felt like they were burning him inside. He wanted to move his arms, his feet, if he could only figure out how Mitch had broken the mind-spell back when the bounty hunter had done it. Scotty had saved his friends’ asses—he was the M.V.P.!—and he tried to reach out to Mitch; if Scotty could not break the spell himself, maybe he could wake up Mitch and Mitch could do it? Sometimes even the M.V.P. had to pass the ball when he could not find a shot. Scotty thought he felt Mitch’s mind stir against whatever Ron had done to him, but he could not be sure.

Ron fucked David harder, faster, buffeting Scotty and probably everyone nearby as though their fuck was a hurricane. Scotty’s balls and cock ached, and still he could not cum. He felt each crushing thrust of Ron’s hard, hard dick. He felt each twist of Ron’s hand on David’s cock. The sensations were overwhelming. Scotty stopped pleading with Mitch, stopped calling for help, because his attention was being sucked elsewhere, irresistibly. He knew he should continue to fight, but everything was being replaced by the fuck. Now all Scotty cared about was the incredible pleasure of cock and ass that rushed through him, like the force from a high-pressure hose. If those threads were forming something, a net or a web, Scotty no longer cared. If the threads were sharp and maybe somehow venomous, Scotty could pay attention. The pleasure Ron blasted pushed away everything.

Cum, cum together, the Ron-Mitch voice ordered. David’s cock erupted. Mitch’s cock began to spurt. And Scotty’s balls burst as sperm rocketed out of him in a fiery bliss that finished the job of burning away everything else.

In mid-orgasm, distracted, Ron looked up from David’s body and realized too late. The threads and their venom struck deep into his mind, and the sudden, shocked energy Ron released hit Scotty so hard that for a moment his vision nearly went black, and then his whole world did go black.

Sometime later, when Scotty opened his eyes, everything was white. White and bright. Very bright. He was sitting cross-legged somewhere. Too bright to see the walls. Everything was silent, too silent. This room did not really exist, he understood, not in the physical world. This was in his head, a metaphor his mind was using to make sense of something taking place. Two other bodies sat cross-legged with him. Familiar bodies. But one was aware, and the other ... somehow wasn’t. Scotty looked at the aware one and said, “Hi, Mitch. What happened?”

Scotty was naked. Mitch was naked too. Ron, the other unaware one there with them, also naked. Mitch’s head was surrounded by a ball, wider than his shoulders, of bright white light, so bright Scotty could barely see his face. Was this some metaphor for Mitch’s telepathy? A similar, larger ball surrounded Ron’s head, but it seemed inert somehow. Unconscious? Or simply prevented from waking up? What was going on here?

“I’d say things got a little out of control,” Mitch replied. His voice was sluggish, muted, like he was stoned and not fully awake himself.

“This isn’t the time for your wisecracks, Mitch. Give me a straight answer, please.”

“No wisecracks. Never again.”

“Where are we? What is this place?” This had to be some sort of mental place. They had to be talking in their minds, but it felt and sounded like talking with their voices always did.

Mitch shrugged. “We’re still in the hotel. We’re ... I think we’re sleeping, or something close to it. Our bodies are sleeping, at least. So our minds can heal. All this”—he made a faint gesture around them—“is to distract us, like a dream or something.”

Sleeping? That made sense, explained why Scotty felt so quiet and groggy himself. He peered against the glare. He could see two or three dark tendrils, not black or gray exactly, barely visible in the whiteness. They stretched from some distant point in the background, and disappeared into the back of Mitch’s head. Several more, a larger number anyway, and thicker, sank into the back of Ron’s head. Were similar tendrils going in the back of his own head, Scotty wondered, but could not seem to turn around to look.

“Ron lost it. He got a little intoxicated by using his Talent—”

“More than a little, Mitch. Felt like he was frying my mind from the inside.”

“Yeah. He really lost it. Spider says that happens sometimes. Newly manifested Talents do too much too soon, and they burn themselves out or do damage to those around them. Spider is trying to heal us, I think, the worst of it, at least.” He paused as if listening to something faint that only he could hear. “Don’t worry, Scotty—you’ll be fine. Spider says minds are resilient, and those psi-shields Marcus showed you how to do deflected the worst of it. You might have some weird dreams or nightmares for a while, like a light case of post-traumatic stress, but those’ll fade. All you need is some time and your mind will heal itself.”

