Daniel frowned. He was a seasoned detective. He must have caught the state Tristan was in: flushed, sweating, and with a lump in his pants. Tristan hoped the last bit wasn’t noticed, but he knew it was unlikely.

“What happened?” said Daniel, a stern edge to his voice that wasn’t there when he entered the first time. He turned his gaze, following Tristan’s look. The moment he saw what was going on in the other room, he froze.

Almost as soon as the look of utter confusion crossed his face, it was gone, replaced by a fury the likes of which Tristan had never seen on Daniel before. The older cop stormed out of the room, Tristan hobbling close behind.

Soren was in the process of leading the perp out of the interrogation room. Daniel walked right up to him and said, “The interviews aren’t finished.”

“I beg to differ,” said Soren with a small smirk. “They are finished, if I have anything to say about it. Unless you want this precinct to become the laughingstock of the RPPD… Besides, I don’t think that’s your call to make.”

Daniel scowled. “This is your client’s fault. There are cameras in there. I know what they’ll show.”

Soren turned to look at his client. The perp—the quiet drug dealer—had hiked his shirt up to play with his nipple while stroking his stiff cock and drooling all over himself. “My client is just as affected by this disaster. Just look at him. He’s clearly in no state to talk.”

Tristan couldn’t help but scowl. Seeing the perp so clearly affected by VNM stoked the flames of his own arousal, but he swallowed it down. He was the only true witness here. He needed to set the record straight.

“He is at fault!” said Tristan. “He was the one that set off the VNM. I saw it. He tossed something in the box and then it blew up!”

Soren slowly turned to look at Tristan, the corners of his mouth curling into a wicked little smirk. He quirked an eyebrow and even though they were roughly the same height, Tristan couldn’t help but feel like Soren was looking down his nose at him.

Instantly, Tristan felt small. More to the point, he felt belittled. It was as if he was nothing before this man’s eyes. It made his stomach turn, tied his guts into a cold knot of dread.

Then Soren turned to Daniel and said, “Who’s this guy?” as if Tristan wasn’t there at all. “He doesn’t look like a police officer. Were you hoping to trot him out as a victim? Or maybe as a witness?”

Daniel was about to say something, but Tristan beat him to the punch. There was something about the casual dismissiveness that made him bristle. It made his hackles rise. “I’m probably not as well off as you are, but I still deserve a modicum of respect! I’m a part-time worker here!”

Soren smirked. “Part-time worker?” he said, with such contempt that it made Tristan want to shrink away. “What does he do, anyway?” said the lawyer, clearly not addressing Tristan even though he was looking right at him.

“I do everything,” said Tristan. “I manage the logs for the evidence room. I put stuff away. I organize documents. Anything anyone needs, I help out with!”

Soren turned back to Daniel. “Interesting job description. I’m sure you guys can provide proof of qualification. Handling evidence is serious business, after all.”

“He does honest work. He’s a good lad. I don’t like what you’re implying,” said Daniel.

Soren shrugged. “It doesn’t matter that you don’t like it. I’m just pointing out that it’s a bit suspicious that something this major happened with your so-called evidence and now my client is being accused of having something to do with it when the only witness to the event is someone that handles said evidence.”

Tristan’s heart skipped a beat. “I never touched that box!” His comment, however, went ignored.

“I mean, he doesn’t even seem qualified for that sort of work. How do we know he wasn’t the one that tampered with the box? Trying to harm a cop is a serious accusation. It’d be a convenient excuse to keep my client…” Soren smirked. “I’m sure you know how that’ll sound in front of a jury.”

Daniel scowled. “This doesn’t need to be a he-said-she-said situation. There are cameras in the interrogation rooms. We just need to look at the footage.”

“Oh, perfect. Why don’t you go ahead and do that?” said Soren. “We’ll be happy to come back if you find anything incriminating—whether that’s evidence of criminality from my client or your little houseboy over there.”

Soren reached back and placed a hand on the perp’s shoulder. “My client, however, needs immediate medical attention. You’re not going to deny him that, are you? Because so much has already gone wrong tonight, I’m pretty sure I could have all your jobs if I want.”

Daniel looked like he was about to begrudgingly agree, but Tristan wasn’t having any of that. The arousal had been pushed to the back of his head by his anger. “Now, I’m not a lawyer, but I’m pretty sure you said these things were perfectly safe. Why does he need medical attention, then?” said Tristan.

Soren arched an eyebrow. “Now, when did I say that it was perfectly safe? I asked if the ingredients were illegal. I asked if they were controlled substances…” He smirked. “And besides, what was it they said? The dose makes the poison? If you forced my client to drink a gallon of water, I’d still have a responsibility to take him to see a medical professional.”

Turning to look over his shoulder into the room, Soren chuckled and added, “A whole box of vapes just blew up. Vapes that can give people a bit of a buzz. My client was exposed to a much higher dose than usual. So, obviously, he needs to be taken to the hospital to make sure he hasn’t been seriously harmed.”

The corner of Soren’s mouth twitched into a wicked little smirk. “Besides, I’ll need to have them run an STI panel. After all, my client was assaulted by one of your cops.”

Daniel was angrier than Tristan had ever seen him. A vein on his temple looked like it was about to pop. He took a step forward, but Soren wasn’t intimidated. Instead, the lawyer just seemed entertained.

“Go ahead,” said Soren. “Give me another thing to add to my complaint. There’s a laundry list at this point. Harassment. False imprisonment. Sexual assault. Sabotage.” He meaningfully looked at Tristan for that last one.

Shaking his head, Soren continued, “I can’t believe this place is allowed to run like this. If it were up to me, I’d get this place shut down. You and all your little people would be out of the job. So go ahead. Take it out on me. It’ll make my case so much easier.”

Daniel took a breath. It looked like he wanted to say something more, but he just stepped aside. When Tristan tried to intervene, Daniel held him back with an arm across his chest.

Soren smirked as he walked past, client in tow and still jerking off as if they weren’t making their way through the middle of a busy police precinct.

With the way cleared, one of the other cops entered the interrogation room. He picked Ravi up from the floor, but that was a mistake. The younger detective latched on, his fingers hooking into the waistband of the officer’s pants.

Ravi pulled himself up and once he was on his knees, he reached for the officer’s belt buckle to try to work it open. The officer was trying to fight him off, but he was persistent. His eyes burned with equal amounts of lust and determination.

“I said stop it!” said the cop, having finally reached the end of his patience. He shoved Ravi’s hands off of him and pinned him against the floor. Ravi humped the ground while his hands were being cuffed behind his back, and he didn’t stop when he was pulled back up onto his feet, thrusting his hips into the air.

