Lucian Ch. 07

"We will, Ms. Parker," both girls said as one.

Lucian felt their arms link with his. The door closed and the limousine drove off into the gathering dusk.

***

The door opened, and the shock was complete.

Lucian wasn't ready. But then again: nothing could have prepared him for this, could it? Not a year of dressing up and painting his eyes; nor Kurtz's pills and syringes or Ms. Fontaine's emasculating exercises - not even the crazy orgies at his dorm.

He'd learned to trick himself into a role of actor, outsider.

But now the door opened and his soul died.

In the limousine they'd hardly talked.

They were separated from the driver by soundproof glass. Lucian tried to read the traffic signs to know where they were heading, but the windows were too heavily tinted.

"Where are we going?" he asked Charlie.

"Can't say," she said. Nico only shrugged.

Looking around the luxurious interior he saw a little mini-bar-like chest containing small bottles of champagne and wine. There were glasses too, but he supposed they were not meant for them to drink.

Charlie handed him a bottle of mineral water.

He drank and wondered what she'd meant with her 'can't say.' Didn't she know either, or wasn't she allowed to say? Did it matter? He returned the bottle and lifted his hips to pull the short dress down over his thighs.

It caused his fake nipples to strain at the fabric, their shadows accented by the lights of a passing car.

"I envy you," Charlie said. "Don't you envy Luce too, Nico?"

Nico grimaced. She pulled the wide-open cleavage of her dress a bit closer and folded her arms in front of her chest.

"I'm not sure," she said with her ironic smile. "He should be envied for the treat, but I doubt he'll agree with me."

She chuckled; Charlie frowned.

"What treat?" Lucian asked, looking from the one to the other.

"Never mind," Charlie said, grabbing his left arm possessively and pulling him close. "She's just jealous."

"Charlie," he said, taking back his arm. "What is it about this graduation? What will they do to me?"

She looked away. Now he took her arm to get her attention.

"You used the word demeaning," he went on.

"I also used the word power," she said, looking away again.

He pondered her answer. Then an image of Drew sucking a man's cock flashed through his mind, followed by another one of Charlie on the lawn.

"I have to suck cock, don't I?" he asked, pulling her closer. "For graduation you have to blow a man's cock."

Charlie's lashes batted. Behind him Nico chuckled.

"Okay," he said. "I suck a cock and I'm a Barb. Is that it?"

Charlie shrugged.

"Is that it?" he insisted. "If so, why all this hassle?" He let his hand flutter around to indicate the car. "This limo, the dressing up, the traveling for how long, an hour?"

"I don't know," Charlie said, a wine in her voice now.

He wasn't sure about Nico, but Charlie probably told the truth.

"Tell me more about your graduation," he said.

"I'd rather not," she answered.

"But you said you're proud of it," he insisted.

"Yes, I am," she said, but she turned away from him, studying the darkness outside. In the reflection of the tinted window he saw a tear run down her cheek.

He stopped asking.

The next ten minutes were spent in silence. Then Nico lit an overhead light and bid him to show her his face.

"Let me see what ruin you caused," she said, leaning in to study his make up. From a compact she started fluffing and pampering. Lucian prayed there would be no lumps or holes in the road when she started restoring the lines under his eyes with a sharpened pencil.

He saw her face just inches away - the intense dark eyes and her sweet Asian geisha lips.

"Do you hate me, Nico?" he asked, immediately feeling the pencil slip.

"Don't be silly," she said, repairing the slip-up with a little cotton ball.

"You always seem to mock me," he went on.

She concentrated on twisting up a lipstick from a gold tube. Then she held his chin with one hand and started repainting his mouth.

"Pout," she said, and he did.

After once more inspecting his face she returned the compact to her purse and turned away from him.

Another ten minutes passed, only filled with the car's humming and lights flying by. He had the impression that traffic became denser. There also were more lights. They must be approaching a city.

"Are you mad at me, Luce?" Charlie asked.

"No," he answered. "Are you?"

In the dim light he saw she'd refreshed her make up too, but the rims of her eyes seemed pink and a bit swollen.

She came closer to him.

"I can never be mad at you, Luce. You know that," she whispered.

"I heard that," Nico said. "Don't be silly, girl."