Scotty peered at Ron, who sat unknowing.

“Ron didn’t mean to, I guess,” Mitch said, “but he’s always been a joker and kind of manipulative, and the temptation was too much ... Anyway, he’s going to stay asleep for a while, until Spider can get his Talent turned way, way down. He’ll need to get some training. His power will start coming back gradually over time. By then maybe he’ll know how to deal with it, won’t make the same mistakes again.”

“Oh,” Scotty said, because he could think of nothing else to say.

“Scotty, do you know what that means?”

“Uh, no? Tell me?”

“The Institute, Scotty. Ron and I will have to turn ourselves in. It’s the only way.”

Scotty said, “Oh.”

“We need training. Ron and me—we’re too strong. We can’t just go out in the Normal world. What Ron nearly did today is only the part of the damage he could do—or me—if we lose control. And the Institute is the only place Talents as strong as us can get the training we need.”

“But Big Marcus, or Spider—”

“Neither of them is strong enough. Spider caught Ron by surprise and barely got him. Since you and I were pretty much out of it, Spider was able to nail us too. If Ron had been ready, Spider wouldn’t have stood a chance. And after what Ron did, the hotel probably blipped up on the Institute’s to-do list. Probably didn’t have enough time to zero in on its location, but they’ll find it soon enough, now that they know to look. The residents are already packing up. They’ll be moving out shortly, going into hiding somewhere else.”

“What about me? Am I supposed to go with them?”

“No, Scotty. You need to go home. The Institute won’t care about you once Ron and I turn ourselves in. Your parents are probably worried sick about you. And if my dad or Ron’s folks want to know what happened to us, you might want to clean up the story a little. Like, maybe, not tell them about all the sex we had.”

“Yeah, the sex was kind of weird. I don’t regret doing it with you or Ron, but I think maybe butt-sex with guys isn’t for me.”

“Yeah,” Mitch seemed to smile through the glare. “I kind of figured that. But it was good, the three of us, what we had, right?”

“Yeah. I’d do it all again ... except maybe the part where Ron lost it.”

Mitch snickered. “Yeah, except that part.”

Scotty shook his head. “So much has changed, and in less than a week.”

“Less than a week since you found out. A little longer for Ron and me.”

“But I’m still the M.V.P., right?”

“You’ll always be the M.V.P., Scotty.”

“I think you still owe me a blow-job from, you know, the last time I saved your asses. I wish ...” Scotty stopped, trying to think of how to continue.

Mitch seemed to know; he nodded. “It’s private here. Just you and me—and Ron too, but he’s ... Spider knocked him deeper than us, for his own safety. Anyway, Spider isn’t watching you or me right now. If ... you know ... you wanna ... collect one last time for the road?”

Scotty blushed under the long, hard stare that Mitch was giving him. He was tired and somehow distracted, but he also felt more self-confident than he had ever been before. Enough to take on even Mitch. He and Mitch has always loved each other as friends, but Scotty wanted to show Mitch he was more than just a horny boy demanding blow-jobs; he wanted to show Mitch the man he felt he was becoming.

Scotty spread his arms, displaying himself to Mitch. “You like what you see? I’m hot, aren’t I? All the girls back at school think so.”

“You’re a real stud, Scotty,” Mitch agreed with no sarcasm. “I’ve always thought you were hot, and not just your body. Whoever you end up with will be very lucky.”

“Well, today only, I’ll be happy to give you one last sample of the goods, before our road trip ends. That is, of course, if you have the balls.”

“Oh, I’ve got the balls, all right!”

“Then watch out, Mitch, because I’m going to plug your butt. You can be a real arrogant ass sometimes, so I’m gonna show you what your ass is for!”

Mitch stayed where he was as Scotty leaned forward and crawled the short distance between them. Scotty’s cock was hardening, slowly, not fully hard yet but getting there. Previously Mitch had mostly done the fucking during their sex, but Scotty’s hard-on came from deciding he was going to be the one giving dick to Mitch’s ass this time. Scotty half-expected his friend to protest or try to reassert his leadership position, but Mitch simply sat as if spellbound by Scotty’s new virility, and he did not move as Scotty approached.

