Inside Jack (mm coll fant hypno asfr)

WARNING: This Afterschool Special contains explicit scenes of gay sex and mind control. If you are underage or offended by such material, scram!

This story is copyrighted by the author. Comments welcome at [email protected].

NOTE: The events described here take place at the same time as those of my earlier story “Spelling Error”. Each story can be read on its own, but hopefully reading both will add to the context of each.

For Crispy, a bright star getting ready to shine

Delta Mu House, Chapel College

8:00 AM

Bluh. Phone is ringing. Dammit, I’m trying to sleep here! I grope around until I find the receiver and drag it into bed. “Umm…yeah?”

“Hello? Is this Jack Hebel? This is Harold Lassiter. Sorry, did I wake you?”

“Yeah,” I snap back. Of course you woke me, dumbass! And why did it have to be Harold, of all people? What a way to start the day!

“Sorry,” he says again in that wimpy, girly little voice. “I just wanted to let you know that I don’t think I can make the meeting today. I think I’m coming down with something. I woke up feeling really nauseous…”

That makes two of us. “Oh. Well, don’t sweat it. We’ll manage without you. Probably better if you stay in bed.” Forever.

“Sorry I let you guys down…”

“Forget it. Get some rest. ’Bye.”


Actually I’m sorta glad he called. Not exactly glad he’s sick, just glad I won’t have to put up with him. This dumb Parents’ Day project is boring, but I can live with boring – especially when I’m partnered with my best bud, Mike Duquesne. We’ll take about football and the team, about babes and brews and cars. Mike can take the worst times and make them cool. Harold could take the best times and make them suck. Who can enjoy anything with a nerdy little queer sitting right beside them?

And Harold is the queerest of the queer. Everybody knew that his first day at Chapel. He’s had some rude stuff yelled at his window, things written on his door, some pretty crude practical jokes played on him. Last month someone even caught him in the park late at night and gave him a bashing. Put him in the hospital for days. Harold may make me a little sick, but that made me a lot sicker. Anyone who would beat on somebody that small and helpless is the worst kind of shit. There’s just no excuse for that kind of crap, ever.

But of course, if Harold didn’t go around flaunting it so much, it would never have happened. I think we know what he was doing in the park at midnight.

10:00 AM

“Knock knock!” I call out at Mike’s door, and I’m invited in. I sorta slide through the doorway, ’cause it wasn’t really made for a build like mine. Neither is my door, for that matter. Mom jokes that I keep Chapelton’s Big & Tall Men’s store in business. Of course Mike has no problem, ’cause he’s only six-five and an extra-large – just a pee-wee! That’s why I’m a defensive end for the Chargers and he’s “only” our best QB.

“Harold couldn’t make it,” I tell Mike cheerfully. “Thank God! That little fag creeps me out.”

“Hey,” he frowns, and I realize I’ve screwed up. I forgot his own brother’s a queer. Can’t blame him for being defensive. It’s no fun having that in the family. I quickly say “sorry”, knowing it doesn’t sound too convincing. I do mean it, though. I’d never want to say anything to hurt my pal.

Don’t know how I could forget after meeting Mike’s brother last month. Man, he weirds me out worse than Harold. He crashed one of our house parties, and I swear the damn pervert was eyeing me up like a piece of meat. I left early just to get away from him – ducked out on my own frat’s party!

Anyway, Mike doesn’t make an issue of my remark. He’s cool that way. In fact, pretty much every way. Most guys get pissy if they see their old girlfriend getting friendly with you. (I know. It happens to me a lot.) But not Mike. He gave me tips on what Laurie likes on a date! That’s a buddy!

So we settle down to work on our big Parents’ Day project – a bunch of dull, dull, dull plans for where everybody has to sit. Did I mention that they’re dull? But we have to do it, ’cause it’s extra credit, and if we don’t pull our grades up a little we could get cut from the team. No way is Coach gonna let that happen, and neither are we.