Another officer came up to Daniel while he and Tristan were watching the sorry sight of Ravi being dragged out of the interrogation room. “I’ve got bad news, guys. The camera in there is out. Not sure when it stopped working, but the last bit of footage on the system was from the interrogation this morning.”

“Fuck!” Daniel hissed under his breath. It was one of the few times that Tristan had ever heard the older detective curse. “What about Ravi’s body cam?”

“More bad news, I’m afraid,” said the officer. “He wasn’t recording either.”

Daniel pinched the bridge of his nose. “This isn’t a good look,” he said.

Tristan had to agree. The lack of video made the incident look deliberate. Even though he knew that the sabotage was the perp’s doing, the circumstances didn’t look good for the cops in this case.

Even if Ravi had been recording, he wasn’t sure the body cam would have made a difference, anyway. Ravi hadn’t noticed the perp moving until it was too late. The box had exploded by the time Ravi turned to look.

Tristan couldn’t help but wonder if they hadn’t somehow walked right into a trap.

---

Tristan was home, but he was in a bit of a state. The interrogation room had been left a mess in the aftermath of everything that happened, and they’d made him clean things up.

The corrupt cops had pushed for it, of course, contrary to Daniel’s objections. The older detective was pretty clearly not happy with Tristan because of the confrontation with Soren, but he had pretty firmly protested that cleaning up potentially hazardous stuff was Tristan’s job—especially when psychoactive drugs were involved.

The others had dismissed Daniel’s reservations, though. Everyone had heard what Soren had to say about the drugs, they’d said. It wasn’t illegal, they’d insisted.

By the time that the dirty cops were pushing for Tristan to go in and clean up, the haze in the room had thinned somewhat, anyway. And since the cop that had gone in to help Ravi out wasn’t showing any symptoms of exposure, the excuse that it might have been dangerous held little water.

Tristan didn’t end up being fine, though. He’d managed to hold it together until he got home just to spite the bastard cops that had forced him in there, but part of him wished that he hadn’t.

That same part of him regretted his restraint now. He just had to maintain his dignity and composure before heading home. Now that he was in the privacy of his own room, though, he couldn’t hold back. He was so fucking turned on. It was verging on the edge of debilitating.

Tristan writhed in bed, the sheets crumpled and bunched up around his body. He was wearing only his briefs, and he was trying his damnedest to resist the urge to grab his cock and pump it until he came, but it was so, so difficult. The pulsing need between his legs was impossible to ignore.

He tried to meditate, but to no avail. His mind kept wandering right back to that scene in the interrogation chamber. He tried to tell himself it was just the VNM, but he couldn’t stop fantasizing about having been the victim instead of Ravi.

Tristan told himself it was the noble, heroic part of himself. He told himself that all he wanted to do was spare Ravi the humiliation and the trauma. Deep down, he knew it was a lie—a convenient falsehood to protect his ego.

He would never admit it out loud, but the truth was that he was the one that wished he had a fat criminal dick shoved down his throat. He didn’t know why, but he did. He wanted a fat drug-dealer dong down his craw and the fact that he was a hero having the hots for a low-life made it that much hotter for some reason.

Tristan’s hand wandered. He couldn’t stop himself. Before he knew it, his hand was in his underwear. He tossed his head back and groaned as his fingers found his shaft and wrapped around it.

He pumped his hips, thrusting his stiff cock into the loose ring of his fingers. He squeezed his cock, moaning as he remembered the aftermath of tonight’s events.

Tristan didn’t get to see Ravi until after he’d cleaned up. By then, he was really fucked up on VNM. Seeing the younger detective nearly made him bust out of his pants with how hard he got.

Ravi, the upstanding if somewhat green junior detective, was in one of the precinct’s ratty office chairs with his hands cuffed behind the backrest. Someone had strapped duct tape around his mouth and he was licking it.

Tristan shivered as he remembered the look in Ravi’s eyes. He wondered if that bottomless hunger was reflected in his own gaze. But he saw how Ravi’s eyes hopped from one bulge to the next, the junior detective’s exposed cock throbbing and leaking as he uselessly humped the air.

A low moan spilled from Tristan’s lips as he fished his cock out of his underwear. He slid the briefs down his legs with the other hand, which then slipped between his legs to rub his taint as he pumped his dick.

He didn’t dare go further, even though every fiber of his being wanted him to. He was afraid it would change him permanently, his metaphorical Rubicon. He’d managed to resist VNM so far, but it was there, knocking at the gates. If his hand went any further, they’d be thrown open.

Tristan couldn’t stop thinking about Ravi. The blank look the junior detective had after the vapes went off made his cock throb. It was one thing to see that expression on a stranger and another entirely to see it on someone he knew.

The Ravi that Tristan knew was lighthearted—a jokester, really—but he was also respectable. He was one of the most principled men Tristan knew besides his adoptive dad. The fact that VNM could reduce such a man to that sorry state, stripping him of all dignity and self-respect…

“Fuck!” Tristan groaned, tossing his head back as his hand flew up and down along the length of his cock. He should have been mortified. He should have been revolted. In the back of his mind, he was. But the single most overriding thing he felt was arousal.

The image he had of Ravi as this carefree but stalwart pillar of their community was shattered into a million pieces and yet instead of being despondent, he was horny. It was so fucking hot.

Another scene from the night played in Tristan’s head.

---

The Chief emerged from his office after his talk with Daniel. Tristan would have shot to his feet if only it didn’t mean exposing the throbbing boner pinned against his thigh.

“Alright. I’ve made my decision,” said the Chief. He cast a brief look Tristan’s way before turning his attention back to Ravi. “I’m putting you on administrative leave.”

Ravi must regained some lucidity then. “I don’t want that, Sir!” he said, the first coherent thing he’d said since his exposure to VNM that wasn’t just begging for cock. He was clearly still high, though, his eyes fixed on the Chief’s crotch. “I’ll suck you off if that can convince you to keep me on, Sir,” he added.

The Chief’s brow furrowed as he scowled. “This isn’t how a police officer acts.” He looked around. “Why hasn’t he been cleaned up yet? I don’t care how awkward a job that is. We shouldn’t be letting one of my officers sit in the middle of the precinct looking so undignified.”

Ravi didn’t seem to care about all that, though. “If you’re intent on suspending me, Sir, then I think I deserve some compensation! How about… You let me suck you off and I’ll happily stay away for as long as you need me to!”

The Chief shook his head. He walked away, disgusted, and went back to his office to send Daniel to take care of Ravi.

---

Tristan’s hand flew faster up and down along his shaft. He couldn’t help but moan. He was the one that had to clean Ravi up. He remembered the look on Ravi’s face—the utter desperate need for cock in Ravi’s eyes.

