In the Den of the Beast

Note: The following is a work of fantasy and is not intended to be scientifically or medically accurate. Many of the following scenes are not practical, safe, or even possible to replicate. Open your mind, suspend disbelief, and enjoy.

1: The Invitation

We first met working in the library at the tiny university we both attended. On a typical shift I'd be shelving books, pushing around a rickety cart overladen with biographies and he'd be working the circulation desk. Yet even when he was helping patrons check out, I could feel his sharp green eyes watching me, even when there were shelves between us. I'd peer between the stacks just for a taste of that predatory gaze that made my heart race furiously before scurrying to finish my work.

James was an excessively cool person, in both his demeanor and social standing. Nothing impressed him; the most even important people could hope for was an inclination of his head or a slight raising of his shapely brows. He studied Business, something he already excelled at, the art of making people like you and believe you were valuable. Everyone in the department acted like he walked on water and the best part of who he was as a person was that after talking to him, you felt like he could. He was charming, physically intimidating, and ridiculously attractive in a classical sense, boasting a body that begged to be sculpted. He was, therefore, everything I was not.

It was surprising when he chose to talk to me one night when we were both working late. I had the little cart out and was doing some routine shelving when he left the desk to come over to me. There was nobody else there other than some kid who had fallen asleep at one of the computer stations while writing a paper. I thought he was going to tell me to leave because we were going to close soon; James was the Night Manager even though he was still a student worker and we'd been working the same amount of time.

Instead of speaking immediately, he leaned against one of the shelves and watched me work for a while. It was so unsettling that I almost struggled to remember the alphabet and probably put books back out of order, but if he noticed he didn't say anything. Finally, he spoke:

"What are you doing after we close?" he asked crisply, as if this were a business affair.

The truth was that I was probably going to make some mac and cheese and eat the whole thing with a carton of juice while watching Doctor Who on my bed before eventually falling asleep, but somehow this didn't seem like how I should respond to the gorgeous and charismatic James. His arms were crossed and his stern expression seemed to demand a response that was worthy of his attention. I ran my fingers quickly through my soft, golden-brown curls and looked away.

"I didn't have any plans in particular," I stammer. "Why, uh, do you ask?"

"I'm having something of an event at my apartment," he replied slowly, every word calculated and delivered with an unusual power. "I would like it if you were there, Steven."

Oh. Right. Steven. That was me, that was my name. I'd forgotten it, just like I'd forgotten the alphabet moments ago. I'd forgotten that Steven was a real person, a skinny, gangly weirdo who was far too quiet and shy to do anything exciting like accept invitations to "events" held in the apartments of attractive men. I'd never heard a party referred to that way, as an "event." Not that I went to many parties, but the word provided such a sharp, sophisticated air to the thing. Needless to say, I was terrified.

"I don't know," I muttered, still not looking him in the eye. "Is it going to go late? Because I've still got to study for a test tomorrow and . . ."

I stopped suddenly when I felt his hand on my chin. His touch was incredibly warm and dry, as if there was some fiery energy raging inside him that was poetically at odds with his frosty exterior. The warmth and immediate physicality almost distracted me from the fact that he had quickly drawn very close and was turning my head so I looked right at his intensely green eyes and smooth skin with just a ghost of stubble.

"You'd be free to leave whenever you want," he said. "It just wouldn't be the same without you."

Of course I was powerless to say no. Why would I even want to? I was suddenly and wildly excited in a way I'm not sure I ever have been before. I just nodded my acquiescence, causing him to pat my head in an odd gesture, like he was rewarding me for good behavior.

"Good. You can leave with me tonight. I'll take you back to my place."

I hardly remember the end of that shift. Whether or not I actually finished shelving is a complete mystery to me. What mattered was that James had invited me back to his apartment. I scarcely paused to consider anything else, at the time not knowing precisely what he had planned.

2: The Event

Minutes later I was being led into the apartment complex, generically identified as "The Grove." It was a large, anonymous den of wild figures who were strangers to me. They watched me critically from their balconies, as if I were fresh meat wandering into their midst.

