Jake turns, and cry-shouts, “WHAT THE FUCK…??!!”

Bill cuttingly adds, “I’m afraid Ryan has betrayed you… just like he did young Dick Grayson, aka Robin, over there.” 

Bill sneers, “As for the Hunter… I’m cutting him out.  With my astute young Ryan, and Moro’s island magic, I do not need the Hunter anymore to bring me superheroes. I will round them all up and corral them without his assistance.  If he were better built, better looking, might have even found another cell for him, too. Otherwise, he’s rather extraneous, now.”

Ryan brandishes the gun in a threatening manner, forcing the shocked Jake backwards into the very conveniently, near-standing open cell with the inscription, “Pig Boy of San Miguel.” Once within the cell, Ryan menacing orders, “Strip! 

Jake instinctively turns 180 and continues to back away from Ryan until he is up against the back wall of the cell. Against the wall his hands raise automatically, shell-shocked. Jake’s eyes grow wide in disbelief, as he spots several items strewn on the cell’s stone floor. “WTF,” he again gasps, as he more clearly spots a bright red ball gag with leather straps, a sewn leather hood with the physical features of a leering pig’s head. Next to the hood is large black butt plug with a long curly pig tail attached to its outward end!

Bill chuckles, “Welcoming gifts just for you, Red! Ryan will be off to dispose of the Hunter— after he has settled you in to your new role on the island. I will spare your pilot buddy, Jack, only if you willingly cooperate; in turn, the pilot will cooperate knowing I have you as my… guest.”

“Please… do not kill…” begs Jake.

“Hunter? Ah, no matter. But there’s nothing to fear as long as you cooperate fully, Red. Besides, I need a pilot to fly Ryan here and there to collect more heroes.  However, I fear the Hunter’s duplicit services, though previously adequate, are no longer required,” replies Bill.

Jake swallows hard and apprehensively eyes the nasty toys-for-(depraved)-boys on the cell’s floor, and then casts a wary glance at the once mighty Batman, still obediently stroking his conquered man’s cock on his knees for Bill’s amusement. Then Jake casts a forlorn glance towards Robin, truly also an effectively skilled “wonder,” now cowering naked in the corner of his small cell. The gravity of the situation washes over Jake. Hits him in his guts like a tsunami of pure terror and helplessness.  If the Dynamic Duo, Tarzan, Superman, and Spiderman were no match for Island Boss Bill…. what chance does he have?! He is rapidly getting light-headed and acid-gutted. Weak with despair. His life is impossibly over!

Ryan waves the gun, “Decide, Jake… your pride, or your pilot buddy’s life. I’m not Robin’s naive boy-toy, “favor of the quarter” anymore, dude. I’ve used Moro’s Island Magic. Powerful jizz, too!! Has, you might say, turned me, into… well, to the dark side. And I like it! I’ve decided to do whatever has to be done to get ahead—sell you out. Even kill if I have to!”

Jake eyes the pistol, scramble-brained, and fatally decides. Fearing for his friend’s life—after all, if Hunter is disposable—and his own—yet if Jack is let go, and free… couldn’t he also report what’s been going on to the authorities, and come back with “help?”—he, acquiescently and unwisely—would a bullet in the brain not be better than this?!!—instinctively lowers his hands, and unzips his nylon jumpsuit down to his athletic waist. He proudly wears nothing beneath the tight jumpsuit except low rise bright blue briefs. In seconds, Jake has the jumpsuit pooled around his big combat boots. From the brig’s corridor, Bill licks his lips at the male beauty he covets as Jake displays his—nearly naked before him. The young co-pilot’s skin is unblemished alabaster, though rashly freckled beautifully and hairless, with a perceived very finely mounded package of maleness at his pubis… near perfectly more leanly sculpted than Spiderman, resembling an unparalleled Michelangelo’s David!

Ryan seems unimpressed and shouts, “Get on with it.”

Jake nervously scrambles to sit on the cell’s stone floor clad only in his skimpy blue briefs, and hurriedly unlaces the black laces of his hefty black flight boots. He shucks off each leather boot and then pulls the nylon jumpsuit along with his socks off his ankles. Finished Jake, shyly rises wearing only his skimpy briefs and silly ball cap; then Jake stands sheepishly before the old fat man and Ryan, who still brandishes his pistol, waiting for events to unfold.

“Lose the underpants, Red,” chuckles Bill as he motions with the coiled whip for Jake to finish unwrapping the candy. Jake sighs and his expression is painful.  He swallows hard and then nervously slips his big thumbs under the tight elastic waistband of his snug undergear. Seconds later, the skimpy briefs are down, pooled around his ankles and then next on the cell’s floor. Bill exhales a sigh of approval as he eyes the red-haired young man with finely groomed, strikingly colorful pubic hair, surrounding a set of big balls set longly below an equally well-endowed but uncut cock… all no less begging to be suckled, jacked, plundered, fondled, revered. The pervert gasps with excitement—he sure knows how to choose them!!—and his own, much lesser, diminished in comparison, wrinkled old cock stiffens in anticipation as he orders: “Ryan, do the honors!”