He’d ignored the pleas while he was trying to get Ravi presentable, but now that he was on his own, he couldn’t help but repeat the words to himself. “I’m sad they’re suspending me. I’m so sad. But we’re friends, right, Tristan? And you want to cheer me up, right? So come on, bro. Let me suck you off. It’ll make me less sad, I promise!”

Tristan panted. He was on his side, hunched over his cock. His shoulders were shaking, his whole body tense. He was close. He was so close.

Hearing those things from Ravi and reliving them made his cock so fucking hard. All he could think about was how quickly Ravi had devolved from a respectable police officer to a whore. A desperate, cock-addled slut.

“Fuck!” Tristan groaned. One mega-dose of VNM and Ravi went from a normal guy to no better than a cock-guzzling street walker. The very thought pushed him over the edge. He came hard.

Fresh waves of arousal slammed through Tristan as shot after shot of hot cum exploded out of his cock. There was such force in every spurt that rope after rope splashed against his face.

---

Tristan fidgeted. He didn’t know why he was feeling so nervous. It wasn’t his first time meeting a contact in a dark alley, but he was struggling to find his usual confidence.

If he had a choice, he wouldn’t even have been there, but there was no other option. Daniel was off the VNM case, which was only to be expected after Ravi and the disaster of that night. Tristan’s connections were the only source of information that they had at their disposal now.

It went further than just Daniel not being on the case anymore. Soren had done exactly what Tristan expected him to do. The lawyer had leaned on the Chief and, probably with support from the corrupt cops, successfully pressured the man into officially dropping the matter.

Tristan wasn’t happy about it. Daniel wasn’t, either, but there wasn’t anything they could do about it. The Chief had made his decision.

Still, they couldn’t just walk away from this. They’d all seen the effects of VNM firsthand now. The consequences of letting it spread unopposed were unthinkable.

It went without saying that they were risking a lot by continuing this investigation. They had to, though. They just had to. The only problem was that they couldn’t rely on department resources anymore. Any leads and information, they had to get on their own, and there weren’t many options out there.

Tristan tensed when, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed movement at the mouth of the alley. The lights of the street beyond silhouetted the guy walking toward him, but once his vision had adjusted, he confirmed that it was Owynn.

“I’ve got a score to settle with you,” said Owynn. He didn’t look too happy. “You said you would be good for it last time, but you weren’t, so I’m going to need assurances this time. I need to know if you’re gonna be good for it. I need to be sure you’re gonna be good for it this time.”

Tristan bristled. He wasn’t in the best mood to start with. Dealing with the after-effects of VNM exposure took so much effort. He was worn thin. His nerves were raw.

“I’m good for it,” he said tersely. He had no patience for these shenanigans. “You’re gonna get what you’re owed. I promise.”

Owynn shook his head. He rubbed his hands. “No, no, you see, you don’t get it. Your word isn’t enough for me anymore. It’s not personal, man. It’s not personal. It’s just business.”

Tristan took a breath. He had to keep a level head. He had other contacts, but Owynn had proved to be the most reliable through the years. “Fine,” he said, though perhaps with a harsher edge than he intended, “What do you need me to do to prove to you that I’m good?”

Owynn licked his lips. “Oh, man. Oh, man. Oh, man. You don’t know how hard of a position you left me in last time…” His eyes glinted with something Tristan couldn’t quite put a finger on. “I need you to pay upfront this time, man. Upfront. If you don’t like it, then this is over.”

Tristan sighed. He wasn’t exactly enthusiastic about this, but he could, at least, deal with paying upfront. He pulled out the wad of cash he and Daniel had put together and held it out to Owynn.

Owynn looked at the cash. He scowled. “This is what I mean, bro! This is what I mean! You’re not good for it anymore! I told you last time, but you didn’t listen! You didn’t listen! The price has changed!”

“But I did listen!” Tristan was getting to the end of his rope here. “That’s why there was extra last time! There’s extra here, too!”

“For someone that’s supposed to be so smart you can be really dumb sometimes, man. So dumb. It’s not the amount, bro! It’s the type of payment!”

Tristan sighed. “You could have just said that, you know.”

“I tried, but you ran off!”

“Alright. I’ll get you what you want. I just need to know what it is,” said Tristan. The sooner this was over with, the better.

Owynn pointed to the ground in front of him. “Kneel,” he said, his voice suddenly taking on an authoritative, commanding edge. It was jarring to hear, especially after the near-madness that had been in his tone just before.

Tristan’s brain screeched to a halt. Kneel. Kneel? he thought to himself. A hundred scenarios whipped through his head and most of them were perverse. Suddenly, all the work he’d done to flush the arousal out of his system before coming here went out the window as his cock surged to full hardness right against his thigh.

“N-now wait just a second,” he said, struggling to fight the intense need that was now pulsing between his legs. “I-I never agreed to do anything like that.”

“You don’t get a choice, man! No choice! It’s this or no information!” said Owynn.

Fuck. The last thing that Tristan needed was an excuse to play along to this farce. But he did need information. And if this was the only way that he was going to be able to get it…

Tristan was already halfway down to his knees by the time his brain caught up. He felt the asphalt through his pants and shivered. He didn’t know why that was such a turn on.

The part of him that wanted to cling to some semblance of normalcy made him look up into Owynn’s eyes and ask, “I’m not sure how much better this is than cash?”

“Trust me, man. Trust me. It’s so much better,” said Owynn. He unbuckled his belt. He unbuttoned his pants. He unzipped, hooked his thumb into his waistband, and pushed his pants down until his cock won free of his ratty boxers.

Tristan’s eyes widened as Owynn’s fat cock sprang free. He’d never have imagined that the guy would be so hung, but the moment he caught a whiff of the unwashed musk of Owynn’s cock, he was salivating.

He couldn’t help but moan as Owynn’s dick flopped onto his face. He took a deep breath, filling his lungs with the scent of the man. Suddenly, he was back at the precinct on that fateful night. Only, this time, he and Ravi had swapped places, and the perp was Owynn instead of some drug dealer whose name he didn’t even know.

Suddenly, Tristan realized what he was doing. He was aghast. He tried to push Owynn away as he said, “W-wait! What is this about? This is the new payment? I didn’t… I can’t—”

“Oh yeah,” said Owynn. The hunger in his eyes had only grown more intense. “I don’t care about the cash. I’ve got a new gig now, and it pays so much better. But I’ve always wanted to take a crack at your pretty face.”

Tristan raised an eyebrow. His arousal was rapidly growing and control was slipping from his grasp, but at least, for the moment, he still had a grip on himself. “D-don’t you have a girlfriend?” he groaned as he tried to resist the urge to mouth at Owynn’s cock.

Owynn laughed. “Alright. Maybe not always, man. But ever since I started doing VNM. That shit’s purple gold. It makes sex so good. That girlfriend’s old news now. Last I heard, she was shacking up with one of her girlfriends.”

