Run, Boy

The woman tipped up her hat to face me. "You heard me," she said, her voice smoother.

I froze. That was Callie, the leader of the airship bandits. "But..." I said, "how?"

Two women stepped up to her side, and a third closed the door behind me. "You are not difficult to track," she said. "We could have found you just by following all the moaning. Now for the last time, strip!"

I looked around, caught and helpless in this unfamiliar place. Reluctantly, I started to pull away my shirt. When my hands reached the waist of my shorts, I hesitated, but the women's hungry looks told me that I was only making them hotter. I got the last of my clothes off as fast as I could.

"Nice," said Callie. "The crew's going to hate me for this, but I think you're too pretty to go on the airship."

I perked up, more with curiosity than hope.

Callie sat back, adjusting herself in her seat. "We've got a side operation in this city, giving jobs to underprivileged young men... as long as they've got the good looks for it."

"You're going to make me a prostitute," I said, scarcely believing it.

"Say it like it is, Victor. You're a whore."

I was shocked, not because she had called me a whore, but because she had used my real name.

"Kacey," said Callie. "Get him a blanket and take him to the brothel. If he disappears for any reason, you're on detox duty for the next month. Got it?"

A strong female hand gripped my shoulder. "Don't you worry," she said, in an equatorial drawl. "He won't be going anywhere."

She was right. This was no time to escape. I put up no resistance as Kacey wrapped a blanket around my waist, folding it so it would stay, and herded me out of the building, into a hovering van that waited for me there. I looked around for someone who might recognize what was going on and stop it, but no one did.

After a long, disconcertingly smooth ride through the sky lanes, I felt the van touch down, and the doors rolled open again. I stepped out onto a shaded platform with high guardrails. The ground was at least a hundred feet below; a deadly drop, even on Mars. Above the revolving door, bright red lights spelled out, 'High Mons Bad Boyz.'

That was all I saw before I was led inside.

Cushions were everywhere. Bright red and pink lighting cast the soft fabric in a dreamy haze, and a single ceiling fan turned slowly, stirring the warm air. Young men stood up all over the room. I had never seen so many different skin tones. Looking more closely, I saw a few older men in the group as well, some maybe as old as fifty.

Suddenly, I felt insecure. I was used to being the strongest person in the room, at least for my size. But here, everyone had firm bodies, and almost all of them were larger than I. A few piercings stuck through the ears of some smaller boys, and a few of the older men had hair on their chests. I saw what looked like war paint on one man, but I did not look at him long. If I had, he might have seen me staring and taken it as a challenge, and that would not have gone well for me.

"Hey, bitches," said Kacey easily. "Got you a new guy. Make sure he behaves himself, you all got it?"

"Yes, mistress," said a firm-voiced man with spotless white skin and slick black hair that matched his jacket. He looked at me. "What's your name, new meat?"

"I'm..." I said. "I'm Victor."

"Can you make a lady feel good?"

"No, sir. Only a woman."

He stepped up to me with sudden force, and I jumped back, almost hitting Kacey. "Now watch your tongue," he said. "You can't cop an attitude until you've been here long enough. Let me tell you something." He trapped me in a headlock, his hot skin pressing against mine, and pulled me into the corner farthest from Kacey. "Every woman's a lady, got it? This is one of the priciest brothels in the city, and even if it wasn't, every woman who walks in that door gets treated like a queen. It doesn't matter what she wants or how clean she is. She's a lady, got it?"

"Yes, sir."

He released me from his frighteningly thick arm. "I like the 'sir' thing. Keep doing that, Victor."

"Yes, sir."

He walked away, and I took stock of my new prospects. The others looked at that man with curiosity, resign and a little admiration. Clearly, he was the leader. I counted myself lucky that he was not a bully- rough, maybe, but not a bully.

"Hey," said another man beside me.

I turned and looked. A shirtless man in blue jeans with tan skin and blond stubble stepped up to me, tipping up his cowboy hat so I could see all of his face.

"My name's Bill," he said, coolly but amiably. "And every time we get a new guy, it's my job to suit him up."

"You mean I get to wear real clothes?"

"Now don't jump the gun. But you're going to need more than a towel if you want some girl to pick you. That's how you move up around here."

"Alright. I'll listen to you."

