DISCLAIMER: The following is fiction. The story’s content does not reflect the writer’s beliefs, opinions, or attitudes. This story is intended for adult entertainment only. The characters and events depicted in this work are fictional. The author does not condone or promote any unlawful activity, such as is depicted in the story. By continuing to read this work, you acknowledge that you are an adult who wishes to read works of fantasy and fiction for the purpose only of fantasy. All the characters in this story are adults. They may play different ages for the fictional character they are depicting, but they remain adults at all times. All Rights Reserved © 2026 LITTLESALLY666.
STORY CODES: Erotic Horror, Magic, Time Stop, Incest, TS, Sodomy, Fembois, Slavery, Bondage, NC, Implied Snuff, Violence, Devil Worship.
CREATED: 01.07.2026 (V10 — FINAL)
AUTHOR’S NOTE: After watching the movie “Sucker Punch”, I was inspired to write this story. It is a 2011 fantasy action movie directed by Zack Snyder about a young woman plotting her escape from an asylum. The theme tune from the movie is the Annie Lennox song “Sweet Dreams (Are Made Of These) and her name is also used as the name of the mental asylum. In the same vein, I added a few Easter Eggs of my own in this version — like the names of all the characters — can you guess the connection?
Sweat Dreams
SYNOPSIS OF SWEAT DREAMS
After the death of his mother, a young boy named Rocket is framed for his younger brother’s murder by his greedy stepfather, who is infuriated after being cut out of the will, and secretly arranges for Rocket to be committed to a mental institute. Upon arrival, the stepfather bribes the chief orderly to forge the paperwork of the asylum’s psychiatrist to have the boy lobotomized.
But Rocket slips into a fantasy world in which a devil-worshipping cult controls the asylum. In this fantasy, he and the other patients are sex slaves for this perverted cult. Rocket imagines that he will be forced to perform an erotic dance and that his anal virginity will be taken by the cult’s high priestess, who is a transsexual, in a bizarre sex ritual devoted to their phallic demons. In reality, the high priestess is actually a surgeon who is scheduled to perform Rocket’s lobotomy.
Rocket dreams of an angel who tells him that he must escape the institute. To do so, he will need four things: a map, a knife, a key, and a fire. There is a fifth, unrevealed item that only Rocket can find through a deep personal sacrifice, which will grant freedom.
CHAPTER ONE OF “SWEAT DREAMS ” (2,855 WORDS)
Everyone has an angel. A guardian who watches over us. We can’t know what form they’ll take. One day, an old man. The next day, a little girl. But don’t let appearances fool you. They can be as fierce as any dragon. Yet they’re not here to fight our battles … but to whisper to our hearts and remind us that it’s we who hold the power over the worlds we create. We can deny our angels exist … convince ourselves they can’t be real. But they show up anyway. At strange places. And at strange times.
xxxxx
Rocket and his younger brother, Jojo, held their mother’s hands tightly as she lay on her deathbed. The rain was falling heavily outside the window, and the room suddenly shifted into almost complete darkness.
Watching from in the shadows, their Stepfather seemed unmoved by the boys’ tears of grief and sadness. They both loved their mother dearly. Their Stepfather, on the other hand, seemed to be secretly smiling to himself as he thought of the wealth that he would acquire from her demise.
He’d already called the doctor to pronounce her dead, and a lawyer to provide the will, even though the body was not yet cold.
Outside, a storm began to rage. Stabs of lightning lit up the night sky, and the horizon trembled with thunder.
Rocket and Jojo had always been close … very close. Sharing a single bedroom, they’d secretly become lovers from an early age. It had all started so innocently. At night, while everyone slept, Jojo complained of being scared. Being scared and just cuddling one another. But it had quickly escalated to naughtiness. They were both erect … and so began their incestuous games of cock sucking, frotting, rimming, and then sodomy.
Now, without their beloved mother, they needed each other even more.
Their Stepfather was eager to get his hands on their mother’s wealth. He wanted her properties, her investments, and her cash! But things didn’t quite play out in his favor.
“What?!?” he angrily screamed as he opened the will.
