The Carry-Out Boy

By Dylan James

The advertisement in the Help Wanted section of the classified caught eighteen year old Stanley's eye. "Carry out boy needed at Food Lion. Regular work with tips. Weekends and nights. Apply in person."

Having just finished high school he had no particular goal in mind but needed immediate income. College was out of the question financially. His 5' 8" frame and boyish looks prevented him from being a contender for an athletic scholarship, and his grade point average and SAT score, while respectable, eliminated the possibility of financial assistance based on academics. Stanley found the prospect of easy work with tips appealing.

After two weeks of the unexpectedly difficult work of lugging groceries, Stanley had learned to seek out the customers who furnished the best tips. His most reliable one proved to be Mr. Perkins, a tall, brooding man in his mid 40s with piercing blue eyes who always paid well for assistance in getting his small grocery purchases to his silver Mercedes.

"Thanks, Mr. Perkins," Stanley said when he received his customary four dollar tip. "I sure appreciate your generosity."

"You're welcome, young man," he replied with a half smile. "You boys work hard and the pay can't be that good."

Stanley felt distinctly uncomfortable as the man fumbled in his shirt pocket for his glasses, put them on, and slowly moved his gaze from the boy's face and down his body. He shifted nervously and blushed at the visual examination despite his attempt to avoid showing any uneasiness.

"I-I guess I b-better get back to the other customers," Stanley stammered, not wanting to antagonize the man.

"I'm sorry," he said quickly as he clicked the trunk lid, engaging the growling automatic locking mechanism. "I didn't mean to embarrass you. I guess I was staring, but I was just thinking that if things had been different I could easily have a son your age. I know your dad must be proud of you."

"I don't think so, Sir," he replied. "I haven't seen him since I started high school. He has a new family over in Georgia."

Touching Stanley lightly on the arm, Mr. Perkins said, "Stanley...that is your name isn't it? I seem to have a talent for saying the wrong thing sometimes. I had no idea. I've been watching you since you started working here last month and I think your are not living up to your full potential."

"I guess not, Sir, but it is hard to do much better."

"You may not realize that I own a chain of retail stores, Stanley," he continued. "I can use a bright young man. Would you be interested in making a career change?"

"Would I!" Stanley responded enthusiastically. "There's sure no future here! When can I come in for an interview? Gosh, this is exciting!"

"How about tonight?" he asked. "When do you get off from work?"

"In about 15 minutes," Stanley replied. "Sure I can do it tonight. Where do you want me to come?"

"Why don't I just sit here in the car and wait for you?" Perkins offered. "But I must ask you not to mention this to anyone. I can't employ all the carry out boys and I don't want them pressuring me for jobs."

"Okay, I understand. I won't say a word to anybody. I'll be back soon as I can."

In less than the designated time Stanley slid into the passenger side of the front seat as Perkins smiled broadly.

"I admire promptness, son. I think you and I are going to get along well."

Handing the teenager his cell phone, Perkins instructed, "Call your mother and tell her not to expect you, but remember not to mention my name. Just tell her you are going on a trip with a friend and will be gone for at least several days."

As Stanley followed the directions, Perkins moved his car from the parking lot and onto the highway, quickly accelerating to cruising speed. About 15 miles out of town, he abruptly slowed and turned onto a secondary road, hitting a deep pot hole with a sharp jar.

"Stanley, I don't see well and am having some trouble driving, especially at night," he explained apologetically. "If we manage to strike a deal, one of your duties will be to drive for me. I am periodically forced to travel extensively."

"Wow! I've never driven a fine car like this," Stanley replied, thinking of his shabby Chevrolet and the contrast between the two vehicles. He felt very fortunate to have come to the attention of such an important man. Perkins' cordiality made him feel like somebody.

Making a series of turns on country roads, Perkins pulled into a dark driveway and stopped in front of a set of heavy metal gates. When he pressed a remote control attached to the sun visor the gates silently swung inward.

"Cool," Stanley muttered with awe as the expensive sedan glided through the opening and the gates closed behind them. "Gosh, Mr. Perkins, I had no idea you live like this!"

"Material possessions go only so far, young man," he said patiently. "I live a lonely and largely unsatisfactory life."

