Date: Wed, 21 Jun 2006 12:42:59 -0700 (PDT)
From: Alistair Bentley <xformguy@yahoo.com>
Subject: Headshop-Neighbors-Chapter 9-Moving In

Headshop: Neighbors
Chapter 9: Moving In

By Xformguy@yahoo.com

Cameron rolled himself off the bed and onto his feet - - no, Brandon's
feet. It was becoming increasingly hard to make the distinction in his
head; to remember that his consciousness had been transferred to this body
against his will and that it wasn't his home. The longer he lived in it,
the more it seemed comfortable, the more he bonded with it - - and he hated
Brandon for that.

He was becoming Brandon, feeling Brandon's urges. Even now, he sidled up
behind his best friend, Duane -- transformed into a huge, muscle-bound
man-ape -- not only without hesitation, but with fervor. He wanted to fuck
his best friend. He wanted to do it not just for his own physical release,
but to show his best friend how much he loved him. It was how he remembered
feeling when he'd fucked his girlfriends, but that seemed so long ago, a
set of very pale memories.

Duane grunted his impatience. He stood there, a hulking figure. Duane's
torso had grown too large and wide hold up and he was bent over, resting on
his knuckles and his columnar arms. Cameron could see how his thighs and
calves had shortened a little, so they stood up straight, presenting his
round, bubble ass to Cameron for fucking. The angle of Duane's back, how he
had to carry himself in this ape-like pose, was perfect for Cameron to
insert himself.

And he did. Without lube and without hesitation, he slid Brandon's 10-inch
pink pole slowly into his best friend. Duane's ass clenched and unclenched,
allowing him smooth entry all the way to Cameron's base. With his cock
inside the wet furnace of his friend - - the man he honestly loved now - -
Cameron lost his composure and started to thrust with abandon, his body
moving on a blissful autopilot. The worry, the strangeness of what was
happening, dissolved completely with the sheer physical actions his body
was performing. And Duane took it all with aplomb, his huge body shivering
and grunting, easily absorbing the impact of Cameron's thrusts.

Inside Duane, Cameron felt the huge knot of his prostate, and was rubbing
his 10-incher against it with every thrust. Cameron raised up on the balls
of feet, leaning heavily onto Duane's body as he pistoned forward. The
orgasm that had been staved off by Duane crushing his nuts a few minutes
ago reasserted itself with a powerful vengeance, and welled up inside
Cameron without preamble. One minute he was focused on his cock and the
beautiful feel of fucking his friend, the next, a geyser of physical,
emotional and spiritual sensation was shooting up from his pelvis and
overwhelming him. He shot. He spewed an untold amount of liquid into his
friend, moaning the entire time.

Cameron had a white-out, where his brain shut off as chemicals were
released into it. When he came aware again, he was still inside Duane, his
head arched over and pressed against Duane's rippling back, trying
desperately to catch his breath. He was high now. The haze from the pot
he'd smoked . . . something was happening . . . it was fusing with the high
from fucking. His head reeled and he couldn't concentrate on anything but
how excellent he felt right now . . . both physically and how much in love
with Duane he'd become. Cameron was more wasted now than he'd ever been.

Duane's ass clenched around his base. Then it did it again, strong enough
to hurt. Cameron pushed on Duane's back to right himself.

"Duane not done," Duane complained, his voice deep and threatening.

Impossibly, Cameron was still hard, but his cock was hypersensitive. Even a
test thrust caused him to squirm uncomfortably inside of Duane. "I
. . . can't . . . yet," Cameron panted.

Duane stepped back, causing Cameron to stumble onto his feet, and
ultimately to fall onto the bed, pulling himself completely out of
Duane. With soft thuds on the carpet, Duane circled around and faced
Cameron, his mammoth cock poking up out of his crotch along his torso,
dripping a river of pre-cum from the helmet that stared Cameron in the
face.

"Duane not done," Duane said, grabbing Cameron's ankle and flipping him
unceremoniously over onto his chest.

Still in his profound haze, Cameron knew what was coming, and the thought
of being skewered on Duane's oversized cock frightened him. He'd never been
penetrated by more than a doctor's finger at a prostate exam and couldn't
imagine Duane's cock would be an easy fit. Yet, before he could react,
Duane's thick fingers were poking at him and Cameron found Brandon's
asshole reacting by spreading involuntarily. He shifted his weight, tried
to crawl away from it, but Duane's massive hand came down on his upper back
and shoved him down onto the mattress. Duane was just too strong now to
fight. Duane's other hand wrapped around his thigh and spread Cameron's
legs wide, positioning himself.