One man in particular was staring at me rather keenly, and when we passed beneath his balcony to enter the ground-floor apartment that seemed to belong to James, I felt something lukewarm and intensely wet coating my back.

The man upstairs had spilled his drink all over the back of my shirt and pants. I couldn't tell what it was, but James sniffed it keenly and made a face, which can't have been good.

"Rich!" he shouted angrily.

"Sorry!" laughed Rich from above, not sounding sorry at all. "I was just a little clumsy. Apologize to your new pet for me."

Rich was a middle-aged guy with long hair and a full beard. I could only see his face but could tell he was wearing some kind of necklace and giving off a hippy sort of vibe. I thought that "pet" was a very odd choice of words but didn't say anything. I was uncomfortable enough without starting a fuss.

"You'll have to excuse him," said James, breathing into my ear. "He thinks he's being funny."

"It's not a problem," I stammer. "It'll dry."

"Absolutely," agreed James as he opened the door to his apartment and herded me in. He shut the door and turned very slowly. "In fact, if you'll just give me your soiled clothes, I throw them in the machine and they'll be good as new."

It happened so quickly that I hardly had time to protest. His warm hands were quickly and forcefully undoing buttons on my shirt and unfastening the buckle of my belt. In no time at all, I was left in my threadbare brown briefs, shivering in the coolness of the air conditioning.

James surveyed my body critically, with a look of excitement that was almost hungry. I was terrifyingly uncomfortable but somehow also secretly glad that he was looking at me that way.

"I'll just be a moment," he muttered.

And so I was left alone in the front room of the apartment, rather cold and wearing nothing but my underwear. It was richly furnished in a very masculine sense, with a lot of black leather and rich wood tones. There was a painting on the wall that I found rather captivating of a dark, wild forest lit only by a full moon. The whole place had a heavy smell like cedar and some sort of oil.

It was clear that whatever sort of "event" James was having, it hadn't started yet. We seemed to be quite alone, and there was nothing that indicated he was expecting any additional company. I was curious exactly what he had planned and how long he was going to leave me in here by myself.

This is why I was so surprised when James re-entered the room. Somewhere in the process of taking care of my wet clothes he had removed all of his own so that his chiseled, naked form shone gently even in the rather dim light. His body was covered in the same dark, even layer of hair as his chin, which lent him a wild and even more powerful air. He moved with complete confidence, and I noticed that his balls hung almost as low as his generously-sized cock.

He was looking directly at me as he sidled up slowly, rubbing his chest and legs against me as he positioned himself next to me on the couch. He smelled my hair deeply, then felt my pale, shaking chest with his warm hand.

"What are you doing?" I asked timidly. Maybe some part of me had been expecting this ever since he removed my clothes, but it still seemed as if this was happening rather quickly. "Aren't there going to be more people coming?"

"This event is all about you," he whispered, his voice so deep it was almost a gentle growl. "If anything's happening that you don't want to happen, just tell me."

I realized that of course this was what I wanted to happen but had never expected, what I had always dreamed about as I stared back at his cool green eyes from between the shelves. It dawned on me that as he watched me he may've been having the same exact dreams, and that somehow made the raw nature of the moment more powerful.

Quietly, I nodded in affirmation of his advances and he continued to feel my smooth, pale chest. I felt his arms wrap around me and lift my thin frame, pulling me so that my knees straddled him and rested on the cushions on either side. As he kissed my neck ravenously, I could feel the slow throbbing of his cock beneath me.

He pushed me down to the floor so that he sat on the leather couch and I kneeled at his feet. Though I didn't have any firsthand experience in these matters, I had seen enough porn to know that he expected me to start sucking him off. I tried to catch a glance from him to affirm that this was what he wanted, but his eyes were already closed as if he were miles away and he was breathing heavily.

