Date: Sat, 9 Dec 2006 05:06:51 -0800 (PST)
From: Alistair Bentley <xformguy@yahoo.com>
Subject: Headshop-Neighbors-Chapter 12-Lifestyles

Headshop: Neighbors
Chapter 12: Lifestyles

By Xformguy@yahoo.com

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I owe my fanbase many apologies for disappearing as I did. My real life
has kept me busy, but I am hale and healthy. Thank you all for your
concern and thank you for keeping your interest!

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Before Cameron could say anything, his neck was wrapped up in Sarge's iron
arms and choked in a half-nelson. He was on his knees before he could
react, Sarge behind him, wrestling him effortlessly to the floor with a
martial skill and a strength that frightened Cameron. In this twink body,
he didn't have near the strength he needed to resist, so the best thing was
to go with it. He felt Sarge's hot breath on his ear and felt his chest hit
the ground.

When it ended, Sarge was sitting on his upper back and Cameron's arms were
pinned to his sides by Sarge's calved and boots. Sarge was working on his
shoes, pulling his feet backward and prying them and his socks off.

"Not . . . Brandon . . ." Cameron choked out. He could barely get in enough
breath to speak. As much as he wriggled, Cameron could barely move and his
eyes watered with the effort of breathing. It didn't matter to Sarge, who
kept working on his shorts.

With a heave, Sarge pulled Cameron's legs backward over his body until his
hips left the floor. Tucking them under his arms, Cameron felt Sarge's
hands working his belt and the catch of his shorts until they were
loose. Sarge pulled them and his jock off, exposing the hard-on that
Cameron was embarrassed to be having in this situation. Sarge pulled it
down, so that it stuck out between his legs, then released his legs. His
hips hit the floor, smacking his cock and nuts hard on the floor.

Sarge's fingers started probing Cameron's smooth ass and unceremoniously
inserted a thick finger into his pucker. Cameron grunted and Sarge sat down
hard on his back to punctuate he should keep silent. All the air vacated
Cameron's lungs; he couldn't talk now if he wanted to. Sarge withdrew his
finger just as roughly, seemed to consider something, the proceeded to bend
Cameron into a hellish yoga position. Sarge dismounted his back while he
did this and Cameron gasped for air. He was about to tell Sarge again that
he wasn't Brandon when the pain hit.

Sarge bent Cameron's legs backward over his back far enough that Cameron's
arms could reach directly back to grab his knees. He didn't know quite how
Sarge was doing this, but Cameron realized he couldn't move his body at all
- - he stayed in whatever position Sarge put him. Only his belly was
touching the floor - - his chest and ass were both elevated off the floor,
held in place by his own arms. The pain in his abs and lower back was
tremendous, and Cameron tried to let go of is knees, but his hands simply
wouldn't obey his mind's orders. He was stuck this way.

Sarge then pushed his forehead backward as far as his neck would extend,
until his entire body was one huge curve of pain. This made breathing
difficult, but Cameron choked out, "Not. . . Brandon. . ." again.

Sarge squatted down in front of Cameron, perched on his combat boots, and
stared down into Cameron's face. "I know who you are and who you aren't,"
he said with a wicked smile, "I don't care. The body you're in belongs to
me, whomever is driving it. You'll follow my rules."

"Don't . . . know . . . the rules . . ." Cameron said, ragged breath pushed
out of his throat by his stressed diaphragm.

"You will," Sarge said simply, "My first boy will be along to explain
them. Now that you know what punishment is like, you'll follow them." With
that, Sarge stood up, collected the wriggling Guillarmo from the end table,
and left the apartment.

"Please!" Cameron called after him, his eye streaming tears from the pain
in his muscles, but Sarge either didn't hear or didn't care. The door
clicked closed.

Cameron stayed in that position. He was bent back so far he could see his
own feet, arched behind his back, in his peripheral vision. He didn't have
command of any of his muscles and his own hands were holding his knees and
legs into this position. His entire torso and lower back burned with the
forced stretch, but it wasn't long before the ball of his shoulders and the
compressed muscles of his upper back started to ache also. He tried to let
go. Tried to will his fingers to release his knees, but the simply
wouldn't. He tried to tilt his head forward, to ease the pressure on his
throat so he could breath, but he simply couldn't. No matter how hard he
willed it to happen, his body stayed just as it was.