"Duane's juice makes you stretchy," Duane said dumbly and Cameron wondered
exactly that that meant, but he could feel Duane spread pre-cum on his hole
with his fingertips. And then, he felt the weight of Duane behind him and
the apple-sized head of Duane's cock pressing.

Something happened. Cameron couldn't sort out the physical sensations - -
he was just too blasted to think straight and too overwhelmed to really
care. Duane entered him, and he lay panting beneath Duane's weight. Cameron
broke out into a cold sweat and he couldn't catch his breath as a couple of
inches of Duane entered him. It was neither pleasurable nor painful - - but
there was an intensity Cameron couldn't process. His asshole clenched and
unclenched rhythmically, as if slowly chewing on Duane's cock. With his
eyes clenched shut and his breath coming in gouts, Cameron couldn't talk,
and he heard Duane's slow, stupid moan over his head somewhere.

It was too much. Cameron started to feel like his - - fuck!! Brandon's --
body was getting pushed beyond some physical limit. He scrambled and
struggled beneath Duane's massive hand, trying to get away from the
intensity, to get a break even for a second, but Duane was too heavy and
too strong. All he managed to do was pull about an inch or so of Duane out
of him. Duane just responded by pushing farther, and Cameron's breathing
stopped completely when more of Duane slid inside of him.

Logically, something impossible was happening. No human could take Duane's
cock in its current state, and Cameron felt his body move and stretch
around the massive member, felt his internal organs change to accommodate
the man-ape. He struggled against the impossibility of it, but he was
trapped beneath Duane.

"Stop . . . Stop . . ." Cameron panted, his brain unable to focus through
the intense sensations. He felt something huge between his thighs and
realized it was Duane's melon-sized nut sack. He was all the way inside.

Duane growled like an animal and withdrew his shaft in a long, slow
pull. Cameron gasped and pleasure radiated out of him - - he didn't expect
it - - couldn't process it - - he could only bathe in it. Duane reasserted
himself and Cameron gasped again, overcome by the intensity of being
penetrated so deep. The fucking commenced and Cameron lost himself in
it. Duane apparently did as well, because all he did was moan and growl and
hiss like a beast in the jungle. He took his pleasure in Cameron without
once really acknowledging Cameron.

Along the way, Cameron shot another load. He couldn't help himself and
barely registered it from the intensity of Duane's cock. He felt the
strange warmth of his own curse wash over him, knowing he'd just gotten
younger, but unable to even think about the ramifications of it. Later - -
time had become meaningless - - Duane's thrusting became violent and he
slammed his fists into Cameron's back, and rammed Cameron from behind so
far, he thought Duane's cock would punch out of his chest. There was
thrashing and screaming, and Duane eventually collapsed onto Cameron's back
and was quiet.

Cameron was reeling from the experience . . . and he kept expecting himself
to come down from it, but it didn't happen. He was still trapped under
Duane's bulk after what felt like an hour of strange-headedness. His mind
alternately raced through hundreds of issues - - the veritable rape that
had just happened, Duane's body being a man-ape, his own getting younger,
the lives they were losing steadily, Brandon's villainy - - or at least his
fixation on a single something - - the shape of his hand as it was crushed
by Duane's bulk into his view, the blissful and headachy feeling of his
brain, the absurdity of being fucked by his best friend.

Eventually, Duane shifted in his sleep and Cameron took the opportunity to
pull himself out from under Duane's bulk. His foot got trapped as he slid
out, stuck between Duane's thighs, and when Cameron pulled harder, the
lower half of his leg stretched like it was made of rubber, becoming longer
and thinner. He stared at it wide-eyed; it didn't hurt, but it did feel
very strange. Then it popped out and snapped back into place like a rubber
band. His foot was misshapen, but was slowly returning to its normal form
and shape.

CHRIST!! Cameron just sat on the edge of bed looking at it horrified. It
returned to the shape of Brandon's slim, pale foot. He wiggled it, flexed
the toes . . . it all worked fine. Then he remembered what Duane had said:
his juice would make him stretchy. Of course . . . that was how he was able
to get fucked by Duane without rupturing his intestines . . . something
about Duane's precum made him stretchy.