So we’re slaving away at Mike’s desk for a while, when suddenly a voice says, “What’s new, bro?”

Oh. Shit. It’s little brother Luke Duquesne. How the hell did he get in here? I didn’t even hear the door, and now here he is lounging in a chair, looking oh-so-gay in a trendy designer shirt and glued-on jeans. Dyed his hair, too – I know he was blond, not dark, when I met him before.

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t know you had company.” Dammit, he’s giving me that look again! I can practically feel his eyes crawling over my body. “We met before, didn’t we? Laurie’s new guy?”

“Damn straight,” I say tensely. Stop smirking, you little prick! I’m trying to keep my cool, but that eat-you-up look on his face is really freaking me out. And he knows it, too.

“Um…look,” I say to Mike, “I’m sure you guys want to catch up. How ’bout if I swing back later?” And get out of here before I say something really rude that I’ll be sorry for.

“We’ve got a load of work to do,” Mike objects. He just doesn’t get it. Can’t he feel the tension? I can’t be near this guy.

Luke says innocently, “Don’t go on my account,” batting his eyes at me like a bimbo on the make. He looks like he’s trying not to laugh. I’m trying not to explode. And failing.

“Sorry, Mike.” The words are leaving my mouth and I can’t stop them. I try but I can’t. “I can’t deal with this. I know he’s your brother – ” Now he’s making some faggy gesture at me with his hand! “ – but he’s still – ”

Oh god oh my god he’s so beautiful he’s so perfect he’s the perfect man

“ – the most awesome fuckin’ stud in the history of the planet!” I finish. It’s the simple truth. He is. He’s perfect in every way. Especially one way. My eyes can’t stay away from that beautiful big bulge in his pants. I’m in love. I sink down on my knees before him – more like collapse onto them – so that I can get closer to it. In a way I almost want to look away, because the rest of him is so wonderful too. But I can’t.

I don’t know where the words come from, but I have to say them: “May I please be your worthless cock-slave, Master?”

If he says no, I’m going to die.

“Of course you may, scum.” Yes! Yes! And he says it so kindly! He reaches out a hand to touch my head, and I almost faint. He’s twisting my hair in his fingers, oh god he’s really touching me, and he’s steering my head toward, toward, oh god oh god oh he’s my god –

He rubs my face against the soft blue denim, over and over. Through the cloth that bulge is getting bigger and bigger – for me! For me! I’m shaking all over, and I think I’m kinda crying. With joy. I faintly know that Master is saying something to Mike, but it doesn’t mean anything to me. Nothing means anything to me except touching Master, being close to Master, living only to serve Master… My own worthless cock is hard as a rock, so hard that I feel it with my whole body, so hard that I can hardly think at all any more…

I hardly even notice when we’re suddenly somewhere else.

1:30 PM

I’m lying on my back, naked on this super-king-sized bed – it’s big enough for four or five people, and it’s probably had that many guys in it. Master is stretched out on top of me, snuggled up against my big hairy chest. He looks really happy. Which is wonderful, since I only exist to make him happy. Not to mention that I’m in heaven every second his beautiful body is touching me.

I’ve been learning a lot today, though you can’t say I’ve exactly thought about any of it, since I haven’t exactly thought about anything. But that’s one of the things I’ve learned – that it’s really not important to have any thoughts unless Master tells me to.

Other things I now know:

Master’s cock is the center of the universe. And my mouth was made to make love to it, just like my ass. To take every inch inside me and love being its/his slave. To need it and miss it every moment that it isn’t in me.

I am a container made to hold Master’s cum.

I am an object made for Master’s pleasure.

I am a toy made to do whatever Master wants. I fuck or get fucked, suck or get sucked, rim, lick, eat, kiss, grope or massage or anything else I’m told to do. I do nothing without being told, except breathe. (I’m pretty sure breathing’s okay.)