Scotty had grabbed Mitch around the torso, and they rolled, play-wrestling, though Mitch yielded too easily, grinning groggily. Scotty’s cock was fully stiff now. Scotty guided Mitch into the position he wanted, an arm around Mitch’s waist, bending him over, guiding him down onto his back. Mitch’s ankles seemed to fit naturally over Scotty’s shoulders. Mitch had offered a blow-job, but Scotty decided he wanted more. Mitch seemed to brace himself, but Scotty did not give him the benefit of any preparation. Mental “bodies” were constructs and needed no lubricant, Scotty reasoned; this was not the real world, so all he had to do was think and make it happen, right? Time to test that theory. Scotty leaned forward, pressed; his cock went right into Mitch’s asshole, and Mitch hollered, not in pain from being pierced dry, but from the pleasure of Scotty’s erection riding directly into his prostate. “Fuck, yeah!” Mitch swore. “Fuck me, Scotty!”

Scotty loved the way arousal shaded Mitch’s voice; knowing that Mitch was submitting to the ass-fucking, knowing Scotty himself was the reason for Mitch’s husky tone and his pleasure-cry gave Scotty a sense of incredible power. He felt proud and virile. Was this what Ron had felt? Was this how he got started? Scotty decided to worry about that later and concentrate on the now, on the pleasure of Mitch’s hole around his cock, and the pleasure that Scotty’s fuck was going to give both of them. He liked feeling dominant and strong, and he refused to hide it.

Grunting with smug satisfaction, Scotty pushed the rest of his dick into Mitch’s butt. Mitch growled in bliss; Scotty imagined Mitch was overwhelmed by Scotty’s new strength, unable to do more than submit to him. This feeling was a new thrill, and Scotty decided he could enjoy it, as long as he remembered submission had to be agreed to and given, not taken by force. That was what Ron had ignored. And what Mitch and Scotty were doing in this mental place was different from the way the physical world anyway; things worked easier here—want it and it happened, even without lube and twenty minutes of slobbery foreplay. Doing it next to their inert friend Ron felt a little weird but oddly thrilling too.

“Relax your ass,” Scotty mock-snarled, trying to sound tough and domineering. He spanked Mitch’s thigh for emphasis. Something about Mitch’s ass shifted, and allowed Scotty’s cock to slip into the hole even easier.

“Oh, wow!” Mitch laughed. “I don’t believe it.”

“Just what don’t you believe?”

“That you’re the one with your cock up my ass, and I’m the one getting fucked. I’ve usually been the one doing the fucking.“

Scotty laughed too. “Fuck you, Mitch.”

“That’s the idea, stud. Give me your dick! Fuck my ass, Mister M.V.P.!”

The mental version of Mitch’s ass accepted Scotty’s cock easily. Once he was sure Mitch was really submitting to what was happening to him and was not going to try to turn the tables somehow, Scotty was able to relax. His dick had room to move easily in and out of Mitch’s hole now, and Mitch shuddered in pleasure. Scotty watched Mitch’s face, the way his eyes clamped shut and the way his mouth kept making little sounds of passion. The feel of Mitch’s ass around his dick, the strength of Mitch’s muscles where their bodies pressed together, knowing Mitch’s ass and body were his to fuck gave Scotty the most intense rush he had ever known. His body was alive and singing.

“Fuck!” they swore in unison on Scotty’s in-strokes. “Fuck!”

Mitch’s body heaved under Scotty’s. “How’m I doing?” Scotty asked.

“Urk!” Mitch yelped with a grin, which was answer enough to Scotty’s question. Scotty had proven his point, and now he needed to make sure Mitch never forgot it—or Scotty—by giving him a screwing that he would remember for the rest of his life.

“Urgh-k-kuh,” from Mitch.

Scotty did not need Mitch’s assurances any longer. He latched onto Mitch’s nipples and gently pulled and twisted, making Mitch hiss in pleasure. He fucked Mitch slow and deep, then fast and shallow, then slow and deep again. Mitch made incoherent sounds. Knowing he had fucked his friend into an almost mindless state of bliss, not a fuck-trance but damn nice anyway, aroused Scotty too much, too fast. He felt himself climbing toward his orgasm. He grabbed hold of his friend’s dick and started to pump it furiously.

Mitch opened his eyes and managed, “I’m gonna shoot soon if you don’t slow down. I wanna make it last.”

“Me too.”