Tristan’s heart skipped a beat. “M-maybe I’m not good for it, after all,” he said. He had to try to escape while he still had a sliver of mental clarity left to him, but before he could turn away, Owynn put a hand on his head and kept him there.

“Let me go, man,” said Tristan. He’d meant it as a warning, but again, he was struggling to find his confidence. What came out sounded more like a plaintive request.

Owynn shook his head. “Just as soon as you settle with me, bro. You ran out on me last time without paying,” he said before reaching into his pocket to pull a VNM vape out.

Tristan’s eyes widened. His hole throbbed. War ignited inside him as one part wanted nothing more than to get away while he had the chance, and the other part was eager for the next VNM fix.

He knew he had only moments to decide. He still had control right now, even if only just. But if Owynn breathed a cloud of VNM in his face… His thoughts wandered back to Ravi, to the utterly blank, cock-deranged look on the junior detective’s face and fuck, he hadn’t even been dosed yet, but he was hard already.

Owynn raised the vape to his lips and took a long drag. Beads of purple light traveled up the circuit lines etched into the plastic, leaving a faint purple afterglow.

Tristan’s window of opportunity narrowed and then vanished altogether as Owynn exhaled a plume of VNM haze right into his face. “Thought you might appreciate something to lubricate your brain, bro,” said Owynn with a wide grin. “I didn’t think you’d object to getting something to help with your payment.”

Tristan froze as the cloud of VNM blew over his face. He should have held his breath. It was the right thing to do. It was what he had to do if he wanted to stay himself. His body, however, had other ideas. As if on reflex, he took a deep breath, sucking down a lungful.

The effect was immediate. His entire body warmed in moments as the VNM swirled around in his chest cavity. His cock throbbed as fresh arousal pumped through his veins. His mouth dropped open, a low moan spilling from his lips as he rubbed the side of his face against the side of Owynn’s fat cock.

Owynn chuckled. “Heh. I did think you’d enjoy it,” he said. “Looks like you’re not as opposed to the idea as you were saying you were.”

He grabbed the base of his cock and rubbed the swollen head over Tristan’s lips. He was leaking already and in doing so he left a glistening smear of pre-cum over Tristan’s lips.

Tristan’s head was swimming. The VNM was partly to blame, but the main culprit was the intoxicating musk of Owynn’s cock. Every breath he took was a lungful of distilled, unapologetic masculinity. It sent a shiver down his spine. It made him arch his back.

“Fuck, bro, I never imagined I’d see this side of you,” said Owynn. He seemed almost breathless with disbelief, his fingers rubbing back and forth across Tristan’s scalp. “Not that I’m complaining, though. It’s good to know I’ll be getting a good price for what I’ve got to say.”

Tristan was awash with lust. His body ached with need. He couldn’t muster even the slightest bit of resistance when Owynn grabbed him by the face, pressing down on his cheeks to force his mouth open.

He didn’t pull away or fight back, even when Owynn’s cock found its way to his mouth. His body flushed with heat when it slipped inside. He should have fought, should have resisted somehow, but he couldn’t muster the willpower to.

The pungent, salty taste of Owynn’s unwashed cock filled Tristan’s senses. What felt like fireworks went off in his head. His own manhood throbbed as he spilled out an embarrassingly wanton moan.

“YES!” Owynn hissed, “This isn’t how I imagined this was going to go—I thought you would fight me more, or that you would be more stoic and shy but fuck! If I had known there was such an eager cock-sucking whore in there somewhere I’d have done this earlier!”

Owynn grabbed Tristan’s head with both hands. He started pumping his hips, starting with slow movements that pretty much just slid his cock head back and forth along Tristan’s tongue, but he quickly built from there. He kept his pace relatively even, instead increasing the length of every stroke as he pushed more and more of his fat hobo cock into Tristan’s face.

Tristan choked when the head of Owynn’s dick hit the back of his throat. And then again. And again. And again. His eyes watered, but he took a deep breath, trying to relax even though he didn’t know why he was letting this happen.

It felt good. That was why. It felt way better than he had ever imagined. Somehow, it just felt right to have an unwashed cock pumping in and out of his face.

Tristan took a deep breath. He relaxed his throat as much as he could. He choked and gagged on Owynn’s cock still, but after a few tries, the blunt head finally broke through his resistance and slipped into his throat. He moaned, but it came out garbled, the sound only becoming more muffled as inch after inch of Owynn’s fat unwashed cock continued to slip into his gullet.

Before he knew it, his nose was buried in Owynn’s pubes. The wiry hairs were scratchy against his face, but he didn’t care. The intoxicating musk was thicker here. It filled his head with cotton, smothering his thoughts. It made his cock throb and pulse to the point that he couldn’t help but reach between his legs to rub it through his pants.

This shouldn’t have turned Tristan on, but it did. Despite himself, he rubbed his nose in Owynn’s pubes, moaning around the thick dick buried lodged in his throat.

It was enough to make Owynn’s restraint falter. He seized Tristan by the hair, tufts peeking out from the spaces between his fingers as his vicious grip tightened on Tristan’s soft locks. Using his hold on Tristan’s head for leverage, he pumped his hips with renewed urgency and force.

Tristan choked. His gullet had only just opened up to accommodate Owynn, and now it was being battered. Slime rose in the back of his throat. Tears pricked in his eyes. “Gluck! Gluck! Gluck!” he gurgled with every ragged thrust, but Owynn didn’t seem to care.

Owynn picked up his pace. He pulled Tristan’s head tight against him. He hunched over Tristan, holding him in place as he drilled his cock into Tristan’s throat. His hips were like a jackhammer, slamming his dick into Tristan’s throat over and over and over again.

The one time that Owynn slipped out, Tristan couldn’t help but splutter. He coughed and gagged, spit, slime, and other throat juices gushing out of his throat into his mouth.

The weird thing was that the taste didn’t bother him. Not that he had very long to contemplate it when most of the stuff was forced back down when Owynn’s cock shoved back into his throat. The rest was pushed out of his mouth with such force it squirted out past his lips even though they were sealed tight around Owynn’s girth.

Tristan didn’t fight back. He couldn’t. His body wouldn’t. The only thing he’d done was rub his cock through his pants a bit, and he was on the edge already. He’d even stopped doing that, but his dick was still pulsing and throbbing like crazy against his thigh, ignored as he focused all his attention on Owynn’s cock.

A few minutes later, Owynn’s rhythm began to falter. His thrusts became rougher, a marked desperation in the pumping of his hips. His breathing came in ragged bursts, low grunts and moans spilling out of him until, suddenly, he pulled almost all the way out of Tristan.

