SWEET RELEASE
The night began to break from its blackness, glowing with a warm, pink hue as the sun began to make its presence known. The stars lost their vibrancy as the morning light bled into the inky sky, bringing with it the start of tomorrow. Most people were deep into their sleep, still a while away from waking. For others, however, their night lingered on.
Damien walked the quiet streets of the city, his steps echoing in the vacant alleys and side streets. He had the gate of a man with a place to be, but spent many of the twilight hours circling the same neighborhood again and again. He was looking for something. Something that belonged to him. Something that was precious. Something that was taken and abused and needed to be returned. He was close. He knew it. But his destination still eluded him.
As he turned down a familiar alley, he expected to see the same collection of trash and garbage he’d passed several times. Instead, a new display of filth caught his eye. A tall man in a well cut suit stumbled toward him, his shirt open and his tie disheveled. His eyes were bloodshot and his brow glistening with sweat. He had the demeanor of a man lost in a chemical world of his own creation. He was certainly on something, and Damien could see the signature signs of what it was.
The stranger walked with strength, unphased by not having been awake for what could have been days. His crotch was also strangely swollen, suggesting he was or had been aroused. But the clear sign of where he’d been was on his chest–a sign that he was on the right path: claw marks.
The delirious man in a suit bumped into him, looked him in the eye and felt a powerful urge take hold. Damien did something to him. It was powerful and exciting, and he wanted more. But Damien was disgusted by him. Damien knew what his man wanted, but knew he didn’t deserve it. He wasn’t worthy. He slowly pushed him aside, moving past him as he walked toward the door the man had come from. Damien pushed it, hearing the the sounds of decadence as it opened. Meanwhile, the suited man walked on into the pale pink morning, unaware of whom he’d encountered and the fury he’d missed…
As he made his way into the space, he moved downstairs, following the warm, orange light and the sounds of chaos. He could smell the potent scents of sweat, flesh, booze, and men.
He continued down into a large space, ornately decorated with heavy velvets, antique lamps, and large, red chair. Surrounding this, a cadre of naked men, all beautifully fit and presented. And now, all looking at Damien.
Damien looks into their eyes, seeing each of their unique beauty and appeal. One would never guess from the dank, dirty exterior that such a menagerie of perfect specimens would reside beneath the concrete and cement of the alley outside. But there was something else about them that Damien immediately knew. He was in the right place. No question.
As Damien scanned the room looking for what he’d lost, he saw a tall, muscular man in a black tank top. The figure was strikingly handsome and visibly strong. Not only was his physicality suggesting dominance and authority in the room, he was notably the only one wearing any clothing at all. Of course, the fact that he had his hands around a young boy’s throat made it clear that he was the boss.
The clothed man looked to Damien, pausing for a second to turn his frown to a cocky smirk. It was only after another beat that he took his hands off the boy’s neck. Clearly, he didn’t care to be seen manhandling someone smaller and weaker than him. But seeing Damien’s unamused expression, he spoke up. “Don’t worry,” he continued, gesturing to the young man rubbing his neck, “they can take a lot. And they can take even more if you’re looking for that.”
Damien gave an enigmatic look, then glanced back at the other men, noticing them all presenting themselves. Some were posing seductively, some looked scared. He put together what was happening here.
“We’ve got plenty of guys available. Come with me and we’ll figure out which you’d like.”
Damien didn’t give any indication of what he wanted or was there for, making it clear that this man was no stranger to pimping out these men over and over. He held his anger inside, knowing his mission was only just beginning. As they moved into the pimp’s office, Damien looked back at the naked men and shot them a smile. Just as they left the room, Damien gestured with his hand, and the result was an immediate effect on the naked group.
The pimp had no idea what had happened as he headed to discuss his business. All at once, each of the naked boys felt a rush of warmth and electricity course through their bodies, triggered by the new customer they’d seen for the first time moments earlier. Their muscles trembled, growing stronger, twisting and stretching. The hairs on their body stood on end, as if at attention, following Damien’s orders. Their cocks grew hard, fully erect, and aching to be satisfied.
But the real effect was more than just an urge to fuck. Many fell on all fours, arching their backs as hair pushed out of their skin. Pressure at the small of their backs began building and grew until tails of all shapes and sizes–curly, straight, smooth, furred, long, short–until their tails sprung into view.
Just as soon they got release, many felt their ears stretch and bend to new shapes, pointed and haired. Noses changed, some pushing into snouts, flattening, darkening, stretching, breathing in large gusts of air as they panted in pleasure and pain.
Some even felt their temples quake as the bones in their head shifted to sprout horns, smooth and strong, pushing outward like new erections.
The transforming and transformed men and boys, now all appearing more like wild beasts, were unable to contain their excitement and arousal. The wide array of handsome figures were now possessed of an animal nature, feeling the uncontrollable urge to fuck.
Howls, pants, and whimpers erupted and filled the air as they devolved into a bacchanalian display of wild growlboy sex, uninhibited and unconstrained. The horny Prometheans felt an incredible charge of independence and strength, one that they hadn’t felt under the control of their pimp. Something about Damien reminded them of their Theban fathers and inspired a sense of confidence in their true, wild natures, setting them loose, and freeing them to pair off as they felt. With as many partners as they wanted. It was truly a sight to behold.
Meanwhile, Damien waited patiently in the pimp’s office. He learned his name. Steve. A perfectly pleasant name for a despicable man. He was going on and on about the sexy men (now so much more) in his “display room.” He was circling around a lot of the specifics, but the message was clear: he had sexy men and wanted top dollar for their time. Even for a pimp, his approach was surprisingly lacking in any finesse.