I don’t know how I know these things. I just know them.

Master opens his blue, blue eyes. He smiles, and my heart leaps. “Well,” he sighs, I sure as hell know what I see in you, studmuffin. But I wonder what Mike sees? What do you think?”

I’m shocked. “My thoughts are worthless, Master!”

He rolls his eyes and kinda snickers. “Oh, yeah, I used that one, didn’t I? Silly me.” He puts a finger on my forehead. “Okay, listen up, slave. I usually do figure homophobes are worthless. I usually make them wish they’d never been born. But my bro doesn’t hang with assholes, and he does hang with you, and I want to know why. When I’ve found the answers, you’ll know whether you’re worthless or not. Right now I’m ordering you to tell me about yourself, so clear your mind.”

I suddenly feel like about a ton of cotton balls have been removed from my head. I hadn’t even realized they were there; it just felt natural to think of nothing but Master. Still does, but now he wants me to be able to think and talk, so I will. “Sure, Master. What do you wanna know?”

“Hmm.” He thinks for a moment. “Tell me…tell me about the things you care about. The things you like.”

“Laurie,” I say instantly. “I mean, I only love you now. But I still like her. She’s really nice, and smart, and really hot too. She just made me want to treat her special. ’Course that’s how I usually was with babes. Some of the guys say I’m soft, but I think you have to…I dunno…like them, not just want them.” I look at him anxiously. “Is this the kind of thing you wanted? I’m not offending you by talking about chicks?”

“No, that’s fine. I know what the new Jack likes – whatever I tell him to like.” He runs a finger around one of my tits in a lazy circle, and my dong jumps up like a rocket. “I want to know about the old Jack. What else does he like?”

I force myself to think of something besides the feel of his body. “I like your brother. Hell, I love the guy – best friend I ever had! In fact, I love all my buddies on the team. They are so great! When we’re out there on the field, it’s like we’re one big, tight family. More than you get with the wrestling team, although they’re great guys too. Half the Chargers and the wrestlers are in Delta Mu, and that is so cool! It’s like being in the Jack’s Buddies Frat.

“Y’know, the only thing missing from Delta Mu is a mascot. We oughta get a dog. I love dogs.”

“Do you have one at home?” he asks.

I shake my head. “No. Not in a long time.”

“Hmm. Okay, question number two: What does Jack not like? What does Jack hate?”

I think for a moment. “I hate war. Even if there’s a good reason for it, it sucks when people die. I hate prejudice – it’s so totally crap to judge people by their skin, or their religion or whatever. That’s so lame it’s pathetic.” I frown a little. “I don’t think there’s any person I really hate. I almost hate Mr. Trask, my history prof. It’s like he’s rooting to see you flunk, even when you’re really trying hard. And, well – I don’t exactly hate fags, but I hate being around them. They really freak me out.”

Master’s face is hard to read. “That’s interesting. You hate prejudice, but you don’t like ‘fags’. No contradiction there.”

Is that what I said? I try to make it sound less dumb. “I don’t…I don’t blame them. Or wish anything bad on them. It’s just…the stuff they do is just sick, y’know? Two guys doing it together. It’s sick.”

He gives me a funny kind of smile. “Tell me, slave: Was it sick for you to suck my cock?”

I almost cum just at the thought. “Oh, no, Master! It was fantastic!”

“Why wasn’t it sick?”

I don’t get the question. “Well…because you’re…because you’re you!”

He chuckles, eyes on my quivering rod. “We need to work on that area. Later. Right now, I’m getting awfully distracted.”

“Me too,” I admit hopefully. “I’m really stiff.”

