Man Atlas

MAN ATLAS

By James Ivan

NOTE: All disclaimers apply. This story is set sometime after the events of "The Nightwalker Chronicles," which can be found in Nifty's Sci-Fi/Fantasy section. No, it is not necessary that you read TNC prior to reading this story. MAN ATLAS is an automonmous work of fiction that stands on its own. And no, unlike its predecessor, it is not necessarily Sci-fi/Fantasy. However, please note that there are many references and allusions to TNC throughout. If, after reading, you would like to reach out to the author, please email him at jamesivan2014@hotmail.com. He will be glad to learn your thoughts regarding MAN ATLAS.

If you enjoy MAN ATLAS and would like to read other works by James Ivan, please find "The Buddy System" in the Beginings section, and "Hunter Sniffs Prey" in Encounters.

Also, please consider donating to Nifty, as it remains a great source for hot gay sex stories for us all!

-J

Man Atlas

In a future world made up of men, and only men...

The smell of puberty was thick in the halls of the Academy. In every direction boys passed each other, either heading off to class or making a pit stop in the john to empty their bladders. Some laughed playfully near the benches flanking the west side of campus, swapping childhood war stories and telling dirty jokes. Others clustered around each other near the lockers, clearly up to no good. Scarce among the boys, albiet very present, were the professors, whose nostrils flared as their youthful students came and went in tank-tops and loose-fitting shorts. It was important that the professors monitor the boys in between classes. After all, the saying 'boys will be boys' was not birthed arbitrarily in this world of men. It came from somewhere, and certainly held significance.

The final bell rang and, quickly, the halls were cleared. Boys poured into their classrooms left and right, and just as fast as the storm of male-induced noise came, it left, and the Academy's halls were suddenly very quiet--but for one last straggler, who hustled down the squeaky floor tiles and bolted into the northern-most classroom, panting, out of breath.

"Mr. Betlock," the professor at the front of the room said upon spotting Logan burst through. "Nice of you to join us."

Logan, a quiet boy often mistaken for being shy, gave a feeble nod and moved in quickly to find his seat. He shuffled through a narrow aisle of desks before finding his group of friends near the back of the room. There, he curled up behind them, trying to make himself as small as possible so as to not draw anymore attention.

"Oooh, someone's tardy," a boy whispered into Logan's ear after he sat. A couple of the surrounding boys snickered.

"Shut up, Collin!" Logan hissed, elbowing his buddy in the rib. More snickering.

At the head of the class, scribbling something on the board, the professor's booming voice took focus. "Okay, gentlemen. I want to do a quick review of what we discussed yesterday. Can anyone refresh our memories?" He finished writing and turned around, facing his students.

He was Mr. Parker, one of the most respected professors in the Academy. All the boys looked up to and admired him. He was a father-figure to them while they were away from home; a healthy role model who exhibited manhood, cleverness, and strength. Consequently, he also happened to be the baseball coach for the Academy's team. Logan guessed he'd be running an extra lap at practice that afternoon, a penalty for being late to class.

When none of the boys volunteered to speak, Mr. Parker took the initiative.

"Mr. Betlock," he said, his deep, testosterone-coarsened voice reverberating in the walls, in the floor. Logan looked up, wide-eyed. "Would you please start us off?"

Swallowing hard, Logan quickly racked his brain for the contents of yesterday's lecture. He could feel his buddy's around him suppressing the urge to laugh, to tease him. Damn, why was he always the one Mr. Parker called on in class?

"We covered the history of femicide," Logan finally managed to say. He could feel his pits starting to moisten.

Pacing back and forth at the board, Mr. Parker furled his brow, interested. "Right," he said. "Go on."

Glancing nervously around him, Logan cleared his throat. All eyes were on him.

"Basically, four thousand years ago all female humans were wiped out by a virus, a virus that killed hosts with low levels of testosterone," he said, "which left only men."

"Good, good," Mr. Parker said, nodding enthusiastically, seemingly impressed that at least one of his students had been paying attention. "And why was this a problem, that women were suddenly extinct?"

"Because men weren't capable of bearing children," Logan said.

"Right," Mr. Parker leaned against the lecturn, casually. "But as evolution has shown us, life must either adapt to its immediate situation, or die off. And biologically, males adapted to the extinction of females and developed their own means of procreation. Everyone write this down." He scratched something up on the board and every boy in class took to pen and paper. "Serebrum," he said. "I mentioned it, I think, the other day. Can anyone tell me what this is?"

A hand went up in the back of the class, and Logan sighed, thankful to be out of the hot seat.

Mr. Parker looked out. "Yes, Mr. Conner."

"Isn't that the eggs in our butts?" Dan Conner said.

The room erupted with laughter. Even Mr. Parker gave a brief smirk before lifting his hands to regain control over the class.

"Yes," he said. "Without being as crass as Mr. Conner back there, serebrum is essentially just that. It is the growth of human eggs in the mucus lining of the rectum." Amidst a swell of disgusted groans and snickering, Mr. Parker stepped over to the lecturn, flipping through the textbook. "Gentlemen," he said, commanding attention. "Turn to page two ninety one."

As it so happened, Collin left his textbook in his locker. At least, that much was evident when he snatched Logan's book from off the top of his desk to use for himself. Logan sighed inwardly and huddled up with Collin so they could look off the book together. He didn't want to cause a scene in class by trying to wrestle his book back, which Collin wouldn't give up in the first place. In fact, Logan prided himself on being more responsible than most of his classmates. He was, after all, the youngest among them. A fourteen-year-old in a room full of fifteen-year-olds. He needed to hold himself to higher standards.

As Collin flipped to the directed page, a diagram of the male reproductive system revealed itself. Another trickle of laughter and snickering coarsed through the room. Logan didn't understand why any of his classmates were surprised by the diagram. The class was Maleology: A Study of Male Sexuality and Reproduction. Baffled as he was, though, Logan watched as Collin started drawing an excessive amount of pubic hair on the diagram's depicted genitals, snickering, biting his tongue. Logan rolled his eyes. Almost laughed, but held it together.

Collin had always been a class-clown of sorts. Or, as their friends frequently referred to him, an "Ass-Clown." He was a tall, stocky boy with disheveled copper hair. His dream was to someday be a pro-wrestler, which explained his high-protein diet and dumbell-manicured arms. He also had a rather handsome face, which was most likely the source of his over-fueled confidence.

Logan wasn't exactly sure how he and Collin ended up friends. They were complete opposites, to their very core. But their friendship went back to the first grade, so it was rather significant to him. Well, somewhat. Even so, Collin was starting annoy him beyond repair.

"Here," came a sturdy male voice beside him. Logan looked over to find Rick Hunt waving him over, clearly irritated by their mutual friend's antics. "You can share with me, man," he said, and helped Logan scoot his seat closer.

Rick was on the baseball team with Logan. He was the team's pitcher, and quite possibly the most skilled player out of them. He was nearly a head taller than Logan, easily twice as thick around. Had he so desired, Rick could've pinned Collin to the ground at any given moment and seriously wounded his pride. Of course, Rick knew that taking Collin seriously in any department of life was never something to be done. Thus, he never felt the urge to humiliate him in front of their friends. Logan had always liked Rick. He was a stoic, brooding sort, yet still knew how to have a good time. He also happened to be Logan's best friend.

Behind them, Collin had graduated from drawing pubic hair to a considerable amount of ass hair on the diagram in Logan's textbook.

"So yesterday we went over the extinction of women, and we touched a bit on the evolution of serebrum, which allows males to reproduce with other males," Mr. Parker announced at the lecturn. "I want you boys to look at the diagram here, page two ninety one, and notice the illustration of serebrum lining the rectum walls. It's a thin secretion, but contains millions of eggs. And right about now--how old are you guys? Fourteen? Fifteen?"

Most of the boys in the room said, "Fifteen." Rick said, "Sixteen," given he was only a couple weeks away.

Logan didn't answer.

"Fifteen," Mr. Parker said. "Yeah, right now, all of you guys are producing serebrum in your rectums. All of you are able to bear sons."

The room, which up to that point had been peppered with little murmurs, small giggles and restless feet shuffling, went completely silent. It was not the first time the boys had heard this, but it was certainly a weighty reminder of their fast-budding sexuality. The idea of any of them becoming pregnant was, well, almost beyond comprehension.

When the boys' bated breath dwindled, Mr. Parker resumed.

"Yep, each and every one of you can get pregnant right now," he said, his tone serious. "And before the year is over, I guarantee that two-out-of-five of you will be pregnant. Statistically, we know this. Most boys are able to be fertilized by age twelve. How old were you guys when you started growing pubic hair, armpit hair?"

He raised his brow, surveying the room. A couple guys near the back said, "Twelve!" "Thirteen."

One guy in the second row said, "Ten." It made since, Logan thought, considering he was the largest guy in school. His name was Travis Hennon, and his feet were enormous; he was already sprouting chin hair.

Up front, Mr. Parker was nodding, understanding. "Yeah, okay, that all sounds about right," he said. "I remember I started growing pubic and armpit hair around eleven, twelve." He jostled his hand a bit. "So most of you boys have had hair for a couple two, three years now, right? Well, about the same time you started growing hair, your rectum started secreting serebrum. You fellas have been able to get pregnant for about three years now."

Again, the room was quiet. They were all eyes and ears. It wasn't startling news, but it was definitely a reminder.

"Mr. Parker?" Ted Carlos said. "Why do we start to smell bad when we hit puberty?"

A couple guys chuckled. Behind Logan and Rick, Collin and their mutual friend, Andy, were rolling.

"Good question," Mr. Parker said. "Does anyone know the answer to that?" He looked out, and a palpable silence followed. Logan sank lower in his chair, hoping that he wouldn't be called on. To his relief, Mr. Parker took the reins. "It's called pheromones, Mr. Carlos," he said. He turned and wrote the word up on the board. "Pheromone glands are located in your armpits, your testicles, and your anus." Collin and Andy were doing the best they could to suppress laughter. "There are smaller glands in your feet and head, but the primary ones are found in the first three regions I mentioned," Mr. Parker went on. "There's a diagram on page two thirty four."

Some flipped through the pages. Rick did, and he and Logan took a moment to study the illustration.

"The reason for these glands is to secrete certain horomone-laced odors that attract potential mates," Mr. Parker explained. "Smell is a huge factor in sexual attraction," he reminded them. "Have any of you started to notice the way your buddies smell?"

Mr. Parker gazed out at what seemed to be a sea of embarassed stares. He almost laughed. Every boy in the room was clinging, desperately, to any shred of coolness they could hold onto. No one wanted to admit that they had done the unthinkable. Then again, was it so unthinkable?

Grinning, Mr. Parker took a seat on his desk, trying to appear as relaxed and casual as he could so his students would feel comfortable. It was awkward territory to get in, he knew. It was confusing for them. But the boys looked up to him; they responded to him. He had been a positive influence on them ever since they entered the Academy, and he knew full well they all needed to start learning this information.

"You don't have to answer," he said, chuckling. "But just think about it, fellas. You're all getting to an age right now where you're entering into manhood, into sexuality. Every one of you in this room has the ability to be a father, either a dominant father or a submissive father. You can all impregnante and be impregnated. It's very natural for you to start noticing your friends as they, too, come into sexual maturity along with you. And one of the first things guys tend to notice about their buddies is the way their buddies smell. It's compeltely natural."

Every boy was considering Mr. Parker's words. Logan, whose pits had been damp since he walked in the room, squeezed his arms tighter to his body, hoping that Rick, sitting directly beside him, wasn't smelling him at that moment. His heart beat a little faster, and his pits started to sweat a little more.

"What's more natural," Mr. Parker went on, "is that pretty soon, you'll all want to start dating your buddies."

Another wave of snickering and disbelieving groans pulsed within the room. At that, Mr. Parker grinned.

"It might be hard to believe for some of you right now, but believe me, every single one of you has parents, two fathers who most likely met when they were around your age," he said. "Many probably right here, in the Academy."

At that, Collin raised a hand. "Sir," he said. "So, like, if females had never died off thousands of years ago, would we all be having sex with them instead of dudes?"

Mr. Parker nodded. "Most likely, yes. There never would've been an evolutionary need for men to bear children, so absolutely, we'd still be in a mostly heterosexual world."

"Gross!" Collin said. "I'd never stick my thing in a pussy that hideous."

The room fell to laughter once more.

"Alright, Mr. Henley," said Mr. Parker. "That's enough."

"No, seriously, man," Collin continued. "Fuck that. I'll take some regular boy ass any day."

More unrestrained laughter. Logan, smirking some, rolled his eyes.

"No, seriously, Mr. Henley. Enough." Mr. Parker's booming voice came down on Collin like a gavel. He shut right up. "As it so happens, the world chose its natural course long before you were even a zygote, Mr. Henley, and so thankfully, for all our sakes, you don't have to stick your thing in a pussy that hideous. Now, can we resume class?"

The discussion seemed to fizzle out after that, and the boys spent the rest of the class taking sufficient notes about what happens to the egg after it is fertilized by sperm: it is pulled deep into the lining of the rectum, directly above the prostate, where it develops its own womb. Logan remembered most of this information based on a few discussions he'd had with his dads at home, but even so, learning more about his own body was fascinating. In fact, every boy in the room pored over the material, engrossed by the very things that made them, well, male.

When the bell finally rang, the boys slapped their notebooks together, folded up their bags, tucked away their pens, checked for any messages on their phones, filed out of the room.

It just so happened that Logan was one of the last boys in the room. Just before he made it to the door, Mr. Parker looked up from the lecturn.

"Mr. Betlock," he said. "Could you hang back a moment?"

Heart pumping, Logan stepped aside, making room for his friends to leave.

"Catch you in the cafeteria, Logan," Collin said, and sailed out into the hall.

Eventually, it was only Logan and Mr. Parker left. Logan took a seat in the nearest desk, biting his cheek, tapping his feet together, waiting. He feared he might get detention for his tardiness that day, but more than that, he was terrified that Mr. Parker would bench him on the baseball team as punishment. Logan was notorious for being a "good kid," a mature-for-his-age young man. He'd horse around with his friends from time to time, sure. Every boy did. Horsing around was part of being a boy; it was part of having a penis. But he couldn't, for the life of him, recall a single moment in his life when he'd been grounded or seriously disciplined. His grades were never in jeopardy of being too low. In fact, he excelled in most areas of school. And while many of his peers had fallen prey to drugs and unfortunate run-ins with the law, he had never once found himself in such a situation.

Finally, Mr. Parker finished whatever he was doing at the lecturn, got up, and made his way over to the classroom door, gently closed it.

"Logan," he said, and immediately Logan tensed. Mr. Parker was seldom on a first-name-basis with his students, and certainly never with his baseball players. "I wanted to know your thoughts on changing field positions."

Logan didn't know what he'd heard exactly, but it wasn't that. He relaxed--slightly--and stared up at Mr. Parker, confused.

"What?"

"Changing field positions," Mr. Parker clarified. "I'm looking to move you to center field instead of second base. You're quick, and I don't want you standing around all the time, waiting. I think you'd be more useful to the team if you were out in the field. What say you?"

Astonished that he wasn't being chastised, but instead being offered a promotion, Logan nodded, still confused.

"Yeah, that's fine," he said, stuttering some. He stared up at Mr. Parker, waiting for more. "Is that it?"

Smiling, Mr. Parker said, "That's it. Were you expecting something else?"

Logan was almost a loss for words.

"I just thought...I mean, I figured I was getting detention or something."

"Detention? Why on earth?"

Logan shrugged. "I was late to class."

Mr. Parker nearly laughed. "Logan," he said, turning and making his way back to the front of the room. "You're hardly ever late to my class, and not to mention one of the most respectable and intelligent students I've ever had. Don't worry about it. Of all the boys I'd worry about being late, you're the last of them." He gathered his brief case, his papers, gave Logan a non-commital wink, and walked out of the room. "See you at practice!" he called back, leaving Logan sitting alone in the room, astonished.