Owynn’s legs shook as he took a breath. Then, with a sharp forward thrust of his hips, he pulled Tristan’s head down between his legs, mashing Tristan’s face into the sticky, sloppy mess dripping from his pubes. Then he blew his load.

Tristan’s eyes widened. He felt the thick, hot man sludge hit the back of his throat and slide down into his stomach. He should have hated it, but he didn’t.

His whole body tingled as he felt Owynn’s cock pulsing in his gullet, pumping him with shot after shot of thick cum. He didn’t know what was wrong with him. He wasn’t supposed to get off on this. But he very nearly came right then and there.

He was supposed to be straight. He was supposed to be a hero. And yet, here he was, on his knees in a dark alley, blowing a homeless junkie, ready to blow after one fat fucking nut blown down his gullet.

Tristan had fallen so far already and somehow he felt he hadn’t quite hit the bottom yet. He couldn’t help but wonder how much further he would be able to fall from here.

---

Owynn pulled out of Tristan’s throat with a grin. He seemed thoroughly satisfied. Even the way he held himself changed. He stood straighter. He radiated confidence. It was as if the self-assuredness that Tristan had been struggling to find had transferred to Owynn and now Tristan was the scared, uncertain one between the two of them.

A lewd wet squelch followed as Owynn’s cock was dislodged from Tristan’s gullet. A gush of spit, throat slime, throat juices, and dregs of the fat, juicy load that Owynn had just blasted down Tristan’s craw spewed out of Tristan’s mouth. The frothy, disgusting mix splattered on the ground between Tristan’s knees and he couldn’t help but stare at it for a few moments.

Eventually, Tristan looked up to meet Owynn’s gaze. Little by little, he managed to regain control of himself. The arousal was still there, impossible to ignore—his cock was so fucking hard—but he could at least focus. Somewhat.

“There. I paid. I did my part. Now you do yours,” Tristan croaked. He was shocked at how gruff and hoarse he sounded. Then again, maybe that was only to be expected. The brutal face-fuck Owynn had just given him had likely bruised his throat. “I-I need anything you have on VNM. H-how it’s distributed. W-where it’s manufactured…”

Owynn reached down and grabbed Tristan by the chin. There was something alluring about his renewed confidence. Tristan had no idea where it came from, but maybe it was from the fact that the power dynamic between the two of them had clearly shifted.

“You’re getting a bit ahead of yourself, I think,” said Owynn with a smirk. “You promised to pay me double last time, bro. So I hope you’re ready for round 2. And round 3, too, actually, since you’ll still have to pay for today.”

Tristan moaned. His cock throbbed. His asshole pulsed. He didn’t know if he could take another throat-fucking. He felt like it would be too much. But then again, deep down, he craved it. Part of him wanted to sear that sensation into his mind so he’d never forget what it was like to have a cock shoved in his throat.

“I do have an offer, though,” said Owynn. “If you don’t want to give me two more blowjobs, you can give up your ass. That’ll count for two.”

Tristan shivered. He should have said no. He wanted to say no. But the very prospect of having his asshole spread wide open by Owynn’s fat dick sent heat rushing through him. It roused an itch deep inside him.

Owynn’s fingers brushed across Tristan’s scalp, eliciting a low moan. He took another hit of VNM and blew it right into Tristan’s face. “I don’t hear you objecting,” he said.

Tristan groaned as he inhaled the VNM. He shouldn’t have—he really shouldn’t have—but he couldn’t help himself. His pupils dilated. His spine arched. He pushed his ass out and moaned, “I’ll do it!”

They were desperate for information. This was their only lead. He had to figure out what Owynn knew. By any means necessary. That was what he told himself to try to hold on to some small fraction of his dignity and self-respect.

Owynn grinned. He took another long drag off his vape and held it in. He grabbed Tristan by the shoulders and pulled him up, breathing VNM haze into his face the whole way. He wasn’t particularly strong, but Tristan didn’t resist, so he had an easy time of manhandling Tristan.

A quiet grunt escaped Tristan as he hit the side of a nearby dumpster from being shoved against it.

“Strip,” said Owynn.

Tristan didn’t know why he did as he was told. His body moved before he could even think about the command. If all Owynn wanted was to fuck his ass, then he could have just removed his pants, but as soon as they were off, he also shucked his shirt.

He stood in that alley, as naked as the day he was born, while Owynn looked him up and down with a self-satisfied smirk. He felt a pang of dread when Owynn kicked his shed clothes out of the way. Suddenly, his lifeline to the respectable, dignified life that he wanted to hold on to seemed that much further from his grasp.

Tristan had never felt this vulnerable before. He wasn’t a virgin—not by far—but he’d never held down a stable relationship either. He’d never been interested. The work he did with his family had always been the priority. All the sex he’d had was meaningless. Just a way to get off.

This was different. He felt exposed. Weak. Weaker than he’d ever been. The air in the alley was strangely warm and humid, too. He’d only been naked for barely a minute and he already felt as if there were a layer of disgusting grime on his skin.

He’d wondered before how much further he could fall. He was naked in a sketchy alley, leaning against a dumpster, waiting for his homeless informant to fuck him. This was a new low, and so soon after his previous record.

Fuck, Tristan couldn’t help but think to himself. How had it come to this? He was supposed to be a red-blooded, normal cis-het guy.

His thoughts wandered back to Ravi and the events of that fateful night at the precinct. This was worse. Ravi, at least, had the excuse of being given a mega-dose of VNM. Tristan had only had three. He was doing all of this of his own free will.

Owynn came up to Tristan and made him turn around to face the dumpster. He was prepared and had a tube of lube in hand. He cracked it open and heaped a whole bunch onto his fingers.

Tristan shivered as Owynn smeared the lube right into the crack of his ass. This was a sensation he’d never felt before, but it wasn’t exactly unpleasant either. A moan came to his lips as Owynn rubbed the lube in, making him arch his back and push his ass further out.

He didn’t mean to do it. His body moved on its own. He even shifted his legs further apart, angling his hips to give Owynn better access.

“Fuck, man,” Tristan moaned. It felt surprisingly good. Goosebumps broke out on his arms as Owynn’s fingers teased the rim of his hole and he couldn’t help but grind back against Owynn’s touch.

Suddenly, one of Owynn’s fingers slipped inside. It was another novel sensation, but again, not exactly unwelcome. Tristan expected more pain, but it was better than that. If anything, it made his hole tingle pleasantly.

The feeling of something going up his ass the wrong way was a bit weird, though. It felt like his insides were sucking onto the finger, but as Owynn slowly finger-fucked him, thrusting in and out of his slicked-up hole, it started to feel better.

