Michael didn’t follow their advice. Babbling a tumble of apologies and made a quick exit. It was a long walk home, but he wanted everyone to see his piss patch. It was unbearable but kind of awesome, scoring the laughter and derision he’d wanted from passing strangers instead. Gangs of fit lads, pretty girls, all checking him out and pointing the finger. He was giving in to some of his lowest impulses – feelings he hardly knew he nurtured. He was acting like some sort of faggot, and honestly it felt great.
“Michael!” a voice called suddenly across the street.
It was Basia, a fox he’d met at some Dub party and someone he’d been crushing on all summer.
“Oh my god, what happened?” she marvelled, gaping at the boy’s pathetic condition.
“I, er… I pissed myself,” he cringed, loving her astonishment and pity.
Being already smitten with the boy, Basia’s motherly instincts took over and she resolved to see him escorted back home. She did her best to put him at ease as they walked, but his abashment was never full allayed.
Once safely shut behind his front door, hidden at last from the eyes of the world, she hurried him past a tall housemate on the stairs to spare him another second of shame.
Seb thanked Babalon for contriving to make him aware of this spontaneous liaison. Michael’s dicklet belonged to him now, and no hippy chicks would be enjoying its attentions. Ascending the stairway to his rooftop stronghold, he locked himself up in his chastity cage – a black silicone trainer – concealing it neatly under Michael’s green shorts. That would see to it. Getting comfortable on his bed, he waited for the magic show to begin.
Downstairs, Michael and Basia were making out like crazy. It had been a mad day, but this was how he would find relief – All Michael’s sexual tension and confusing kink finally given release with Basia. He turned his thoughts to normal passions, making love to a pretty girl. But something was wrong? He felt kinda numb down there?
Locked down like this, Seb could feel just how much his bestie want to fuck his date. This denial was going to be agonising. It was definitely the meanest trick he’d played on Michael yet, but it was just too nice to pass up.
The poor stoner let his girlfriend tease and caress him all over, and Seb felt her touch the same way Michael had felt his. She even put the lad’s flaccid willy in her mouth, causing Seb to burst out with astonished laughter. Even within it’s silly cage, his penis tip shivered at her kiss. But no matter how sexy Basia got, and no matter how much Michael might want her, she wouldn’t be seeing any dick action tonight.
How was this even possible? Michael had been stratospherically horny all fucking day, unable to control himself, pissing his pants and suffering filthy orgasms right in front of all his mates, but as soon as he’d got his crush alone in his room, he couldn’t perform? Michael pashed with her, licking her breasts and going down, but although he got her moaning he never got hard.
Nothing made sense anymore. Least of all that he actually enjoyed the embarrassment. Was everything sexy now? Even the most galling humiliations? Who was doing this to him? Michael couldn’t shake the haunting certainty that he was under a sleazy and jealous curse.
Seb wasn’t done however. Placing a rattling vibrator on the tip of his cage, he got ready to draw forth a dirty soft-cock ejaculation, all wet and girly. Michael squirmed with the weirdness of the sensations controlling him. His penis, floppy as a fish, nonetheless tingled furiously. Basia watched utterly bemused as her impotent beau swept himself up in a bizarre reverie. Before either of them knew what was taking place, his little fella weed a naughty puddle of useless dick juices onto the mattress. Michael blushed through quickened breath, his gaze pleading with the girl to break the awkward silence.
She didn’t stay much longer. Alone with his shame, Michael sparked up another joint and crashed into a deep sleep.
An Angel came to him in his dream, through veils of mist and rolling steam – a tall, beautiful woman who called herself Babalon. She embraced him, wrapping her wings around him, and holding him close for long while.
“The Archangel Michael,” she said at last, and taking hold of Mikey’s junk, she led him up a flight of heavenly steps.
The cute stoner could only follow in nervous amazement, the tickle touch of her divine fingers on his balls as he climbed higher. At the top they met his housemate Seb.
“Saint Sebastian hath been at work for thee,” the woman smiled.
Even within the dream Michael puzzled this strange statement. How could Seb be working for him? Or did she mean working magic?
Now he understood everything. Seb had been with him all the time. The spooky hunk had cast a spell on him. How had he not seen until now that Seb was in love with him? All the signs had been there. Perhaps he did know it was more than just a passing fancy, but Seb didn’t need to be jealous anymore. He’d shown Michael a side of himself he never knew existed – the butt sex, the shaming, the denial. It was all totally fucking awesome, and he wanted Seb to give him more.
Drawing near to his mysterious friend, Michael let himself be swept up in a tender kiss. He never kissed a guy before, but this felt great. His penis was Seb’s rightful plaything, and his poor heart fluttered with dewy adoration. Bathed in golden light the couple floated into the sky. Babalon was gone – it was just the two of them rising into the sun. Gorgeous and lovely, endless and true.
The glow became so bright it woke him. The night was sultry and silent – it must have been about 4am. Babalon’s visitation had been the most intensely real dream of his life. Possessed by it’s insinuations, he decided to look for Seb immediately.
Feeling reckless and sexy, he crossed the threshold of his bedroom in only a vest. What did it matter if Rosy or whoever saw him wandering the hallways with his pretty penis on show? He would have left the house like that if Seb lived down the street. Perhaps he would leave the house like that if Seb was nowhere to be found? He pulled his scruffy Nikes onto his feet just in case.
Everything was still, and no one did see him as he mounted the stairs to Seb’s attic. The Lad’s door was partly open, and a soft light fell through the dope smoke onto the dark steps. Pushing it wide, Michael revealed the lone candle which lit the scene from it’s perch on a dressing table to the left. Seb was asleep atop his sheets, wearing just a single sock and Michael’s missing shorts. He recognised them instantly, the blue-green stripes pushed up into a tent by Seb’s sleepy boner.
It took him a moment longer to realise the grubby sports sock was also his. It’s twin was over on the dresser under that candle, surrounded by tarot cards and other objects, including the chastity cage, which Michael did not comprehend, and a gold chain necklace he thought he’d lost time ago. Guyliner graffiti covered the mirror, symbols and signs, and in the middle of it all Michael’s name, drawn with love hearts and lightening strikes.