--

In the cafetera, lasagna was for lunch, and Logan was starving. He sat with the regular group at their table, unknowingly entering into a conversation about sex.

"Dude, I'd fuck Jimmy Tanner so hard," Collin said, shoving a forkful of pasta in his mouth. He glanced over his shoulder to the table behind them, where a small, blond-haired boy in a jogging suit sat with a group of friends. The boy was sun-bronzed and impressively toned--a clear sign that he was on the Academy's gymnastics team.

He stared hungrily at Jimmy Tanner's bubble butt for a good while before Tommy Corbin started chuckling, hissing, laughing, forcing Collin to turn around with dagger eyes.

"Yeah, right!" Tommy said, nearly spitting. "You wouldn't even know where to stick it, dude."

"Would to!" Collin aimed his fork at Tommy, threatening. "I'm not a pussy virgin like you."

A couple "Ooooh"s filled the table.

Logan was sitting between Collin and Rick, focusing on his lunch, trying not to get dragged into the conversation unwillingly, which sometimes happened. Next to Rick sat Jason, the baseball team's short stop, and to both Tommy's right and left were Zack and Andy, two boys who, Logan guessed, would end up being major stoners in the not-too-distant future. It was the usual group of guys in which Logan found refuge. He'd been friends with most of them ever since Pre-Academy. Jason and Zack, however, were newer to the group.

Tommy narrowed his eyes on Collin. "What makes you so sure I'm a virgin?"

At that, Collin only laughed. "Come on, man. Are you telling me you've actually fucked a guy?"

"Maybe I have, how would you know?"

"I bet you're a bottom," Collin said snidely. "I can tell."

"I am not a bottom!" barked Tommy.

It had become an escalated battle of Who's Balls Were Bigger. Logan was all too familiar with it. Collin was a notorious instigator, always trying to assert his dominance over everyone else. Unfortunately, the rest of the guys knew this about Collin and let it roll off their shoulders, never giving it the energy it beckoned. Tommy, however, was not so quick to let it go. He and Collin, famously, were always at odds.

"Alright, Tommy," Collin said, scarfing the last of his lasagna down. "Who've you fucked? Come on, I want a name."

"Dillon Smith," Tommy said without hesitation.

"Who?"

"Dillon Smith. He's one of the kids who goes to Lincoln. You wouldn't know him."

"How convenient." Collin nudged Logan in the shoulder, hoping that he would join him for a laugh. Logan didn't even look up.

It was social suicide to admit you were a bottom in front of Collin. Everyone knew it. So naturally Logan understood Tommy's defensiveness. Being a bottom meant you were weaker in Collin's eyes, less of a man, or in the common tongue of fifteen-year-olds, a major "pussy." Literally. And Collin not only loved to ridicule bottoms, but he loved to hunt them down, and, eventually, fuck them. For Collin, self-proclaimed bottoms were his project. Hence why he was casually eyeing Jimmy Tanner at the table behind them. Jimmy, every guy knew, was a bottom. And he filled out the role perfectly, Logan thought. He was on the shorter side, was nimble, was the pretty-boy type who had quite a bit of energy. Tommy, on the other hand, risked a lot of COllin's prescribed "cool points" if he were to ever admit he was a bottom, which Logan didn't actually believe he was. Collin was just prodding Tommy's ego.

Tommy Corbin was on the slender side, like Logan, and looked as if he could lean either way, sexually. He didn't have the macho-stature a lot of known tops in the Academy had--like Collin and Jason and Rick. (Wait a minute....Rick. Was he a top? Logan didn't know for sure--he always guessed as much.) He shook his head--Anyway! Collin Henley was fairly large for his age, and sturdy as a bull. He had the personality of a rhino, and horned his way through life. Tommy was not the measly type, but he wasn't the strong type either. The only chance he had at asserting his manhood over Collin was to one-up him in a game of wits, which he didn't have much of, Logan knew. Tommy had more brains than Collin ever would, but unfortunately, he didn't know it. Still, Tommy was a cute guy. He was the first guy in their little group to have a boyfriend--fourth grade, it was a big deal. And was the first guy in the group to kiss a boy--fifth grade, bigger deal. But his body had a few more years before it truly filled out.

Every boy in the Academy was coming into his sexuality, and it was obvious. Guys were starting to have sex with each other, and it was getting around as to who fucked who.

"Okay then," Tommy said, twisting his ballcap around, as if he meant business. "Who did YOU fuck? Give me a name."

"Dude, Tommy," Andy said. "Just let it go."

"No, I want a name," Tommy insisted, glaring across the table at Collin, giving him the 'give it to me' hand signal. "Come on."

Grinning viciously, Collin leaned in toward Tommy as if he had a great secret. "Lukas Grisewald." He said it as if the name tasted sweet as candy.

Tommy's face went pale, and then slightly red. "No you didn't."

At that, Collin hollered over to the adjacent lunchtable, where a sporty Lukas Grisewald sat, sipping on a bottle of water. Lukas was easily one of the cutest guys in the Academy, and everyone knew it. He was taller than most guys, sinewy build, complete with bubble butt, flashy haircut, V-cut torso, and somehow his compact size added to his overall attractiveness. Even Logan had sprung a boner a time or two for Lukas Grisewald.

At the sound of his own name, Lukas turned around, finding Collin waving at him from across the cafeteria. Lukas politely waved back, managed to turn bright red in the process, and spun back around. It was evident that Collin was boasting about having been balls deep inside his ass, and Lukas clearly didn't want anymore attention drawn to the fact.

"Holy shit," Tommy said, defeated.

"Yep." Collin threw his arms high overhead, stretching. Because he wore a sleeveless T, his furry pits were wide open for all his buddies to see, as if he was giving them a visual display of his masculinity. "I tapped that ass two weeks ago."

"Damn, dude," Zack said, astonished. "Lukas is, like, the hottest guy in school."

Collin smiled. "I know. Great ass, too. I slid right in, like carving my way through warm pudding."

"So," Jason, at the end of the table, cleared his throat, clearly beside himself with Collin's peacocking display of ego. "So do you just go around and fuck every guy that will bend over for you, or what?" His tone was mildly sarcastic, with some disdain.

"Why? You gonna bend over for me?" Collin said, and immediately laughed.

"Not for you I wouldn't," Jason said.

"Oh, so you would bend over for 'the right guy' then? What, are you a bottom, Jay?"

"Fuck you, none of your fucking business."

Collin gave a low, deep-voiced "Oooh", glad that he was getting under Jason's skin. He thrived in the alpha-male role, dominating his friends, making them feel as if the biggest penis at the table belonged to him, and they all must worship it or get the fuck out.

"Knock it off," Rick said, and his deep, lion-fanged voice draped a silence over the whole table. Collin, immediately, shut up. Rick was big enough and seemed don't-fuck-with-me enough that every guy in the Academy had a very small fear of him. He wasn't a mean guy in the slightest, but he was also the type of guy--if you didn't know him--who you definitely didn't want to piss off, lest you risk the shortening of your life.

Collin, silenced and embarassed about it, scoffed and resumed eating. He knew he was finished.

They all knew who the true alpha was among them, even though sometimes Collin assumed the position. Rick had always held the title. He was the largest, the oldest, and quite noticeably, the strongest. Though it was rare, he knew how to put Collin in his place. And it never took much. For that reason, and many others, Logan had always, and would always, appreciate Rick.

Lunch resumed with its normal laughter and everyday talk. Zack needed help on his Math homework, and Logan offered his assistance--Math being one of his strong suits. When the bell finally rang, Logan grabbed his gear and followed the horde of boys back into the halls. Had he not been surrounded by it the whole day, the potent male smell of the Academy might have overtaken him. He was used to it by now, though. Still, he was never more aware of his genitals than he had been the last few weeks, today especially. It was summertime, and nearly every boy in the Academy was wearing sleeveless shirts, shorts, sandals. The school reeked of testosterone--and Logan was slowly being driven mad. In fact, that's why he was late to Mr. Parker's class earlier that day. He was masturbating in the bathroom stall, trying to relieve himself of the raging horomones in his bloodstream. He ejaculated just as the bell rang, hurriedly cleaned himself up and made a mad dash for class. But now he was fine. Right? He was fine?

He had it all under control.

And then, just as the crowd of pubescent boys began to disperse, and just as Logan was able to breathe without risking a monstrous boner, a familiar scent drifted up into his nose, a scent that was sweet, but salty, a scent that caused his heart to drum and caused his pits and his butt to sweat.

"Where are you off to in such a hurry?" Rick came up alongside him, slapped an arm around him.

Logan's eyes teared up as an intense heat and smell came off his best friend's armpit like steam.

"Biology," Logan said. "We're dissecting fetal pigs today."

"Nice." Rick was on his way to a weight-lifting class, Logan knew. It was always his last class of the day. "Well, hey, I invited some of the guys over after practice tomorrow night. You down?"

Logan swallowed hard. "Yeah, man, I'll be there."

"Cool. Just for games and stuff. You can stay the night, if you want."

"Okay."

"And also," Rick glanced around, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. "Collin doesn't know about it, so don't mention it around him. Cool?"

Smiling, Logan nodded. "No problem."

"He just gets some of the guys riled up, you know? I don't have the energy for that," Rick said, chuckling. "Besides, tomorrow's Friday. I'm sure he has some dude's ass to fuck somewhere."

The two of them shared a laugh. It was warm, it was familiar. Rick slapped Logan on the shoulder and sped off. Logan, meanwhile, tried to calm down before walking into his class. His penis was swollen large in his shorts and, strangely, his butthole was tingling. It was starting to...desire. There was something--a stirring--in his lower gut, something he'd never felt before, and it was driving him slowly but surely crazy. It was a longing, a craving...

On second thought, class could wait. Logan darted into the nearest bathroom, rejoicing in the fact that it was empty. Throughout the Academy's halls, the bell rang and the world seemed to descend into a deep, profound quiet. No matter, Logan thought. I'll just tell them I had the shits. That'll work brilliantly.

There were no windows in the tiny bathroom. The only light came from a buzzing flourescent bulb overhead, illuminating the room in a sickly blue. There was a porcelain sink, a row of urinals, two narrow stalls scribbled with graffitti, and a large, slightly defaced mirror. Logan stared curiously at his reflection. Though the flourescent light was unflattering, he checked over his appearance--as any teenage boy would do. He had chestnut brown hair and mahogany eyes. A light dusting of freckles peppered his nose, but they were the specks of youth and would fade as puberty took greater hold of him.

He was smaller than most of the guys in his class--true. He was also younger. But he was filling out nicely for a slender boy of fourteen. He lifted his arms, checking out his pit hair. It was in full bloom. Underneath him, his size-eleven feet were growing snug in his sneakers. And even as he stood there, alone and unbothered, Logan could smell the boyish fragrance permeating the air around him, rising off his armpits like steam. He reached in his backpack for his stick of deodorant and caked it on to mask the scent.

He stood there, staring down his reflection, waiting for his boner to deflat. Damn, puberty was hitting him hard. Just three hours ago he cranked out a load of boy batter, so why in the hell was he bothered again this soon? Behind his plump ballsack, and following the salty trail of fuzz along his taint, Logan's anus was twitching, going in and out of spasm. He couldn't believe the feeling. It was sensational, fantastic, amazing! But fuck, he almost couldn't take it. What was happening to him?

Logan stumbled into the closest stall, hastily undid the drawstring on his shorts, pulled his penis out and began stroking. Massaging his sex organ gently, with increasing firmness, Logan could feel the building juices ebbing and flowing deep inside him, swirling around, looking for escape. His testicles pulled up toward his body, his abdomen went rigid, and his leg muscles flexed. Logan held his breath, squeezed his eyes tight shut, stifled a moan. All the energy in his body was shooting with the intensity of fire into his groin. And finally, mercifully, cum was spilling from the tip of his penis, falling in thick, white globs into the toilet. The fire was extinguished. He was finally able to draw breath, and almost as quickly as the urge came, it left him.

Logan stood there, leaning against the bathroom stall, in wonderful, splendid peace.

--

"That's your ball, Betlock!" Coach Parked shouted from the dug-out.

Jason hit a high-fly at the plate and it was headed straight for Logan in center field. Half-blinded by the sun, Logan did a near-backward sprint, trying to guage the position of the ball in the sky. He caught sight of it, zeroed on on it, dove for it, caught it.

A resounding cheer from his teammates crackled throughout the field.

"Nice job, nice job!" Coach Parker said, clapping, rallying his troops. "Okay, fellas, we need to run some drills..." he voice trailed out of focus as Rick came running up to Logan.

Their baseball uniform accented Rick's stature. He looked like a quaterback, not a pitcher. Then again, his strong arms won them most of their games. Logan spotted the noticeable protrusion of Rick's cup bouncing in his stride, and consequently, he felt a stirring in his own cup.

"Good catch," Rick said, clapping Logan on the arm.

"Thanks. It's bright out."

"You need some shades, bud," and Rick tore off his own sunglasses and handed them to him. "Here, try these."

"I don't wanna take your sunglasses."

Rick shrugged. "It's cool, I have others."

"Well, I have to get going anyway," Logan said. "Sorry to cut out early, but I need to keep my hours in the tutoring lab." He waved to Coach Parker from across the field, letting him know he was on his way out. "Catch you later, man."

Logan made his way up the hill and to the locker rooms to change. He thought he was alone, but a low moaning sound behind his wall of lockers changed that. Though it was a locker room for boys, Logan could smell a distinct saltiness, a peculiar musk. At once, Logan knew the scent that permeated the air. He knew what testicles smelled like, he lived in a world of men, after all. He knew the stink of penis dipping into anus. He was, like all his friends, very familiar with the smell of sex.

Quietly, Logan stepped around the wall of lockers and peered around to a large section of wood benches.

On one of the benches, Jimmy Tanner, the gymnast, had his gym shorts pulled down just enough to expose his brown, lightly-fuzzed asshole. It was wet with sweat and, clearly, a significant amount of pre-cum was glistening around the gaping sphincter. Stretching Jimmy's asshole, and baring his own plump white ass, was Collin--fresh from wrestling practice. His fuzzy ballsack dangled between his legs, just below his ass crack. He was sliding in and out of Jimmy, pumping his hips, gouging Jimmy with his dick over and over. Jimmy, bent over and impaled, released a series of soft, subdued moans as Collin explored his rectum.

"That's it," Collin said, out of breath. His bare white legs, textured with curly brown hairs, were spread, allowing him deeper access into Jimmy's insides. At his ankles, his gray wrestling sweats were snagged around his sneakers. "Good boy, Jimmy. You're wide open for me, aren't you?"

"Yeah," Jimmy said, almost squealing.

"How many cocks have you taken this week?" Collin asked.

"Three," Jimmy managed to get out. "Not including...yours."

"Well," Collin went on, panting, thrusting harder, faster. "When your ass needs to get fucked from this point on--" he was balls deep in Jimmy's anus, his hands spreading Jimmy's butt cheeks wide, granting him deeper access, "--you come to me. Understand?"

"Yeah," Jimmy's voice cracked as Collin's penis reached a profound depth inside him.

Suddenly, Collin shoved all of himself inside of Jimmy, excavating his deepest yet, and leaving nothing left of his genitals aside from a plump, hairy scrotum jiggling at the base of the gymnast's twitching sphincter. Collin's bare, meaty legs flexed, and he nearly collapsed on top of Jimmy, whose gym-toned arms were thankfully able to support both their weights. He was cumming, raw and heavy, inside Jimmy Tanner's ass.

Logan, whose dick was stiff and nearly bursting out of his cup, held his breath, careful to keep from being seen.

As Collin bucked his hips a little to finish up, and as Jimmy's exposed anus suckled on Collin's penis like a baby on his daddy's cock, milking its last drops of semen, it was clear that Jimmy, even with his shorts still covering his boyhood, was on the verge of orgasm himself. Without ever having touched his penis, Jimmy was tensing, gasping, sweating, and suddenly, "Holy...shit!", he was flooding the inside of his gym shorts with globs of cum, his entire body trembling beneath Collin's weight.