The long, dark driveway wound through trees and gradually ascended. As they pulled into a clearing, the headlights and nearly full moon revealed an impressive two story Victorian house with a sharp, pitched roof that suggested an attic. An attached tower with windows rose from the ground to the top of the roof on the right side of the massive house. A deep porch extended across the front with several stone steps leading up to it. The foundation was of gray limestone and the exterior featured the hideous gingerbread that characterized that style of architecture. The poorly-tended grounds featured overgrown shrubbery, a yard that had little acquaintance with a mower, and a large number of live oak trees with limbs extending almost to the ground.

Stanley gasped and asked, "You live here alone, Sir?"

"Except for my housekeeper," he replied quietly. "You will not meet her tonight. She is elderly and goes to bed early. We will be able to talk privately."

As Stanley walked along with Perkins toward the dark house, every movie he had seen of haunted houses and monsters came flooding into his consciousness, but he dismissed them as silly as the man unlocked and opened the heavy front door with a screech, revealing a dimly-lit foyer with a wide staircase leading upward.

He followed his potential employer as he opened an ornate wooden door which lead into the library. Floor to ceiling shelves on three walls held what appeared to be thousands of volumes of musty-smelling books. Several stuffed chairs with accompanying tables and lamps were scattered about the room and a large couch was positioned in front of the carved marble fireplace. Heavy green draperies covered the windows on the front wall of the room. An ornate chandelier hung from the vaulted ceiling and cast its rays into the room, creating deep shadows behind the large pieces of furniture. An incongruous element was a modern computer, monitor, and laser printer on an oak library table to the left of the fireplace.

"Have a seat, Stanley," Perkins invited, indicating an overstuffed chair near the center of the large room as he took the chair opposite it. Stanley sat down uneasily, continuing to glance around the luxurious room. In contrast with the grounds, the interior of the mansion was tidy and clean.

"I've never seen anything like this except in the movies," he said. "This many rooms does it have?"

"About 30 I suppose on the two main floors. I've never counted them," Perkins replied indulgently. "And there are storage rooms in the attic and a number of small rooms in the basement. I should find a more compact place I suppose, but I do enjoy my privacy."

"You should have privacy here," Stanley agreed. "I bet nobody ever comes here."

"Only by invitation," Perkins agreed. "I do occasionally have temporary guests."

"What would my job involve...besides driving that is?"

"I have need of a helper with a variety of skills," Perkins replied. "Are you willing to do anything assigned? I do expect obedience and loyalty from my employees."

"Anything that I know how to do or can learn. I do learn quickly," Stanley assured the man.

"Stanley, I think you already know what your main job will be. Am I right?" Perkins asked with an authoritative voice as he again stared at his young visitor with a hungry look in his eyes.

"Yes, Sir. I t-think I do," he replied a bit unsteadily. "Y-you won't hurt me will you?"

"You must give at least a week's notice if you decide to terminate your employment so that I may make arrangements," he said firmly. "Your salary will be $500 per week, but you will be on call 24 hours a day whenever I want you."

"That much!" Stanley said with astonishment as he compared it to his present meager income. "I'll sure take the job if you want me, Sir."

"Then consider yourself employed, young man. You must, however, begin immediately. I have an out of town trip tomorrow and you must accompany me. We will leave in time to purchase you some suitable clothing. You will dress well...I will pay for everything...but slightly less expensively than I do. When you travel, it will be as my chauffeur and valet. You will address me in public as Sir or Mr. Perkins. Under no circumstances are you to discuss my personal or business matters with anyone. Do you understand and agree?"

"Yes, Sir, Mr. Perkins," Stanley said in a low voice, uncertain as to what his ‘personal business' would involve, but he had gone past the point of turning back.

"I will show you around the house now," he said.

Stanley followed his employer as he gave a superficial tour of the other downstairs rooms and hallways. The most impressive room except for the library was the dining room with its arched ceiling, crystal chandelier, double fireplaces, and dining table with carved walnut chairs. Stanley's quick count of the chairs showed that it was designed to seat 16 people. The bright, cheerful kitchen was modern with the latest appliances and stood in sharp contrast to the rest of the gloomy mansion.