Cameron shook it off. He couldn't think about that now. It was TOO
weird. He went sluggishly to the mirror and looked at himself, the very
picture of late adolescent freshness. His goatee had thinned out into some
scrub version of itself and, if it were possible, he had even less body
hair than he'd had a while ago. He had gotten younger. It was subtle, but
his lean body was slightly less defined and the pink nipples jutted out,
prominent on his small pectorals. He cursed that he was so boyish
. . . even in this "near-adult" phase, somewhere around 19 years old, he
was still a pink, hairless thing.

Cameron shook his head again and remembered. It wasn't HIM that was boyish!
It was Brandon!! The longer he stayed in this body, the more he identified
with it. The more he owned it. He HAD to get his own body back as soon as
possible or who knew what would happen to his mind?  Leaning against the
dresser, he felt a throbbing headache start and he knew he was coming down
hard from the pot and the changes. It hurt.

He slid the drawer open and looked at the array of pot and bottles and cock
rings and butt plugs and all the shit that Brandon had that could do
anything to them both. It was all so dizzying and he didn't want to deal
with any of it. He could smoke any of the weed, but who knew what it would
do to him? He could pour any of the liquids into Duane's snoring mouth
right now, but what would it do?

Cameron expertly rolled himself a joint from the "Safe" weed and toked up,
sitting on the edge of the bed until the entire thing was gone. His brain
felt better, more relaxed. He reached down and took hold of his big toe and
pulled. It started to stretch out like it was made of rubber. He released
it and let it slowly ooze back into place. He reached down and took his
nutsack in his hand and pulled away from him. It stretched just like his
toe had - - down to his knee before it started to hurt. He let go and it
slowly returned to its normal shape and hang. Shit! He wondered when that
would wear off. It was very freaky. Maybe it would never wear off. Maybe he
was now the amazing rubber boy. Cameron giggled sporadically for several
minutes over that, imagining himself at a circus, twisted into various
animal shapes like he was a balloon.

He looked over at Duane; the big lug was snoring softly, apparently no
worse for wear. His thighs and calves had regained human proportion, even
if his feet were still way too big. It looked as if Duane were slowly
deflating back to roughly human size and shape and his brow had thinned out
so his face was familiar again.

Cameron flicked the burnt out roach into a corner of the room and took
another shower. He felt less disoriented this time, touching the body that
didn't belong to him. It felt now as if it did belong to him, especially
when he was high. He realized he might have to live in it from now on
. . . maybe it was time to get over it. He was a young man again. He could
start over. Make other choices. Shit! What choice did he have in that?! He
was a fag now. He was definitely making other choices about whom to
love. The very thought of Duane started his rod to chub, and when he stood
up from soaping his legs, he was greeted to a full hard-on bouncing in
front of him uncontrollably. Fuck! He didn't know how long it had been
since his last shot. Had it already been 12 hours?

No. His cock was just hard. He wasn't having the auto-orgasm he remembered
from before. Gently, Cameron soaped up the rod, careful not to actually
start jacking it. He soaped his nuts and crotch too, finding it all too
pliable. On a lark, he grabbed his cock by the shaft, and twisted it into a
circle. It slowly turned to a normal straight line, but Cameron whistled as
it did, steadying himself against the strangely pleasurable sensation that
having a rubberized, bendable cock gave him.

Cameron managed to find the same clothing he'd been wearing - - still the
cleanest - - in the living room. As he was dressing, there came a knock on
the door. Cameron peered out through the peep hole at the picture of a
well-dressed black man in his late 30's who was shuffling nervously. Oh
right! It was 5:00pm. He'd told the guy to be there.

Something blossomed inside Cameron's baked mind, an emotional surge born
from the hormones that were whizzing around his blood stream like a day at
NASCAR. It was surly. He suddenly hated this fucker. He suddenly wanted to
fuck with him. He felt so powerless up until now and here, he had an
undeniable upper hand.

Without answering the door or putting on his shirt, Cameron sauntered over
to the spilled coffee table. He righted it and retrieved the shoebox with
the disembodied cocks in it. He took hold of the huge black one, now quite
flaccid, and gave it a stroke. He flipped the others onto the table while
the black cock filled out powerfully and quickly. He went back to the peep
hole just as another soft knock came. The guy was there, leaning against
the doorframe with a look of submission on his face.