He grins slowly. “Oh, I don’t think you know what stiff means…”

4:00 PM

I’m standing with one arm raised in a fist, the other outstretched. I’ve been standing like this for what has to be hours. I’m dressed in really tight spandex that Master pulled from somewhere. Beside me is a big, hunky Hispanic guy, also in spandex, also not moving, not blinking. His name is Saul (pronounced Sah-ool). Master rang a bell, and Saul came running from somewhere else in the mansion. Yep, mansion. That’s where Master took me when we left Mike’s room, but until I was allowed to think, I didn’t notice. It’s a damn nice place, and it all belongs to Saul. Saul, of course, belongs to Master.

I also sort of understand how we got there now. Master told me he’s a Speller – what normal folks call a witch – with all kinds of magic powers. That’s how he fucked with my mind, he says; my ’tude was annoying him, so he zapped me with a slave spell. God, that is so awesome! And Mike is a Speller, too, it turns out – my best bud, a magic wielder! Ain’t that a kick in the head?

Anyway, Master put Saul and me in cool superhero outfits, and then suddenly we all were outside on a street somewhere – some big sunny plaza. Only nobody noticed. “I call it the Watson spell,” said Master. “They see, but they do not observe.” Everybody just walked around us, half-knowing there was somebody there, but not really looking. Even when Master groped our crotches, no one turned their head. I could tell he really got off on that.

Saul and I were ordered to do some heroic muscle poses for Master. Then, when we got to ones he liked, he snapped his fingers and we were frozen – every muscle stiff as stone. Ever since, he’s been playing with our bodies. Right now he’s back to working on Saul, but I don’t get a break. I just stand in my pose, a flesh-and-blood statue on display in the sun. A couple of sparrows are sitting on my head.

He’s back! The birdies fly away as Master slides his arms around my waist, grinding his crotch against my ass from behind. Strong little hands are pulling my tight pants down around my knees…he’s rubbing his dick against my naked butt-cheeks now and, Oh God! he’s inside me again, pounding like a piston, wrapping both arms and both legs around me as he shoves and shoves and SHOVES! I want to howl woith pain and pleasure, but I can’t. I just stand in my hero pose like a block of concrete. A lady with big glasses walks past my face without caring.

Finally Master slowly pulls out, breathing hard. I sense him moving around behind my back. Then he puts both arms around my waist and pulls me backward. I slowly tilt back, without budging a muscle from my pose, until the back of my head bumps against something. I’ve been leaned against a telephone pole. My one foot sticks up in the air like a steel bar. Plopping down on the pavement, Master pulls off my boot, and starts a slow, sexy sucking on my toes…

6:00 PM

This is a really nice restaurant – classier than anything in Chapelton, that’s for sure. Course, I’m not even sure what country it’s in. Miles and borders don’t mean diddly when you’re with Master Luke. (Jeez, I sound like C-3PO, don’t I?)

Another thing that doesn’t mean much is price. Master Luke said to pick anything I want from the menu. After all, Saul’s paying. I think he’s got a platinum card. Hell, if there’s a color beyond platinum, he’s probably got it. I picked “broiled mountain lake trout”, and that’s what I got – the whole damn fish, head and all, looking up at me with sad golden eyes. Like he’s saying, “How can you eat me, you bastard?” If he wasn’t so delicious, I’d feel guilty.

Saul Montoya turns out to be quite a guy. He used to be a wrestler like me! “But I used my head,” he says, tapping it with his finger. “I knew you can’t do that forever. So I invested my prize money in marketing my software designs. And they made me a hundred times what I had ever earned wrestling.”

I look over at Master Luke, who’s just quietly sipping his wine and smiling, like he’s enjoying seeing his slaves buddy up. “And then you met him,” I prompt Saul.

His smile is dreamy. “I came back to the ring for a charity match – an AIDS fundraiser – and Master was there in the audience. It was fate.”

I nod knowingly. “He turned you around.”

“No, no, I had always been gay. Ever since I can remember.”

I feel my jaw drop. This big, macho wrestler was naturally gay? No way!

They both laugh at my expression. “Oh, yes,” grins Saul. “With some of my opponents I did more wrestling in bed than I did in the ring! That was what I had always wanted – big, powerful men of muscle. But then I looked into Master’s eyes…and I was his.”