The time that passed became a blur of pain. Waves of it would come up as
his body ached. The pain would get stronger and stronger until he thought
his muscles would simply snap, then he'd be driven into a numbness of ache
as his brain shut off. It wasn't sleep and it wasn't restful, but his mind
would simply skitter off the tracks until the pain got bad enough to snap
him out of reverie. He cursed for a while, but that did nothing to ease;
talking only ripped air out of his throat like he was exhaling knives.

Then it started to happen. He guessed that enough hours had passed, but
Cameron's cock got artificially hard and wet. It had been flaccid and
hanging down between his hyper-extended legs, but was his erection
spontaneously grew, he felt the glans touch the carpet. Fuck. The curse was
happening. He'd been this way for hours. The fact of that so much time had
passed disturbed him nearly as much as the fact that he was about to become
younger and nothing could stop it. His body broke out into a cold sweat as
the pleasure in his cock started to build up and radiate, intermixing with
the pain he was in, forming some strange admixture that overloaded his
mind. Any kind of rational thought was impossible as the intensity of the
pleasure built, sending shivers and shudders up his curved spine, down his
arched legs. He quivered on the floor, completely helpless, as the
intensity reached a final, shattering crescendo that sent cum pumping out
of him onto the floor.

And then the warmth spread over him, attacking his cock and balls first,
but moving like a thick liquid over the surfaces of his body. At first, it
soothed his muscles, but then it burned him. He felt it deepen into his
flesh, soaking down to his bones. His body shook with several violent
shudders as it was forced younger, moving backward through puberty by a
compelling force it couldn't control, reversing his human development
backward along its tracks to a state of immaturity. Cameron felt it hit the
meat of his mind and found himself - - all the personality, memories, and
thoughts that made him who he was - - pitch off center until they tumbled
into a heap. HE - - all that was HIM - - was a mass of tangled threads he
couldn't begin to unravel until the FUCKING PAIN STOPPED!

He wanted to scream. Moaning was the best he could do. And he did it, as
his skeleton seemed to vibrate inside of him and shrink, twist, change,
moving his flesh along with it. Maybe it wouldn't have hurt as much if he
hadn't been stuck in this fucked up yoga pose - - he didn't know or care -
- he just hurt.

And it subsided over time, evaporating off him like his own sweat, leaving
behind a residue of ache. Cameron drifted into the semi-consciousness
again, a gray place that offered a dulling of the pain at least. He was
brought out of it slowly when he realized someone else was in the room. He
opened his eyes and looked up into the gigantic build of the guy from the
diner, his face a mask of masculine lines and power, his body a titanic
frame of muscle. It was accentuated now even moreso, as he had Duane's
unconscious body slung over his shoulder, carried as effortless as a towel
might be. Duane was a big man and for this guy to heft him around was
beyond impressive.

Cameron watched as the guy carefully deposited Duane on the couch. Duane
was wearing only a pair of baggy jeans, but was shirtless and barefoot,
showing off a body that was more muscular and smoother than it had
been. His flesh looked artificially smooth now, like it was a synthetic
plastic or something. But, as Cameron's mind became conscious, the pain
blasted back into his world with a terrible force, distracting him.

When he opened his eyes, he was starting up at the guy, but his vision
stopped at the guy's crotch. He would've had to bent back farther to look
at his face. To do that would have snapped his body in half. Thankfully,
the guy squatted down just like Sarge had done, getting his face in line
with Cameron's.

The guy reached over and lightly slapped Cameron's face, making sure he had
his attention. When Cameron's eyes came alert, the guy spoke to him. "You
remember me from the diner?"

"Yes . . ." Cameron spat wetly, "James . . ."

"I'm Sarge's first boy," he explained, "I collect the rent. Rule One: you
owe him $10,000 per week or a body, a guy you've changed that he can play
with. He took that Spanish cock guy last night so you're square for now,
got it?" James punctuated the question with another light slap on Cameron's
cheek.

"Yes . . ." Cameron said.