Cameron answered the door, holding up the cock. The guy's eyes immediately
went to it longingly. "Come in," Cameron ordered. He went back to the couch
and sat down, propping his feet on the table and feeling high on the power
he had. The guy entered and closed the door.

"What's your name?" Cameron asked.

"My name?" the guy was quizzical.

Cameron squeezed the guys nuts in his fist and he doubled over in pain,
wincing. "What did you just say?"

"My name is Jacob!" he yelled suddenly.

"Jacob?" Cameron asked. "What did you just say to me?" He gave another
squeeze, this time a little harder. Whatever was happening to Brandon's
body was getting off on this scene. He started to chub up immediately. Was
power this intoxicating? He had never felt this way before.

"My name is Jacob, SIR!" he screamed, now veritably squatting down from the
pain. Cameron released his nuts. On impulse, he put the guy's cock in his
mouth and started sucking it. It amazed him now natural blowing a stranger
felt, but the cock in his mouth felt wonderful as it hardened up. Cameron's
brain was jonesing for its juice and, for a moment, he completely forgot
the guy was standing right there.

When he finally looked up, the guy was standing there, eyes closed, a
little flushed, mouth parted, enjoying the sensations. It had been four
months since he'd been allowed to cum, he'd said on the phone. Cameron
wondered how long it had been since he'd touched his own cock.

Cameron stopped blowing the cock in his hand, but kept a firm grip. "Strip,
Jacob." And Jacob did it. He gave Cameron a dirty look - - anger mixed with
an anxious powerlessness - - as he shed his shirt, folding it gently as he
put on the coffee table. His wifebeater came off, revealing smooth black
skin with even darker nipples. Jacob kept himself in shape and Cameron's
eyes skittered over the grooves from the rippling muscles, as if his gaze
were water being channeled ever downward. Jacob slipped off his shoes and
black socks, then lowered his suit pants. He folded them carefully and put
them with the shirt. With a sigh, he slipped off his boxers; Cameron noted
the sock he had rolled in the front to provide a convenient bulge for any
onlookers.

Jacob squared his shoulders and braced himself for the indignity of being
naked in front of Cameron. The huge quads and taught hips framed a blank
space, a patch of smooth skin where Jacob's cock and balls should have
hung. Jacob kept his hands at his sides stoically. He was waiting for
Cameron's orders.

Cameron started at himself. He was holding a disembodied black cock that he
just had in his mouth. He had ordered this normal guy to be naked and the
guy had complied - - because the guy was afraid of him. He was stuck in a
young man's body, having been transferred there against his will. It was so
different from the life that he remembered - - being 38, a corporate
lawyer, freaking STRAIGHT - - that the very realization of what he had
become hurt his head. It was if his thoughts had become razorwire and were
racing through the meat of his brain - - fuck, not even his brain, but this
kid's brain - - ripping up his resolve. What seeped into the cuts from the
wire was the ooze of the pot, like his whole mind was gelling and turning
solid. He couldn't really think straight and the weird moment passed.

Cameron found himself acting on impulse, as if the concept of consequence
was fading from his brain. Maybe it was. He realized that, as he got
younger, his brain was literally getting younger too. Maybe it was losing
its development, becoming more immature.

Cameron placed Jacob's hard cock against his face, feeling the spongy
warmth of it. He slid it alongside his mouth, sticking his tongue out to
taste the flesh. Across the room, Jacob sighed. Cameron had been straight
less than a day ago. Now he was nuzzling a cock and feeling the beauty of
it, wanting to please it.

And yet, he had a massive wave of anger flaring up in him at the same
time. He was trapped. He'd been changed against his will. Fuck This! He
could barely accept it. He barely able to deal with this fucking curse and
he was already horny again!

Everything crashed in on Cameron at the same time. He stood up and walked
over to Jacob. The black man's muscles tightened with a dread anticipation,
but Cameron knelt down at his feet and placed his palm on the smooth patch
of skin where Jacob's genitals had been. The patch was warm and utterly,
inhumanly smooth. Having it rubbed seemed to cause Jacob some pleasure,
because he swayed at the touch of Cameron's thin fingers.

Cameron looked at his own hand - - no, no, no - - it was Brandon's hand. He
wanted his own hand back, thick and masculine with dark hair on
back. Instead, he had this thin, delicate, hairless hand.

Awash with competing impulses, Cameron did the best he could. "I'm going to
give you your cock back on one condition."