Eventually, Tristan was rolling his hips, as much fucking himself on Owynn’s finger as taking it. That was when Owynn added a second finger. It burned, but it wasn’t exactly unpleasant.

Tristan tossed his head back and groaned. He felt his hole stretching. One finger was already one more finger than he’d ever had in his ass. Two were almost too much—especially when Owynn started scissoring them to stretch him out even more.

The edge of the dumpster bit into Tristan’s palms as he held onto it for support. It was grimy and sticky and disgusting, but he couldn’t bring himself to care as Owynn continued to finger-bang him.

Tristan spread his legs wider. It helped with the discomfort, especially when Owynn added a third finger into the mix. It wasn’t exactly painful, but it was definitely uncomfortable.

Owynn grabbed Tristan’s ass with his free hand. He squeezed and kneaded it, grunting under his breath, “Fuck. This is such a sweet ass. It’s everything I imagined and more. Are you sure you’re cherry?”

Tristan groaned as Owynn’s fingers spread apart inside him, stretching his hole even further. “I-I am,” he said. “I swear. I am.”

He didn’t even know why he felt the need to convince Owynn that it was true—that he was a virgin. He just thought that Owynn would enjoy a virgin hole more and, for some unfathomable reason, he felt the urge to give Owynn everything he Owynn wanted.

Tristan bucked his hips, grinding his ass against Owynn’s fingers. They’d rubbed the itch inside him at first, but it had migrated further up his chute, burrowing itself in a place that fingers would never be able to reach.

A low moan spilled from Tristan’s lips. His cock was straining and leaking. His cock head was rubbing up against the side of the dumpster, smearing pre-cum through the grime clinging to the metal.

The initial discomfort of having three fingers shoved up his asshole had passed. The deeply buried itch inside him filled his mind with need. “P-please!” he moaned. “T-this is time sensitive. J-just fuck me already. Please. I need the information. Right now.”

Tristan had tried to sound confident and in control, but his voice had been coarse with want. He told himself that all he wanted was to get things over with, but the truth was that he was desperate to know what it would feel like to have a cock inside his ass.

He’d never thought that just fingers could feel so good. He couldn’t imagine what a cock would be like. The itch inside him was impossible to ignore. He needed it scratched.

Owynn laughed. He swatted Tristan’s ass, the smack so sharp that the crisp noise reverberated from the walls of the alley. The spot that Owynn’s hand had impacted stung, but not exactly in a bad way.

The pain added a delicious edge to the pleasure Tristan was getting from Owynn’s fingers in his ass. It brought a moan to his lips, one that he tried and failed to fight down.

“I never pegged you to be such a desperate whore,” said Owynn.

“I-I’m not a whore,” Tristan protested, but his voice was so weak and feeble it seemed as though not even he believed what he’d just said.

“No?” said Owynn with a laugh as he hotdogged his cock between Tristan’s round ass cheeks. “Maybe it’s not for money, but you’re still selling your body for information. I’m pretty sure that makes you the definition of a whore. It’s the getting paid part that matters, after all.”

Tristan barely processed the argument. The haze of lust in his head was so thick. Owynn’s cock felt so hot and so hard in between his toned ass cheeks that he couldn’t help but buck his hips, his body moving on its own to grind his ass against Owynn’s crotch.

“I-I’m not a whore,” he said half-heartedly. “I-I’m not selling my body. I-I’m just paying for your information. T-this might just be meaningless distraction for you b-but lives are at risk. T-this is important. I-I’m just trying to be a hero.”

Owynn snorted. “More like a zero from where I’m standing,” he said.

Tristan felt Owynn’s fingers pulling out of his ass. He didn’t want them to leave. He didn’t want to feel empty. He clamped his hole around them, his pucker clinging to Owynn’s fingers on their way out.

He didn’t know what possessed him, but he just had to keep those fingers inside him. Unfortunately, he didn’t have the strength to pull them back in. They slipped out with a wet squelch, leaving behind a desolate sensation that made Tristan whine.

With both hands now free, Owynn squeezed Tristan’s ass cheeks together to make the space between them tighter. He rolled his hips, fucking the tight channel between Tristan’s ass cheeks as he said, “If you’re not selling your body, then you’ll probably be able to get information from elsewhere, right? You wouldn’t mind if I just walk away now?”

Tristan’s eyes went wide. He was normally much more calm and collected, but the moment it registered that Owynn might leave, panic, the likes of which he’d never felt before, seized him. “N-no! No! No! Wait! No! I-I need this information now!” he said.

He didn’t even exactly remember why he needed the information, only that he was desperate for it and that he was willing to do anything, pay any price to get it. He still disagreed with the idea, but in the back of his mind he couldn’t help but think that maybe Owynn was right. Maybe he was a whore.

Owynn chuckled. He stopped moving. His cock went still. “I want to hear it, then,” he said.

“H-hear what?” said Tristan.

“I want to hear you say it,” said Owynn.

“I-I don’t know what to say!”

Owynn squeezed Tristan’s ass cheek. “It’s pretty simple. Just say, ‘I’m a whore.’ I want to hear it. I want you to mean it. Otherwise, you can go find someone else.”

Tristan hesitated. Was this really something he wanted to do? He wasn’t sure. But he did know there wasn’t anyone else he could find. He didn’t remember what he needed Owynn for—he was way too horny to recall—but he knew that he had no other options.

His whole body trembled. This went against everything he believe in. Everything he thought about himself. It was a humiliation he would never have endured if he was in his right mind, but his cock had never been harder.

“I’m a whore,” Tristan said. Against his better judgment, he said the words. “I-I’m a whore,” he said, more breathlessly the second time because of the sudden surge of arousal that ripped through him.

It was as if uttering the words made them true. Until then, he’d managed to convince himself that he was still a good person, that he was still a hero just trying to save people from… Well, he couldn’t exactly remember what from, but it hardly mattered at this point.

Tristan tried to cling to that hero identity, but it was impossible. The moment he said those words, the moment he repeated them, the image he had of himself shattered into a thousand pieces. He wasn’t a hero. He was a whore. He was a whore.

Owynn leaned in. “Good whore,” he whispered right into Tristan’s ear just as he brought the VNM vape right up to Tristan’s lips. “Take a hit, bitch. It’ll make this better. Maybe you’ll learn to love being a cheap cock socket when you service your first cock on VNM.”

Tristan had already taken a drag off of the vape before he could stop himself. What was one more betrayal to the sincerely held principles he’d had all his life? It felt good. It couldn’t be wrong when it felt so good.

The VNM filled his lungs. It flooded into his veins. It soaked into his cells. He thought he’d been high before with second-hand exposure. This was on another level entirely. A delirious moan spilled from his lips as he spread his legs and bent further forward, every fiber of his body screaming out to be fucked.