"Smart boy. Come on this way."

The dressing room was a world better than the one in the bandits' airship. Pigeonhole shelves held carefully labeled accessories, chest-wear hung on widely spaced hangars on one wall and legwear lined up adjacent to it. An image of me stood in a tall, thin mirror on the far wall. Seeing myself, I realized that my back was hunched, and I straightened my posture. Instantly, I looked a little more poised, proud and ready; all good things to be in a place where men rose or fell at the pleasure of females. Then Bill's hand flashed into view, and my towel was gone in an instant.

I gave a start.

"Don't you move," said Bill gently. "Just stand right there, and I'll get you an outfit. Ever worn form-fitting shorts before?"

"No."

"No? A cute little femboy like you?"

I looked into the mirror. I had never seen myself as a femboy before, but he had a point. Even without my long hair, which looked feminine to most people, I was still skinny, and I had the big eyes for it.

"Femboy," I repeated. "That's new. What do you have for me?"

"Here, give this a shot."

I reached out to accept the narrow bands of cloth he carried, only for him to grab me and force the them on me himself. A black and purple kilt went on first, with little slits on the sides for showing skin, then came a vest. It fit snugly, but it covered so little of me that I still felt naked.

"There," said Bill, stepping back. "Looking sharp!"

I looked myself in the mirror. This outfit was so different from anything I had worn before. It was not even like the slutty clothes that the bandits had dressed me in. I had no idea how women would react, but I liked it.

Bill led me back out into the main room, where I lounged on the cushions. That was when I realized how exhausted I was. I had not done much heavy lifting lately, but I had had no time to relax either- not until now.

I slept until an electronic bell awakened me, announcing the opening of the brothel. An hour later, the first customers showed up. First, we had a stocky, red-haired woman with tan Indian skin who picked up one of our boys and hauled him back to one of the bedrooms with no ceremony at all. The next customer went straight for our two white boys, picked the one with the bigger eyes and brought him away. A few customers later, I was picked.

"You," said a svelte black woman in a business suit. Her hair was graying, but her face was still alive with energy.

I almost said something stupid, then remembered what I was: a whore. "I'm all yours," I said, doing my best to make my ice-cap accent sound sexy.

I stepped into her arms and did not resist as she toyed with my hair, brushing my locks to the left, then the right, taking stock of my face. Just by her smile, I knew that she liked what she saw. Then she looked up, pointed past me and said, "You too."

I looked. A thin boy who I had not noticed before stood up, his bead-strewn hair and ponytail swaying around his pretty face. His shirt was tight, thin and as black as the night, with a heart-shaped cutout on his shaven chest, where his pectoral muscles stood out from his slight body. The woman freed up one arm from me and welcomed him in, then the new boy took the lead in marching us to a vacant bedroom in back.

Inside, the lock clicked shut behind us, and I looked at the ponytail boy, wondering which one of us should act first.

The woman's face went deathly serious. She sat down on the side of the bed, reached into a pocket beneath her jacket and fidgeted with something. For five long seconds, I watched this, having no idea what to do. The other boy was lost too. I stepped in close, trying to see without being invasive.

"You," she said, pointing to me. "Get on your knees, right in front of me."

I stopped and knelt. I worked my tongue around in my mouth, getting ready to pleasure her.

"Open your mouth," she said, "wide."

I stretched my jaw open. I felt fingers on my teeth, then something cold. There was a snapping noise and a sting on the roof of my mouth. I gave a little cry, which became a moan through my gaping jaws.

She released me, and I fell back, feeling something wrong. Pain washed into my head, then back out like the noise of a passing jet. Something flickered in the back of my mind, and I felt happy, then confused, then sad, vengeful and grateful all in the space of two seconds. When I had my bearings back, I saw the ponytail boy kneeling in front of her where I had been. I heard a familiar snap, and he started writhing. He sat up, palming his forehead, his eyes half-open and bleary.

"Whoah," he said, collecting himself. "What was that?"

Smirking, the woman reached into a different pocket, and I heard something click. "You're about to find out," she said. "You two? Kiss each other."