Charlie frowned. It cast a shadow across her face that he'd never seen before. She crossed her arms and huffed like a little girl.

Ten more silent minutes passed. Then the limousine took a sharp curve. As far as he could see they drove through a gate and into park-like grounds.

After stopping the doors were opened by a uniformed man.

Lucian tried to keep his skirt down and his legs closed as he slid out into the fresh night. Standing in his heels on the pebble-strewn driveway he tried to keep his balance. The evening breeze blew through his flimsy dress; at least his hard nipples could be explained, he thought, wondering where that came from.

He saw Nico talk with the valet. She motioned them closer.

The man was young and looked Latin. His dark eyes were everywhere as he gave Charlie and him a look over.

"Follow me inside," he said, leading them up a few steps and into a hall.

The house was much like Norton's - classic and pseudo-European. Lucian thought he saw a shield next to the entrance, like he'd often seen with embassies or consulates or whatever.

They were led upstairs over a wide curving staircase and into a room. Their combined heels rang a tattoo on the hallway's marble.

Inside a fire was burning, with cozy looking leather club chairs in front of it. He saw plates with small sandwiches, a pot of tea and a pitcher of fruit juice.

His stomach rumbled.

As he finished a cucumber and salmon sandwich he asked:

"Where are we?"

Nico chewed and swallowed her bite.

"An embassy they told me," she said. "South American, maybe. You are expected next door in half an hour, so eat another sandwich and drink a bit before we get you ready."

His nerves returned, overruling his stomach's desires.

Over Nico's shoulder he saw himself in a tall mirror, half of his body reddishly lit by the live flames in the hearth. He knew he might pass the reflected woman in the street and not recognize himself in her.

His eyes kept returning to the small, pert breasts.

"Ready for what?" he asked, but maybe he didn't say it out loud because no one responded.

"Get out of the dress please, Lucian," Nico said, licking the last crumbs of her sandwich from her fingertips.

He looked from Nico to Charlie. She nodded.

The woman in the mirror reached behind her, causing the dress's top to stretch over her pointed tits. Then the fabric relaxed and the dress slipped off her shoulders and past her hips, leaving her stand almost naked in a puddle of shining silk.

The nipples were like a second set of eyes.

Charlie came closer and asked him to lift his feet, so she could remove the dress. As she rose she whispered: "I love you."

But his attention was with the reflected ghost.

What the mirror showed was what the world believed. And what the world believed, he knew, was reality. There was no use for doubt or hesitation.

He was that woman.

"Now listen, Lucian," Nico said with a matter-of-fact voice. "In a few minutes Charlie will lead you across the hallway to a similar room like this, undressed like this. Someone will be waiting for you there - a man. Ms. Parker promised him you would be his for the night."

The mouth of the woman in the mirror became an O under big, widening eyes. He heard her say 'no,' but he supposed he was the only one hearing it.

Nico went on after a short pause.

"You may still have no idea what this 'being his' includes, but Ms. Parker assured us there was no need to inform you any further. She said it was part of your charm, whatever she might mean by that."

The girl smiled her knowing smile.

He felt his crotch contract and a trickle leave his penis.

Looking down he saw a dark stain spreading on the front of his tiny thong. He desperately pulled in his lower body to stem the flow, but the hot moisture already reached the smooth inside of his left thigh.

Nico's eyes widened.

"Fuck!" she exclaimed. "You are pissing in your pants!"

Her laugh was coarse and mean, not at all fitting the sweet beauty she was.

"Pull it down, Charlie," she said. "It's a good thing we always carry a spare."

Charlie knelt in front of him and pulled down the thin lacy thong. Then she cleaned his wet penis, the metal plate and his thigh with a moist tissue, before rising to her feet again.

Shirking up her dress she took down her own thong, which was an exact replica of his.

"Please lift your foot," she mumbled.

He did, and the used piece of lingerie, still warm from her body, traveled up his legs to arrive at its snug, tight destination. She pulled the string at the back up into his crack.

There was something embarrassingly erotic about wearing a used thong, especially when the girl who wore it dressed you in it.

"I'm sorry," he whispered to Charlie's flushed face.

"Don't be," she said, before turning away.

Nico was still in the exact place she had been before the accident. Maybe she knew he'd have to see his own reflection that way. He knew by now that unprepared accidents were extremely scarce at Norton's Academy.