"Fuck, Sir," Jacob said, "anything."

"I need you to smoke some weed," Cameron said. "I need to know what it
does."

"Does?" Jacob asked, then shuddered a little.  "It'll change me?"

"Yeah," Cameron said, "I think so."

Jacob considered this a while and Cameron looked up at him, saw the fear in
his face as Jacob turned the idea over and over in his head. Cameron knew
the deliberation that was going on in Jacob's head. He'd get his cock back,
but at what cost? Whatever happened to him might be worse.

Cameron didn't wait for an answer . . . he got up and stalked to the
bedroom where Duane still dozed loudly. He rummaged in the drawer. There
were small ziplock bags of weed, labeled "Victor," "Robin," "Dawg Lover."
He pulled the "Victor" out at random and watched as his fingers expertly
rolled the joint almost without his conscious thought. He put it to his
lips . . . then caught himself.

"Whoa!" he said aloud, took the joint of his lips and went back into the
room with Jacob. He put the joint on Jacob's thick lips and Jacob's fingers
grasped the joint by the root. "It'll make you horny at least."

"I'm already horned," Jacob said, "Sir."

Cameron bounced Jacob's cock in his hand. "You sure are." Cameron handed
him a lighter and Jacob toked up, holding the smoke in.

Cameron knelt and put Jacob's disembodied cock back onto the smooth patch -
- Jacob groaned. He moved it around, adjusted its height and angle - - and
he batted Jacob's hand away as the man tried to grasp himself. Then,
Cameron - - knowing how to perform this action without consciously
realizing it - - unhooked the metal cock ring that had allowed Jacob's cock
to come off in the first place.

Jacob screamed out in pleasure, a deep-voiced moaning thrill, and he
started to jack off. He took several large strides to the couch and plopped
down - - knocking Cameron out of the way with his knee as he did.

"FUCK! YEAH!" Jacob screamed, then broke into a wide smile. "Thank you,
Sir. That feels great, Sir." Jacob was milking pre-cum out of his cock and
using it for lube even as he toked the joint at his lips.

Cameron waited for the other shoe to drop. Jacob was jacking off, holding
his nuts and cock with both hands, really getting off on touching
himself. He was having a serious masturbation fest, with his feet propped
up on the coffee table. "This is some good weed, Sir," he said.

In fact, Jacob's eyes already looked glassy and stoned. He sucked in again,
a deep breath, finishing the joint that fast. When he flicked it away, he
laughed and went back to manipulating his cock and balls, breathing deep,
in a state of profound arousal.

Cameron stood up and reached into his jeans, holding his own hardening
rod. He squeezed it, looked down at his pink, hairless torso and
knew. . . again . . . that he was in the wrong body. Yet, this thought
itself had started to grow pale against his experience. Like it or not, he
was a kid again . . . maybe 18-19 years old in this body. He would not grow
up to be a manly stud like he had been. He would never have the body hair
he once had and doubted that he could get his muscles nearly as big as the
ones he once had.

He was trapped. It crashed on him. Hard. He hated it. But he knew he had to
start accepting it. He was Brandon. He could feel his identity as Cameron
starting to fade away. Like Duane - - he couldn't remember his days in
college and his memories from work had started to disappear also. He could
barely remember the law - - GOD! how he'd studied in college to learn all
of it. And now, it was disappearing.

Jacob groaned in pain. Cameron's attention snapped up and he'd leaned
forward, feet back on the floor, nearly doubled over. He moved his cock
aside and was frantically touching his nuts.

"What?" Cameron asked.

"They're gone," Jacob said scared, "Shit! They went back inside!" Jacob
moved his hands aside and his nut sack appeared to be empty. Worse, while
they both watched, it deflated, as if it were a balloon being sucked back
into his body. The skin clung to his crotch, a mass of silky skin. Jacob
probed at it with his fingers and then his cock started to vibrate and
bounce on its own.

Jacob gasped and Cameron and he both watched as it started to shrink. It
stayed rock hard, but the shaft and head started to shrink as if it were
being pulled inside his body. Cameron could only imagine the horror of
finally getting one's cock reattached, only to have it disappear into one's
body, but Jacob let out a whine. His cock pulled in until just the wide
head was at the base of his crotch, surrounded by the fold of skin that was
the only remnant of his foreskin.