"Rule Two: Only Sarge fucks you," he said, "or whomever Sarge says. You let
Tarzan. . ." James jerked his thumb toward couch where Duane lay insensate,
" . . . fuck you. That's why you're being punished."

James reached into his pocket and pulled out a black, rubbery mass that
quickly oozed into a round ball from the shape it had been twisted into
inside his pocket. James held it up before Cameron's eyes. "This . . ." he
said, "was a 57 year old corporate executive named Warren St. Claire, who
paid Sarge a tremendous amount of money to be turned into this ball of
stuff."

Cameron looked confused - - what?! Paid to be a ball of rubber?! James
looked at Cameron, then at the ball. "I don't get it either," James said,
"but I don't have to. Neither do you. You just have to live with it."

James put the ball of rubber onto Cameron's lower back, just over where his
glutes were clenched together. Cameron started to panic - - what the fuck
was going to happen?? - - and he felt something oozing down his
ass-crack. It had to be the ball of rubber. He shuddered as it zeroed in on
his pucker and started to press against it - - going from liquid and
pliable to firm as it needed to pry its way inside. This thing - - this
transformed guy! - - was invading his body!!

"No!" Cameron gasped, "Stop!"

James slapped him again, this time a little harder. "You get used to
it. I've got one as a jockstrap."

The rubber thing flowed into him, filling up his rectum. He felt it there,
lodging itself, putting pressure on his prostate, causing him to spring
another erection. He felt it moving of its own accord, flowing deeper,
twisting around, but he felt the base of it sticking out of his ass like a
butt plug. His asshole clenched and that seemed to make the thing more
excited and active. It pressed against his sphincter, growing thicker until
his asshole stretched wide, then it would release and go back to a small
pucker. Fuck!! Cameron's mind swirled with the sensation. It was too much
for him to process. This thing was going to live inside him!!

"Only Sarge can remove it," James told him.

It took a few minutes, but the thing settled down into the shape of a
standard plug, big enough for Cameron to feel it's presence, but no so
large it was painful.

"You've still go the same curse," James told him, "Every twelve hours,
yadda yadda . . .but we're giving you Tarzan for your own. You can keep
him. Do whatever you need or want to do with him." James pressed his legs
and stood up. He reached down, tapped Cameron on the forehead and said
"Release."

Cameron could move again. With a scream of pain, he flopped onto the floor,
his muscles unknotting with an agony that Cameron didn't think was possible
to experience and still be alive. He lay on the floor, panting. As he
moved, he felt the thing in his ass strongly, felt the hard edges between
his glutes. He struggled to sit up, but it hurt to move. When he did, he
could feel the weight and thickness of the plug shift inside him as his
muscles worked. He bent forward, stretching his back muscles the other
direction and winced at the pain. His fingers reached between his legs and
found the stem of the plug. He pried at it with his finger tips, but the
edges had glued themselves to his flesh in such a form-fitting manner that
he couldn't get his fingernails under it. He tried for several minutes, but
the thing wouldn't budge. FUCK!

When Cameron looked up, James had gone. He was alone with a sleeping Duane
on the couch and a thing up his ass. He slowly stood upright on shaky
muscles and almost immediately the plug shifted and pressed against his
prostate. OHGOD! It started to vibrate on it. Then the vibrations started
making circular motions. His cock stood straight up and thick gouts of
precum started to leak out. Jesus! How was he going to keep control of
this?! It was bad enough being an adolescent again, but now he was going to
not just be constantly horny, but constantly stimulated!? Fuck!

In the bathroom, Cameron looked at himself in the mirror. However much he
had been losing his adult features, they were gone. He was a boy now^Åno
more than sixteen. Despite this, his cock was and balls were fully
developed, and right now, his cock stood erect at its full ten, smooth,
pink inches. He reached down instinctively and started jacking off. The
plug in his ass vibrated again, making him reel. His legs, already
practically jelly from the yoga position, buckled. Cameron caught himself
on the edge of the counter, but couldn't seem to remove his hand from his
cock. He knew he had to stop and right now! He was already getting close to
an orgasm.