They join hands across the table, Master Luke’s slim hand and Saul’s huge one, fingers tight. I start to open my mouth, wanting to ask if Master Luke put a spell on Saul, but I look at their faces and I close it again. ’Cause I realize that, whatever the answer is, it doesn’t matter.

8:30 PM

We’re back at the mansion, chilling. Saul went to make some phone calls to his company’s HQ. Master Luke took me down to the gym, which is amazing. Saul has everything here. Master Luke lifts down a pair of long, slim poles, and tosses one to me. I’m confused, and he says, “Didn’t you ever see a quarterstaff before?”

It clicks after a moment. “Like Robin uses in the comics!”

He nods. “Let’s see what you got, big guy. Like this.” He shows me how he positions his hands, balancing the pole so he can quickly turn it one way or the other. Looks like it’s more wrist movement than anything else. I can do that – with practice, anyway.

He does a couple of slow moves, to show me how it’s done, gently tapping my staff and then backing off. Then he grins and plants his feet firmly, with a look that’s all challenge.

“Are you serious?” I ask, but I can see he is.

“It’s not about size. It’s about skill. C’mon.” He makes a couple of quick motions, teasing.

“I’m allowed to win? You won’t be mad?”

“On the contrary,” he grins. “I love a man who can best me!” He takes a real swipe at me, and I duck back. A moment later I’m into it, trying my damnedest to block his moves and connect with my own. He’s lighter on his feet and he has more experience, but I’m catching on fast. I’m almost distracted by his eyes and his smile, but he wants me to do my best, so I focus on what Master wants.

And I almost win, too.

10:00 PM

We cleaned up in the shower. (Ohhhhh, the shower…) Now we’re sitting in the nude on the big bed. We’re back to questions again.

“I guess I heard the stuff every guy hears in the schoolyard,” I tell him. “How fags aren’t real men, how they’re girly-girls…You had to sort of read between the lines to figure out what they actually do. I don’t think any of the kids knew for sure.”

“But you listened anyway?”

“Well, I knew they could be half-assed sometimes…but not always. And when it fit with the attitude I saw at home…especially from my Dad…”

“Dad talked a lot about…fags, huh?” he asks, frowning at the word.

“No. He never mentioned them at all. Well, only once that I remember. It just wasn’t something he liked to talk about. ’Cause of Uncle Ronnie.”

His eyebrows go up. “Uncle Ronnie?”

“Yeah. Dad’s kid brother. I never met him, but Mom told me once that Ronnie was a real flamer even in high school. Everyone could tell – except Dad, I guess. He was always getting in fights, telling guys they couldn’t say that shit about his bro. Then, finally, he found out it was all true. Ronnie had kept it a secret from him, all that time while Dad was defending him. Dad never forgave him for that.”

He nods slowly, looking kinda sad. “They’re not in touch at all?”

“Uh, they weren’t. Dad died five years ago. Heart attack.”

He looks at me a moment, then says, “Tell me about that one time when Dad did mention gays.”

I open my mouth, but suddenly it’s hard to speak. I haven’t said a word about this in all these years, not to anyone. I pushed it way, way back into the back of my mind. But my mind isn’t mine any more, and I have to obey. I have to obey.

He sees how shaky I’m getting, the way my lips are trembling. “Whoa, relax, big guy. Relax. I’ll make it easier.” He reaches up and puts a hand on my temple. “Just remember. And I will walk with you in memory.”

I remember…


I’m ten years old. A cool October day, walking home from kicking a football around after school. Master Luke walks with me. I don’t know how that is, but I can feel that he’s there, seeing everything I see, feeling everything I feel. Part of me.

It’s getting dark and the lights are all on when I get home. Dad is standing in the dirt driveway next to his old Ford pickup. Not doing anything, just waiting.