Logan watched as his two classmates rode out their orgasms and slumped over, exhausted and out of breath. Collin--a twinkle of victory in his eyes. He had conquered new territory, and was seemingly impressed with himself. He slapped Jimmy hard on the ass, leaving a red handprint on the gymnast's left butt cheek.

"Let's get out of here before the baseball team gets in," Collin said, and he pulled up his sweatpants.

Next to him, Jimmy Tanner yanked up his gym shorts to cover his butt again, and the two of them darted out the south entrance to the locker rooms, leaving Logan standing there, unseen.

Heart pounding and suddenly aware that he was now alone in the locker room, Logan hurried over to the closest urinal, tugged at the drawstring on his uniform, undid his fly, removed his cup, and freed his hot and twitching cock. It didn't take long before he was spiling his own seed into the urinal, relieving himself of the unrelenting sexual frustration that had plagued him all day.

When his dick was good and drained, Logan cleaned himself up, rinsed off in the showers, changed, packed, and made a mad dash for the tutoring lab.

--

The following day was an unexpected one--for Logan.

His alarm went off at the typical hour, and his father, Jim, made his morning rounds. He hollered his routine, "Time to get up, son!" And five minutes later, seeing that Logan had not budged, came into Logan's room. He pulled the sheets off Logan's naked body, slapped him hard on the butt. "Let's go, kiddo. Dad's downstairs getting breakfast ready."

Logan, butt-naked, stirred and climbed out of bed, got dressed, and met his dads downstairs for the morning meal.

School, then, happened as usual. The day began with Math, followed by Physics. But it was his third class of the day, Maleology, that Logan enjoyed most.

Logan stayed quiet during class, never speaking up and never giving an answer unless Coach Parker insisted. He knew that his regular participation earlier on in the Academy had proven to everyone that he could read well and configure numbers, which cost him a great deal in having to serve as a tutor to many of his peers and, also, being the go-to friend for copying down last minute homework. Logan didn't want the whole Academy knowing that he was just as bright in the subjects of language and history.

And even though Coach Parker taught things he already knew, Logan often pretended he was getting the information for the very first time, lest he risk Collin prodding him for answers on every test they took that year.

That day in Maleology, Coach Parker was covering the sexual roles men undertook.

"Tops," Coach Parker wrote at one end of the board. He underlined it. Then, at the other end, "Bottoms." He spun on his heel, facing his class. "Most of you boys have probably already figured out which of the two sexual positions you fall under," he said. "And for some of you, it's quite possible that you could be either or. But for the most part, you fellas will gravitate towards one, Top or Bottom." He instructed them to turn to a page in their textbook.

Logan didn't even bring his book with him that day, snuffing Collin's opportunity to seize it. Instead, he and Rick made a pact before class, and he simply scooted his desk over and they looked on together.

Much to Logan's irritation, Collin happened to have his textbook with him, and carried on without a squabble. He was also wearing the same shirt he'd been wearing when Logan caught him and Jimmy Tanner fucking in the locker rooms the day before. Logan figured Collin hadn't showered since yesterday morning and that the juices of Jimmy Tanner's ass were still wet on his dick.

"For those of you who are bigger in size," Coach Parker said, pacing the front of the room with drill-sergeant aplomb. "You're most likely a Top. Tops tend to be taller and stronger than bottoms; they have a tendancy to have larger feet, and yes, even larger penises."

A few of the boys laughed. Collin, especially, giggled.

"There's a biological reason for this," the coach added. "Historically, tops have had to serve as the protectors to their bottom companions. Given that they typically father the children, and given that the bottoms bear the children, tops have naturally evolved to be the stronger males in a dominant/submissive social structure. I'm assuming all of you remember last semester's lesson about Caninicus Xeta?"

Some heads nodded. Quietly, Rick asked Logan, "Were those the giant wolf creatures?"

Logan whispered back, "Yes."

Coach Parker went on. "Four thousand years ago, men were not at the top of the food chain as they are today. They were in very real danger of being eaten. And the males who were fathering children needed to be able to protect the impregnated males if the human race was to survive. That is why most tops are physically bigger, and why most bottoms are typically smaller in size." He took a moment to scribble a few notes on the board. "So, at this point, it's probably easy for you of all to figure out which of your friends are tops and which are bottoms." They all looked around, sizing up every other boy in the class.

Logan caught Rick glancing in his direction. His pits began to sweat again, for he knew how he measured up to Rick. He was Rick's "smaller friend." Always had been the smaller boy in his group of buddies. And Rick, though he was too polite and would never point it out specifically, knew it.

At his back, Logan could feel Collin's eyes burning into him. Several of the larger fellas in the front of the class looked back, targeting Logan. In fact, now that he thought about it, he realized he was quite possibly the smallest boy in the whole class, and every eye in the room was searching him out as if he were putting off an impossible-to-resist odor.

He squeezed his arms tighter to his body, and looked down at the textbook straddling his and Rick's desk, pretending not to notice.

"For those of you who are completely lost," Coach Parker emphasised, grinning, and several boys in class chuckled, "tops are the fellas who stick their penis into a bottom's butt."

The class laughed, and from behind him, Logan heard Collin holler a deep-voiced, "Amen!"

Holding a hand out to quiet his students, Coach Parker said, "I'm assuming all of you, by now, know from your Sex Ed class what happens when boys put their penises up other boys' butts?"

A resounding affirmation.

"Very good," he said. "Condoms are important for that reason--at least until you're ready to be a father. But moving on, you fellas who identify as tops all know that your sense of smell is starting to grow sharper, keener, and you're probably picking up on things that a lot of bottoms don't pick up on--scent-wise. You fellas who identify as bottoms, you should all be aware that tops have a sharper sense of smell purely for the purpose of, well, sniffing you out. Let's remember, there weren't always five billion people on this planet, and men looking to breed needed to know where to find other men." Coach Parker had them turn to the next page, where a detailed summary of olfactory classification was highlighted in detail. "Tops detect certain pheromones that bottoms produce significantly more than they do. These pheromones come from the glands in the bottom's anus," he snapped his fingers, forcing some of the boys in class to stifle their laughter, "and they are significant attractors for tops. So," Coach Parker looked up from his lecturn, eyeing his students, "for you fellas who are going crazy lately, and just can't seem to stop getting sexually aroused in school, what with thinking about the butts of your fellow classmates and all, then that probably means you're picking up on this very unique scent that roughly half of your buddies are emitting."

There was a curious shuffling among the boys in the class, a stirring, as if many of them were adjusting themselves to keep from bursting through their shorts. By the ensuing silence, it was clear Coach Parker had interested them. They were all ears.

Matt Dylan in the third row raised his hand. "Mr. Parker?"

"Yes, Mr. Dylan?"

"Are you saying that we like the smell of assholes?"

There was some snickering, some murmuring about.

"That's precisely what I'm saying--if you're a top, that is."

Matt frowned. "But don't that smell like shit?"

The class broke into a laugh. Even Coach Parker chuckled. "I'm sure some of them do," he said. "And that is why it's important that bottoms--all of you, in fact--take care of your bodies. Clean your bodies well. Hygeine is important. But I will say this, Mr. Dylan: the rectum, and the anus, are just a passage way for the bodily removal of waste. They do not hold waste--or, in your vernacular, shit. Just as we urinate by way of our penis doesn't mean that the penis serves another, and just as critical, function."

"Does ass-sniffing get you high?" asked another kid.

Coach Parker seized control of the spurts of laughter.

"In a way," Coach Parker said. "Yes, it does."

"Okay, because I was watching this porno the other day, and for like fifteen minutes all the guy was doing was smelling his partner's asshole, going all crazy," the kid said. Every boy in class was laughing, including Logan.

Coach Parker's face cracked into a grin. "Yes," he said. "If you're a top, the smell of an anus can be...intoxicating. Very much so."

In the back, Collin asked, "Do you ever smell buttholes and get high, Mr. Parker?"

More laughter bubbled up like thick foam, and when it began to fizzle out, Coach Parker said, "Yes." The room went silent. "My husband's." He turned back to the board, scratching more terms for the class to take down.

"Bottoms," he said, voice booming, "can also have a very strong sense of smell. However, their sense of smell tends to detect the pheromones produced in the Androstenone glands, which are located in the armpits." He lowered a large diagram displaying the male anatomy. Coach Parker pointed to the illustration's underarm area, and said, "When we sweat, we release our body's natural sexual stimulant--only it's a stimulant for other males. For tops, their armpits typically sweat more, drawing the attention of potential bottom mates nearby. Bottoms don't usually detect the pheromones secreted from a man's anus--yes, tops produce the same pheromones from their butts just as bottoms do. The difference is that bottoms are not drawn to it, but rather the odors coming from their underarms."

Beside him, Logan noticed Rick casually open up his arms a little more, exposing his pits. Even though he had been battling the musk all week--and frustratingly so--Logan's nostrils flared as a more potent smell rose up from Rick and smacked him hard in the face. At his crotch, his penis swelled up painful and fat. Logan clamped his legs together, hoping that Rick wouldn't notice the sudden lump in his shorts. Though he couldn't be sure, Logan wondered if Rick had opened his arms up with the intent of having Logan swoon over his scent. But would Rick do that? Did Rick like him in that way? Logan shook the thought, and tried to focus.

Travis in the first row raised his hand. Coach Parker acknowledged him.

"Since men who are tops also produce the same pheromones from their butts that bottoms do," Travis said. "Can they accidentally attract other tops?"

Coach Parker nodded, definitely. "Yes," he said. "That absolutely happens sometimes. Every now and then you hear of a grown man, a big man--a man who is a top--getting raped, right? Just the other night on the news, there was that story of that guy who got pinned to the ground in a back alley down town. Did anyone of you hear about this? He was raped--fucked by four different men, and he ended up pregnant with one of their children. He happened to be a father himself--had three boys. Many tops have found themselves pregnant because of this. It happens. We all produce the smell from our anus, it's just the way it works. Although, statistically, bottoms have a significantly higher chance of being raped. Again, they tend to be smaller and easier for tops to take advantage of."

Returning to the diagram of the male anatomy, Coach Park directed the class's attention to the buttocks area. "I assume there are a few bottoms in the class," he said, and Logan swore Coach Parker looked over at him. "It's important to know how all the genitals work. Tops--you all know how your penises work. Everyone here knows the function of the testicles. But it's also critical to know how the anus works. This is an important part of a man's genitals...just as important as the penis and the testicles. And for bottoms, the anus is the prime genital area." Logan took a mental note. Coach Parker cleared his throat and faced the roomful of boys head-on. "When a top gets excited, he gets an erection, right? Oh, bottoms get erections, too. But there's also something special about a bottom when he gets sexually stimulatd. A bottom's anal glands--the same glands that produce his pheromones--will secrete a natural lubricant, which is essentially just sweat. That is why--and for you tops who haven't had sex yet, take note--that is why a bottom's buttcrack is wet when they are sexually excited. Their anus is literally sweating, providing the natural lubricant for the top."

"Coach," said Daniel Weldon, the baseball team's third baseman. "Isn't that was pre-cum is for? Lubricant?"

"It is," Coach Parker said, "but it's usually not enough. Most of us don't pre-cum a considerable amount--some do, but most don't. The main source of lubricant comes from the bottom's anus. The sphincter," he went on, gesticulating to the blown-up illustration of the anatomy of the buttocks, "is a very sensitive and powerful muscle that stretches in order to accomdate the penis. Once through the sphincter muscle, the penis will find itself in the bottom's rectum, which, as we discussed yesterday, is where Serebrum is located. Any questions?"

No questions.

"Alright," Coach Parker said commandingly. "Test on Section Four will be next Monday..."

A resounding sign percolated throughout the room.

"I hope you all use your weekend to review everything we've covered in the past two weeks. See you fellas next week!"

The bell rang, and Logan quickly packed up his stuff and followed the horde of boys out into the halls, and headed toward the cafeteria. As an active boy, especially one in the middle of a growth-spurt, he was always hungry. Lunch sounded wonderful.

--

"Would you fuck Mr. Parker?" Collin started off the table discussion with that, dropping it like a smog bomb in the center of the group, watching them choke and cough in its wake.

Tommy, Andy, Rick, Zack, Jason, and Logan all stared at him, confused.

"Well," Collin said, feeding the line. "Would you?"

"Hell yeah," Tommy said.

Poor stupid Tommy, Logan thought. He took the bate.

"I mean, Mr. Parker's hot. I'd definitely fuck him."

"He's a top," Andy said, countering him.

"So what? There're plenty of dudes who are tops that I'd fuck. When you're hot, you're hot."

Collin turned to Logan sitting next to him, nudged him. "How 'bout you, kiddo?" he said. "Fourteen, you're cock must be begging for an asshole by now."

Logan took a bite of his sandwich instead. He was smarter than Tommy to get reeled in.

"Come on," Collin pressed, nudging Logan again. "You'd fuck your coach, right? Right? Am I right?"

"Collin." It was all Rick had to say before Collin was subdued and hopping off Logan's back. Finally, he could eat in peace.

"Whatever," Collin turned back to Tommy, a known sucker. "I'd put a baby in Mr. Parker's belly any day."

"Dude, he's like almost forty!" Zack said.

"You can get pregnant at forty," Collin shot back, shrugging.

"Yeah, but it's unlikely. Prime time to get pregnant is, well, now," Zack said. "I mean, honestly, boys were having babies at age twelve just a couple hundred years ago. Think about it, our bodies are able to reproduce pretty much the second puberty hits. Society is the reason most guys are married and popping out kids at eighteen, nineteen."

Jason said, "I heard that in some countries, boys are having kids at ten-years-old."

"Bullshit."

"Nah, I'm serious, I heard!"

And lunch carried on in that way--another typical day.

--

The first unexpected thing Logan came across that day occurred right as lunch was ending. Rick, seemingly distracted by a guy across the cafeteria the whole time, left their table early. Logan watched as he made his way over to a tall, blond-haired guy--easily sixteen-years-old. He couldn't remember his name. Johnny something. Logan recognized the boy as being on the Academy's basketball team, though. He was the archetypal jock--just a notch above Collin, from what Logan gathered. He was the all-star athlete who all the bottom boys on the cheerleading squad swooned over.

Rick took a seat beside him and, suddenly, the two of them were engaged in what appeared to be a very heated discussion.

The bell urged the students on to class, but Logan was hesitant to leave while Rick seemed so...angry. He was ushered out by one of the Academy's hall monitors anyway, and started for Biology.

Just before class, he returned to the small bathroom he masturbated in yesterday. He had noticed a growing pressure in his lower abdomen--nothing painful, but definitely a familiar feeling. He actually need to shit this time.

Thankfully, the bathroom was empty again. He locked the door behind him and took the first stall. The seat of the toilet was glistening with fresh pearls of semen--clearly another boy had needed the relief earlier and forgot to clean up. Logan wiped off the cum and took a seat. His dick was stiff, but not because he was turned on. As they had learned from Coach Parker earlier in the year, sometimes when boys had to poop, their prostate glands responded favorably to the building pressure in the rectum and, well, boing!

Like all athletes, Logan had a high-protein and carb diet. Unlike Collin and Rick, who were almost exclusively protein and water, Logan saw to it that he also took in a decent amount of fiber. Especially given the fact that he was a bottom! His dads, who knew that he was a bottom even before he knew what a bottom was, always instructed him to eat a lot of greens and drink plenty of water for that very reason. "You definitely want to take care of yourself down there," his father would say to him. "Trust me, someday you're gonna be glad you did. It'll make having a husband a lot easier." And so Logan did. Even so, his shits were still a bit of an effort. He took several minutes to poop before he made his way to class.

And while he was sitting there, on the can, he heard someone trying to open the bathroom door.

Damn, he thought. Just go to class, just go to class!