"This is Mrs. Schmidt's room. Never disturb her," Perkins ordered as he pointed to a closed door near the rear of the house. "She is an excellent housekeeper and cook, although I occasionally prefer to prepare my own food."

As they walked toward the stairway, Perkins pointed to a narrow door.

"This leads to the basement. You are never to go down there under any conditions."

"I won't, Mr. Perkins. This is your house and you are the boss," Stanley assured.

The upper floor had a series of bedrooms leading from a wide central hallway. The north end of the hallway featured French doors leading to a large balcony at the front of the mansion. Various items of white wicker furniture offered comfortable looking seating.

"This is the master bedroom," Perkins noted as he led the way into a large room with 12 foot ceilings, dominated by an antique canopy bed. Four large posts supported the wooden canopy with its quilted undersurface. A set of moveable steps alongside the bed emphasized its size.

An armoire, an old fashioned dresser with a bevel-edged mirror, a tall chest-of-drawers, and two stuffed chairs completed the furnishings except for a big screen television seemed almost an anachronism. Heavy gold colored draperies were pulled tightly over the windows. A blue tile bathroom opened from the south wall of the cavernous room.

"Which will be my room?" Stanley asked.

When Perkins did not reply, Stanley said, "Oh," and grinned sheepishly.

"Son, I am going downstairs to the library to read. I don't want to put you under any pressure. I've experienced enough of that in my own life. If you are still here when I return, then fine. If not, select any bedroom for the night and I will make other arrangements for you so that you do not return to your job at the grocery store. The choice is entirely yours."

Without waiting for a reply, Perkins left the room. Stanley heard his footsteps as he descended the stairway. He realized that it was decision time for him. He sat in one of the large chairs and drew his knees up to his chin, trying to balance the various factors involved. He realized that this was an opportunity that would not come again to escape the relative poverty that he had known his entire life--an opportunity too good to pass up. Besides he enjoyed the older man's attention--it made him feel important.

With a sudden resolve, Stanley got up and walked swiftly to the bathroom, locating a towel and bath cloth in its closet. Shedding his clothes, he stepped into the shower. He would be clean and ready for his benefactor. The teenager toweled dry and neatly folded his clothes for the next day's trip before turning back the cover on the huge bed and crawling between the sheets to wait for Perkins.

Despite excitement and the unfamiliar surroundings, Stanley drifted off into sleep before the man's return. He awoke only when Perkins slid the sheet down and began to lightly stroke his bare chest.

"Hi," Stanley said as he lightly placed his hand on top of Perkins' and smiled.

"I'm glad you're still here," he whispered. "I don't think your would have liked my alternate plan for you."

"I want to be your driver, helper, and...whatever else you want," Stanley responded as he slid over to make room for Perkins as the man removed his clothes.

During the next half hour, he gently massaged the teenager's body, concentrating on his arms, legs, and buttocks, but never touching his penis or testicles.

"You are extraordinary, Stanley," he said as he felt his slim, but muscular thighs. You will be most suitable when the time comes."

"I'm ready when you are, Sir," he replied as his penis slowly enlarged. He tried to hide the anxiety and uncertainty he felt as he wondered if he would know how to please the man.

But to the boy's surprise and considerable relief, Perkins merely got in bed alongside him and wrapped his arms around him. After a few minutes his regular breathing showed that he had fallen asleep.

Stanley lay as still as possible, not wanting to awaken him. It was clear that Perkins' interest in him was principally physical. The teenager was puzzled, however, as to why he had not had sex with him, deciding that Perkins was being decent and giving him time to become accustomed to being around him. His nudity and the overtly sexual stimulation of the massage caused Stanley to feel an urgent need to ejaculate, but he forced himself to relax and think of other things as his erection gradually subsided.

When Stanley awaked, the draperies had been opened and light was streaming into the room. Just for an instant he was not sure where he was and how he got there. Perkins was dressed in a blue blazer and gray trousers and sitting in a brown chair turned so that it appeared that he had been watching Stanley as he slept.

"About time your woke up, sleepyhead," he said kindly. "Come over and sit on the arm of my chair and I will tell you about the day."

Stanley gulped nervously as he threw back the sheet and slid off the bed to the floor. His morning hard was well established and he felt awkward as he walked over with his penis protruding and sat by his employer. Perkins slipped his right arm around Stanley's waist and patted his stomach playfully.