But instead of slowing down, Scotty began to fuck harder, deeper, wanting to hit all the best spots that made Mitch go wild, and each push-pull of his cock in Mitch’s squeezing hole tugged Scotty inevitably toward the sharp edge of orgasm, too soon.

Mitch’s cock began to throb in Scotty’s hand, and then cum erupted from it, and Mitch groaned some primal sound. Then Scotty too was there. He felt himself start to explode, but he thrust deeply into Mitch’s asshole, even as his body locked up and shuddered through his climax, and his balls emptied themselves in spurt after spurt, and orgasm shattered his consciousness.

Awareness returned slowly. Scotty found himself fully clothed; behind the wheel of Mister Rust Bucket. He was driving along a stretch of highway, with Ron dozing in the passenger seat beside him and Mitch napping in the back. Somehow he knew they had been on the road for a couple of hours already, though he did not remember getting in the car, or what time they had left. A mileage sign indicated that in another hour they would be reaching another city. Already, the way they had come—the path back to the hotel, even the name of it, the look of it, the city where it was located—were fading from his memory. Likely Mitch’s and Ron’s memories were also fading. This seemed to Scotty a necessary security tactic, tracks being covered, so that no one from the Institute would be able to pick the hotel’s location from his mind.

Mitch knew exactly where to go, every street, every turn. After he realized he somehow knew the route, he stopped questioning. Whoever planted the knowledge in his mind wanted to make sure they reached their end point.

“Maybe the Institute won’t be so bad,” Mitch said from the back seat. He had awakened a few blocks away from their destination. “It’s more like the Army than a prison, right? Once the basic training is over, they let the Talents have leave now and then, like when my cousin came home to visit a few times. We’ll come back and see you, Scotty, as much as we can. I promise.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Scotty said, looking at Mitch in the rearview mirror. But would the Mitch and Ron who came back to visit after training be anything like the Mitch and Ron who had been his friends for so many years growing up? Would the Scotty they found be the same as the one they remembered, or even the one who sat behind the steering wheel right then? Change was inevitable and unpredictable. Two weeks ago, having Talents for best friends, having sex with men, leaving home, all of it would have been unfathomable to that Scotty, whose life seemed a thousand years ago.

Scotty pulled up to the Institute recruitment field office, a small local outpost for the people who went out to “recruit” or “retrieve” or “capture” new Talents. He guided Rusty into the empty parking spot for visitors, right outside the front door. After so much effort in running from the Institute, driving right to it felt iffy, and part of Scotty hoped Mitch would change his mind and tell him to keep driving. But Ron, who still slept in the passenger seat, was a time bomb until he got trained. Mitch too. More inevitable changes to handle. Holding on to the way things had been would never work. Scotty understood he could no longer pretend he was still his small-town self living his insular life, using the way things had always been between them to keep change and the world away. Things never stayed still. Sex and control had been the ways Mitch and Ron tried to deal with their emerging selves. Well, all right—Scotty would have to find his own way. He knew he could no longer pretend to be living in a world without goodbye.

Ron woke when Mitch’s telepathy touched his mind and broke the fragile lock that had kept him slumbering. Ron yawned and blinked and looked around, but he seemed to understand where they were and why. No words were spoken. Ron seemed to accept what needed to happen.

The three friends group-hugged one last time on the curb outside the front door. Scotty considered kissing them—after all the sex they had shared, something more than a hug seemed warranted, but a kiss would have felt too final. Instead, after another promise from Mitch to visit, Scotty gave back only a smile and a promise to be waiting. Was this, he wondered, the sort of placating thing adults said to each other when they said goodbye?

Ron said nothing and looked at the door. Then he hugged his friends to him again and said, “I’m such as fucking asshole.”

Scotty felt vindicated, a bit: some part of the old Ron had remained, underneath. Maybe changes were not always absolute. “True,” he smiled, “but you’re our asshole.“

Farewells were inevitable. Scotty stepped back. He waved. They waved.

Scotty turned the key in Mister Rust Bucket, which started on the second try. He put the car in gear and pulled away from the curb. The traffic light turned red and he stopped. Scotty turned the rearview mirror so he could watch as his friends opened the office door, paused, then disappeared inside into whatever awaited them. He watched another few seconds after the door closed.

Ahead, the traffic light cycled to green. Scotty did not look back again. He eased the car forward and began his long drive home.