But the person trying to get in would not leave. The bathroom door rattled, almost violently, as the person tried to force his way in. Eventually, the latch on the door snapped (it was an old door, and thus, an old latch) and suddenly, Logan saw two massive feet appear from underneath the opening of his stall. Mid-shit, Logan tensed. He hated pooping anywhere but his own house. Alas, here he was, and someone was in the bathroom with him.

What was more strange, the two massive feet were facing his stall, as if whoever was on the other side was there, specifically, for Logan.

Heartrate up, blood pressure rising, Logan watched as the two feet stayed there, waiting. A few eternity-seeming seconds went by when suddenly, the sound of exasperated footfall filled the hallway just outside the bathroom. Faster than Logan could comprehend, a second pair of feet marched into the bathroom. There, directly in front of his stall, the two pairs of feet were caught in a quick scuffle, two deep-voiced boys grunted, barked, and then, just like that, they were gone.

Beyond confused, Logan screwed up his face and waited another minute before sighing, heavily, and pushing out the rest of what he came there to do. He cleaned himself up, flushed, gathered his things, and slowly, cautiously stepped out into the empty hallway. Nobody was there, nobody in sight.

"...the fuck was that?" Logan said under his breath, and he hurried off to class before cursing himself for forgetting to wash his hands.

--

Baseball practice went on as usual. Coach Parker drilled the team with a series of sprints and batting practice. The summer sun was hot, and the dirt field was dry. Needless to say, every boy on the team was drenched in sweat. Logan always felt good on the field though, despite the heat. He had good stamina, and could outrun almost all his teammates. His catching ability was pretty great, and his throwing accuracy was usually on the mark. Where he struggled was batting. He averaged at a two-in-ten hit ratio, and always felt crummy afterwards.

"Don't sweat it, Betlock," Coach Parker said, right after Logan struck out. "You'll get there."

When practice was over, the team hit the locker rooms to change. Normally, the guys would've undressed and showered off, but the Academy banned the use of the shower facilities to all athletics programs after Kenny Rogers and Norman Gates were caught having sex in them after last year's football game. Norman ended up pregnant, and as far as anyone knew, he and Kenny both dropped out of the Academy and moved in with Kenny's dads to help raise the kid. Alas, no unmonitored showering for any of the boys in the Academy from there on out. And it just so happened that Coach Parker couldn't stay late that afternoon, so the boys were walking home, dirty.

"Damn, can you believe this?" Billy Danson said, reaching into his trousers and pulling off his cup. "Sending all of us out on the street, smelling like armpits and buttholes? Someone's gonna rape one of us before we get home!"

The team chuckled at that, hardly taking it seriously. It may have been a danger to walk outside with a potent smell many years ago, but times have changed. The boys finished packing up their things and, exhausted from the day, stumbled out.

Rick and Logan were neighbors, so they often walked home together, just the two of them. Most of their friends lived north of the Academy. They were south, in the farmlands, so their walks home were usually unaccompanied and quiet with conversation. It was the sort of conversation Logan preferred--pleasant, warm, comfortable. He liked Rick a lot. He felt...safe with him.

"Damn, I stink," Rick said, sniffing his armpit as they strolled down an old dirt road that cut through a cornfield.

Beside him, Logan laughed.

"Congrats on getting bumped up to center field, man." Rick patted Logan favorably on the back. "Sorry, I forgot to tell you yesterday. But you deserve it, you know. You're really good out there."

"You think?"

"Yeah, dude," Rick said. "For fourteen, you're one of the fastest kids on the team. Not even Jay can beat you in a race. And you're a solid catcher, so I think Coach made a good move by switching you out of being a baseman."

Logan felt himself going red in the cheeks. He had always admired Rick, idolized him even. From the time Logan moved in across the street, Rick persistently inititated their friendship. He would come knocking on the door Saturday mornings, pulling Logan out for a game of catch, or for a bike ride, or for, well, whatever. They always had their summers together--Logan, Rick, and whoever else happened to be hanging around at the time. It was usually Collin and Tommy. They were the original foursome.

But of all the guys, Logan and Rick grew close in particular. They were the mellow ones of the group, the ones who secretly exchanged a knowing look whenever Collin and Tommy were swept up in an argument, or when Andy and Jason were trying to one-up each other in a game. It was nice what they had. Friendship. They had been buddies for years, and Logan found great solace in the fact. Rick...meant the world to him.

So there they strolled, two boys, both bridging the gap between boyhood and manhood, on a long dirt road at sunset. Rick in his cleats, Logan in his sneakers, their baseball gear strapped to their backs, their ballcaps pulled low to shield their eyes from the slanting sunlight. Indeed, Logan could smell Rick walking next to him. He did stink. But it was one of the greatest aromas Logan's ever known. As subtly as he could, he adjusted his cup. He felt a stirring in his groin, and he quickly tried to redirect his focus from Rick's smell to...to...anything else. He remembered what Coach Parker said in their Maleology class earlier. He tried not to appear...agitated.

A sharp, sideways glance at Rick was a moment of weakness.

For fifteen, Rick was as manly as they came. He was not sculpted necessarily, nor was he the pretty-boy-type like Jason or Tommy. Instead, he had a certain gruffness about him, a young lumberjack quality--a striking handsomeness. He was filling out: the muscles in his arms and legs--in his back. He had jet black hair and a brow that was thick and dark, shadowing his lacquer-stained eyes. He had a strong, square jaw peppered with the first signs of beard stubble. Having grown up across the street from each other, Logan knew Rick's fathers fairly well. In fact, Logan's dads were friends with Rick's dads, so knowing them "fairly well" was saying it modestly. Both of Rick's fathers were bearded men, tall and broad, dark-featured, just as Rick seemed to be turning out. From what Logan could tell, Rick had his dominant father's nose and strong jaw, and his submissive father's eyes. Somehow he had acquired both of their height and broad stature, and seemed to only be growing larger from there. Rick was, in every way, the archetypal male--full to the brim with testosterone. He was what every top wanted to be, and what every bottom sought. Logan, of course, assumed Rick was a top.

Cautiously, Logan lowered his eyes to the buldge jetting out of Rick's uniform. Though he knew it was only the outline of Rick's cup safely guarding his groin, the buldge was enough to make Logan's butt burst into an all-out sweat. He could only imagine the weighty meat it contained underneath. Sharp quick, he squeezed his eyes shut and redirected his line of sight.

"Hey, I think my dads wanted to get you and your dads together to go camping one weekend soon," Rick mentioned casually. "You know, before summer's up."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah, I think it'd be fun. We haven't gone in a couple years."

Logan and Rick's dads used to go on an annual camping trip in the summers. Just the six of them. Logan and Rick were only-childs, and they had forged a strong connection early on because of it. Both sets of dads recognized this. So their families would drive up into Wolf Hills together, about two hours north of the city. They'd fish and hike and tell stories around the campfire. Logan had always loved the camping trips. He and Rick would always bond, go off on their own hikes, canoe. The trips had been, Logan knew, an effort on their fathers' part to encourage a healthy relationship between the two boys. Logan overheard their dads chatting on the back porch one evening when he was eleven, trying to find ways that he and Rick could spend more quality time together. They were hoping that one day something would eventually happen between Rick and Logan, and being the ridiculous matchmaker dads they were, they facilitated it through the camping trips. But Logan was pretty certain Rick had no clue what was happening there. Rick was not an all brawns, no brains kinda guy, but he wasn't necessarily a whole lot of brains either.

"I'd love to go," Logan said. "You're right, it's been a couple years. Why did we ever stop going?"

Rick shrugged, kicked a rock. "Beats me. I think it had something to do my dad and his new job. He started not being able to get off work like he used to. What with being a starship pilot and all. But that's changed now."

"Oh, did he get another job then?"

"Nah. Just became a senior pilot, or something fancy like that. He can do whatever he wants now."

"Wow," Logan heard himself say. He thought of Rick, and how he worked in the autobody shop down the street as a part-time mechanic's assistant. Rick had always been good with his hands--his strong, chiseled hands. "Do you think you'll follow in your dad's footsteps?"

"What, and be a pilot? Nah, I don't have the smarts to get into flight school," he said matter of fact. "I'm pretty good at the body shop, working on cars and shit. I'd like to enlist in Space Corps someday. You can enlist as early as seventeen, so I'd be fresh out of the Academy by then."

The news almost sucked the breath out of Logan. "Space Corps?" he said. "Won't that mean you'll be in space for a long time?"

"Yeah, man, it'll be great!" Rick said, kicking another rock off the road, into the cornfield. "Space, can you imagine that? Living there, training in zero-G?"

A sourness metastisized in the pit of Logan's stomach, and he nearly choked on his words. "Oh." It was all he could think to say.

Rick shot a glance at him. "Aw, don't worry about it, man. You'd still get to see me and stuff. Space Corps only trains in orbit--and only for like three years. I'd be able to descend all the time and visit. Plus, when I'm out, I'd have all sorts of pension and can get hired almost anywhere in the Corps district. I'd be set for life, dude!"

"That does sound like a pretty sweet gig," Logan managed to push out.

"Yeah. I'd love to give it a shot. Unless..." he seemed to get tangled up in his thoughts for a moment. "Unless I'm married or have a kid before I'm seventeen. That'd be a reason not to enlist."

Logan looked up at him, curious.

"But hey," Rick said. "There aren't many guys I'm willing to put a baby in quite yet." He laughed and slapped Logan on the arm, winked at him. "Although, one may come along."

Rick changed the subject immediately after and started talking about the newest video game in a favorite series of theirs. He brought up the first car he wanted to buy--he was turning sixteen in a couple weeks, after all, and was more than ready to get his license. And, of course, he talked about the team. It was quiet for only a little while after that, and like old friends, they carried on in silence.

Until,

"Logan," Rick said, his tone serious. "You shouldn't let Collin boss you around."

Logan looked up at him, surprised.

Rick reached down and adjusted his cup, which for a second jostled Logan's train of thought, and then said, "Dude, Collin is our friend, I get that. And you're a real nice guy, and won't say anything, but he sort of walks all over you sometimes. Don't let him."

"When does he walk over me?"

"Like yesterday, in class," Rick said. "He took your book. YOUR book. Because he can't remember to bring his own. And then he started drawing pubic hair and ass hair in it." They both laughed. "Serioulsy, though. Total destruction of your property!"

"Oh, right..." Logan had nearly forgotten about that.

"And last week," Rick went on. "He copied off your paper in Physics, just because he was too lazy to do the work himself."

Logan forgot about that too.

"I just don't think it's right." Rick threw an arm over Logan's shoulder. An easy toss for him, considering Logan was almost a foot shorter than he was. "I'll rough him up for you, if you'd like."

Logan laughed and tried to control the tingling in his belly due to Rick's arm draping over him like a shield. "No," he said. "You don't have to do that."

"Really? Because I will. I'll kick his cocky ass, if you need me to."

They were both laughing, and it was a good laugh. Collin was cocky, and his ass deserved kicking. They both knew it. And they both laughed. When the laughter stalled, though, it was because Logan's heart nearly stopped dead in his chest.

"I want you to know," Rick said, his voice low and gentle, "that I look out for you, man. You mean a lot to me, and I'm always going to be there to protect you."

Logan thought he would need defibrillators to get his heart pumping again. He could feel his face go white.

"So don't be afraid to stand up to Collin sometime," Rick advised. "You don't always have to be such a good guy. Because you are--you're a really good guy, Logan. And when you do finally stand up to Collin, or anyone for that matter, just know that I'll be right behind you, ready to pound his face to a bloody pulp if he gives you shit."

Dismissing it with a laugh, Logan nodded. "Thanks, Rick," he said. "I'll say something to him next time. Promise."

And so the two boys went on talking that way until they reached their small neighorhood at the end of the dirt road.

--

Logan stepped into the kitchen and set his school bag, his baseball bag, on the table. He grabbed an apple from the refrigerator and chomped it down to the core, starving. Already he was thinking about dinner.

Making his way down the hall, he thought he heard his dads talking somewhere in the back of the house. He approached the master bedroom, eager to know the plans for food, and just before he knocked on the door, which was slightly ajar, he recognized the two moving shapes through the small opening.

His dads were having sex. Logan's eyes widened some at the sight of it. There they were, his parents, contorted as one manly body on the bed. From what Logan could see, his dad was on his back, feet high in the air, while his father was hunched over him, his fuzzy ballsack the only visible part of his genitalia--the rest buried deep inside his other dad's anus.

Logan watched his dads' two bare white asses flying around in the air. Their hairy scrotums slapped noisily against raw skin, their deep, bearish groans escaped their throats like engine steam. A distinctly male scent wafted out of the room and plucked at Logan's already-agitated penis. Had there been a fly on the wall, however, it would have noticed that Logan was not the least bit disgusted by the sight of his fathers having sex. He was not scandalized in the least. In all actuality, Logan had caught his fathers having sex many times before. Caught, however, hardly being the appropriate word. This was a world where only men existed, after all. Sex was a common thing, and hardly shameful. In fact, when Logan and his dads had a movie night, or whenever they were watching the game, they would all three be lying on the same couch, and Logan would know full well that sometimes his father's penis was inside his dad's butt the whole time. He could always tell by the smell--musky asshole and eager ballsack. Never once did it bother him; sex was not something to cover-up.

Logan stepped into the room.

"Hi, Dads," he said casually. He crossed the room and took a seat at the foot of their bed.

"Hey, son," said his father. He was balls-deep inside Logan's dad, sweating, his entire body flexed. "How was practice?"

"It was good," Logan said, only mildly distracted by the sex his dads were having three feet away from him. His nostrils flared at the smell. "Coach Parker moved me to center field yesterday, did I tell you?" He had come home so exhausted yesterday that he practically went straight into his bedroom without so much as a greeting to either of his dads. He had a lot of catching up to do.

"That's excellent, son!" his father said. He slowed his bucking hips and eventually came to a resting stop. Below him, Logan's dad quieted his groans of pleasure. They both looked up at their son--clearly this was routine, this was normal. "Center field is a tough position, good for you."

"Thanks. Our next game is Sunday, so I'll start then." A massive stomach growl burst from somewhere deep inside him. He smiled.

Below Logan's father, his dad gave a deep, satisfied sigh. "Sounds like we have a hungry boy," he said. "I'm making chicken and rice for dinner."

"Sound good," Logan said. "I'm starving!"

Logan's father started bucking his hips again--his thick, greasy manhood becoming momentarily visible and then disappearing into Logan's dad's gaping anus again. "Well let me finish up here, son, and then we'll get started on dinner."

Logan nodded, approvingly.

Below Logan's father, his dad moaned in ecstacy as his rectum was stuffed deep and full of man flesh. His fuzzy ballsack and semi-hard penis jiggled uncontrollably between his wide-open legs, and after a few more bucks of his hip, Logan's father growled ferociously as every muscle in his body tensed. He was cumming, Logan knew, bursting, gushing inside his dad's butt. For a second, it reminded Logan of Collin cumming inside of Jimmy Tanner the day before. He considered the image, and for the first time began to understand why the scene had intrigued him so much--why he couldn't get it out of his head. He was jealous. He was envious of what Collin and Jimmy had.

Logan shook the thought from his head. He didn't want to focus on that right now.

Freshly milked, Logan's father released a long, drawn out sigh of relief. Meanwhile, his other dad reached down and began masturbating himself. Within seconds, his semi-hard dick sprung into action, and almost right away, he was gasping as globs of white semen overflowed from his penis, spilling heavily onto his lower abdomen and pooling just below the naval. The room grew spicy with the scent of salt and testosterone.

Ever since Logan was twelve, his dads started having sex in front of him. It was normal among two-parent families, once the boys reached puberty; it was culturally accepted. For the past several hundred years exposing the sons to the fathers' sexual relationship was the way sex was taught. Most men refused to leave sexual education completely to the local school districts and opted to create at-home education to ensure that their sons knew the importance of safe-sex, of contraception, of the risks of early pregnancy, and so on.