Ryan smiles and holsters his gun. He retrieves a pair of handcuffs from his security guard’s gun belt. Ryan boldly manhandles Jake spinning the nudely vulnerable, still disbelieving young man around 180 degrees.  He pulls the co-pilot’s unexpectedly big arms roughly around and behind his bare back. In turn, Ryan uses the handcuffs to secure Jake’s wrists together behind his broad back. Ryan brushes the ball cap casually from Jake’s head with one hand, before swiftly retrieving the red ball gag from the floor. Then he spins Jake around and orders, “Open it.”

Tears of pure incomprehension, this can’t be happening! well-up in the built, young man’s green eyes as he obeys and opens his mouth, lower lip quivering, to receive the degrading ball gag. Ryan inserts the ball deep into Jake’s mouth wedging it between his upper and lower bright white teeth. Then Ryan moves behind to buckle the straps tightly together behind Jake’s neck. Ryan retrieves the pig hood form the floor and stands before a worse than now terrified Jake, purposely examining the humiliating hood. Ryan inspects the hood carefully examining the heavy stitching, leather straps and buckles, the roundly flat snout-nose, and big floppy pig ears, while Jake watches apprehensively. Ryan finally finishes his cursory inspection and says coolly, “Get down of your knees… piggy boy.”

The humiliating transition is interrupted when Batman completes his assignment. In the cell across the corridor, Batman grunts loudly on his knees several times as he finally shoots his load. Jake instinctively exercises his big jaw trying to get acclimated to the invasive ball gag as he looks across the corridor through bars. There Batman is obediently wiping his dick clean with Spiderman’s red jockstrap. Both Ryan and Bill watch in awe as the debased mighty Batman stuffs the soiled red jock deep into his mouth. Jake swallows hard; this is impossible!!—while Bill imperially signals Batman with his coiled whip to lower himself back into his position of submission. With the distasteful soiled jock stuffed in his mouth, Batman spreads his legs once more, and lowers his chest forward. His muscled big arms extend over his head and Batman begins to silently worship his undisputed master yet again, forehead to the floor.

Ryan turns and glares at Jake. Instinctively, Jake closes his green eyes and slowly falls to his bare knees before Ryan. There, he futilely tests the steel handcuffs that hold his chiseled big arms together behind his bare broad back. Ryan smiles as he moves to stand behind the kneeling man; there he spreads and then slips the leather hood over Jake’s head while Bill watches intently from the brig’s corridor. Ryan secures the hood in place over Jake’s head and then buckles the pig hood’s leather retaining collar tightly around Jake’s strong neck. Then Ryan diligently cinches up and ties off the hood’s network of leather lacings, ensuring the hood is held tightly in place like a second skin over Jake’s handsome face. Inside the hood, tears coursing uncontrollably down the confined man’s face, still disbelieving the nightmare which has engulfed him. For all his strength, how he, too, could have been cowed like a piece of wimp-shit.

Into this. This, this??!!—his mind unable to grasp it.

One moment in freedom and sunshine. The next, in dark silence, bound; his life taken from him.

Satisfied, Ryan circles the kneeling co-pilot, observing the degrading hood. The hood is made of medium-light red leather to similarly, but couldn’t ever, match Jake’s crisp, light red pubic hairs. The horrifying pig hood only has two small holes in the round flat snout of the nose-piece to allow for air, but inexplicably none for sight. A pair of big pointed floppy ears hangs from the top of the sewn leather hood, and rest above dull green button-eyes that are stitched in place. Ryan stops and then stands over Jake, before pulling his night stick from the belt of his security guard uniform. Then he shouts loud enough to be heard within the hood, “Grunt for me, piggy boy!”

Bill snickers approval of Ryan’s proactive command from the brig’s hallway, as Jake hesitates remaining silent on his knees. Ryan kneels, unholstering his nightstick; Ryan begins to lightly massage and then prod Jake’s twin weighty balls and ample cock with the end of his polished nightstick, to forewarn Jake what disobedience will bring! Startled, and swept with a near paralyzing fear, Jake begins to slow-shake his head… continually grunting and snorting loudly through the ball gag and the hood’s snout like a barnyard pig. It could have been comical, had it not been for the actual evil of it all—a handsome, beautifully built young man’s life and body, now being destroyed. Not to mention his mind, emotions, spirit, and total existence. For what?!

Ryan rises to his feet, re-holstering his club, and laughs with delight as he watches Jake. The hood’s pointed ears flop wildly as Jake grunts and snorts loudly. In time, the damnable Ryan Blake is satisfied and shouts, “Enough…spread them and lean forward. Head down! Ass up!!” Jake stops snorting and obeys Ryan; he spreads his bare athletic legs wide apart and bows his sculpted smooth chest forward between his upper thighs, raising his hips, head down as instructed, not thinking why. Ryan then grabs the handcuff’s chain for leverage and pulls up—spits profusely on the business end of the butt plug, before cruelly driving the rubber-stiff plug deep into Jakes exposed ass!  Jake truly squeals loudly in pure shock and pain, grunt-gurgles loudly several times through the ball gag, as Ryan roughly forces and then positions the pig plug with the curly pig’s tail… deep into Jakes tight ass. Who is now whimpering in true grief, shattered and broken, his mind beyond understanding or acceptance.