He stumbled into the shower and winced as he poured ice cold water over his
body. He screamed as his body reacted, falling into a trembling, shuddering
heap against the shower wall. His erection thankfully subsided and the
thing in his ass relaxed its stimulation.

Cameron showered, eventually risking a little warm water and driving the
chill out of him. His muscles ached liked a motherfuck, but he forced
himself through as much of the normal movements as possible. Looking down
at himself, he was freaked out. He'd become a boy again. A nearly hairless,
un-muscled boy with a big cock. In his mind, he was having trouble thinking
again. Whenever he focused on his body, on sex, he reached a clarity of
thought. But whenever he tried to remember who he was, what his life had
been like, he became jumbled.

Cameron remembered being older, but somehow, it felt more like a fantasy
now than a memory. He wanted to be older, to have body hair like an adult,
to be tall and masculine and muscular. He looked down at his twink self and
felt a wide sadness; he might never be that with his body type. He tried to
remember his old job, but the law seemed like a maze of instructions and
counter-instructions remembered from a tv show, not his reality. He doubted
he'd ever be smart enough to be a lawyer. Whatever he remembered about his
former life, it was fading.

Cameron held on to the realization that it WAS his former life. He forced
himself to KNOW it wasn't a fantasy or a dream^Åit had been real. He needed
to force Brandon - - who piloted his former body now - - to switch back
with him. He needed to do it quickly before he became in mind the boy he
was in body.

Cameron switched off the water and dried off with the towel, touching every
corner of himself with equal parts fascination and horror. He was a boy
again. He tried to remember his real boyhood. How had it been to be sixteen
in his former body? He remembered having more body hair, being stronger,
but then he wondered if that was just a fantasy again? It twisted in his
head, memories being slowly gutted of experience and context until they
were pale pasteboards of what he should be able to remember. He couldn't
remember the first time he fucked a girl. But the very thought of a pussy
made him slightly queasy. He held his face in his hands, and only slowly
removed them to really look at himself in the mirror. He was a boy. He was
some other person now. He was experiencing some other person's
adolescence. It wasn't just a superficial physical change . . . he knew his
brain was changing . . . and with it, his real identity.

And then the butt plug went off. It started to vibrate again, growing
slowly longer as he sat on the closed toilet, extending slowly deeper into
him. He was getting fucked by this thing, slow and long. It reached into
him, growing thicker as it did, and retreated, growing thinner. It took one
oscillation for Cameron's cock to get hard. He didn't think he'd ever
gotten an erection so fast and it hurt a little, bobbing rigid before
him. He sat on his hands immediately, willing himself not to touch it. But
the plug kept doing it to him. He was going to pop. He needed to fuck
someone. And there was only Duane available.

Cameron found himself standing naked over Duane. He had his hands clasped
tight across his chest and felt his cock rumble and tremble as it dislodged
a dollop of pre-cum that slowly dripped from his cock head to Duane's
sleeping chest like syrup. Cameron watched it slide into the grooves of
Duane's developed pecs. And that was too much for him.

Cameron couldn't fuck Duane the way he was, a man-ape of tremendous
strength. He knew that Duane would overpower him. Despite the plug, the
thought of Duane's gigantic cock sliding into his gut made him shudder with
fear. With everything else he'd become, he didn't relish becoming Duane's
sexual gumby toy. Cameron padded over to his jeans where Sarge had left
them. Inside was the vial that the guy from the headshop had given him; the
potion that would remake Duane.

He stood over Duane and tried to stop himself. He loved Duane. He did. Just
looking at his sleeping face made his heart pour out emotions that hit him
like a chemical high. This was the pure love and obsession that adolescents
feel. He knew it was immature. He knew it was wrong. But the thought of
living without Duane - - especially trapped in this fucked up situation - -
was impossible to really contemplate. The thought of leaving Duane like he
was - - a mutating, stupid man-ape - - was equally as appalling. What he
was about to do would benefit them both.

Cameron uncorked the bottle and gently poured the liquid into Duane's
mouth. Duane came awake immediately and Cameron jumped back. Duane sat up
and swallowed, then looked agape at Cameron. "What the fuck?"