"I like to see a young man feeling good," he said was he took hold of the teenager's penis with his thumb and index finger, feeling its stiffness. "Now that you have had more time to think it over, do you still want to become my helper?"

"Yes, Sir. I am sure about it, but....I wondered....uh...why.....uh...."

"You want to know why I went no further than touching you last night. A perfectly reasonable question. We are going to Nashville today and I will have you checked by a physician with whom I am acquainted. I am HIV negative and intend to stay that way, Stanley. You appear to be a healthy young man, but I am not inclined to take needless chances. Do you anticipate any problems appearing from your examination?"

"I don't see how, Sir," he replied. "I've never...uh..."

"Been with a man?"

"No, Sir."

"How about a girl?"

"Well not anything but a few dates. Nothing serious."

"I will not tolerate promiscuity as long as you are with me. I do not share my property. Do you understand that?"

"Yes, Sir!" Stanley replied emphatically, although feeling a bit strange being referred to as "property."

"I think this may work out well, son. Get dressed and we will go downstairs for breakfast and you can be introduced to Mrs. Schmidt," Perkins instructed.

Perkins left the room as Stanley went into the bathroom to urine and wash his hands. The teenager then pulled his clothes on and patted his hair down with his hands, and made his way to the kitchen.

The housekeeper was standing at the stove; Perkins was sitting at an oak dining table drinking a cup of coffee. The aroma of fresh biscuits and bacon filled the room.

"Mrs. Schmidt, this is my new associate, Stanley," Perkins said.

The housekeeper turned and glanced at the boy, grunted under her breath, and returned her attention to a skillet of scrambled eggs.

"Come sit down, Stanley, breakfast is almost ready," Perkins invited.

Mrs. Schmidt brought the serving pieces to the table which was already set for two with what appeared to be fine china. Orange juice filled two crystal goblets. As the two began to eat, she made no comment and began placing items into the dishwasher.

Perkins finished eating and left the kitchen after reminding Stanley to be ready to leave at 10:30.

Mrs. Schmidt ordered sharply, "Hurry up boy! I have other work to do around here."

"You don't like me much, do you?" Stanley asked as he got up and brought his plate and utensils and set them on the counter beside the double sink.

"Like's got nothing to do with it," she spit out. "What he does and what you do are no concern of mine. You won't be here long anyway...none of them are."

"You mean he has had other employees here at the house?" Stanley said in surprise. "Did they get fired?"

"I don't know. He always tells me his boys have been assigned to another duty. He pays well and I don't ask questions. It's nothing to me."

The drive up Interstate 65 to Nashville proved uneventful. Stanley followed his employer's directions and pulled into a parking deck from which they made their way to the plush offices of a Dr. Roper, identified on the door as a specialist in sports medicine. Stanley was immediately ushered into an examination room despite the crowded waiting room. It was clear that Mr. Perkins was a man of considerable influence.

Dr. Roper came in with a smile. "Take all your clothes off, young man, and I will do your physical," he instructed.

The doctor felt, poked, and prodded the naked teenager in the most thorough examination of his life. Stanley had no doubt that it went well beyond medical necessity, especially when the physician demanded a sperm sample for analysis and watched closely while the boy provided it. Stanley also questioned the need for a rectal examination at his age, but made no comment.

"Dr. Roper tells me you are disease free and an excellent physical specimen," Mr. Perkins observed as they navigated the down ramp from the parking deck and merged into traffic.

"He should know," Stanley said with a tinge of resent to his voice.

"That old pirate didn't hurt you did he?" Perkins asked with what seemed like genuine concern. "He better not have!"

"Oh, no, nothing like that," Stanley assured, not going into detail on the specifics of the intimate examination he had endured.

Mr. Perkins directed Stanley to an exclusive men's store in downtown Nashville, where under his supervision and encouragement, Stanley picked out a variety of sports and dress clothes, complete with underwear, socks, shoes, belts and other expensive items.

"Gosh, I've never had things like this," Stanley said as Perkins had the items charged to his American Express card. "Thanks a lot, Sir."

"You will more than earn them young man," he replied. "Trust me on that."