After giving it a few dexterous pulls as I would my own when I'm alone, I fit my lips around his cock and licked the head tentatively. I was daunted by the fact that his was significantly larger than mine and had a lot more dark hair growing up the shaft. Should I just go for it?

I felt the reassuring strength of his hand on the back of my head, pushing me down, guiding me in long, slow gulps. James locked his fingers into the curls of my hair and forced my head into a sort of rhythm as I felt him touch the back of my throat and then slide even further. All I could smell was his intoxicatingly musky sweat, a raw and primal odor that excited me greatly.

The rhythm of his guiding hand and the sweet carnality of his scent had lulled me into such a state of comfort that I wasn't prepared for what happened next. I choked, my narrow mouth suddenly unable to wrap itself fully around the great swollen behemoth that his cock had become. At some point while in my mouth it had transformed from a long, tan, but rather normal-looking penis into something dark, monstrous, and almost purplish-black in hue.

James seemed to sense my surprise and pulled me back onto the couch with him, rubbing me and my hair and kissing me gently as if to comfort and reassure me. I was once again dragged out of this sense of security as he flipped me forcibly onto my belly and pushed me so that my ass was presented to him like a naughty school child. Strong hands ripped away my brown briefs leaving my quivering haunches exposed to him. Though I couldn't see because my face was buried in the rich leather, I could feel a fresh rope of saliva slide out of his mouth onto my bare back. His fingers rubbed this down across my hole, a few fingers slipping inside as he worked the makeshift lubricant all around.

I let a pitiful moan, and he seemed to snarl in approval.

Suddenly he was very close to me again, and I could feel the tip of his giant cock throbbing against my asshole. He mouth was pressed up against my neck and I gasped as his powerful jaw gripped me in a forceful bite. I don't think he tore flesh because it wasn't necessarily painful, but he had dug in just enough that I was held immobile and helpless by the strength of his bite.

It was now that I could feel James and his massiveness entering me slowly. All of his warmth and wild power seemed to radiate through me as he worked up to speed, ramming himself into me with sharp, intense thrusts. I let myself moan again, whining pathetically though it was muffled by the leather cushions, and this seemed to encourage him to redouble his efforts. I don't think he ever made it all the way in because he was too huge and I was too inexperienced. My own cock, though pressed down deep into the couch, was as hard as it had ever been in my life, almost painfully so, and I longed for him to flip me over and expose it to the air.

He worked me in this way for several minutes before releasing my neck from his bite and commanding me in a soft growl:

"Arch your back more."

I tried to comply, bringing my stomach just off the couch as presenting my tired asshole to his ferocious cock. This time he entered and quickly was all the way in, his low-hanging balls slapping against the backs of my legs so that I could feel their coarse hair. He howled triumphantly as he repeated this deeper, stronger thrust, and I found myself moaning to complement the howls. In that moment, I understood what Rich had said because I felt as if I truly belonged to James, as if I was his pet, uniquely able to bring him pleasure whenever his animalistic urge demanded. I was feverishly warm and my cock still impossibly hard.

The pain was such that I was struggling to stay conscious, all though I could hardly focus on this because my mind was so numb from the raw pleasure. I felt something else swelling inside me, as if James's monstrous cock was growing larger still, a hard knot forming inside me. He no longer thrusted in and out, but in and deeper in. We were locked together. Fearfully, I imagined blood leaking from my virgin hole. I was too weak, but I was entirely his to use and discard.

With one last powerful thrust, he finished gloriously inside me, emptying out so much cum that I briefly had an irrational fear that it would spill out of my mouth. Though his throbbing knot was now receding, he flipped me onto my back and took my far more modest member into his own mouth before raking his shockingly sharp teeth against it, playing expertly with it in a mixture of fast and slow, hard and soft.

Unable to handle the sudden wild stimulation after spending such a time rubbing only against the couch, I exploded in his face, leaving him staring at me with flecks on cum in his dark stubble. He grinned appreciatively at me and then rubbed his own cock against my chest, wiping off a juicy ribbon that was just now emerging as if an afterthought to what he had already released inside me.