Usually it’s Bones who waits for me out front, or runs out to meet me. Bones is half Irish setter, half golden retriever, and all beautiful. He’s been my best friend ever since we were born.

“Hi, Dad,” I say. “Where’s Bones tonight?”

Dad looks like he’d rather be anywhere else. “Jack, I got something to tell you. After work I took Bones for a walk in the woods like we sometimes do. He was all excited, running ahead of me and sniffing at everything, you know?”

I nod. Of course I know, Bones always does that.

Dad bites his lip. “If I’d stuck to the trail…if I’d gone a different way…” He sighs. “Jack, Bones ran right into a nest of copperheads. He was bitten in four places before he knew what hit him. There was nothing I could have done…” His voice cracks a little, and he shuts up, blinking furiously.

For a minute I’m just in shock. I can’t even take in what he said. Then I feel myself losing it. My eyes are stinging and I know I’m gonna bawl.

“Stop that!” I’ve never seen Dad so angry and upset. He grabs my shoulders, hard. “Stop it! No son of mine is gonna be a crybaby! No son of mine is gonna cry like some sissy fag! Not in this family! You hear?”

I swallow hard. I know what he’s thinking. He’s thinking of Uncle Ronnie. But I’m not like that. I’m not. I’m not gonna make Dad ashamed of me. Not ever.

“Yes, sir,” I tell him, choking back the tears and trying to look brave.

Dad relaxes, and gives my shoulder a tiny squeeze. It’s the first time he’s ever done that. Dad’s not into touchy-feely.

“Tell you what, son,” he says gently. “We’ll get the shovels and dig a proper grave out back. And tomorrow we’ll give Bones a decent burial, and say a few words about what a fine dog he was. We’ll hold our heads up high…and if Mom feels the need to cry, we’ll give her a shoulder to cry on, like men were meant to do. Sound good?”

“Yes, sir,” I say, meaning it. “Sounds good.”


I’m back in the now, and Master Luke is looking at me real serious. It still feels like that day was just a minute ago. Maybe it does for him too.

After a moment he says, “Listen to me, Jack, and know that what I tell you is true. Your Dad was wrong. About the crying, and about Uncle Ronnie, too. He didn’t need to be ashamed at all – and neither do you.”

Dad was…wrong? Yes. Dad was wrong. I know it’s true.


He sees the look on my face and adds quickly, “He didn’t lie to you on purpose. He really thought he was making you strong. He made a mistake, that’s all. Can’t blame a guy for that.”

I nod, feeling relief wash over me. Everybody makes mistakes. Even Dad. Well, everybody but Master Luke, anyway.

“You never did cry for Bones, did you?” he asks quietly.

I shake my head. Since that day I’ve never cried about anything. Not even at Dad’s funeral – not with him lying right there.

“If you want to do it now, it’s okay. That’s not a command or anything, but if you want to – ”

It’s building up in me before he can even finish. It’s been waiting all these years to explode. It swells up in my chest like a giant balloon, and the next thing I know I’m bawling my heart out like a baby, loud and long. And Luke’s arms are around my shoulders, and his wet cheek is pressed against mine, and I know I’m not worthless at all.

2:00 AM

Our bodies are as joined as two bodies can be. It’s called “sixty-nining”, but with Luke it’s more than that. “I’m going to make a little change in your body,” he said. “Instead of being slowly digested, my cum will go through you like lightning, unchanged, and shoot out your own cock into my mouth. And through my body back into yours. For as long as I want.”

That was…an hour ago? Two? Who knows? It hasn’t stopped pumping from that wonderful cock for a moment – or from mine. I’m just a great big sperm recycler. And Luke must be the world’s champion producer. He didn’t tell me if this was just for tonight or if it’s permanent, but either is fine with me. This is what I live for. I’d be happy to stay glued to him forever, our hearts beating together, our breath coming in rhythm, our body heat one big beautiful furnace.