That's when Cameron recognized what was happening. He'd been face to face
with them enough: it was cunt. As if on cue with the thought, Jacob's
fingers dipped into the slit that hard formed from his nutsack, and moaned
as he penetrated himself.

"Ohmygod!" Jacob said, "Ohmygod! Ohmygod!" Yet, Cameron couldn't tell if it
was the weirdness of having a cunt instead of a cock or if he was getting
off on touching it. Jacob's fingers were definitely probing and stroking
it, penetrating deep while his thumb circled his new clit. His face looked
overwhelmed by something, Cameron just couldn't tell which. "You gave me a
pussy," Jacob accused, "Why? Jesus! I'm still horny. Ohmygod!"

Okay, Cameron thought to himself, "Victor" pot gives you a cunt. Mental
note. This wouldn't help him or Duane at all.

Jacob sat on the couch and bucked his hips into his hand, fucking himself
with his fingers. Everything else about Jacob was masculine - - nothing had
changed except his genitals. He still had a flat pectorals, guy nipples,
and narrow hips. Looking at him work himself was still erotic, but Cameron
had lost his hardon when he'd seen Jacob's cunt. Jacob might be horny but
Cameron sure wasn't going to fuck him. The idea of it was a little
disgusting - - and Cameron realized again how much he'd changed. He used to
love pussy - - but Brandon had made him a fag. The sense memory of Duane on
top of him, huge and heavy, jutting into his small boy ass, came back to
Cameron powerfully. He had been fucked, he'd sucked cock, he'd fucked ass
himself. He was as much a fag as anyone could get. What was worse? He was
starting not to mind.

"Ohgod," Jacob said, "How long will this last?"

"I don't know," Cameron admitted, "But the weed usually wears off at some
point." He said the words, but he didn't know where they came from. He
thought on it for a second and felt knowledge in his brain that he didn't
consciously know. It was how he had rolled the joints so expertly
. . . he'd gotten some of Brandon's knowledge and that portion of his brain
was growing more pervasive. He wondered if Brandon was getting his
knowledge of the law . . . and the thought burned him.

"Ohgod," Jacob kept saying, looking around frantically.  "Please fuck
me. You gave this fucking thing to me and I can't cum. Fuck me, please!"

"Um . . . no," Cameron said, swallowing the disgust. He had a sudden
inspiration though. He grabbed one of the cocks in the shoe box,
disembodied, but living and warm. He wrapped his hands around the dark one
- - probably a Latino guy - - and started to rub it. It responded quickly
enough, the dark shaft expanding and thickening until a bright pink head
pushed its way out of the foreskin and squirted out a dollop of
pre-cum. Cameron brought the head to his lips and licked it - - mmm,
salty. The cock got hard, and it stood out dark at the base, with a bright
pink head and frenum.

He moved to Jacob and gestured. Jacob removed his hands from his slit,
bucked his hips forward, and spread his legs. Cameron lined the Latino cock
up with Jacob's pussy and slowly worked it inside. Jacob gasped and
shuddered as it slid inside. Cameron gave it a couple of thrusts and Jacob
writhed underneath the effects. Cameron let go of the base of the cock and
balls, and Jacob reached down and started fucking himself in earnest.

Cameron moved off to watch. Jacob was going at it, clearly experiencing a
powerful pleasure from getting fucked. He was gasping and moaning as he
thrust the Latino cock inside himself deep, clearly working up to an
orgasm. Cameron sat in the easy chair and propped his feet up, watching
it. He tried to remember all the women he'd fucked when he'd been straight
and a real adult - - their faces were blurry and indistinct, but impression
he'd gotten as he himself had fucked them was the same impression he was
getting from Jacob now: intense pleasure, gasping, whole bodied,
shuddering.

There was a deep knock on the door and Cameron hauled himself out of the
chair to answer it. He peeked out the hole and saw a Latino guy there, in
his thirties, with a dark goatee and a full head of dark, wavy hair. He
looked flushed and irate. He pounded his fist on the door.

"What the fuck are you doing with my dick, you little shit?" he screamed.
"Open the fuck up!"

Cameron backed off from the door a little, but felt his cock start to rise
again. Goddamn this body!! He hadn't had this many erections in one day
since he'd been a teenager - - but fuck, he was a teenager now. He hadn't
realized how distracting they'd been until now. How had he done anything
productive when he'd been 18?

Sighing, Cameron opened the door . . .