The two drove to Centennial Park to visit a full-size copy of the Parthenon with its statue of Athena, art museum, and casts of the Elgin Marbles. Perkins demonstrated a considerable knowledge of world history as he explained the significance of the various objects to his young protegee. That evening they dined at an expensive theme restaurant named the "101st Airborne" before starting out for home. Stanley found that he genuinely liked the intelligent and still attractive older man and felt confident that he would be able to get Perkins to come to value him on more than a sexual basis as they became acquainted.

Stanley's life at the mansion settled into a predictable routine as he spent his days eating, watching television, exercising in the well-equipped gym in one of the upstairs rooms, swimming in the Olympic-sized back yard pool, driving Perkins to various local destinations, and playing on the computer when his employer was not using it.

He had found Mr. Perkins to be a confident, exciting, but gentle lover. Although Stanley found that his role as a bottom to the man's top sometimes involved a degree of discomfort, he quickly adjusted as he learned to relax and accept directions.

As the weeks went by, even the crusty housekeeper began to become more accepting of Stanley with his ready smile and quick wit. When he playfully called her "Grandma Schmidt," she would smile despite her best efforts to avoid it.

One evening after dinner when Perkins had retired to the library, she whispered, "Boy, you have been here longer than any of the others. You better get away while you can."

"You think I'm in any actual danger, Grandma Schmidt?" he asked in concern. "Mr. Perkins is really nice to me and so generous...being here is more than I ever dreamed of."

"Things aren't always as they seem, Stanley," she replied, but refused to elaborate despite his repeated questions.

"Then at least tell me what's in the basement. I've been boiling over with curiosity the whole time I've lived here."

A look of sheer terror came on the woman's face as she said, "I've heard sounds from there in my room at night...horrible sounds...."

Mrs. Schmidt suddenly caught herself and stopped in midsentence. She turned to tidying up the kitchen and ignored Stanley's questions as she hurried from the kitchen without even putting away the dishes.

"She's just a frightened old woman living in a scary house...nothing to it," Stanley thought to himself. But her comments had added fuel to the fire of his curiosity about the forbidden basement.

About a week later, Stanley was sitting on the upstairs balcony about 9:00. There was a full moon and the sky was cloudless. To his surprise he saw the gleam of approaching headlights on the estate's driveway. In the six weeks he had lived there, this was the first vehicle other than Perkins' Mercedes to come onto the grounds. He wondered how it had got past the gate. Just as Stanley was rising to notify Mr. Perkins of a possible intruder, he caught sight of him walking toward the driveway.

A light-colored delivery van stopped. The driver extinguished the headlights, got out and opened the passenger door. To Stanley's shock, he pulled another male figure from the van and shoved him toward the mansion as Mr. Perkins followed.

Stanley slipped noiselessly to the head of the stairs and watched as the front door opened and the two entered, pulling a young man between them. He appeared to be in his early twenties and his hands were bound behind his back with heavy cord. He struggled to escape the grasp of the burly man who had brought him. Mr. Perkins extracted something from his billfold and handed it to him. At that, the two grasped the prisoner by his arms and forced him further into the house and out of Stanley's line of sight. A creaking door opened and then shut with a dull thud.

After about 20 minutes the door opened again and he could recognize Mr. Perkins' voice as he escorted the burly man to the front door.

"Let me know when you have another one," he said as the man exited. "This one looks quite satisfactory."

As Mr. Perkins went out of sight in the direction of the kitchen, Stanley crept silently down the stairway and concealed himself behind a large vase in the foyer. After a short time the man emerged carrying a plate of food and a bottled drink. Walking over to the narrow entrance to the basement, he opened the door and went out of sight.

Recalling Mrs. Schmidt's lugubrious mumbling about the basement, Stanley fearfully hurried upstairs and turned on the television set. The X Files did little to calm the teenager as he apprehensively awaited the arrival of Mr. Perkins.

When the man appeared, he acted as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened as he came over and stroked Stanley's hair fondly.

"How's my number one boy tonight?" he asked.

To Stanley's relief, Mr. Perkins showed no interest in sex and was soon fast asleep. What was going on in the basement? Stanley resolved to find out as sleep eluded him for most of the night. After a brief doze, he woke with a start imagining that he had heard a scream from within the house. Glancing at the digital clock built into the television, he saw that it was 4:00 a.m. Perkins seemed to be in a deep sleep.