I felt a tingle in the roof of my mouth, and suddenly my body went hot. I looked at the ponytailed boy, and he seemed like a completely different person. Suddenly, it hit home how pretty he was, with that tight body rendered so beautifully under smooth black clothes. He was fit, too, with his long, graceful hair and his sharply defined face. He looked hungry. He wanted me too.

I moved first. His arms welcomed me in, and I went straight for the prize. I kissed him. His tongue was sweeter than I had ever tasted before.

"Yeah," said the woman. "Loving it."

Without breaking the kiss, I looked over at her. She looked beautiful, even more so than before I felt the tick in my mind, but I was not attracted to her; I felt something different. As soon as I recognized it, it made perfect sense. I wanted to please her. All I wanted to do was make her happy, whether that meant pleasuring her or the beautiful boy in my arms.

I felt a hand on my stomach. I thought it was the ponytailed boy, then I realized that both his hands were already on me. Before I could react, it pushed us apart. I grabbed helplessly for the boy, then looked at the woman who had separated us. I went cold. Had I done something wrong?

"I thought you loved it," I said innocently. I was just lucid enough to wonder why I was so scared of displeasing her.

Her voice rumbled through my mind, and my thoughts vanished like sparks in the air. "I do," she said. "Now we're doing something different. Come here." She drew a fistful of handcuffs, turned me around and bound my arms behind my back, wrists to elbows. Grabbing my vest, she pulled to the back of the room and threw me into a loveseat. I landed so roughly that the huge thing tipped back a little. I looked up at her, unable to get up or even adjust myself in the seat. She knelt in front of me, and warm metal clasped around my ankles. I tried to move them, and sure enough, they were chained to the chair legs.

I looked up at the woman, helpless. She stood with her hands on her hips, eyeing every part of my body. When she saw my cock, which poked up through the skirt, her smile deepened, and she tugged on the hem, revealing the base of my cock, with the head still caught under the cloth. She pulled again, showing a bit of my shaft, completely red from my erection. One more tug, and the skirt came away. My cock wobbled in the air, a drop of precum rolling down the underside. I realized how close I was to orgasm and silently hoped that I could satisfy her before my stamina ran out.

"Now," she said, forcing the ponytailed boy down in front of me, "Just sit back and enjoy."

She leaned down to the other boy, whispered something in his ear, then pushed his head up to my cock. When I realized what was about to happen, I almost tried to get up, but the woman's lustful stare kept me pinned. I needed to please her.

The boy's lips went around my head, and I felt the first bit of suction. My legs bucked. His lips went farther, and I closed my eyes, desperately trying to hold myself together as his sucking settled into a rhythm. Spasms assailed my lungs, and a little moan escaped my lips, then another. My chest rose and fell rapidly, and I clawed at the loveseat. Finally, the suction became too much, and I threw my head back, groaning as, after all of the abuse I had taken, I finally released.

When I knew where I was again, the ponytailed boy had let go of my cock, although I could still see a string of cum trailing from my tip to his lips. The woman hugged him tightly from behind, watching my cock go flaccid.

"You're a keeper," she said.

Worry welled up inside me. Which one of us did she mean?

"Both of you," she said, as if I had asked the question aloud. "So you know what? Here's the deal." She drew an envelope and set it on my right leg, balanced on my tense muscles. A series of numbers was written across the front. "There's some money in there. Use it to get to that address. I'll be waiting for you."

She stroked the boy's hair one last time, then stood up and sauntered off, concealing her nervousness with a swaying of her hips. She left us a wet, sweating mass of male flesh.

Finally, the boy snapped out of his stupor and took the card. He read the address on the front, taking at least two minutes to stare at it, then gently opened it. He gave a start, then pulled out a key.

Somehow, I had forgotten that I was bound. "Thank you," I said, as he freed me. He crawled up my lap, and I stopped him with my hands before he could kiss me. "Hold on," I said, "what's in that envelope? It could be important." It was important. I didn't know why I was sure, but I was.

He handed it to me, and as I saw the address, something clicked in the roof of my mouth, and I realized why he had found it so fascinating. This was no ordinary address. I had never heard of it before, but now it was of critical importance. No matter what happened, I needed to reach it.

"We have to go here," said the other boy.

"I know," I said. "She said there was money. Let's see..." I found a few metal chips in the bottom and counted them up in my palm. They were fifty SnapCoins total- enough to get us out of the city, maybe, but not much farther before I would have to start paying for passage the old-fashioned way.