Duane looked down at his hands, as if he knew something was happening, but
couldn't understand what. He stood up violently, hitting his full 6'6"
height and towering over Cameron. Duane's face was lined with
confusion. "What's happening here?" he asked thickly, "¿Qué está sucediendo
aquí?"

When the Spanish flowed out of Duane, Cameron felt something in him
swoon. He loved Duane even more and wanted to touch him, but something was
happening to Duane's body. He winced, doubled over a little, then reached
down to his groin.

"¡Qué usted hizo a mí?!" Duane shouted. Duane fumbled with his jeans, but
managed to push them down to his ankles. He might've stepped out of them if
his feet weren't so gigantic. The looked at his cock, which was getting
erect and starting its insane growth, filling out to its full length. But,
as even as it passed it's 20th inch, something happened. Duane grunted
again and watched as his pink cock started to collapse in on itself. He
held it tight, then fell back onto the couch in pain. His cock compressed
back to a more normal size, as it some invisible hand were shoving it back
inside his body. As it shrank in length, it grew thicker and meatier, and
the skin darkened several shades. Duane yelled at Cameron, "¡Mi pene! ¿Qué
usted ha hecho a mi pene!?"

When it was done, Duane's cock was a hefty ten inches, thick as a beer can,
and had a dark, thick foreskin that overhang by a huge amount, even when it
was rock hard. His nuts were dark handful and clung against he base of his
cock like a baseball, his sack full of liquid and inflated smooth. Duane's
whole body shuddered and Cameron could see it change subtly. He was getting
younger, just like Cameron had gotten younger, the thirty-five year old
body giving way to a fresher, healthy version of itself.

Duane's dirty-blond pubes suddenly turned black and the preternatural
smoothness of his crotch ended. Hair burst up in a line from his crotch to
his navel and hair sprouted in a wave down his legs and across the tops of
his feet. The hair was jet black against his creamy skin and didn't invade
his torso, much to Cameron's surprise. His arms sprouted the same hair on
his forearms and Duane cursed a stream of obscenities in Spanish as it
happened.

Duane's torso heaved and flexed as the changes happened and Cameron watched
him get even younger, slowly settling into the form of a young man. Cameron
watched it happen, but could hardly believe it. Duane was losing both
height and mass by the moment, his body shrinking down from its imposing
6'6" height into something smaller and compact. He was still built like a
body-builder and his feet were still two or three sizes wider and longer
than they should be, but he was definitely no longer the Duane he had
remembered.

Duane's dirty-blond hair lost its curl and turned a shiny, jet black
against his skull and a line of black stubble sprouted along the curve of
his jaw in a thin beard that ended in a goatee around his mouth. His lips
inflated and his eyes grew inky black as Cameron watched. Duane's skin tone
changed, darkening to a light olive. "¡Usted me ha dado vuelta en un
gamberro español! ¡usted gilipollas!"

Duane fumbled out of his jeans and stalked across the room toward Cameron
with his fists clenched. Cameron backed up against the wall fearing a
beating, but when Duane's face got into Cameron's, when those black eyes
peered into his own, something happened. Duane's expression changed like a
light switch and Duane dropped to his knees and took Cameron's cock in his
hands. His expression was one of defiance and lust mixed together, as if
Duane were assaulting Cameron with his attention. Duane wiped the head of
Cameron's cock against his thick lips, smearing pre-cum there. Duane licked
his lips with his thick tongue and nodded his head aggressively toward
Cameron, confirming what he was demanding from him.

Then, Duane engulfed Cameron's cock and started blowing him with a passion
that pushed Cameron against the wall, gasping in pleasure. It was as if
Cameron couldn't remember being blown before, as if this experience was his
very first blow job. He shuddered at the intensity and gasped for
air. Duane knew this was the case and he teased Cameron relentlessly,
pulling on Cameron's nuts, twisting them to keep him from cumming took
quickly. The plug inside of Cameron got into the action too, throbbing
wider and thicker, then releasing thinner . . . working Cameron's sphincter
over and over. Cameron couldn't hold out long and was shooting ropes of cum
into Duane's mouth. Duane swallowed every inch of his cock and every drop
of his cum, teasing Cameron's glans with his tongue until Cameron screamed
and jerked in oversensitive apoplexy.