Stanley slipped out of bed and silently drew on his jeans, socks, and Nikes. Without a sound he crept down the staircase, picked up Mrs. Schmidt's flashlight from the kitchen, and turned in the direction of the doorway to the basement. A musty odor greeted him as he opened it, turned on the flashlight, and began to cautiously descend the wooden steps, holding on to the handrail. When he reached floor level, he stepped a few paces into the echoing basement and played the light around the room. There was a large square table near the center of the open space, but Stanley gasped as the beam revealed a series of barred doors closing off what could only be cells.

"Who's there?" a frightened male voice called out from the darkness.

Casting the beam of the powerful flashlight in the direction of the sound, he saw the nude figure of a brown haired young man cowering against the back wall in one of the cells. His medium length hair was disheveled, his arms and legs were muscular, and his body practically hairless except for pubic hair.

"No, please...don't....stay away from me," he begged. "You can't do it."

"Quiet down! My name's Stanley. I'm not going to hurt you," he whispered. "Who are you?"

"My name is Rick," he said. "You're got to help me. Please!"

"What are you doing here?" Stanley asked.

"He fucked me and said he would eat me tomorrow," he wailed. "He hurt me–a lot."

"Mr. Perkins?" Stanley asked in dismay, but knowing the answer since he had seen his mentor go into the basement twice.

"I don't know his name, but he seems to be in charge here," Rick responded. "He's gonna eat...he told me so."

"How did you get here?" Stanley persisted.

"It was that Dr. Roper–the sports medicine guy. I'm on the Vanderbilt football team and hurt my knee. He's been treating me. When I went for therapy yesterday, he had this tough there. The two of them tied me up and loaded me into a crappy van. The driver brought me way out here."

Stunned by the revelation, Stanley walked over to the massive table and directed the light on it. The top was equipped with wrist and ankle restraints bolted to opposite ends, tongs, a whips, and various other instruments whose purpose he could only guess.

"My god," Stanley said under his breath. The items seemed to support Rick's assertion about his fate. He immediately knew the source of the sounds Mrs. Schmidt had reported. The realization made the hair stand up on the back of his neck.

"You'll help me, won't you?" Rick begged again, obviously near panic.

"He seemed so nice," Stanley said in a barely audible voice. Mrs. Schmidt's words that things weren't always as they seemed rang in his ears.

"Of course I will help you," he said. "We both have to get out here before it is too late."

A bright overhead light sprung to life, brilliantly illuminating the basement. At the head of the stairs stood Mr. Perkins holding a small caliber pistol.

"I'm afraid I can't allow that, Stanley," he said as he descended the steps with an intense look on his face. "I warned you not to pry into my personal matters and never to come down here. Now you have to pay the price for your lack of obedience my delicious looking young friend."

Perkins took a large metal key from a wall hook and motioned Stanley toward the cell adjacent to the one containing Rick.

"I really like you, Stanley, and had hoped this time would be months in coming, but you leave me no choice." He added, "Remove your clothes. This other young man will doubtless enjoy a companion in the time he has remaining."

"No, please, I won't say anything," Stanley plead. "You know you can trust me."

"I believe I just head you say that you would help my meal escape and that you would leave along with him. Do give me some credit, Stanley," he replied.

As Perkins waved the pistol threateningly, Stanley undressed and moved into the cell next to Rick as the man opened the door, closed it with a clang, and turned the key in the lock.

"If it's any comfort to you, Stanley, know that I will devour the other young man first. I will not take you before next week. If I go too long without eating, Mrs. Schmidt might become suspicious. She is necessary to my comfort, but a serious threat to my security. One is forced to take some chances, however. I will come for you soon after noon, young man. You will make a most satisfactory meal. Please do prepare yourself to take it like a man. I cannot abide a coward."

"Rick! His name is Rick!" Stanley called out in dismay. "He isn't something for you to eat, he's a human being. How can you do this!"

"Very easily. I have done it countless times before," Perkins replied. "And you really should not have been so trusting, Stanley. Of course that advice is far too late to do you any good."

Perkins laughed as he turned and made his way to the steps. As he reached the top, he flipped off the light, plunging the area into total darkness as he slammed the door.