Tristan got his wish. Right then, at the moment when the VNM was peaking, Owynn lined up and pushed in. Tristan’s eyes went wide, his pupils blowing open in much the same fashion that his asshole stretched around the considerable girth of his homeless informant’s cock.

He moaned out loud. He could hold nothing back. Every ounce of wanton, desperate need that was in his body came out in that moan that bounced down the narrow alley.

Owynn’s hands clasped around Tristan’s hips. “Fuck, I take it back. You are cherry. Fucking hell, you’re so tight. It’s amazing!”

Tristan groaned. There was considerable resistance. He felt his insides squeezing, clenching against the invasion of Owynn’s fat cock. It was so big he didn’t know if it was going to fit. He didn’t know how it was going to fit.

The burn of being stretched open elicited a low groan from Tristan. Owynn was so much thicker than just three fingers that his body tried to push him out. But he took a few breaths. He tried to relax. He tried to open up and accept Owynn into his body.

Tristan didn’t even know what he was doing. Why he was trying to make this work. The pain would have been the perfect excuse to stop. But he couldn’t think of why he would want to stop. He was a whore, wasn’t he? This was what he was supposed to do. He was supposed to open his holes in exchange for whatever he wanted—whatever he needed.

One thing was certain. Tristan wanted that fat hobo cock inside him. He needed it.

Owynn’s weight shifted on top of Tristan. He felt the man’s hot breath on the nape of his neck. The vape was still in front of his face, so he closed his lips around the stem and took a long drag, his hole loosening the instant that purple haze hit his lungs.

Just like that, Owynn’s thick monster cock slid into Tristan’s asshole. Inch after inch of fat hog plunged into the velvet heat of Tristan’s cherry hole, and before he even knew it, Owynn was hilt-deep inside him, just barely scraping against that itch in his guts.

Tristan couldn’t help but moan. This was something he’d never felt before. This should have been repulsive. This wasn’t how he was supposed to be. This wasn’t something that he should have liked, but it just felt so fucking good to have Owynn’s cock inside him, he struggled to care.

As the VNM in his veins reached his brain and soaked into his mind, the little voice in the back of his head that told him he was supposed to be better than this got quiet and quieter. He was so full. He could feel how hot and how hard Owynn was inside him. He vaguely remembered that he was supposed to be straight but fuck, if this didn’t feel so right.

Tristan’s hips began to move. He fucked himself on Owynn’s cock, grinding back against the man’s pelvis and moaning as he felt that fat hog scrape his insides. Finally, finally, that itch inside him was getting scratched.

Owynn’s grip on Tristan tightened. He started moving his own hips, meeting Tristan’s bucking with steady, rhythmic thrusts. In and out. In and out. Faster and harder with every pump.

“Fuck!” Owynn groaned, “Your ass is fantastic, you fucking whore. Straight boy cherry really is the best. I don’t want to hold back. Fuck. I can’t hold back. You don’t care, do you?”

Tristan should have said no. He wasn’t supposed to be enjoying this. But the way that Owynn’s cock made his asshole feel as it sawed in and out of him was a pleasure unlike anything he’d ever experienced before. He shook his head. “N-no,” he moaned, his body submitting to the pleasures of being railed from behind, “D-don’t hold back. Fuck me. Please. More. Harder. Please!”

He’d never imagined he would be begging for dick like this, but it felt right. The words came naturally to his lips. He moaned like the cheap whore that VNM had turned him into, his voice shaking as Owynn cut loose and fucked him with increasing vigor and intensity.

Tristan writhed against the dumpster. Feeling Owynn’s cock rubbing his insides was so intense. It was almost too much. He didn’t understand why it felt so good. How it could be so good.

He bucked against every thrust, his hips shaking as he begged for more, not just with his body, but with his words. “H-harder. Please! I-I need your cock so bad!” he moaned, unable to hold back even for the sake of his own ego.

Tristan could hear himself, but he could scarcely believe that those were the words coming out of him. Maybe he really was a whore. He certainly didn’t feel very heroic right now.

Owynn chuckled as he indulged Tristan’s pleas. He moved one hand up from Tristan’s hip to grab him by the hair. He pushed down, forcing Tristan’s chest against the flimsy, cracked plastic of the dumpster’s lid.

Tristan had no choice. He moved his hand away from the rim and braced them against the plastic. It was sticky and disgusting to the touch. He was supposed to be a respectable person but here he was, getting fucked on top of a dumpster and it just made him hotter for Owynn’s cock.

“M-more. Gods. More! Please!” Tristan gasped, his stiff cock leaking enough pre-cum to make a slippery mess against the side of the dumpster.

“Fucking take more, then, bitch!” Owynn growled as he gave Tristan exactly what Tristan had asked for, jackhammering his cock into that tender virgin hole.

Tristan only half regretted the request. It was too intense. Overwhelmingly so. He tried to get away, but at the same time, he only wanted more.

He braced against the lid of the dumpster. He went to the tips of his toes. There was no space. There was nowhere to go.

Tristan’s eyes widened. A hoarse cry spilled from his lips. The self-inflicted change of angle made the next thrust from Owynn slam right into a certain spot inside him that robbed the breath from his lungs.

The rush of pleasure that shot through Tristan’s body was like a bolt of lightning. It was blinding and overwhelming. It wiped away all thoughts, leaving no room for anything but the sheer, ecstatic bliss of it.

Owynn laughed. “I was hoping I’d find your spot,” he said, his voice low and his tone sleazy. The very grip he had on Tristan’s hip felt lecherous in the extreme. He shoved his dick into Tristan yet again, deliberately thrusting right into Tristan’s prostate.

Tristan was powerless against the assault. He squirmed, pushing down on the lid. Unfortunately for him, the fragile plastic gave way. Without the support, he pitched forward, ending up hanging halfway into the dumpster.

“S-stop!” Tristan said, scrabbling against the garbage bags dumped inside and failing to find much in the way of purchase. “I-I need to get out!”

Owynn didn’t give Tristan the opportunity. He put his hand on the back of Tristan’s head and held him down. “I always thought you looked down on me. You probably never saw me as more than just a dirty bum. But look where we are now,” he said with a laugh.

Tristan groaned as Owynn rammed into him harder and harder. That thick hog battered his hole with all the force of the swallowed envy and resentment that was evident in Owynn’s words.

“What do you think, bitch?” Owynn growled under his breath as he pushed Tristan face-first against a trash bag. “I bet you never imagined we would be in this position. I’d have laughed if you told me I would one day be in a decent spot while you were getting your stupid wannabe-hero ass fucked in a dumpster.”

Tristan didn’t understand. The disgusting shit in the dumpster stuck to his arms, to his chest, to his face. It was revolting. He wanted to heave. And yet, at the same time, he had never been harder.