"I understand that you are nervous, Lucy," she said, combining a new warmth in her voice with a name she knew he detested.

"Don't be," she went on, smiling. "Just follow the instructions the man gives you and try to pleasure him. It'll all be over in a few hours, and then you'll be one of us - a sister, and part of the sweetest and most exciting sorority in the world."

She chuckled a short, silvery chuckle. Then she clapped her hands.

"Come on, girls," she said. "Que la fête commence; let the party begin!"

Feeling Charlie's warm hand on his bare shoulder, he resisted her gentle push for a second. Then his right foot landed elegantly in front of his left, its heel resounding on the ancient wooden floor.

"I'm here," the girl's voice whispered into his ear, making him feel the warmth of her breath. "Remember I've done this. It's all right. It's so much more than all right."

Nico opened the room's door and the two of them stepped out into the cool hallway, where marble changed the sound of their footsteps into a bright click-clack.

Charlie's bracelets jingled as she knocked on the old oak door, bringing back ominous feelings. She smiled as they waited.

A man's distant voice sent fresh panic up his throat.

Then Charlie opened the door and his breathing stopped.

Next to a fireplace similar to the one in their room stood a large man in shirtsleeves. His bow tie was undone, but a wide purple cummerbund still tried to reign in his ample belly. The skin of his face was ruddy, his hair black and slicked back on his big skull.

In his one hand he held a long cigar that filled the room with a pungent smell. In the other was a brandy glass; he moved it slowly to make the cognac swirl around.

The man was everything Lucian had feared all his life.

He was powerful and arrogant in an easy, second nature way. His eyes never wavered under fat black brows and his ham-like hands were hairy, with thick stubby fingers. In his privileged youth he must have been the football player type: strong and tall and muscular. But he'd let himself go through drink and food and lack of training.

He was like a Lucian Freud painting: fleshy, ruddy and rude.

Lucian in his heels was almost as tall as the man, but his imposing volume shrank everyone around him - and he knew it. The corners of his fleshy mouth turned downward; it gave his face a constant look of dissatisfaction and impatience.

That was, until he decided to smile, which he did the moment Lucian stepped into the circle of light created by an old standing lamp and the glowing embers in the hearth.

The heat radiating into his bare skin made Lucian realize how exposed his body was. The alien, moving weight on his chest, combined with his tight, pulsing crotch and the instability of his heeled ankles made him no match for this confident bully with his self-serving smile.

All his life he'd gotten what he wanted, taking it even if he didn't want it at all.

"You're Lucy," he said.

The voice was deep and mellow, vibrating in Lucian's belly.

He had no desire to correct the name the man used for him. He had no desire for anything; just a need to flee, but it was checked by a petrifying panic.

"You are beautiful," the man went on like a talking, smiling cobra snake in front of a paralyzed bird. "And you're so young."

Lucian felt the bitter essence of his misery churn in the pit of his stomach. He saw the man approach, projecting his massive shadow as he blocked the fire.

Looking back he saw that Charlie must have left. He was alone.

Strong fingers took a hold of his chin, turning his face to the man. He fought back an urge to tear up, and then an urge to wet his panties as his eyes were sucked in by the predator's piercing stare.

"Amazing," he said.

Then he suddenly grabbed the left cup of the bra and tore it off - bra, breast forms and all. Lucian heard a wet splash as they hit the floor.

"Better," the man said. "Much better. Now take off your little panties if you please."

He pulled at his cigar, producing a blue cloud of smoke.

"Don't be shy," he went on, pointing with the wet stub to Lucian's groin.

The boy bent at the hips as he pushed down the straps of the flimsy piece of lingerie. It fell down, catching on the buckle of his left sandal. Rising he fought the urge to cover the head of his penis where it protruded from the metal shield.

He stood straight; his hands dangling beside his hips.

"So cute," the man said. His soft chuckling changed into a cruel laugh.

He stepped closer - his eyes searching. Then a sudden sting of heat attacked Lucian's penis and he staggered back, almost tripping over his panties.

The man burst out in laughter again, showing the glowing tip of his cigar.

Lucian shivered. Tears yet again stung his eyes. The aftershock of the scare made his knees wobble.