I looked again at the address. This time, some of its magic had worn off, and I could think clearly while I read it. It was an urban address, like none I had never seen before, but its bottom line was clear enough. It was in this same city.

Best of all, one of the coins in my hand was not a coin at all. It was a glass cutter. Running to the window, I looked down and saw that the building's surface was slotted. We could cut through the window and climb down.

"Perfect," I said. "I can get us to this address. Are you with me?"

"Yes."

"What's your name, friend?" I almost called him 'brother,' but it felt wrong after what we had just done.

"Terin."

"Okay. I'm Victor. Get ready to climb, Terin, because I'm about to end the world's shortest career in prostitution."

I raised the glass cutter to the window, then stopped myself and took the time to put my clothes on. They weren't much, but if I were to go naked through the city, someone might arrest me, or a woman might run me down and ride me again. And I had the sense that I would need all my stamina for when we reached our destination.

The glass cutter did its job well. After one last, resigned moment of thought for the boys I was about to leave behind, I crawled through the hole, which was barely big enough, and into the frigid night air outside. My bare feet stung, then went numb as I hooked my toes into the grooves in the wall, grabbing onto the lips around the windows with my hands. After climbing down four feet, I looked up and was gratified to see Terin following me.

We were so high that I knew I would only scare myself if I looked down. So I thought of old songs my mother used to sing me, or imagined good opening moves in Chess, or tried to remember if Canada or the USA became a sovereign nation first. I thought about anything that I thought might distract me. The whole time, my hands and feet did their work, and when I finally looked down, I was only about thirty feet from the ground. At teen feet, I jumped off and made a smooth landing.

Terin was more cautious. He waited until his feet were practically on the ground before letting go. When he did, he put his hand over his chest and panted, the city light glistening off his shiny black shirt.

"We've got to be quick," I said, as soon as he gathered himself. "Now we just need..." I patted myself down for the address, then realized that I had left it in the brothel. "...shit."

"What is it?" asked Terin, his eyes getting small. "What's wrong?"

"The address. I don't have it. And I don't remember where we're going."

"I do! Come on, follow me." He sounded more desperate than eager.

I felt it too. It was like an analogue clock stuck into the bottom of my brain, and with every tick, I understood a little more of where I was going. Our last customer was important. I was increasingly sure that we would see her, wherever we were going. Then we would receive something. But what was it? What was so fragile that she couldn't smuggle it to us in the envelope?

And why us?

Terin must have been a city boy, because he knew more than just the main, marked streets. He brought us through an alley, which I was sure would be trouble, and even used a drainage pipe, which was mercifully dry. Finally, he stopped us underneath a sun shelter.

"What are we waiting for?" I asked him.

He only put a finger to his lips, and a minute later, we were moving again.

We stopped at a fancy-looking grey metal building that was braided like an old-fashioned ice cream cone, seemingly just to look futuristic. Colorful stripes ran up and down its sides. "We're here," he said.

I breathed a sigh of relief. The wait had gone from being stressful to frightening. But now, for better or for worse, I would know why I needed to be here.

He led me into the building, past the reception desk and up to the ninth floor. The door we wanted was just a few dozen feet from the elevator.

"This is it," said Terin, staring up at the door like it was a wormhole. "This is the address we're supposed to go to."

I felt its importance just as he did, but I saw no point in standing still and gaping at it. I walked up and knocked on the door as softly as I could. Less than two seconds later, it opened.

Another boy stood in the doorway, much taller than Terin and me but not much broader, with bushy, almost messy blond hair and a sharp little point of a beard on his chin.

"Hey, you made it," he said, in an Earthly drawl that made my accent sound subtle. "Why don't you come on in? Got any shoes?"

"No, sir," I said. There it was again: 'sir.' I hadn't even thought about it.

"That's fine," said the blond boy. "Alright, wait here, and I'll go tell Mistress. Oh, and stand up straight. Look good for her. Here..." He gave his fingers one long, hard lick, then grabbed me and slicked my hair down. I had to stop myself from flinching. "There," he said, "Your hair was getting a bit wild." He looked at Terin. "This is awesome... you both look great. I can't wait 'till Mistress sees this." He jogged off.