Logan remembered the first time his dads told him to join them in their bedroom. It was the eve of his twelfth birthday, and consequently, Logan had just discovered tiny hairs above the shaft of his penis and under his arms the week prior. His dads, too, had begun to notice the hairs, considering they were often naked together in their home--the three of them, father, dad, and son. They were all guys, after all, and Logan's dads were very good about exhibiting what the adult male body looked like, and how it worked. From the age of seven, Logan and his two dads would shower together in the mornings (in order to teach Logan how to bathe himself), and from the age of ten, his dads would trade-off in teaching Logan how to pee standing up. Logan was very familiar with what his dads looked like naked, and on the flipside, his dads were quite aware of Logan's naked body, too. It was not necessarily a sexual thing between sons and their two fathers. Certainly neither of Logan's fathers had ever dreamed of touching their son in a sexual way. However, a healthy level of sexual tension between fathers and sons was encouraged in society. There need to be an intrigue between the two generations' sexuality. Fathers needed to be involved in their sons' sexual development, especially early on. Teaching a boy about his genitals, both penis and anus, were largely the responsibility of the fathers. And Logan's fathers taught him well. Together, they were the three muskateers. Always had been--a tightknit family.

So on the night of his twelfth birthday, the three of them had just finished having a pizza and a movie night. It had been a good birthday, Logan would always remember. He had receieved the latest and greatest video game console as a present from his dads--he even tried beer for the very first time.

"Hey, kiddo," he remembered his father saying after the movie, his arm draped around his dad. "Why don't you come into our bedroom for a bit. We want to show you something."

That night, Logan followed his dads into the master bedroom where he was instructed to take a seat on the chair facing their bed.

"Son," his alpha dad said, "Have you started learning about sex in school yet?"

Logan remembered telling his dads that he had. "Our teacher taught us about eggs and sperm, and how the eggs are in our butts, and when the sperm fertilizes them they become babies." But that was about as much information as he could give, for the schools preferred the topic of sex education to be more centralized in the home.

"Good," his father said. "But do you know how the sperm fertilizes the egg?"

Logan shook his head, oblivious.

"Well," his father cleared his throat, "your dad and I are going to show you how that happens, son. Right about now, all of your friends' dads are starting to teach them about where it is that babies come from, and it's something that your school really prefers you learn privately, at home. Now, your dad and I have noticed the hairs you're getting down there." He pointed to Logan's dangling boyhood, which sure enough was sprouting the first patch of sparse, brown hairs above his shaft and around his ballsack. Logan looked down, suddenly curious about his own genitals. He had been comparing them to his fathers' genitals for a long time, and could now see that he was coming into a large amount of hair, just like his dads. "We've also seen the hairs in your armpits," his father went on. "And frankly, both your dad and I have noticed that you're beginning to smell a little funny. Right?"

Logan grinned, nodded. Of course he noticed. He and all his friends were starting to stink. The classrooms at school were hardly breathable anymore.

"That's what puberty is all about, kiddo," his dad said. "Every boy your age is going through it right now. Your father and I both went through it, and we've just got off the phone with Rick's dads across the street, and they told us puberty has hit him pretty hard." His dads shared a small laugh. "It's the first signs that you boys are becoming men."

And so Logan's dads explained to him in great detail how his body was transforming and, more importantly, how it worked. They explained how the father in every family provided the sperm, and how the dad provided the egg.

"So I came out of your penis?" Logan remembered asking, his expression crooked.

At that, his dads simply laughed. "Yes," they told him. "You came out of your father's penis. As a sperm cell. But when you were born, you came out of here." His father lifted his dad's legs, exposing his anus. It was a small, brown pucker lined with thin brown hairs. Logan stared into the eye of his dad's butt, as if recalling a long-forgotten and distant memory.

And it was then that Logan realized he was grown in his dad's rectum, and ultimately, birthed from his dad's butthole. It was the natural way of delivering a baby, his parents explained. And like all other boys, when Logan was an infant, he found nourishment by sucking on his dad's penis.

"After a daddy has a baby," his father explained to him, "his testicles produce a sweet, protein and calcium-rich nectar. And that's how babies are fed for the first six months of their life."

"Can the babies suck on their father's penis, too?" Logan remembered asking.

At that, his father grinned. "It's been known to happen from time to time, given that the father of the child is also generating a lot of the same hormones in his own body. But for the most part, the babies suck on their dad's penis, not their father's. Besides, fathers generally have larger penises than daddies, right? It's easier for a baby to find sustenance through their dads."

Fascinated, Logan looked up at his father, "Did I ever suck on your penis?" he asked. "Or just dads?"

Logan's father and dad exchanged looks. Then, in his rich baritone voice, his father said, "I penis-fed you a few times when you were an infant, yeah. Don't know how the hell you managed to wrap your mouth around this thing," he said, grabbing of fistful of his own cock. "But yeah, I did. One day, you'll a lot more about what it's like to raise a baby, Logan." But "for now," his two dads said, only sex was to be demonstrated. Infant birth would be something to come much later.

His father, whose name was Jim, was the alpha of the family. Most father's were. He was a six-foot tall, dark-haired man with sturdy arms and a fair amount of chest-hair. A subtle beer-belly convexed his abdomen, and following a trail of dark hair southward, his penis hung over a pair of full-sized testicles with substantial weight--his pubic hair thick and bristling. He was a healthy, mostly-in-shape thirty-seven-year-old with a small amount of silvering speckled in his five o'clock shadow.

Logan's dad, Garret, was nearly as tall as Jim and about three years younger. He was coppery--his hair and pubes mostly brown, but still with the faintest glimmer of red. Overall, he was far less hairy than his husband, but even so, his buttocks harvested a thicker carpeting of fur, and his pits a denser forest. He was thinner than Jim was, too--his belly relatively flattened. However, upon closer examination, a few stretch marks from his pregnancy with Logan could be made out, given the right light.

Both of Logan's fathers were handsome men, especially when they were younger. Logan had always enjoyed going through their old photo albums, seeing both of his dads in their lives before he was born. In their late teens and early twenties both his dads could've been models. In fact, had they wanted to, they still could've modeled. They were always a good-looking couple. Good ol' corn-fed country boys is what they were. It was no wonder all of their friends referred to Logan as their family's "little stud." Every time he looked at his dads' old photos, he could see where his relatively good looks had come from. Good genes evidently ran in the family.

And so there, on that critical night, Logan watched as his two dads had sex on the bed in front of him. For the first time, he began to understand what sex was. He was amazed to find out why he had been so drawn to his classmates' penises for the past year, and why when he grew particularly exicted, his butt crack would start to sweat uncontrollably. "It's your body's natural lubrication, son," his father said. "It makes it easier for a penis to slide inside you." He suddenly understood how it all happened, and how wonderful it all was. And he instantly realized, in a bursting, marvelous, shattering fashion, why he had started getting nervous whenever he was around Rick.

So as he sat there after baseball practice--a couple years older, a few inchers taller, a fuller crop of pubic and armpit hair--watching his two dads panting in the wake of their orgasms, Logan felt his belly exploding with hunger and urged his folks to hurry on with dinner, hardly flustered at the sight of them naked and fucking. "Or else I'm gonna eat my own foot!" he warned.

"Okay, okay," his dad said, wriggling out from underneath Jim. Logan's father's fleshy penis slipped out of his dad's dark brown, puckered sphincter with a wet popping sound. "I'm on my way."

Logan's father, Jim, grabbed a towel and began wiping his dick. He let out a heavy breath of air, a small growl, satisfied. He looked over at Logan and winked--made a predatory expression and grunted victoriously. Beat his chest like an ape.

"That's how a top takes care of his bottom," he said gruffly, teasingly. He finished cleaning his dick off and tossed the towel in the laundry bin. A curious look, then, came over his face and he turned back to Logan, eyeing him. "Did you shower after practice?"

"No, none of us did," Logan admitted.

"Yeah, I can tell," his father said with a laugh. "Go on and shower before dinner. I'll go help your dad."

Logan stripped naked right there in his dads' bedroom, tossed his dirty uniform on top of his father's towel, and headed off to his bathroom down the hall.

It was a typical night in the Betlock household, with plenty of laughter and warmth.

--

Across the street, Rick had also walked in on his dads having sex. They were in the living room, stretched out on the couch. Rick's dad was face down, head buried in the pillows, ass high in the air. Behind him, his father was burrowed to maximum depth in his ass. The house reeked of male sex.

Before any of the household's men got a word in, Rick's father unloaded a day's-worth of cum into Rick's dads' colon. It was explosive, by the sound of it.

"Rick," his father said, looking up to see his son standing there. "I smelled you walking through the front door. What, no shower after practice?"

"Not today," Rick said, chuckling.

"How was school?"

With an exhausted sigh, Rick collasped on the chair opposite his dads, drained. "Eh, okay," he said. "I think I've dropped to a D in my Physics class."

Wincing as his husband pulled out of him, Rick's dad said, "Why not have Logan help you study. He's good at Physics, isn't he?"

Glumly, Rick nodded. "Yeah," he said. "He is."

"Well, then what's the problem?" His father, an enormous man with the brains of an elephant and the brawn of a lion, went directly for the kitchen. He began looking through the cabinets, searching for the protein powder.

Rick shrugged. "It's just that all the guys at school ask Logan for help on their homework. I don't want him to feel taken advantage of."

Mixing a scoop of powder into a tall glass, Rick's father furled his brow. "You're not taking advantage of him, son. Logan knows that. You're one of his best friends, of course he'd want to help you." He gulped down half the glass, delighting in the replenishment of energy.

Rick's dads had a routine of working out in the afternoons and fucking the moment they got home. Both of their bodies craved protein when they were done, considering the effort they both made in keeping a healthy amount of muscle.

With smoldering eyes and a bearded face, Rick's father strolled back into the living room and took a bare-assed seat next to his boy. "How's everything else going?"

Smirking, Rick said, "It's all good. Having some of the fellas over later tonight. We're gonna be hanging out in the basement, if that's alright?"

Still sprawled out on the sofa, relaxing in sexual satisfaction, his dad said, "That's fine. Are they all spending the night?"

"Yeah, I thought they would," Rick said. "Is that okay?"

"Fine by me," his father said, patting him firmly on the back. He downed the rest of his protein shake--his bear-like testicles and blubbery cock clearly benefitting from the sustenance. "Just make sure nobody's naked. I don't want you to accidentally get any of your buddy's pregnant."

Rick snickered. "Nah, I'd make sure to use a condom if it came to that. But don't worry," he said quickly, catching his father's watchful eye. "I won't let it come to that."

Both his dads smiled. They looked strikingly similar, with Rick's father being nearly a foot taller than his dad, and buffer. Both bearded, they appeared clean-cut, well-groomed. It was clear that they were young for parents, easily in their early thirties. It was perhaps the very reason they became so close with Logan's dads. The Young Dads Club would've been the headline for their neighborly get-togethers.

"Yeah," his father said. "Last thing your dad and I needs is for someone's parents calling us and saying you butt-fucked their son and knocked him up."

"I've already butt-fucked some of the dudes in school," Rick said plainly.

"You wore protection, though, right?"

"Of course I did," he said. A clever smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Still fucked 'em, though."

His father laughed--proud--and slapped him hard on the back. "That's my boy!"

"I'm cooking steaks for supper," Rick's dad said, finally getting up off the couch, a thin stream of semen trickling from his gaping brown hole and down his leg. "You want green beans or broccoli on the side?"

"Either one!" Rick hollered, flipping on the sports network, curious how his team was playing. "By the way, Logan was bumped up to center field yesterday."

"Oh, good for Logan!" his dad said from the kitchen. "He's a fast kid. He'll be good there."

With a belly full of protein shake, Rick's father plopped down on the now vacant couch with a major, lion-like sigh. He and Rick would watch the game for a bit, and both of them, as per usual, would take an afternoon nap in their seats while Rick's dad cooked supper.

It was, as always, a typical night in the Hunt household.

--

Delivery pizza and soda pop and beer--Rick Hunt's basement was filled to capacity with teenage boys. Tommy, Andy, Zack, and Jason were locked in a racing game, their controllers gripped tight in their hands, their eyes fixed on the screen, their racing vehicles flying through a huge canyon carving through an exceptionally detailed desert. On the sofa behind them Rick was cheering them on, calling next game. Beside Rick was Logan, chowing down his third slice of pepperoni.

"Fuck you, Andy!" Tommy shouted, and made an incredibly evasive manuever, inadvertantly running Zack's vehicle off the road and into a ditch, but managing to avoid his own catastrophe all the while. "Sorry, dude."

"Goddammit, Tom!" Zack said. It would take a miracle for him to recover in time.

The boys erupted with laughter, hoots, and hollers. Jason won the race by a half a second and, victoriously, threw his controller down and raised his hands high as champion.

"That's how it's done!" he boasted, standing up, towering over his opponents. "Boom baby!" He shoved his crotch in Tommy's face.

Tommy, who came in at a close second, was flushed with fury. "You've gotta be shittin' me!" He took a swipe at Jason's balls and missed.

They all laughed--Tommy had been favored to win, but Jason made an unexpected come back in the beginning of the third lap and went for the gold. Tommy, beet red, was steaming. He could've castrated Jason right there.

Upstairs, Rick's dads were cuddled up on the couch, under a blanket, watching TV. His father had four fingers inside his dad's asshole, but that is a story for another time.

In the basement, the boys were rowdy as boys could be.

"Alright, alright, my turn," Rick climbed down, joining the competition.

"Dude, I need some ice for my thumbs," Zack said. He reached around and grabbed an ice-cold can of pop from the mini-fridge beside the sofa. "Ah, damn, that feels nice."

"You don't have to press the buttons so hard, man," Tommy told him.

"Can't help it. It just feels so real when I'm playing, you know? Like, it just sort of happens."

"Who's in?" Rick called, establishing the racers for the next round.

"Me!" Logan said with a mouthful of pizza. He took a quick sip of beer and crawled down in between Rick and Andy. "I wanna be the tattooed guy."

"I'm the tattooed guy," Andy said.

"No, you're not," Logan corrected. "You're the car-crash survivor, see?" He pointed to the lines of Andy's characters' face. "Those are scars, dude."

Astonished, Andy leaned it. "Holy shit. I thought those were tattoos."

The gameplay went on until three in the morning before everyone but Zack had had their fill. The rest of them gathered around the coffee table--some of them on the sofas, some on the floor--and watched Zack battling the level four boss of the latest and greatest RPG. Jason was nearly passed out, his eyelids drooping lower and lower, heavier and heavier, with each passing minute. Andy and Tommy were good and drunk--both of them barely able to sit upright for more than a few seconds without swaying to compensate for the spinning room. Rick was tapping Logan on the shoulder, pointing at the two of them, and laughing.

"What idiots," he whispered, all grins.

Logan chuckled. In fact, he laughed pretty hard. "I don't know," he finally said, pulling himself somewhat together. "I'm pretty drunk, too." Logan drank three and a half beers within the last hour. And although his belly was full of bread and cheese, he was fairly certain he qualified as a lightweight, given his small frame and practically zero body-fat. His head, too, was wobbly.

"Are you?" Rick said. He laughed a little. "I've never seen you drunk."

"Becurz I dun't drink--I donuts drink--I...don't drink." Logan smiled triumphantly, getting it right.

"Wow," Rick was grinning, ear to ear. "I am genuinely impressed with you right now."

"Yeah, why's that?" Logan took another gulp of his beer and set it on the table, getting it out of his hand.

"I've just never seen you this loosened up before." As Logan set his beer down, Rick picked his up. He took a couple sips. "I think I'm a bit tipsy myself," he said, thinking about it for a moment.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"I've never had this much beer before," Logan admitted. His dads were beer drinkers, so he'd taken plenty of sips before, maybe even had whole one to himself if it wasn't a school night and the occassion called for it. But Logan didn't care much for the taste. It was "an acquried taste" his father would always tell him.

"Hey, do you remember the time you, me, and Collin snuck into Collins' dads wine cabinet and got drunk off of that bottle of merlot?" Rick was starting to laugh too easily now. "Do you remember?"