Then Duane stood up suddenly, pressed his body against Cameron's
sweat-slicked skin, and kissed him, transfer some of Cameron's cum back to
Cameron on his tongue. Cameron panted, overwhelmed. Between the plug in his
ass doing gymnastics, the incredible blow job, and the muscular tension
he'd lived through, he physically couldn't process anything. He stood
there, pressed against Duane, his head on Duane's shoulder. Duane was
holding him up bodily.

"Usted coño," Duane spat at him in mock annoyance. Well, Cameron thought it
was mock. It was hard to tell. The way Duane's face registered emotion was
different now. He spoke the words, flipping his head back, jutting out his
chin, as his thick lips formed the words. He felt such love for Duane and
from Duane's eyes, Cameron could see that there was emotion being returned,
but the hardness of his tone of voice denied it. It was as if Duane didn't
want to admit it.

Duane bent down a little and picked Cameron up over his shoulder. He
carried Cameron into the bedroom without much trouble, angling him through
the doorways, the depositing him on the bed carefully. Duane stood there
. . . grabbed his thick cock, still rock hard and played with it, moving
the foreskin back and forth over the head as if trying to figure out how it
worked. He eventually peeled the skin all the way back, exposing his pink
glans, wet with precum. Duane grabbed one of Cameron's ankles and lifted
it, is fingers reached down to his crack, but finding the solid plug there.

"¿Qué demonios es esta cosa?" Duane said, his thick, black eyebrows
knitting quizzically, "¿Usted tiene un tapón en su culo? ¿Cómo soy supuesto
joderle?" Cameron felt Duane's fingers prying at the plug, but it had
sealed itself against Cameron's skin like the liquid it was. Cameron let
him try, after all, he wanted the plug out of him and if Duane could get a
grip, then all the better. But Duane ended up cursing and giving up. He
jacked his thick cock a couple of times, then spun Cameron around by his
ankle until Cameron's head was pointed at his cock.

"Chúpelo, el coño," Duane barked. And Cameron did. He opened his mouth and
Duane slid his fireplug into it and down Cameron's throat. Duane held
Cameron's head steady while he pumped in and out brutally, gagging Cameron
on his cock. "Chúpelo quiere a un chico bueno. Atienda a a un hombre
verdadero."

It didn't take long for Duane to start shooting into Cameron's mouth. With
a slurred curse that Cameron didn't register, Duane started moaning thickly
and then he was blasting. He ended up smearing cum on Cameron's face to
clear off his dick. "Ahora usted pertenece a mí, culo," Duane said. He
shoved Cameron over on the bed, then crawled in next to him, wrapping his
arms around Cameron, kissing his neck wetly. He shoved them both over under
the blankets until Cameron was trapped against the wall, covered by his
embrace. Cameron fell asleep with Duane's cock nestled between cheeks.

When Cameron woke up, he realized that Duane wasn't in the bed with him. He
rolled over, feeling the burn of the abused muscles in his back and belly,
and saw Duane standing in front of the mirror, his fingers tracing his
face. Duane was wearing only a pair of Cameron's jeans. Cameron watched as
Duane touched his face, then ran his hands over his ripped torso, probing
the mounds of muscles and the unfamiliar black body hair.

He cocked his head to Cameron and said, "Yo no puedo creer que usted me
cambió en esto. ¿Cómo soy supuesto trabajar? ¡Joda! ¡Puedo ni hablo inglés!
¡Cómo podría hacer usted esto a mí?!"

Cameron saw the annoyance on Duane's new face, felt the hit of his voice
like a punch. He was pissed off and his whole body registered the threat of
violence. This was so unlike the Duane that Cameron had known, but he
realized that he was attracted to it. As if to punctuate this, the plug in
his ass pulses and squirmed and he had the briefest surge of blood to his
cock. He lay back and sighed. He soooo didn't want to be horned up right
now. His body ached as it was and his mind was still overloaded with all
that had happened.