He flopped on top of me like an immense dog and let me reposition myself so I was comfortable before he promptly fell asleep. I tried to take in a deep whiff of his musk before snuggling up closer and letting myself fall asleep as well, soaked in our intermingling juices, mind and body thoroughly spent.

3: The Rules

When I woke up, it took me a few moments to remember what had happened the night before. Part of me wondered if it had been some elaborate dream. I should be waking up any moment now, having dozed off on an uncomfortable piece of the weird 70s library furniture that populated the library's stacks. But what happened with James had to be real, since somewhat embarrassingly my asshole was still sore, as if it had been strained beyond its capacity.

I was in a different part of the apartment from the sofa where James had fucked me so quickly and powerfully. It was odd to think that I was now no longer a virgin, and this was how it had happened. I stood up, but perhaps too quickly as I felt really lightheaded.

I had been curled up on a large, round cushion, completely naked. It seemed likely that James had moved me here after we . . . but the event! Had that really just been an excuse to get me there? Did he consider what we did on the sofa to be "the event?" Or had there been something else after I'd fallen asleep and he'd been unable to wake me? For some reason, I could imagine a room of other men like James, grinning and strong and covered in dark hair. I could also imagine him hoisting a still-naked me over his shoulder and joking to the room about how his little pup was still sleepy before carrying me away. But was this memory or fantasy?

The room I was in was mostly empty, and certainly not so elegantly furnished as the other parts of the apartment. There was nothing in the room other than a small closet that was currently shut, the cushion I had slept on, and a large but empty metal cage in the corner that was less than three feet high but rather long. I wondered what it was for, but quickly forgot all about it as I turned around and saw the room also contained an immense, solidly-built cedar chest, upon which was a note addressed to me. Based on the handwriting, the author was clear:

You were a really good boy last night. I thought it was cute how you got so excited but tired yourself out so quickly.

If you want to leave and go back to your old life, you can do so now. We might see each other again at work, and there will always be the possibility we can hang out in the future. If last night was too much for you, I wouldn't blame you if you left now and we never spoke of this again. Your clothes are on the washing machine in the next room down the hall.

However, if you felt the same energy I did last night and you want to see more of my world, open up the chest and follow the instructions you find there exactly. If you find all of this exciting, opening the chest will keep things going and open new possibilities for you. Following the instructions exactly will show me how good you are and you might get a treat. Breaking the rules will mean that you've been bad and need to be punished.

I will be back at 8:00 tonight. I hope to see you here waiting for me.

I felt another rush of excitement, even sharper and more intense than one I had felt when James had first invited me. I sank back down onto the cushion, spreading my arms wide, enjoying the feeling of the apartment's cool air on my exposed groin.

"Go back to your old life . . ." How could I do that when for the first time I felt as if I was doing something that was entirely pleasurable to me? I had always worked hard and gotten good grades, deferring gratification until some future time. There was so much about James and his world that I wanted to discover, not just because I felt an overwhelming desire to please him, although that certainly was part of it, but really because I wanted to do something thrilling for myself. I resolved that I would open the chest and read these instructions, whatever they were.

Thinking about James and what might be waiting in the chest (also, I suppose, thinking about how great the cool air felt on my cock and balls) was giving me the weirdest erection. It wasn't raging and rock-hard like what I had experienced last night, but I could feel it throb with each heartbeat I heard echoing in my ears. Thinking to quickly play with myself, I tried a few idle strokes but something felt wrong. Looking down, I noticed with a faint sense of panic that my penis was discolored as if bruised. Starting to think about this caused it to shrivel rapidly, with each throb receding in tempo and intensity until it was entirely flaccid. It looked almost mangled, and I wondered with some horror if there were bite marks. Had James been too enthusiastic giving me head? My foreskin also looked suddenly strange to me, ragged and uneven, as if it no longer was the right size to cover the glans in the way it should. Nervously, I cupped my flaccid penis in my right hand and gave it a few tentative tugs. Everything seemed fine.