Logan remembered. It was over a year ago. He was thirteen, and boy, he vomited a lot that night.

"Yep," he said. "Of the three of us, I definitely remember that night."

"Oh, that's right, you threw up!"

Guiltily, Logan nodded. Rick slapped his knee. He was laughing but no sound was coming out.

"Shit, dude," he said when he finally got some control of himself. "That's right, it was the first time you ever drank anything. You had half the bottle."

Reddening with slight embarassment, Logan smiled. Shrugged. "I was just testing my tolerance level," he jested.

Next thing, Rick was pulling his shirt up over his head, leaving him in nothing but a pair of basketball shorts.

"Can't sleep with a shirt on," he grumbled. "I get too hot."

Logan almost didn't hear him. He was fixated on Rick's naked arms and bare chest. He had seen Rick's arms plenty of times before, as Rick mostly wore sleeveless T's in the summer. But there was something about seeing him shirtless, right there, two feet in front of him. His arms were strong, nearly twice as big around as Logan's were. His chest was massive: a suitable cage for a giant heart and a great pair of lungs. Logan caught a whiff of Rick's naked upper body. He smelled delicious. Logan wanted to bury his face in Rick's armpit, burrow into his belly, listen to it growl with hunger. From where he sat, two feet away, Logan could feel Rick's body heat, radiating off him, like a furnace.

Logan went for his beer and took a huge swallow.

By then, Jason was passed out on the floor, Tommy on the sofa. Andy was still awake, but only barely. He was sluggishly texting some boy he met in his Algebra class, completely wrapped up in his own world. Zack, meanwhile, was doing his best to keep his eyes open. He had to beat this boss--HAD TO!

"Here," Rick said, raising his can. "I propose a toast."

Grinning, Logan nodded. Damn, his head was swimming! He lifted his beer, waiting for Rick's words, which, by the look on his face, were going to be silly, and outright absurd.

"I would like to make a--why are you looking at me like that?" Rick was red with goofy, barely suppressed glee. "What? I'm serious, I'm--okay, my toast. Here it is. Ready? Okay. Here it is. I would like to make a toast to life-long pals. You never have friendship like you do with the first boy you fall in love with."

He said it so casually, so quickly, that Logan almost didn't hear it. But then, Logan did hear it. He heard it plainly. And all at once, Logan sobered up. He blinked away his blurry vision, his stupid-looking grin melted. He shook his head slightly, sure that he misunderstood.

"So here's to life-long pals," Rick said, and he tapped his beer can against Logan's.

It all happened so fast. Hardly five seconds passed from the moment Rick said it to the moment Logan actually heard it to the moment Rick clinked their beers together. Five seconds, that's all.

Throwing his head back, Rick downed the remainder of his beer, belched enormously, and sank heavy into the sofa. His arms were stretched up over his head, revealing the furry black undergrowth of his two great, bronzed valleys. That smell... Logan's penis was growing restless. That smell... His asshole was starting to moisten, to quiver, to spasm with yearning.

Rick's smell...

And then Rick's eyes were half-focused on Logan, half-asleep. Like the other boys, he, too, was a boozed-up, sleep-deprived zombie--barely aware of this world. Logan, however, was wide awake.

"Logan," Rick mumbled. He was slipping over the edge. Logan was very close to losing him to a drunken stupor. "Logan, list'n me. List'n me--is 'portant."

Logan nodded, giving Rick's dissolving brain function all of his attention.

"Logan," Rick said again. "Collin--you know Collin?--he really wants to fuck you. He thinks you's a bottom--we all think you's a bottom, are you a bottom? I hope so, cuz I--but yeah he really, really wants to fuck you. Don't let him fuck you, Logan. Let...let m..." And he was gone, lost to the dreamworld.

Logan sat there, frozen, heart pounding. He couldn't believe it, any of it. Was Rick about to say "let me", as in "let me fuck you"? It occured to him only moments later that he had to draw a breath or risk passing out himself. And sure enough, bulging from deep within his shorts, a massive boner. Quickly, Logan squeezed his legs tight together and curled up on the sofa in an effort to hide it. All but he and Zack were asleep, and Zack was preoccupied with the game. Logan sighed in relief, he was in the clear. No one saw.

Slowly, Logan drifted off into an agitated, drunken sleep, wondering all the while what the morning would bring.

--

Somewhere, somebody was complaining of a headache.

Logan rolled over on the soft cushions of the couch, in his sleep, discovering body parts that ached as he rolled. He found a comfortable spot and took advantage of it.

Someone was shaking his shoulder.

He wanted to tell them not to wake him, to just leave him be. But it came out as a grunt, and finally, a cuss word.

"Dude," Jason said. "It's almost one o'clock."

There was a moment of serenity, a brief, fleeting peace. He had had such a pleasant dream, of Rick and of penises...of Rick's penis. His own penis felt so nice, so warm down between his legs. And then Jason's words began to solidify in his head. They were taking shape.

Logan opened his eyes.

"It's almost one?" he asked.

"Yeah, dude," Jason said. "We have practice in forty-five minutes."

Logan sat bolt upright, grabbing his head to keep it from cracking in two. The world came dizzingly into focus. He was the only one on the sofa. Zack and Andy were still asleep on the floor. Tommy was sitting up on the other couch, his head between his knees, groaning like an old man. Rick was no where to be seen.

"Where's Rick?" Logan asked.

"He went upstairs to fetch us some breakfast burritos and water. We need to hydrate, dude."

Faster than Logan could comprehend, Jason's eyes fell to his crotch and locked onto something fascinating. Logan looked down and, to his dismay, found a giant wetspot darkening his shorts. He'd had a wet dream.

"Holy shit, dude," Jason said. He slapped Logan hard on the shoulder, laughing. "Good for you, buddy! Gettin' busy in yo dreams!"

Logan smiled and tried to brush it off as nothing.

"Don't worry about it, dude," Jason said, seeing Logan's embarassment. "Andy had one, too."

He pointed to Andy sprawled out on the floor, snoring. The nearly six-foot fifteen-year-old was not only sporting a giant wetspot over his dick, but was also sustaining a huge boner, which was unavoidably visible through the thin material of his basketball shorts. Jason laughed.

"Shit," he said, staring down at their mutual friend. "Andy's hung." He turned back to Logan, grinning like a boy in a candystore.

The basement door opened and Rick came stomping down the stairs. In his arms were three microwaved burritos and three giant bottles of water. Logan immediately cover up his crotch with one of the sofa pillows.

"Here you are, boys," Rick said, keeping his voice low so as not to wake Zack and Andy. "Eat up, drink up."

"Hey, what about me?" Tommy said, staring up at him with a look of betrayal.

"You don't have baseball practice in less than an hour, dipshit" Rick said. "So shut your hole."

By two o'clock, Logan, Rick, and Jason wandered onto the field: headachey, staggering, blinded by sunlight. They got there just in time, and made a mediocre effort. Fortunately for them, Coach Parker was preoccupied with a lawn construction company most of the afternoon, seeing as the Academy's baseball field was getting a make-over the following week. So the boys' hangover wasn't nearly as obvious--at least to their coach and teammates. To them, it was very apparent.

About halfway through practice, though, their hangover started to dissipate. Logan's did, at least. Two bottles of water and the egg-sausage-and-cheese burrito really did the trick! He was refueled and well hydrated. His vision was becoming clearer, and his brain becoming sharper. He took it easy throughout the afternoon; he, Rick, and Jason--they all did. Mostly, they remained stationary, choosing to work on their throw-and-catch skills. And by four, practice was over, and they were pouring into the locker rooms.

Not once did Logan dare bring up what happened the night before. As much as he wanted to talk to Rick about it, he knew he couldn't. Not there. Not in front of all the guys. And besides, Rick had been so drunk, he probably wouldn't remember a thing. Quietly frustrated, Logan had managed to avoid Rick during practice. But since their lockers were right next to each other, he doubted he could carry on with the charade for much longer.

"Okay, boys," Coach Parker said, his booming voice sweeping over them. "Hit the showers!"

Logan was between Rick and another guy on their team: Max. Their lockers were right next to each other. The three of them began stripping themselves of their sweaty uniforms--peeling them off was more like it. Max had all his clothes off and was warming up the shower water before either Rick or Logan even had their pants off. Both of them were taking their time.

"Fuck, I'm still a little drunk," Rick said, laughing quietly.

So much for avoiding Rick today, Logan thought.

"Really?" Logan couldn't tell. Rick seemed fine to him. It was he who wasn't fine. "How many beers did you have last night?"

"Six," Rick said, keeping his voice low. "I think."

They shared a laugh like two five-year-olds who heard a dirty joke, and immediately Logan started feeling better. Logan wasn't mad at Rick. He could never be mad at him. He was just--confused. And frustrated. Mostly with himself. Oh, and he was horny. Very, very, painfully horny. All the time.

They continued to undress, but a peculiar thought slowed Logan down. Why it was occurring to him just then, he didn't know, but he was suddenly aware of the fact that he had never seen Rick naked. Rick had never seen HIM naked! Logan used to duck out of baseball practice early, always to help in the tutoring lab after school. He and Rick never had to undress and shower at the same time. This was entirely new.

Beside him, Rick yanked his pants down, all the way to the ankle. He stood there in nothing but his underwear. Logan fell short of breath, his throat tightened, and his stomach launched fireworks. Rick's underwear was jet black, matching his mane of hair. It fit snugly over the ample curves of his buttocks, over the definition of his strong thighs, over the hillside of his athletics cup. A few damp spots outlined the butt-hugging boxer-briefs, and Logan knew instantly by the smell of it that the cloth was soaked in fifteen-year-old boy sweat.

He swallowed hard and tried to ignore the stirring in his groin.

Like heat off of a fire, Rick's aroma wafted off his body and burned Logan in the face. It was a briny, salty mixture of teenaged boy and full-grown man, hot and loaded with pheromones. Logan felt his penis ballooning between his legs.

As if it was compeltely normal, Rick--who had up to this point failed to notice Logan's gawping expression--reached into the front of his boxers and removed his cup. He pulled it out and set it, casually, on the bench. Logan stared down at it. It was a beautiful, wonderful thing. It was still hot with Rick's body heat, and damp with his sweat. And, as Logan studied it a moment longer, a single, curly black hair had been left behind in its concave structure. A pubic hair left behind.

It was official, Logan was at full-mast.

Rick glanced over at him, and Logan froze like a deer in headlights.

"You okay, man?" he asked.

Stiff, both literally and figuratively, Logan did everything in his power to prevent himself from throwing his whole body onto Rick.

"Yeah," he lied. "I'm fine."

Smirking, as if he caught Logan doing something he shouldn't, Rick slid his underwear off his body and jammed it into his bag, along with the rest of his dirty clothes.

Logan, meanwhile, was trying to avoid Rick's nakedness. He couldn't do that to himself. Look at Rick's naked body. It would have been torture. And so he kept his focus on removing his own pants, his head slightly bowed and turned the other way.

In his periphery, Logan saw Rick take a seat on the bench. He was searching through his bag for something--shower gel, shampoo probably. Damn, why was he taking so long? Logan needed to undress, and with Rick this close by he was fully sprung. He couldn't get rid of his raging boner--and it was all Rick's fault!

"Hey, bud, do you have any body wash?" Rick said. "I'm running dry over here."

Fuck. Logan closed his eyes and tried to find his center--only his center was his dick, and his dick was craving Rick! He sat down, realizing that he wasn't getting out of his pants anytime soon anyway, and dug through his own bag.

"Here."

Logan found the body wash, turned so he could hand it to Rick. And though he desperately tried to focus on other things, every effort he made was futile. For there it was. No longer avoidable, no longer hidden from view: Rick's penis. It was a gorgeous, fleshy organ that dangled at Logan's nose, carefree. It protruded out from a thick patch of black pubic hair and put off an eye-stinging scent. It was perfectly sculpted--Rick's penis was--and perfectly bronzed, like polished mahogany--a subtle sheen of sweat made it appear to sparkle in the afternoon sunlight streaming through the windows high overhead.

Logan's mouth watered. He felt pre-cum dampening his underwear.

Standing before him, fully naked, was Rick. Logan couldn't move. A small patch of chesthair was beginning to bloom between two large, and perfectly browned, nipples. Dark, bristling black hair traversed the path from his belly button to his groin, and there grew fuller and thicker. Rick's penis, Logan guessed, weighed nearly half a pound. It was a substantial sex organ (and Logan thought his father had a big one!). Easily, it was twice the size of Logan's penis, both in length and thickness. Beneath the meaty phallus were a pair of ripe, full-sized testicles, furry, beastly, voluminous.

Before him, Rick stood. Tall, large, powerful, naked. It was often hard for Logan to think of him as a fifteen-year-old, when so easily he could have passed for twenty-five. He was no longer a boy, Logan thought to himself. And his body proved it. Rick Hunt, fifteen, was by all accounts a fully grown man.

Logan caught himself quick and closed his mouth, so as not to drool on the bench he was sitting on. He tore his eyes away from Rick's penis and forced himself to look up into his eyes.

"Thanks," Rick said, taking the body wash from Logan's hand.

Logan felt a lingering gaze between them. It could easily have been that Rick was slightly weirded out by Logan's staring contest with his penis. Humiliated, Logan whirled around and resumed digging--for absolutely fucking nothing--in his bag. He felt Rick turn on his heel and head toward the showers with the rest of the team. Logan only allowed himself to glance over his shoulder for a second, getting a quick look at Rick's butt as he walked away. A butt that, for all intents and purposes, was the most beautifully round, corn-fed, sculpted and masculine thing Logan's ever laid eyes on--after Rick's penis, of course.

Logan breathed out, a slow, deep sigh. His heart was pounding arrhythimically in his chest. He waited for several minutes for his boner to subside, focusing on his math homework, his physics homework, anything. Within five minutes, he was ready to finish undressing, and by that point, most of the guys on the team had finished showering and were back at their lockers, dressing. Logan paid no attention to them.

He pulled his pants down, ripped off his socks. He slid out of his underwear--a long rope of pre-cum still attached to the head of his penis. He got naked and did his best to ignore the naked boys all around him. Head down, he made his way into the shower room, where Coach Parker stood, cross-armed, against the wall, watching to make sure everyone was on their best behavior. In the corner of his eye, Logan could see Rick rinsing off, the foaming suds drifting down his manly torso, running over his genitals, sailing down through his buttcrack, pooling at his enormous feet. Logan shook the thought and went for the furthest showerhead, far away from Rick.

"Davis, Pasco!" Coach Parker said. "You boys are clean, go get dressed."

Logan looked up to find Tyler Davis and Dylan Pasco both sporting massive erections. Their dicks were stiff as planks, sticking out in front of them like the bowsprit of an old ship. They hadn't behaved out of line, but from the sound of it, Coach Parker was just playing it safe.

The two boys turned off their showers and wet-footed it back to their lockers.

Logan ended up being the last boy in the showers that day. And damn, that shower time was precious. He wasn't distracted, he wasn't tempted, he wasn't being slowly driven insane by the sight and smell of his naked friend. He finished rinsing off, wrapped a towel around his waist and made his way back into the locker rooms, where the rest of the team was finishing dressing. Rick, at least, had some pants on.

"Fellas," Coach Parker said. "I'll see you all at tomorrow's game. I think we're in a good place. Good work today. And lastly, in the future when we shower off after practice, if you boys need to, don't be afraid to run to the bathroom beforehand to...take care of yourselves. Alright?" He was surveying each of them. "A handful of you were getting a little excited in the showers today, and the Academy is really cracking down on that, given the situation with Kenny Rogers and Norman Gates last year. Is that understood?"

A resounding "Yes, sir" and "Yes, coach" echoed within the concrete walls. They all finished dressing, Logan and Rick: silently.