"Culo! ¡Ahora usted me ignora!" Duane spat. He stalked out of the bathroom,
pulled on a shirt, grabbed some shoes and left the apartment with a slam of
the door. Cameron let him. He realized that Duane would have to get used to
his new body and he pushed off the guilt that was forming at having changed
him. He kept telling himself it was to keep Duane from becoming some mutant
freak, but he wondered.

He loved Duane. He surprised himself with how completely he did. Maybe it
had finally gotten through to him. After he'd been transferred to Brandon's
body, all the fraternal affection he'd felt for his best friend had gotten
tangled with Brandon's gayness until now, he loved his best friend. He
couldn't bear watching Duane turn into a man-ape again, getting so
stupid. But why had he turned him into a Spanish boy? Why that? He knew it
was because that's what Brandon was attracted to - - knew he was becoming
more and more Brandon by the second. Part of him didn't care anymore.

And that part had to be fought. Cameron got out of bed and dressed. He
collected the special pot, the double bong, and the knotted rope, intent on
using them on his former body, to transfer himself back into it. Down the
hallway, Cameron stopped when he realized that the door to his old
apartment was open. He approached it, a feeling of deep dread washing over
him as he looked into his former home . . . only to find it empty.

Literally everything was gone! His apartment, his things, his LIFE was
gone! He drifted into the middle of the living room, his emotions quiet, as
he stared at the empty walls, as his vision splashed into the empty
corners, seeking any detail of his former life. It was all gone. He moved
into the bedroom, checked out the closets, the drawers in the bathroom
lavatory - - everything was gone! Completely gone!

And Cameron had no way to know where Brandon had gone. With the money in
his accounts, Brandon could've moved nearly anywhere. And of course, there
could always be Sarge. Who knows what Sarge or James could've done with his
body? To Brandon who occupied it? Cameron just shook his head.

The panic that he'd staved off rose up inside Cameron hard and he found
himself sitting cross-legged on the floor of his old apartment, bent over,
staring at the grain of the hardwood floors as if it held the answers he
needed. How much time passed, he didn't know. The wood grain didn't hold
any answers.

It wasn't until he felt strong hands on his shoulders and Duane's voice
saying "¿Está bien usted?" did Cameron snap out of it. When he raised his
head, something washed out of him. He was in the body of a sixteen year old
boy. He had a 20-something year-old latin muscle boy as a lover. He owed
Sarge money or bodies, every week. He had to cum inside someone every 12
hours or get even younger than he was now. This was his life now. When he
raised his head, he resigned himself to it. There was - - finally - - no
other choice.

Cameron spent a long time adapting. Days passed, with Cameron fucking Duane
every 12 hours like clockwork. Duane, for all his Spanish bluster,
submitted each and every time, shooting his load in time with Cameron's,
his mouth open and his eyes squeezed shut in bliss. Cameron didn't get any
younger, but neither did he get any older. He was stuck, growing up again
and wondered idly if he should re-enroll in high school. He wondered about
the high school boys, but then shook those thoughts out of his head. Was he
a pedophile if he himself was a boy?

During the day, they cleaned the apartment and played video games, hanging
out, enjoying the money that Brandon had amassed. Cameron paid Sarge money
to keep him at bay. Once a week, James would show up and receive the
payment, then leave them alone. Weeks passed and the money was starting to
dwindle, leaving Cameron in a quandary of what to do. Could he bring
himself to give Sarge a body? A guy he duped into becoming an animal or
worse? He wasn't sure, but the memory of the yoga punishment and the sheer
terror of what else Sarge could and would do to him kept the thought in his
mind.

In the end, it was Duane who brought some guy home from a club. On the
couch, playing video games, watching porn at the same time, the guy lit up
one of the joints from Brandon's stash, and slowly turned into a plastic
statue, mid-sentence, mid punch of the joystick. James showed up not long
after that with a cardboard box. Cameron watched with a sick feeling as
James dismantled the mannequin, seam by seam, stripping him as he went,
until the guy was a pile of naked body parts in a box. Cameron knew he was
still conscious while this happened and he never asked James what had
become of the guy. Duane just looked on with a defiant expression. It's
what had to be done.

Cameron knew that Duane was protecting them and somewhere in his head, the
moral implications of it registered but were ignored by necessity. He had
been a lawyer, trained in evaluating justice, but those memories were so
hollow now that his adolescent brain just accepted the judgment of his
older, more worldly lover.