Damien cut him off, wanted to get to the point. “I hear you traffic in exotic substances… not just people.”
Steve let out a grunting laugh, amused but dropping some of his salesmanship. It was the early morning hours and Steve didn’t feel like dealing with a common junkie. But, if the money was right, he’d happily make the sale.
“Yeah. Yeah, I do. But it’s not cheap, man. Don’t waste my time.”
“Money’s not an issue,” Damien replied, calm and still. His eyes were focused on Steve’s. The pimp was surprised by his demeanor. Most of the men he sold to were fidgety and anxious, desperate for a fix. He could charge whatever he wanted because he knew they needed it. But Damien was relaxed, confident, and in control. Steve hesitated, not sure who this random stranger was or how he found him. But his greed got the better of him, and he headed to his stash.
He went behind his desk and opened up his secured fridge. Steve turned the combination lock quickly, entering in the right series of lefts and rights before it opened up, revealing shelves full of identical-looking sealed cups.
Grabbing one, he handed it to Damien. Steve started to go off explaining its rarity, how it’s hard to come by, and that’s why the price was so high. Damien ignored him, focusing on the container he held. He opened the lid and took a sniff. It was pure. Uncut. Fairly fresh.
Steve was still going on, trying to make the sale, when he Damien stuck out and impossibly long tongue and licked the substance. Steve stopped, put off at first by the idea of someone consuming his precious freak juice before even showing any signs of being able to pay for it. But his shock turned to horror as two horns extended out of Damien’s forehead.
“Fuck! What the hell is this?!”
Damien stared him down, powerful and strong, unwavering in his statuesque manner. Steve wasn’t afraid of “freaks,” but he didn’t like being ambushed. He was sure this “thing” was not looking to score, so he might be looking to fight. He knew he could physically challenge him, but didn’t want to leave anything to chance.
Reaching into a desk drawer, he pulled out his gun. He moved quickly, supercharged from his own use of the freak juice he traded. Within an instant, he had his finger on the trigger and pointing it at his horned invader. Damien, however, was faster.
In a split second, Damien slapped the gun out of Steve’s hand and shoved the heavy solid-wood desk forward, slamming and pinning Steve against the wall. Before he knew what had happened, the muscle-bound pimp was unarmed, in shock and now in a position of fear.
“Where’s your money?” Damien asked, his eyes pointed like knives.
“You can’t take it,” Steve said, instinctively defiant. Even as he said it, he tried to change his posture. “I’m a businessman. I’m just filling a need. I don’t care about those fucking freaks.”
Damien, still and composed until now, let loose a hard punch right into Steve’s square jaw. The pimp fell to the ground, the wind knocked out of him as he crumbled, stunned and weakened. He tried to get up, but he was dizzy and disoriented. He did the math in his head, weighing his options. As he lifted himself onto his hands, he could taste the blood from his split lip.
Knowing he was defeated and hoping now to just walk away with his body intact, he conceded. “The wall. Over there.”
He pointed to a painting, leading Damien to a hidden safe. He gave him the combination and felt his stomach sink as the horned man emptied out its contents.
Damien filled his hands full of cash and walked over to Steve.
“You’re done. No more. These people–they’re my people. And they’re more beautiful and wonderful than a cockroach like you could ever know. If I get even a whisper that you’re exploiting them or trading off of them again, you’ll pray for just a knock to the face.”
Steve felt a trembling from deep within. It was new and strange. Like a scared mouse in the presence of a lion. It wasn’t just situational. It was biological. He knew he lost.
Damien leaned down and lifted him up by the neck. Steve winced as a thumb was placed near where his fist had hit before. He walked him back into the main room, still full of the horny and wild man-beasts. Steve looked out, stunned by the display before them. Damien threw the cash from his hand into the air, watching with delight as the naked Prometheans grabbed at the mint green notes airborne around them. They saw his horns and stared at Steve who hung in the mercy of Damien’s grip. The young Prometheans felt empowered. They knew then what he was.
“Now,” Damien said softly, turning his head to look back at Steve. “There’s a special creature here. You have him and he’s mine.”
Steve paused and realized who he was talking about. Steve didn’t even need to speak. His eyes communicated it all. He looked over to the side of the room to a closed door. It was large and heavy, made to keep something in.
Damien frowned, disturbed by the sadistic pimp’s actions. He dragged him, weak and bloodied as he pushed open the door. The dark room inside seemed cold and cruel. The festive atmosphere of the show room was not extended beyond this barrier. There was only one glimmer that flickered back at them… the reflective feline eyes of Doug, the prized werecat of Steve’s house of pleasures.
Damien dropped Steve, happy to see his precious offspring alive. He looked thin, scared, and desperate for affection. Damien’s heart swelled as he looked at him, feeling the urge to hold him and take him away. Damien dropped Steve who quickly slinked off, quickly exiting in this moment of reunion, grabbing several bills from the floor as he went… the last return of his investment.
Damien moved slowly toward Doug, wanting to show him compassion and care like he hadn’t know for a long time. Doug’s eyes widened, seeing the horned figure he knew from his past. The man that made him who he is. And the man who was now here to save him.
Overcome with joy, he felt his body respond in an unexpected way. His normal levels of fear and stress made way for arousal and happiness. He felt his cock grow large, his heart beat fast, and his skin excite with desire. His whiskers caught the electricity in the air, charged with the energy that came off of Damien. It was impossible to tell if it was pure emotion that was moving him or if it was the nature of being in the presence of his Theban maker, but he didn’t care. He would do anything for him. Give everything to him. And more than anything, he wanted to feel him, hold him, kiss him, and have his hole stretched by him. He desperately wanted to feel Damien push into his body, deep inside his body, and then fill and breed him once again…