--

On the walk home, Logan didn't know what to say to Rick. So he didn't say anything. At least, not initially. They were walking with some of the other boys on the team, Rick and Jason reliving last night's party, chatting about how terrible Zack was at video games and how Andy had a new secret crush on one of the guys in the Academy, the one he had been texting all night--none of them knew who the boy was. And finally, when the other boys dispersed, heading off in their own directions, it was just Rick and Logan traveling down the long dirt road that cut through the cornfield. For a while, it was quiet. Not uncomfortablty quiet. There was no tension between them. But when the time came for either of them to speak, it was Rick who initiated the conversation.

"Sorry if I upset you last night," he said. His voice was deep and somber. "I guess I ended up getting more than tipsy."

Logan looked at Rick, squinting from the sun.

"You remember about last night?"

Rick nodded. "Some," he said. "Enough to know what I said."

Logan wanted, wanted very much, for Rick to reach out and drop an arm over his shoulders, the way he always did. But he didn't. Logan kept his head bowed, staring at his feet as they walked.

"It's just that," Rick carried on, "all the guys in school are really horned up, you know? And you're smaller, and super cute--"

Logan was beaming inside, his heart fluttering, his stomach twisting in knots. His face cracked into a smile, but he quickly brought it under control.

"--and I've heard some of the guys talking lately, and...well, some of them are starting to notice you." Rick went quiet for a moment. And it wasn't until Logan looked up that he realized that Rick was staring down at him.

"Starting to notice me?" Logan said, prompting Rick to go on.

"Well, yeah," Rick said, clearly flustered. He placed his hands on his waist, scratched the back of his head, shuffled his feet. "Logan. I overheard some of the guys talking the other day. Not Tommy or Jason or anyone in our group, just some guys. And, well, Collin is going to ask you to help him with some homework next week. He wants to get you alone so he can...He wants to try and...fuck you, dude."

It took Logan by surprise. He hadn't forgot what Rick said to him last night, but he hadn't exactly thought he was being preyed upon by Collin either. At least not as aggressively as Rick had made it sound. An image of Collin in the locker room--sweats around his ankles, his bare white ass bucking back and forth--drilling his dick into an exposed and vulnerable butt. Logan realized only then that the anus in trouble wasn't Jimmy Tanner's...it was his! He shook the thought. The whole idea threw him, slightly. But more than that, he realized that all Rick was doing was warning Logan about Collin's hunt. Clearly, Rick didn't remember saying, or almost saying, that he wanted to fuck Logan last night. And if he did, he certainly wasn't bringing it up now.

Tail between his legs, Logan nodded. "Oh."

"Sorry," Rick said, gently. "I'm not trying to cause a rift between you and Collin or anything. I know he's our friend and all. It's just--I thought you should know."

Logan blinked, lost in a moment of puzzlement. "Thanks."

Solemnly, Rick said, "I meant what I said the other day, Logan. I'll deal with Collin for you, if you want. Get him off your scent." He sighed."I'm going to protect you."

Logan found himself looking away, not out of disappointment or anger, as he would have expected, but from a strange desire to shield himself from Rick. It was becoming increasingly hard to cover up his feelings for him.

"You don't have to protect me, Rick," Logan heard himself say. "I can take care of myself."

By then, they had come a full stop in the middle of the road. Just the two of them. Logan, still, avoiding Rick's eyes.

Rick opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. He scuffled in his cleats.

"I know you can take care of yourself," he said. "I was only trying to say--"

"Look," Logan said flatly. "I appreciate you looking out for me, Rick. I really do. But I'm not some little boy who needs a bodyguard anymore. I need--" he didn't have the rest of the sentence. He fumbled. "Maybe I do need to get fucked," he finally spat out. "I mean, I'm going crazy over here with you, and every other guy surrounding me at school. And Collin has a lot of experience as a top--I know, I caught him fucking Jimmy Taner in the locker room yesterday. And I admit it, I'm a bottom--in case you all haven't already figured that one out. Maybe Collin could actually help me!"

They stood there in silence for a few seconds. Rick seemed to be doing everything in his power to pull himself together.

Then he swallowed, and lightning flicked in his eyes. "Logan," he said through his teeth. "I know you're not a little boy anymore. I can see that. We all can."

Logan looked up at him, puzzled.

Barely able to contain his rage, Rick said, "Look at you, for fuck's sake! Do you not see the way every boy in school looks at you? Are you blind? Of course we all know you're a bottom! You're the young slab of meat whose ass is filling out, whose adorably awkward personality is so unbelievably charming it hurts, whose voice dropped two octaves in a year, whose eyes are the most gorgeous thing anyone's ever gazed into!" He was practically yelling. "Every guy in the Academy wants to put a baby in you, Logan! Every goddamn guy! Just yesterday I had to pull Johnny Molitor out of the bathroom and slam him into a wall and threaten to kick his ass if he ever laid a hand on you. He waiting right outside your stall while you were taking a shit. Believe me, he had been following you around all morning, and come to find he'd made a bet with some fellas that he could knock you up before basketball practice. He was going to ambush you when you came out of that stall, Logan. He was going to rape you right then and there. I changed the fuck out of his mind. And right now, you know who's plotting to stuff your ass full of his cock? Collin! Sure, he has Jimmy Tanner on the side, and few others on his hit list. But YOU'RE NUMBER ONE!"

Overtaken by his anger, Rick spun on his heel and walked away a bit, paced back and forth--fuming. He came back.

"Logan, I look out for you not because I have to, or feel that you need me to. I look out for you because I'm--" He swallowed hard. "I'm in love with you. I've been in love with you for a long time. And the only reason I haven't made a move on you yet is because I wanted to make sure you were ready. You see," he looked Logan straight in the eye. "I want to be the father of your children. I want to be your husband, and I want to start a family with you. I want it all with you, Logan, and I'm ready for it now. I'd quit the team, I'd drop out of Academy and get a permanent job at the body shop. I won't enlist in Space Corps. Trust me, I'm ready to be your man. I just...wanted to make sure you were ready for me."

Before another word was said, Logan was pulled into Rick's massive arms and the two were instantly locked in a powerful, passionate kiss. For the first time, Logan tasted Rick's masculine breath on his tongue and smelled the menthol shaving cream on his cheeks. His heart was a galloping herd, and he could feel Rick's heart matching his own from deep within his chest. All round them, the world had slowed to a near halt, and the sun pierced the low-hanging clouds, shining, it seemed, on them alone.

The flavors of their mouths were tasted, and each other's breath consumed. When their lips parted, it was as if all the air had been sucked out of Logan and now rested in Rick's lungs.

In the way that all boys cry, Logan tried to hide it. His eyes were glistening with tears, though none were full enough to run down his cheeks. He immediately shook the emotion, clinging to his masculinity.

"I think," Logan said, "I'm in love with you, too."

They kissed again, this time Rick pulling Logan in tighter, closer. Not a gap of air existed between them--even their groins were pressed against each other like two converged mountains. Rick's hand drifted lower on Logan's back, grazing the small of his back and, finally, passing along the hill of his buttocks--a place Rick had neverjourneyed before. At the sensation of Rick's fingers traversing his ass, Logan arched his back, giving Rick every greenlight imaginable. As the intensity quickened, and the passion climbed, Rick bucked his hips forward, pressing them hard into Logan. Finally, it had become too much to handle, and Rick forced himself to stall.

"If I don't stop myself right now," he said. "You're gonna have a baby in you before we ever get home."

"That's okay," Logan said, perkily. "Rick, I want everything you want. Trust me. I want...I want us to be a family. I want you to my guy."

Their eyes met, and in that moment, a mountain of understanding occurred. Without words, without language, without signals or signs, Rick and Logan read each other perfectly. And it was clear what life held in store for them.

At once, Rick reached down, snatched up their school bags, their baseball gear (which had been carelessly tossed aside the moment they started making out), and turned back to Logan.

"Follow me," he said.

And they were off.

--

Through the front door, up the stairs, down the all, into the room, shut and lock the door. Rick's bedroom was a sanctuary. Logan had been in it a million times, yet somehow, it seemed all new to him. He stood anxiously beside the bed, his heart drumming, his cock swelling, his buttcrack dampening, his anus pulsing, quivering, yearning.

Rick threw their bags in the corner and turned to face Logan. Slowly and carefully, as if trying to take in every waking second, he approached Logan. He stepped into him, and Logan could feel the heat pulsating from his body. Without prompt, Rick tore his shirt off, exposing the impressive groves of his underarms, overflowing with black hair. His stomach, flat, rippled with teenage muscle, rose and fell with his heavy breathing. Logan reached up, delicately, and set his fingertips on Rick's bare stomach. His skin was hot to the touch.

Rick leaned down and kissed Logan full on the lips. A small, boyish noise escaped him as Logan's fingers scaled the southernmost part of his abdomen.

When Logan went to take his shirt off, Rick stopped him, and it was clear from there that he was determined to do it himself. With grace, Rick began undressing Logan, top to bottom. First Logan's T-shirt, followed by his belt, his jeans, his sneakers and socks. All that eventually remained on Logan was his underwear, a thin, snugly fitted black pair that could barely contain his erection. Rick stared down at him with blushing admiration. Down below, Logan's cock twitched.

Kissing Logan again, Rick carefully lowered him onto the bed. He was still dressed from the waist down. His shorts, Logan figured, were the only things keeping his penis contained. Logan hardly expected Rick's underwear stood a chance in caging that beast for long. Shirtless, and barefoot, Rick set himself on top of Logan, like a lion to its kill. Their naked chests and bellies came together, their mouths interlocked, their hands exploring every new crevasse, every new slope and rise.

With his armpits fully exposed, and shirtless, Rick's scent permeated the bedroom. It was the smell of boys in summer, of fresh cut grass, of woods and pine. It was the smell of sweat and dirt and animal. Most of all, it was the unique smell of testosterone, potently bursting through every pore, through every hair follicle, through every gland. Rick was the greatest thing Logan's ever smelled before. He desperately wanted Rick to breed him, he wanted to smell just like him!

Together, Logan and Rick made out for what seemed an eternity, delighting in each other's taste, in each other's scent. It was, for Logan, the single most thrilling moment of his life. He had never been happier than he was lying there, on Rick's bed, with Rick on top of him.

At long last, Rick lifted Logan's legs and pushed his feet high over his head. He took a moment to admire Logan's feet, smell them, taste them. They were large for a boy of fourteen--only a size down from Rick's own feet--distinctly chiseled, dexterous, and masculine. Then, eyes scaling Logan's ankles and calves, to his lightly-haired hamstrings, Rick found himself zeroing in on Logan's butt, like a homing beacon. Still covered by his underwear, Logan's butt was the prize to be won based on the look in Rick's gaze.

A surge of adrenaline burst in Logan's stomach.

Growling with urge, Rick pulled Logan's underwear off--slowly, dangerously--revealing the supple, brown anus quivering with want underneath. Logan, feeling more naked than ever, sucked in a heavy breath, lost in a storm of unrelenting pleasure and terror. Rick was seeing his butthole for the very first time, the place where his penis would live, and the place where their children would one day be birthed from.

Like a man who discovered the Fountain of Youth, or the Holy Grail, or some other equally valued ancient and mystical treasure, Rick sighed in astonishing awe, gazing in amazement at the beauty of Logan's anus--the orifice he was about to mark as his own. Rick seemed to be battling chills running up and down his spine. He glanced up at Logan, but only for a second, as if to say, "You are the most beautiful thing I've ever laid eyes on." Then, continuing to remove Logan's underwear, pulling it up and off his skyward legs, Rick caught a whiff of something...something that sent him into a frenzy. Clearly, he was getting a hint of Logan's underside, of his anus, of his pheromones. Suddenly, with no restraint left, Rick dove face first into Logan's exposed ass, sniffing, licking, biting. Above him, Logan was moaning in unadulterated ecstacy.

He could feel Rick's nose sifting through the thin brown hairs skirting his hole, traveling up along the fuzzy bridge in between anus and scrotum, and burrowing into his testicles. Logan had never felt such pleasure. His penis was stiff as concrete, pre-cum spilling onto his belly. Rick didn't even notice, he was too engrossed with Logan's underside. Logan felt teeth clamp down on a large area of flesh just to the side of his butthole. Rick bit down hard, chewed, sucked, and Logan knew at once he would be marked with a giant hickey for weeks.

And then, when another eternity had passed, and Rick had nearly eaten Logan's ass and ballsack clear off his body, Rick returned to Logan's mouth and kissed him deeply. Logan could taste his anus on Rick's lips and tongue. A salty, pungent flavor, a familiarity, a spiciness. Somehow, Logan felt as if he knew the taste all along. On Rick's tongue, Logan could also taste the salty male flavor of testicles, of groin. Beneath it all, Rick's own unique brand came through, and Logan melted.

Rick pulled away and journeyed south again, this time seeking Logan's dick. He took the time to study it, to get to know it. He licked the pre-cum glistening like a pearlon its head, learned its smell. He ran his fingers through Logan's pubic hair, marveling at its texture, its color. Rick's fingers traveled up Logan's abdomen, following the narrow trail up to his belly button and moving northward from there. Logan felt tingly all over--his body on fire as Rick's hands grazed over its every inch.

Logan received a few tender sucks on his cock--Rick clearly being experienced in giving blowjobs--before Rick finally reached down and tore his own shorts and underwear off, freeing the beastly piece of manhood and letting it tumble out with considerable weight onto Logan's leg. Logan's eyes grew to the size of lemons, realizing suddenly that he'd underestimated the size of Rick's penis in the locker room earlier. Erect, the fifteen-year-old's sex organ was easily nine inches long and thick around as python. It was heavy as it rested full on Logan's thigh, also leaking a substantial amount of pre-cum.

With a deep, uncontrollable crave, Logan sat up and pursued Rick's penis as if it were a piece of fresh fruit and he a hungry islander. If he was to be marked by it, if it was to impregnate him, he wanted to at least taste it first. Slowly, Logan wrapped his lips around the massive piece of flesh, doing his best to open up his throat wide enough to accomdate it. It was hot in his mouth--roughly three degrees warmer than Logan's own body temperature. He could feel the blood pumping through the veins on his tongue. At his nose, Rick's sparse pubic hair smelled of male musk and sweet salt. Logan could taste the pre-cum oozing onto the back of his tongue and down his throat. He was reminded, for the briefest of moments, of the flavor. It was like something from a dream, something from his distant past. And he remembered, quite suddenly, that he had tasted penis many times before. Every boy did, after all.

Like a piece of beef jerky, or a chunk of spiced-ham, Logan savored every moment of Rick's flavor. Had he been starving, Rick's penis would have been a full meal, enough to get him through a week. Excitment stirred his guts as he thought about the penis he suckled, and how it would be filling him up soon enough. He wondered, even, if their future son was there, just inside--naught but a sperm cell swirling around in the core of Rick's testicles. Logan sucked harder, thinking of their boy, the baby waiting for its moment of release deep within the grown man who moaned above in unrestrained pleasure.

Eagerly, while Logan continued to suck him, Rick sought out the fourteen-year-old's bare ass and began fingering it, digging deep into the exposed anus, feeling theconsiderable amount of natural lube his anal glands were producing. It wasn't long before Logan felt the intense, lightning-bolt surge of sexual electricity as his prostate was teased significantly by Rick's finger. Logan had fingered himself enough to know the sensation (his dad had taught him how to do so in order to start understanding what it would be like to be a bottom). Rick's cock halfway down his throat stifled his boyish yelp, and at once Logan pulled back, his entire body squirming, tingling.

Never once did Rick express concern for Logan's gasping and groaning. Never once did Rick feel the need to ask if Logan was alright. Never once did Rick slow down or stop, as if he thought he might be too advanced, too experienced, for Logan. No, Rick bulled through. He knew exactly what he was doing, and treated Logan like the sexual creature he was. He held Logan, handled him, with exquisite care and dominance. He was an alpha, and he went after his bottom boy with the ferocity of a hungry lion.