"This is a hell of a mess!" Stanley said.

"For you? What about me?" Rick demanded. "In a few hours he will come back and eat me!"

"I know, pal. I would have helped you if I could," he replied.

When the sun rose, light began to filter through the dingy windows located high on the wall at the south end of the basement, giving the area the aura of a medieval torture chamber. Time passed slowly as the two captives discussed their impending fate.

Rick said, "How do you think he will cook me? I hope it won't do it alive."

"That is curious," Stanley responded. "I don't see any way to do it down stove or anything...he must not have been planning to bring your upstairs or I would have found it out."

"Well, guess I will find out soon enough," Rick said in resignation.

Stanley nodded in agreement, not seeing any way out for either of them.

"Stanley, it's easy for that creep to tell me to be brave. He's never been in a situation like this. I'm scared to death."

"I know the feeling, Rick. I'll be next you know."

The conversation ceased as the basement door opened again. Perkins descended and stood in front of the cells, looking from one prisoner to the other.

"It's time, Rick," he said coldly as he leveled the pistol at him.

"You're going to shoot me down like a dog?" he asked in disbelief.

"Not unless you force me to," Perkins responded. "I am never unkind to my young guests."

He reached into his left pocket and extracted a pair of handcuffs and tossed them to the young athlete.

"Click these around your wrists," he commanded, "or else."

When Rick did as ordered, the man unlocked the cell door and roughly shoved him over toward a heavy wooden table near the middle of the basement.

"Climb up on there," he ordered. "Now."

When Rick hesitated, Perkins struck his head a glancing blow with the pistol, stunning him. Putting the gun away, he quickly lifted the young man onto the table on his back and bound his ankles with the same type cord that his accomplice had used. When Rick regained consciousness, he was only able to struggle helplessly against the restraints, his eyes wild with fear.

"You will make a fine meal, young man," Perkins assured him as he felt him admiringly at various points on his well-toned body. "Athletes are always lean and well hung."

Over the next hour, Perkins felt Rick all over, fondled his penis and testicles, spanked him several times, make him suck his dick, and ended up fucking him despite his begging. As soon as Perkins cummed, a strange look came onto his face as he picked Rick up in his powerful hands and leered at him.

"You are going to taste so good," he murmured as he slowly began to open his mouth.

To the amazement of both boys, the man underwent an astounding transformation before their eyes. His abdomen distended amazingly and his mouth began to open wider and wider!

"Yummy, boymeat," he said as he turned Rick and started toward his gaping mouth with the youth's feet and legs.

"This can't be!" Rick cried out in desperation as he struggled vainly to escape.

Perkins shut his eyes in pleasure as the boy's smooth calves slid across the roof of his mouth and into his throat, bringing the muscular thighs into contact with his cheeks and tongue. As he slid downward, his testicles and penis dragged heavily over the man's tongue. The massaging action caused Rick to ejaculate the most strongly of anytime in his life. Perkins enjoyed the salty-sweet taste of the cum as the boy's chest slid into his mouth. He licked heavily at the hard nipples, savoring their sudden hardness.

"No, no!" Rick called out in wild dismay as he felt his muscular buttocks being grasped by the superior pharyngeal constrictor muscle and forced downward into the esophagus.

Stanley watched in disbelief as the boy's arms disappeared as his fingers grasped uselessly into the air. He was imagining himself facing the same treatment and wondered how much longer he had.

"Y-you actually did it," Stanley mumbled in confusion and disbelief. "Why, Sir? I don't understand."

"I'm not sure I do either, young man," he replied. "There's nothing like the feeling I get when a boy realizes what is going to happen to him--just like with Rick just now, and also with you when your time comes."

"B-but you don't seem cruel. I thought you really liked me," Stanley said in dismay. "How could you want to do things like that to me after the good times we have had together?"

"I don't know why I enjoy the struggle that is inescapable for my pleasure," he replied with a distressed look on his face. "When your time runs out, Stanley, I will see that you enjoy it, just as I did with Rick. You cannot know how heavily he cummed, just as you will. I love you almost like the son I never had."

"You don't eat someone you care about," Stanley said emphatically.