Duane played the same game the next week, only this time, it was with a
businessman who seemed all too willing to trick with a 20-year old latin
boy. Worse, he seemed utterly fascinated by Cameron's adolescent boy body
and paid them several hundred for a feel. During it, Cameron put on the
ring around his cock, and ended up stealing his manhood. With his cock and
balls detached, the guy freaked out and was ejected from the
apartment. Duane, whose command of English was growing by the day, told him
to bring back money if he wanted his cock back. The guy did, and thus, they
made their payment.

The schemes, the guys, all continued, day by day. Cameron's favorite was
the 18 year old son of a wealthy couple five floor overhead, who liked
playing video games with him and who liked getting stoned. He always seemed
to enjoy getting turned into things, different each time, and never seemed
to freak out about it afterward. He kept coming back of his own accord and
kept getting fucked by Cameron's cock each time.

The months wore on and slowly, Cameron could see that he was aging a
little. Slowly, his body started to acquire a quasi-adult look. He might've
been aging a little faster than was normal, but aging 2 years for every 1
that passed was still slow going. Between Duane and the kid from upstairs,
he'd managed not to shoot outside a body for a whole year, despite that the
plug in his ass tried to surprise him at odd moments. He'd grown an iron
will about shooting, which is something he never remembered from his real
adolescence. After a year, whatever memories of his former life he once had
were so pale that they barely held meaning.

After a year of good behavior, Sarge showed up and, in a terrifying and
manhandling way, removed the plug. Sarge then fucked him for over an hour,
careful not to make him shoot his load, and left without replacing the
plug. Cameron had never been so happy to have his ass empty, but had to get
used to taking a shit again. Before, the plug had just seemed to absorb the
material - - which was so gross that Cameron purposefully didn't
contemplate it.

They settled into a routine easily enough and life was stable. Duane and he
were in love, but that didn't stop Duane from carousing without
him. Cameron was too young to get into the clubs that Duane frequented - -
even at the equivalent of 18 years old, he looked like a boy - - so Cameron
found other routes. He hung out with that Ollie guy from the headshop, but
they never had sex. It was a platonic friendship and helped balance out
Cameron's destroyed social circle.

It was about then that Cameron noticed him. A guy had moved into his
apartment. The guy was thirty-something, tall and athletically built. From
the uniforms he wore in and out, he gathered the guy was on a baseball team
- - probably a work-related thing - - and also he enjoyed soccer. Cameron
could spy him in those tight baseball pants, jersey and cap and immediately
spring a hard-on. Likewise, seeing him in those flimsy soccer shorts and
knee high socks highlighted the guy's body. Cameron kept thinking about
him, even when Duane was blowing him.

The guy was everything Cameron wished he'd grow up to be: strong,
masculine, hairy. The guy's face was square and angular and over the
months, he watched the guy try a full beard, a goatee, then shave it all
off. Cameron wished he could grow facial hair, but he was a twink, and
could barely work up a pube bush, much less a beard. The guy had a friend
as well, just like him, a bud that hung out in the apartment with him from
time-to-time.

And that's when the plot hatched in Cameron's mind. He took stock of the
supplies in the stash drawer, and found something familiar. He watched the
guy carefully, finding the right window into the guy's habits. Finding the
right time to spring the trap. Using rubber gloves, he crept out into the
hallway at 4:30pm one Friday afternoon, and smeared a thick gel on the
guy's doorknob, the retreated to his apartment to watch.

The guy came home right on time, around 5:00pm, dressed in his suit with
the suit coat over a shoulder and his leather briefcase in the other
hand. He approached the door, turned the key in the deadbolt, the grabbed
the knob. He immediately started cursing and Cameron ducked back into his
apartment to wait, his cock hardening in his jeans at the thought of what
would happen next. The guy went into his apartment and Cameron
waited. About 10 minutes later, he crept up to the guy's door and pushed
his ear to it. Inside he heard strange noises, grunting and moaning, a
little thrashing. He knew it was happening.

Knocking on the door softly, he said, "Little pig, little pig, let me in
. . ."