When it was evident that Logan's hole was loosened up and ready for him, Rick adjusted Logan's legs, lowered him onto his back, and positioned himself like a beast ready to mount. Their gazes in a lock, Rick took aim and slowly, steadily, allowed his penis to slide into Logan's gaping, brown pucker. From view, his manhood disappeared bit by bit, swallowed up into the fourteen-year-old's anus until, finally, only his plump, lion-sized scrotum was left. Beneath him, Logan sighed deeply, feeling for the first time the fullness of a man inside him, filling him to the brim with hot flesh, for his rectum could not have hosted another centimeter of penis if it wanted to.

Rick pumped in and out of Logan's ass, going slow at first, then easing into a steady, passionate rhythm. Both of them, bodies intertwined, released small, deep-throated moans. Logan had never felt such a rush, such a thrill. Rick Hunt was inside of him, claiming him as his own. In his chest, Logan's heart beat to the rhythm of Rick's hips. The bedroom filled with the smell of boy sex--assholes and ballsacks. Logan, lost under Rick's spell, watched his feet bouncing overhead with each slam of Rick's cock. Logan could feel the weight of Rick's testicles slapping against his tailbone with every thrust.

Inside Logan's butt, Rick's penis slid back and forth, massaging the walls of his rectum, titillating his prostate, every so often breeching his colon. In the depths of his belly, Logan could feel a wave of electricity surging. In his testicles, Logan could feel fresh semen bubbling, boiling. He could explode any moment, spraying his stomach and chest with every drop of cum that had been slowly building in his balls all day. He did everything in his power to stay in the game, though. He didn't want the sex to end.

"Logan," Rick said, his voice deep and winded. "I want to father your children." He was staring into Logan's eyes, pushing far up inside him, holding him securely, never to let him go.

Looking back up at him, Logan smiled. He didn't have to say anything, he didn't need to give permission. Rick, they both knew, already had permission. He had permission to be the father to Logan's children long ago.

With that, Rick smiled, closed his eyes, and lost himself again as he burrowed deeper into Logan's ass--his entire cock swallowed up, sunk in up to his balls. Logan, legs spreadwide and feet held high, moaned as his best friend achieved an even greater depth inside him than ever before. And suddenly, as Rick bucked his hips harder, faster, and as Logan moaned increasingly louder, every muscle in Rick's body tensed. His arms squeezed Logan tight, burying Logan beneath his weight. Logan was subject to Rick's power, to his incredible strength, to his enormous size. Balls deep, Rick's cock stiffened to maximum capacity in Logan's rectum, and then--all breath held--he was spilling his seed in a series of great and powerful pumps. Logan could feel the flood of semen shooting up into his body, drenching his insides like hot milk.

As Rick's orgasm crested intensity, he clamped Logan in a vice-like bear hug, revealing his true strength, and making Logan feel as safe and as protected as he always knew he was. It was then that Logan's dick twitched, a sudden, hot rush of feeling, and a bath of bleachy white milk spewed out, staining both their stomachs in the process.

When it was over, and both sets of genitals were exhausted and limp, Rick collapsed completely onto Logan. He was heavy, but Logan had never felt so happy in his life. It was the greatest feeling he'd ever known--Rick's full weight on top of him. They both stayed locked in position, panting, sweating. Rick's thick slab of meat still plugged up Logan's hole, as if Rick was making sure his semen didn't leak out.

"Hey," Rick said.

"Hey."

They smiled, kissed. Nothing more needed to be said. They just rested there, Logan wrapped in Rick's arms, Rick's penis stuffed in Logan's ass, the smell of sex filled the bedroom like smoke. It was nearly an hour later, after a great discussion about what their future held, that Rick pulled out of Logan with a loud, wet popping sound, got to his feet, and went for the door.

"You thirsty?"

Logan, lowering his legs for the first time in over an hour, and truly feeling the stretch of his anus, nodded, winced. "Yep. Very thirsty." He laughed.

Grinning, Rick winked at him, and stepped out into the rest of the house.

--

Rick made his way downstairs to the kitchen, naked, his penis greasy and smelling strongly of Logan's rectum. His dads were lying on the couch in the living room, watching the game. They both turned heads when they saw their son passing through, surprised.

"Have you been home this whole time?" Rick's dad asked. "We didn't even hear you come in."

Rummaging through the fridge, Rick smiled. "Yeah, I got in around five."

"Oh," he heard his dad say. "Well your friends all left a little after you and Jason and Logan headed off to practice. They looked drunk. Were they drunk?"

Rick laughed. "Oh yeah, they were drunk I'm sure."

Getting up to search for a snack in the pantry, Rick's father stepped into the kitchen. Both him and Rick's dad were wearing clothes. Even so, Rick didn't feel the least odd standing there naked. Like Logan's household, nudity was a normal way of life.

"You look out of breath, son," Rick's father said, scratching his beard, digging through shelves.

In the living room, his dad was preoccupied with the game.

"Hey, toss me a beer, would ya?"

Rick grabbed the first can in the fridge and underarmed it to his father. His father tapped the lid and cracked it open, took a sip. Meanwhile, Rick pulled out two bottles of water.

"Hey, can I talk to you a sec?" he said.

"Sure thing," his father said. He lifted himself up on the counter, giving Rick his full and undivided attention.

Facing his father head on, dick and balls hanging out in the open, Rick said, "I, uh...I think I just got Logan pregnant."

His father's eyes stayed on him, but he did not frown. He didn't smile and leap for joy, either. He just looked at Rick with those two dark, unhindering eyes and held the stare.

"Just now?" he asked.

Rick nodded.

His father's eyes fell to his son's flaccid penis, which glistened with a dark and familiar wetness. Rick could tell by the way his father's nostrils flared that he was picking up on the scent that his cock was no doubt putting off.

"I see," his father said. "Logan's upstairs?"

Again, Rick nodded.

Carefully, delicately, his father resumed eye contact with him and put on a most firm display of fatherhood. "Well, son, how do you boys feel about this?"

Unable to keep himself from grinning, Rick said, "We're really excited, dad. Logan and I both."

"Mm." His father did not show disappointment or joy, but Rick suspected that there was a certain excitement in him. An excitement for the fact that he was very probably going to be a grandfather in the near future. "I have to say, son, that you're both a little young for fatherhood," his father said quietly, so as not to be overheard by Rick's dad in the living room behind them. "That being said, I got your dad pregnant with you when we were both fifteen. And as you know, your dad and I are very happy and couldn't be more proud of you."

Rick smiled. "Thanks, dad."

"And Logan is a smart boy. Cute, too. You picked a good one." He glanced suspiciously over his shoulder, where his husband sat on the couch, yelling at the ref. "Are you going to tell your dad anytime soon?"

"I will," Rick said. "I just wanted you to know first. You're my father. And now that I'm likely going to be one myself, I wanted to have this talk with you before anyone else."

His father laughed. "Well then," he said. "I would say the first rule of fatherhood is: don't keep the man who's carrying, or has carried, your child in the dark for very long. Trust me on this one." He hopped off the counter and began making his way back into the living room. And just before he left the kitchen, he stopped, spun on his heel, and pulled his naked son into a massive bear hug. He patted him hard on the back, wishing him all the best. "Now go upstairs and take care of your guy. When you're both ready, you can come down here and talk with us about how in the hell we're going to break this news to Logan's dads."

--

In the following weeks, Rick celebrated his sixteenth birthday and, the very next day, earned his driver's license. He bought an old junker from one of his fathers' friends using some of the money he'd saved working in the local autobody shop. Together, he and Logan drove all over town, stopping, periodically, to make love in the backseat--christening the car for all it was worth.

Eventually, when enough time had passed, Logan took a pregnancy test to confirm his status--though he knew the moment Rick ejaculated inside him he was with child. As his father always told him, "Careful with the boys, son. Bottom men in the Betlock family are known for being incredibly fertile." And sure enough, at the convenient store on the corner of Main Street and Delman Avenue, Logan learned he was, indeed, pregnant. Delighted by the news, he and Rick had sex in the bathroom stall to celebrate.

When the two of them told Logan's parents later that night, they were sitting in Logan's living room, on the sofa, holding hands. Rick's dads were there, too, for support. Logan's dads were opposite them on the chair and coffee table. A wise man, Logan's father stared at the two boys intently, as if he knew full well why this meeting had been called. His dark eyes focused primarily on Rick, who had Logan's hand clasped securely in his own. And the moment Logan said it, the moment he told his dads he was pregnant, his father's attentive expression faded to a frown and his brow creased.

"And you're the father?" he asked Rick, his voice rumbling with the stirring of a volcano.

Rick must have been nervous as hell, Logan thought. Admitting to a boys' dads that you buttfucked their son and knocked him up in the process wasn't exactly an easy conversation to have. But even so, Rick sat beside Logan with poise and courage, holding Logan's hand not for himself, but for Logan. He was, as always, Logan's shield.

"Yes," Rick said. "I am the father."

For a moment, Logan wondered if his father would punch Rick in the face, beat him to the floor. But he knew better. Logan's father was not a violent man, nor was he a particularly angry man (occassional temper tantrums aside). Instead of a physical response, Logan's two dads exchanged looks and took a moment to feel the news.

"I want you to know, Mr. Betlock," said Rick, concentrating specifically on Logan's father, "that this wasn't a brash and reckless hook-up one night at a party. I'm in love with your boy, and I'm going to marry him."

Rick had Logan's father's full attention at this point, and he held on to it.

"I am going to be here for you son, and now, our son," he said, feeling Logan's lower belly.

Without another second's delay, Logan's father's face cracked into a proud smile. He looked upon Rick with something very close to praise in his eyes, and pulled the sixteen-year-old in for a manly hug. Even Logan could see the surprise in Rick's eyes.

"We're very proud," Logan heard his father say. "And Logan's dad and I, both, welcome you into our family."

Still slightly thrown, Rick allowed himself to wrap his arms around Logan's father in return, committing fully to the man-on-man embrace.

"So how many tries did it take?" Logan's father asked, curious.

"Well, we're not sure," Rick said, confident enough to engage the discussion. "We've had sex a lot since the first time. But we're pretty sure it happened the first go 'round." He was slightly red when he said it, smiled in modest embarassment.

A hoot and a holler from Logan's father was a clear-cut sign the pregnancy was well-received news.

"What'd I tell you, son," Logan's father said, tapping him on the leg. "Betlock bottoms are extremely fertile."

Behind him, Logan's dad laughed. "Amen!"

The two families, now coming together as one, had a barbeque that night in Logan's backyard. They ate steaks and potatoes, drank beer, laughed, and were altogether merry and celebratory. It was a great night, one that Logan and Rick would remember for the rest of their lives.

At the Academy the following day, Rick made a fool of Collin in front of half the school. Collin had been sniffing Logan out all week, Rick could tell, and during lunch, there was a sudden scuffle, a crash of lunch trays, and by the time all heads were turned, Collin was pinned helplessly to the floor, Rick on top of him.

"He is NOT yours to touch, do you understand me?" Rick said with sinister encouragement. Beneath him, Collin whimpered and tried to wriggle free. "Logan is mine. You got that? Mine. I've marked that ass good by now, and just yesterday, we found out that he's carrying my baby--" Every boy in the cafeteria gasped and looked up at a very red-faced Logan, who just grinned and waved at them. "--and if you ever put a hand on my boy again, and by default, my child, I will kill you. Good?"

"GOOD!" COllin cried.

Rick, graciously released him. And, as he expected, Collin was never a problem for either of them again.

It wasn't long before Logan was having doctor's appointments and getting routine check-ups for expecting daddies. Together, he and Rick finished up the school year, and Rick graduated from the Academy nearly a semester early--earning his GED in the wake of several intense tutoring sessions with his new boyfriend. With the Academy behind him, Rick was able to take a full-time position at the autobody shop. He wanted to be the provider for his family, and he worked hard to earn his keep.

At seven months pregnant, full-bellied and already feeling their infant son kicking and squirming inside, Logan and Rick were married. Together with their dads, they went on a special camping trip just before the first winter frost. All six of them slept in a heated RV and hiked--bundled up warm--through a yellow wood to a quiet river bank. There, Logan's father officiated the small and private ceremony between his son and Rick, his handsome son-in-law. And when they returned to the RV later that night, Logan's dads and Rick's dads gathered outside the camper near the fire, swapping stories and dirty jokes, listening, occassionally, and grinning as their sons consumated the marriage in the RV. The frosty woods aglow in firelight, Jim held Garret in his arms, and across from them, Noah (Rick's father) held Steve (Rick's dad) in his arms. Behind them, the large RV rocked steadily back and forth, and even though its windows and doors were shut, the soft moans of Logan being penetrated by Rick carried, soothingly, through the night air.

It didn't need saying that all four dads had massive erections as they sat and listened to the pleasant sounds of their boys...having sex. And when the four of them ultimately returned to the RV, the smell of their sons' genitals came down on them like a thickly descended fog. The RV was hot and spicy with male musk, and clearly, Jim, Garret, Noah and Steve were all pleasantly agitated by it. They peeked in on their sons at the far end of the camper, where Rick's bare ass met them full in the moonlight streaming through the window. Both boys were passed out, snoring, Rick's large, fleshy penis lying limp over Logan's swollen stomach, still dripping with semen. And below, Rick's heavy testicles, hot with blood and black fur. Beneath his plump abdomen, Logan's penis and ballsack, nearly half the size of his new husband's, lay exhausted and worn. And just south of that, a frosty sweet glisten of cum, trickling from his brown, gaping anus.

All four dads smiled warmly on their sleeping boys and retired to the other end of the camper, where two large mattresses rested side by side. Needless to say, with the smell of male sex thick in the air, and the woods as quiet and peaceful as they were, they also decided sex was the perfect idea that night. Jim and Garret on their mattress, and three feet away, Noah and Steve on theirs.

The RV filled up hot with male pheromones and semen and musk that night. And come morning, they awoke to the potent, salty stench with hard-ons and aching buttholes. Regardless, they were starving--all of them--from the night of ravenous sex, and Garret and Steve cooked a hearty breakfast. Later that day, they returned home happy, healthy, and as one family.

Logan and Rick would always remember that camping trip.

--

Newly weds and a month away from the birth of their son, Logan moved in with Rick. Both of Rick's dads were delighted to welcome their new son-in-law into their home, and as a family, they rearranged Rick's bedroom and situated the two young husbands with their own bathroom and walk-in closet. It would be a good while before Rick made enough money to afford an apartment for he and Logan and the baby, so for the time being, they would live with his dads.

One morning in the middle of winter, Logan awoke, his belly full and plump, and with a puddle of fluid coming out his anus.

"Rick," he said, shaking his husband awake.

Grumbling, Rick stirred himself awake.

"Rick, I think my water just broke!"

At once, his sixteen-year-old husband was out of the bed and on his feet, naked, hair-tossled from sleep. Without a single prompt, he made his way to Logan's side of the bed and scooped him up in arms. Even pregnant, Logan was light as air for Rick to carry. And that's precisely what he did.

Like a mythological god, Rick carried Logan out of their bedroom, woke his dads by hollering at them to get up, and carefully buckled him into the car. Within half an hour, Rick and Logan were checked into the hospital, both sets of dads right behind them.

"You're already four-inches dilated," the doctor said, examing Logan's anus. "Baby's coming soon."

From there, Logan was transferred to the delivery room, where only the doctors and Rick were admitted. And that day, their son was born. William Aaron Hunt was pushed through Logan's anus and into the doctor hands. Rick, proud father and husband, watched the birth with tears in his eyes. It was, for Logan and Rick, the single greatest moment of their lives. The birth of their son.

Two days later, when Logan's anus returned to normal size, and William was deemed healthy enough to be released from hospital care, the seven of them went home. Jim and Garret, Noah and Steve, Rick and Logan, and of course, William. They went home as a family, as a group of men. They went home as friends, as lovers, as husbands, as fathers and sons. They went home, back to their way of life, because Rick's penis had a great deal more to give...and Logan's ass had a great deal more to bear.

In a future world made up of men, and only men...

END