Batman sighs loudly, the still honed man of him, shaking his head in utter disgust, but dares not verbally protest any further. Robin stares continually in the opposite direction, thankful the pervert’s attentions are directed towards the newcomer. Ryan finishes the invasive insertion of the butt plug, and orders loudly, “Get-up… Pig Boy of San Miguel!”

Jake scrambles awkwardly to his feet encumbered by the heavy leather hood and the heavy-duty handcuffs. Jake shifts his wobbly weight from bare foot to bare foot trying to acclimate himself to the painfully invasive butt plug, dark eyeless hood and ball gag. His inescapable captivity. A sledge-hammer beating into all his senses.

“Ryan… off to the plane, and stick to the plan… I’ll take charge of young Red from here on,” orders Bill.

“Take care dude,” says Ryan flippantly as he departs with Jake’s flight suit, boots and ball cap, stuffed into a cloth sack. A surprise package for the Hunter. Seconds later Ryan is as if part of a departing wind.

Bill moves and stands in the open doorway, appraising the forbidden fruit he has picked. The young man the Hunter deemed forbidden. “Your friend the Hunter will soon find out that it is me, not him who rules this island. I will take whatever I want… including you, Red,” boasts the old fat pervert. “Him, too!” with a knowing snort. Though the words are not really heard.

Bill’s dream has finally come true. He has made his coveted, young strapping Red into a naked pig boy. The hood is perfect… the nearly right shade of light Red, the snout and ears…obscuring the handsome features of Jake’s young face!

The Island Boss lets his bullwhip uncoil! Young Jake stands terrified – unable to move – blind, bound and helpless before the old pervert that the Hunter has warned him about so many times. Like a slave in an ancient market, Jake can only wait as his fate unfolds. It comes swiftly; without warning, Bills’ slender leather whip flies and strikes! The leather cord wraps tightly around Jakes big strong neck several times becoming a makeshift collar and leash. Bill immediately pulls hard on the makeshift leash to reel his young muscle stud in! “Come along, pig boy…time for you to wallow in the mud pit for me and taste the kiss of my bullwhip.  Yes… mud, and the lash, is what you’ll get, young Jake,” shouts the old fat man! “I intend to make you squirm naked in the mud, boy, and then let you dry out in the sunshine!”

The tall, buff young copilot is utterly helpless, stupefied no less, still unable even to utter a plea or protest through the rubber ball wedged between his teeth! He stumbles awkwardly and clumsily in the darkness, nearly falling over, but somehow remains up on his bare feet. Pulled and dragged by the whip wrapped around his neck, young Jake instinctively follows along blind and bound behind his new master barefooted. The wicked butt plug’s pig-tail wags lively between Jake’s supple twin buttocks as the young man has no choice, albeit klutzily, to follow along at the degrading tugs of the makeshift leash. Together, the odd pair makes their way down the old brig’s stone corridor separating the cells that will soon be brimming with fresh, both young and older, superhero stud-captives, with such names as the Flash, Green Lantern, Captain America, Lightning Lad… Thor, Aquaman?… the list of candidates is long! As Bill ponders in deep thought… his current destination the punishment area outside—more accurately the long dormant, newly prepared pig pen which awaits his latest prized trophy: the wonderfully subdued “Red”—Pig Boy of his heart’s desire.

And minutes later, as Ryan approaches, the Hunter impatiently awaiting; Jack, the pilot, in adjusting readiness in the cockpit… he climbs aboard. “About time, you guys,” the Hunter exclaims. Then fastening himself in his harness and seat, looks around with some foreboding. “Where’s Jake?” tensing. In sudden alarm.

Ryan, sighing nonchalantly, drops the cloth bag at his feet. The Hunter piles into it, his eyes concerned and narrowing. “No, no—he didn’t!” Raises his head.

“He did,” a short pause. “We did!” pistol already in hand, smiling. Unmistakable surprise etched wide on Hunter’s face. Swift bullet between his eyes. 

The pop, of course, not able to be disguised.

Moving to the cockpit, gun in hand as he enters… Jack looks up, startled. “You must have heard—Hunter is no longer with us. Or Jake,” Ryan informs. “And you have a choice. Fly us out of here, and keep working for Island Bill. Or be buried on San Miguel.”

While there wasn’t much choice, and only one man left to run the show, Jack accedes.

Twelve minutes later, the lumbering C-130 wobbles down the runway… lifts noisily into the sky.

THE END BOOK V.

According to his last message in this story L.Cross wanted to continue with  a Book VI with Green Lantern as the hero to be defeated, sadly this next book according to my knowledge was never written.

Thanks again to Rick Henry who revised this story, you can check his book in Amazon CHRONICLES OF THE MIGHTY AND THE FALLEN: an m/m erotic-romantic fantasy.