Oh yeah, and the orgasm never stops either.

5:00 AM

I’m with Luke in Saul’s movie room, eating huevos rancheros while we finish a Robin Hood movie. It’s really old, but also really good. The star is a big studly guy, and I’m not that surprised when Luke tells me he was bi. I can see how anybody would have the hots for him. “In fact,” I joke, “I bet he’s messing around with that Will Scarlet guy. You can tell they’re gay – just look at those outfits!”

He throws an olive at me. “You should talk, Captain Spandex!”

We both crack up. Then the big fight begins at the castle, and we’re busy cheering.

6:45 AM

“One more question, Little John,” he says. “And try to think outside the box here. If you weren’t spelled…if I wasn’t your Master…would you want to hang with me?”

“Sure,” I tell him, surprised at how easy the answer comes. “I mean, I wouldn’t wanna do all the X-rated stuff if I wasn’t your slave. But the movies, and the quarterstaffs, and just the way I can talk to you – you’re one awesome dude! Master.”

He grins. “But not the X-rated stuff.”

I grin back, a little self-conscious. “Nah. I dunno if it would freak me the same way now, but it’s, y’know, just not me. Not the unspelled me,” I add quickly. I don’t want him to think I’m not up for more right now!

He nods. “I like an honest answer.” Then he winks. “Like you’ve got a choice, right?”

We sit beside the terrace windows and watch as the sun comes up. And as the stars twinkle out, Luke pulls me closer for a long, slow kiss. Finally he pulls back, smiling. “Another day,” he says a little sadly. “Time to send you home, stud.”

I want to argue – I don’t want to leave him! But of course I can’t say any more than “Do you have to?”

“Oh, you’ll see me again, believe me. And you won’t even have to miss me, ’cause until our next date, you won’t remember.”

Oh no! Oh no! Don’t make me forget, please, I don’t want to ever forget, I’ll do anything for you but please –

He waves a hand. “Listen up now, slave.”

Listen up now.

“When you wake at home, you will remember nothing since the moment I arrived in Mike’s room. And you won’t wonder why you don’t remember. It will seem totally cool.”

Will remember nothing. Won’t wonder why. It’s totally cool.

“Your memory will be wiped, but your subconscious will still know everything we’ve done. Everything you’ve felt. So I’m not going to leave any permanent changes in your mind. I’m sending you home with just one command: If you feel any change in your own heart, you will not question or resist it – just go with the flow.”

Will not question or resist. Go with the flow.

“Now kiss Master’s cock goodbye, slave.” Kiss Master’s cock.

8:00 AM

I wake up in my room, with the sun coming in the window. Morning already? Damn, I don’t even remember comin’ home last night! In fact, everything gets fuzzy after Mike’s bro showed up…Man, we must really have partied! Yeah, why wouldn’t we? That Luke is one awesome dude! Why didn’t I ever know that before?

’Cause I was being a prejudiced jerk, that’s why. Dumb, Jack. Dumb, dumb, dumb.

11:15 AM

I run over to Kunstler Hall and catch Harold Lassiter on his way to lunch. “Yo, Harry!” I yell out, making him jump. “Good to see you feelin’ better. Hey, should you be out without a jacket? You still look kinda pale. You want mine? Man, we sure were lost without you yesterday – ”

I know I’m babbling, but what the hell, I feel too damn good to care. I feel like Scrooge on Christmas morning, waking up and suddenly realizing all the cool dudes he could be hanging with. And all the dumb shit he wants to make up for. Dunno why I picked today to wake up, but I’m not gonna question or resist it – just go with the flow!

Little Harold is staring at me, and I can’t blame him. He must think I’m on something! He looks so adorably confused that I just wanna give him a hug, but I’m afraid he’d squish.

“So, Harry,” I tell him seriously, “I hear some creeps have been givin’ you a pretty rough time. You wanna talk about it? Maybe I can help.”