He was stuffed in a dumpster, getting railed, and his cock was leaking pre-cum and throbbing as if it would burst with the slightest touch. He wanted to defend himself against Owynn’s provocation, but he had nothing. It was true.

“Yeah, that’s right,” said Owynn with a laugh. “Fucking loser. You thought you were so much better, but in the end I’m not the one ass up in a dumpster, selling his hole for ‘information,’ am I?”

Between the sharp bits of the lid pinned under him and the poor quality of the plastic, the garbage bags cushioning Tristan were slowly shedding apart. The putrid contents were seeping out through the tears, clinging to his skin.

Loser. That was the word that Owynn had used to describe him. Even though he’d had a tough life, he’d always thought he was more of a winner considering how far he’d come despite all the hurdles. He’d never felt more wrong in his life.

In one demeaning encounter, he’d trampled every hard-earned shred of pride he had in his accomplishments. What was the point when he was willingly getting his asshole cored out in a dumpster?

“Fuck, I need to take a picture of this!” Owynn groaned. “I want to remember this scene forever. You’re finally where you fucking belong!” he growled as he pumped his hips even harder.

Tristan mewled, his face pressed against the slowly deflating garbage bag as its contents leaked out over him. He could tell Owynn was close. The thrusts were losing their rhythm, becoming more ragged and desperate as Owynn’s fat hog pulsed and swelled inside of him.

This was rock bottom. He struggled to imagine how much further he could fall from here. He wasn’t just getting his ass fucked, he was getting it reamed out by a low-life, and he was begging for it. “More!” he croaked, for reasons that were beyond him. It just felt so fucking good.

Owynn jammed Tristan’s face as deep into the garbage as he could. He went from pumping his hips to slamming them into Tristan’s. “I’m gonna fucking come!” he moaned. “I’m gonna breed this sweet fucking hole. I’m gonna pump it full of my babies! Gonna finally put it to its proper use!”

Tristan’s toes curled. His thighs tensed. His cock, caught between his body and the side of dumpster, throbbed and swelled as Owynn’s words sent him over the edge.

He came hard as his cock rubbed against the slimy mess of pre-cum and grime that had formed on the side of the dumpster from all the movement. His hole clenched around Owynn’s fat hog, his insides fluttering to milk every drop of cum out of that thick, homeless cock.

White streaks of cum painted the side of the dumpster as spurt after spurt rocketed out of Tristan. It was the most intense orgasm he’d ever had. He felt his balls churning with the thick, heavy load. He felt the nut surging up his piss hole, shooting out of him in a final humiliation.

Owynn cursed under his breath and jammed his dick into Tristan as deep as it would go. “Fuck, your ass-pussy’s milking me for everything I’ve got!” he moaned as his own orgasm hit.

Tristan’s whole body locked up as he felt the first spurts of hot jizz painting his guts white. Pleasure rolled over him in waves as his asshole spasmed, his inner walls seizing around the considerable girth of Owynn’s beer-can cock.

A second orgasm tore through him. This one didn’t come from his cock, though. It rippled out from his asshole, sending pleasure pulsing not just through his stiff dick, but through every cell in his body. It was so powerful his mind blanked for a moment and he forgot to breathe.

By the time that the orgasm passed, his fuckhole was flooded with Owynn’s cum. The strength left him. Whatever resistance he had remaining drained away. He fell limp, ass hanging out of the dumpster, the rest of him dangling inside.

Tristan knew he should have been disgusted with himself for letting this happen, but he didn’t feel an ounce of regret. If anything, he was just as horny as he was at the start. He wanted more. Needed more, if he was being honest.

Maybe Owynn was right. Maybe this was where he belonged. Just another piece of garbage. Something to be used and thrown away, not respected and cherished.

A low groan spilled out of Tristan when Owynn pulled out of him with a lewd, wet squelch. It was done, at least. As he felt the hot load drip down between his thighs, he tried to push himself out of the dumpster, but Owynn just laughed and swatted his ass.

“Stay fucking put, bitch,” Owynn growled.

Tristan froze. Then, against the back wall of the dumpster, he saw a flash. Heat flooded into his cheeks. Shame spread throughout his being. A full-body flush at the humiliation turned him red.

Some hero Tristan had turned out to be. He was hanging out of a dumpster with his ass in the air. He had a thick load dripping down the inside of his legs. He’d come from getting fucked in the ass, all the while getting his face smeared in gods knew what.

He felt like a low-life. He must have looked like a low-life. There was no way he could say he was better than Owynn when this was the state that he’d ended up in.

This was the most demeaning, degrading thing he’d ever done. It was a betrayal of everything he held dear, everything he thought about himself. He should have been despondent or inconsolable, but he was just horny. His cock had never been harder.

Maybe he did deserve to feel this way. Maybe he was gutter-trash. Maybe he was nothing more than just a cheap whore, selling his body for information he pretended was important.

“Alright, now that I’ve got that saved to my phone, I’ll do my part of the bargain,” said Owynn. “Oh, but just one condition. You need to stay in there the whole time. I want to make sure you get it in your head that you’re no better than me. Not anymore, anyway. You’ve fallen. You’re scum.”

Owynn laughed. “When you leave here, you can pretend that you still have some shred of dignity left. You can go with your cop buddies and pretend you’re some sort of cop. But you’ll always know that you let yourself get fucked into a dumpster full of trash. Not just that, you’ll always know that you liked it.”

A sharp smack reverberated through the alley as Owynn swatted Tristan’s ass. “The evidence is right there on the side of the dumpster, bitch. From now on, you’ll know where you belong. No matter how much you try to cover up with nice clothes and nice perfume, you’ll never be able to get rid of the stink.”

Owynn jammed three fingers into Tristan’s hole, finger-fucking him with a brutal intensity as he pumped them in and out faster and harder with every thrust. “You can pretend you’re some sort of upstanding citizen, but you’ll always know that at least one other person has seen the depths you’ll sink to just to get what you want.”

Tristan shivered. Owynn’s next words were right against his ear. He felt the heat of the man’s breath ghosting against the side of his neck. “You’re nothing but a whore. Your sweet little fuckhole is all you have to offer. You’re not a hero, you’re a worthless piece of trash. The only thing you’re good for is a passable fuck and a place to dump cum in.”

As much as Tristan wanted to deny it, Owynn was right. The proof was right there, dripping down the side of the dumpster: thick white globs of cum stained nearly black with the grime and filth that clung to the steel walls of the dumpster.

Maybe once upon a time he was a hero, but he certainly didn’t feel that way now. He’d failed at every step of the way. He’d been reduced to using his body to buy information.

What Owynn said was the truth, and there was nothing Tristan could do to deny it.