The man tipped ashes to the floor and took a sip from his glass as he silently watched Lucian's crotch.

"Does it still work at all?" he asked.

Lucian studied the man's face. He saw the disdain, of course, but there were other things - or maybe he just imagined them. But soon all this was washed away by the usual drunken bravado.

"About time you saw a real man's cock, faggot," he said with a loud voice.

He sat down in one of the overstuffed club chairs, undoing the cummerbund and spreading his thighs. His freed belly poured over his belt.

"I bet you at least remember where to find it," he said, chuckling again.

When Lucian just kept staring, the man waved him closer.

"Come here and kneel, sissy. I bet they taught you how to do it?"

So he had to open the bully's pants, find his cock and suck on it. It was what he'd expected. Ever since he saw Charlie blow the man on the lawn, he'd known there was a link to this 'graduation' they'd talked about. And nothing he'd heard on the way here, or in the room next door had pointed in another direction.

As they'd walked across the marble hallway he'd convinced himself that he could do it. There would be shame and disgust; he would hate himself for giving in, but he'd decided he could play the role of sucking a man's cock.

And then the door had opened, and he'd seen the man.

Hundreds of memories had flushed his mind, entering through a way too small entrance. They were bad dreams and nightmares, scenes of pain and humiliation.

Why was he here? Why him, why now?

The fat, wide-legged man in the chair, pointing at his groin and ordering him to suck his cock, was his father.

He couldn't move or talk and every thought in his head was a bunch of blind rats running around in a treadmill.

His father obviously didn't recognize him, and Lucian was certain he'd never tell him. But how could he suck his cock? He imagined kneeling there between the thick legs, his pink-nailed fingers opening his pants and searching for his penis. Would it be hard already? He knew it was long and fat, he'd often enough seen it.

It should make a huge erection.

His father hated homosexuals; he'd often said that, using words like faggots and fairies and poofs. He'd ridiculed them and harangued his son to stay away from any of them. Watching ballet or even opera was gay; making drawings or watching what he called chick-flics was a sure first step to ruin.

They were a disease, he said; they should be castrated or even killed.

The irony of it all wasn't lost on Lucian Gaines, but right then his panic was just too acute to see it. This man, his own father, wanted him, a boy, to take his cock into his mouth and suck it.

And God knows what he might intend to do after that.

"Now get down on your sissy knees and suck me, you damn degenerate!" his father said, putting his big hands on the arm rests rising halfway up in a threat to come and get him.

The voice made an age-old ingrained fear grab him, and force him to obey.

Lucian stepped forward, almost tripping over his forgotten thong again. He kicked it off and took the few steps to the man in the chair. Right through his fear (or maybe because of it?) his conditioning kicked in and he automatically moved as Ms. Fontaine taught him during endless afternoons.

He felt his ass roll while he fixed his eyes on the man's.

With a strangled groan his father sank back into the pillows, spreading his legs even wider. Seeing the wide eyes and a gleam of sweat on the man's brow, a new and sudden change came over Lucian. 'Power,' Charlie 'd said, hadn't she? Making a man do what she wanted.

Lucian waited a minute, staring down on his father. Then he knelt on the hard floor.

His pale fingers started opening the expensive leather belt. He watched the pink polish of his nails against the black pants, as they pulled at the buttons. The zipper gleamed in the dark. He found its tab and heard the metallic sound that gave it its name.

Taking his time he looked up and gave the Smile while licking his lower lip.

"Fucking fairy," the man breathed, but it sounded strangled.

White boxers spilled out under the pressure of his liberated belly.

Pulling the black pants down Lucian saw something big and round pushing against the white textile. A stain spread where the big head must be.

He'd aroused his father quite a bit.

The thought was horrible, but sickly satisfying as well. His father never ever had shown any interest in his accomplishments, let alone complimented him on anything; most of the time he'd felt invisible.

Not now, he thought, as he laid his hand on the throbbing tube.

His father groaned. Lucian looked up and smiled again.

Pulling down the elastic band of the boxer, he made the heavy snake fall out. Its cut head was angrily purple and it shone with slime.

"Like what you see, faggot?" the low voice rumbled.

Some of the old arrogance had returned. Lucian felt two big hands descend on his head, cupping his skull and pulling his face to the bobbing cock.