"Oh, on the contrary, to me it is a complete expression of love," he replied with a strange look on his face. "I will have you with me always. You will be safe and spared from so many harms."

From inside the man, Rick could hear the conversation although it was muffled. He struggled and sweated, but soon began to feel a burning sensation on his skin as the gastric glands began their inevitable work on his naked body. A feeling of contentment came over him as he settled down and waited to be assimilated.

"You must excuse me for leaving for a while, Stanley, but I am having a dinner guest and I really must concentrate on preparations for his arrival. I will ask Mrs. Schmidt to prepare the fried chicken you seem to be so fond of. Chicken for a young chicken seems quite appropriate. And I want you to be well-fed for later. I cannot allow you to lose weight."

At midafternoon, Mr. Perkins entered the basement with a plate of food covered with aluminum foil and a can of diet Coke.

"I hope you don't mind eating a bit early, Stanley," he said. "I am giving my housekeeper two days off while I have my visitor. Unfortunately I will have to drive her to her daughter's house myself as I suppose it isn't possible to trust your driving anymore."

Stanley began to eat with surprisingly good appetite until one considers that he had missed breakfast and a teenage boy has to eat regardless of the circumstances.

"My guest is well acquainted with the estate and the house, Stanley. He may come down and check on you, so don't be startled or think that a burglar is paying a visit. I wouldn't want you to be frightened."

"Yeah, thanks for being so concerned," Stanley said with deep sarcasm. "I'll substitute as host until you get back."

Perkins and the housekeeper had been gone less than a half hour when the basement door opened slowly.

"Arlo, are you down there?" a male voice called out. "Ummm, go them both ready? What time does the fun begin?"

"Mr. Perkins isn't here," Stanley replied, hearing his employer's given name for the first time. Somehow "Arlo" didn't seem to fit, but he realized there was no way his parents could have anticipated what he would turn out to be.

The powerfully built man descended the steps and approached Stanley's cell. Something about him seemed vaguely familiar.

"What a pleasant surprise, Stanley," the man said. "I have thought about you many times since we met."

With a start, Stanley realized that it was Dr. Roper! The man did not look like a doctor without his medical clothing and could have passed for a coach as he smiled broadly and looked at him.

"I had thought that you would be unavailable for several months. Arlo seemed inordinately fond of you. I have replayed your examination in my mind several times and found it most stimulating."

Roper placed his hand on his genitals at the memory and manipulated them heavily as he stared at the naked boy. Seeing you again has made me become quite hungry.

"B-but you're a doctor!" Stanley cried in disillusionment. "You're supposed to help people."

"Where is the other young man? Arlo's already got him, hasn't he?" Roper responded with some irritation. "Then I am going to help myself to you, boy. What I wanted to do in my office weeks ago."

The man stood in front of Stanley's cell and leered at his naked body as he removed his clothes to reveal a well-established erection.

"No! You can't...I belong to Mr. Perkins," Stanley said in fear, realizing the man's intentions.

"He's already had enough to eat," Roper replied as he walked over and snatched the cell key from the wall.

The teenager's desperate struggles proved futile as Roper overpowered him and forced him on his knees with his chest on his bunk. Despite his pleas for mercy, the man savagely raped him without lubricant, seeming to take delight in his screams.

"The more you beg the better I like it," he said when he withdrew from the boy's posterior and began to pull heavily at his penis and testicles.

"Cum for me like you did in my office," he ordered. "You can't know how much that made me want you, boy!"

With the heavy manipulation, Stanley soon realized that ejaculation was inevitable and shot his load as Roper ran his fingers up and down the shaft of his penis.

"Okay, down the hatch with you, kid," he said as he grasped the struggling youth.

Stanley screamed as the man underwent the same transformation he had seen earlier and moved him into position to swallow him. Over the next several minutes he learned first-hand what Rick has undergone as the slide inexorably toward the man's stomach. As he ejaculated for the second time in a few minutes, he thought momentarily that the intense pleasure almost made it worthwhile for him. But his scream faded out as his head was grasped by peristaltic movement of the esophagus as it propelled him downward to his fate.

Stanley sat despondently pulled into a fetal position inside Roper, fervently wishing that he were still a Food Lion carry out boy. Digestive juices flowed from the stomach lining, and began their work.

The End

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