Their late mother’s will said that she’d left everything to her two boys! Nothing for him. Nothing at all.
“Those blasted boys,’ he said to himself, “It should all be mine.”
He was instantly in a rage.
He stormed towards the boys’ room. His face was blood red. Crossing the hall, he heard a low, muffled moan.
”Undeserving little wretches!”
The door was locked. But his sheer fury and strength broke it open. Once inside, he saw them, both lying together in a naked embrace. Their arms in a lovers’ embrace. Their erect cocks pressed together. Their open mouths, in a passionate kiss.
This drew him into a murderous rampage.
“What the FUCK?!” their Stepfather boomed, “Incestuous faggots!”
Rocket immediately disengaged and stood up to stop him advancing, but his Stepfather grabbed him by the throat. The strong man’s heavy hands closed around Rocket’s delicate neck as he thrashed about trying to break free. In a moment of desperation, Rocket’s sharp fingernails scratched down his face, narrowly missing his eye, but leaving a deep gash that drew blood.
His Stepfather momentarily lost his grip. Yelping in pain, he fell backwards into the bookshelf, scattering its contents over the floor.
“You fucking faggot bastard!” their Stepfather cried, picking up the metal poker from the fireplace.
Jojo tried to escape his wrath, just as their Stepfather swung the poker, hitting the naked boy across the back of the head. Blood suddenly sprayed everywhere. Jojo fell silently to the floor in a pool of red, as Rocket could only watch helplessly.
“Noooooo …” cried Rocket.
Their Stepfather hadn’t finished. Next, he swung the bloody poker at Rocket. But Rocket was already at the doorway, running hysterically down the hall.
“You won’t get far,” cried his Stepfather.
xxxxxx
Rocket was curled in a ball. All he could think about was poor Jojo. The sirens announced the arrival of his captors. He was still naked when the authorities arrived. The rain was falling even more heavily. And it was bitterly cold and windy.
“He just went mad when his mother died. He attacked me first, and then killed his own brother, in a fit of rage,” claimed Rocket’s Stepfather. “He’s mad. He should be locked away … in the asylum.”
Offering a generous bribe, the police agreed with his wrongful assessment. They suggested that he be taken away immediately as he was a public risk. And wrapped in just a blanket, they handcuffed him and put him in the back of the ambulance. His Stepfather climbed into the front seat to make sure he would be secure.
Once inside the gates of the “Lennox House” asylum, Rocket was escorted by two of the largest orderlies. The chief orderly, Mr Blue, met with Rocket’s Stepfather. Out of earshot of his stepson, his Stepfather whispered with Mr Blue.
“I want him lobotomized … as quickly as possible,” he said to Mr Blue, “He must remember nothing, you understand?”
“Well, that wasn’t part of the deal,” answered Mr Blue, “It’ll cost yer an extra two grand. And the surgeon can only do it if I fake the psychologist’s paperwork. And the surgeon ain’t around for the next five days.”
“Just get it done as soon as possible,” replied the Stepfather.
Reluctantly, Rocket’s Stepfather parted with the extra two thousand. They shook hands on it. He would be glad to see the back of the dumb faggot boy. After all, he’d waited long enough, and two thousand was just a small compensation compared to Rocket’s mother’s fortune.
Mr Blue looked at Rocket.
“Don’t worry. You’re in good hands in Lennox House,” he said, then turned to his orderlies, “Now, take him below. Get him into his patient gown, and take him to the gallery,” ordered Mr Blue, “He can meet the other … patients.”
xxxxx
Dressed in just a short patient’s gown, the type that are fastened at the back, Mr Blue’s orderlies escorted him to the gallery.
The gallery looked something like a seatless theatre, with a small stage. It was sterile and bare. Along one wall was a long mirror from floor to ceiling with a railing that appeared to be used for ballet practice. There were a few small tables and metal chairs arranged in the middle of the room, and about a dozen or so boys, all about his age. At first glance, they looked drugged, languid, and inattentive. On the stage was a boy singing, without any musical accompaniment, into an echoing microphone. He sang out of tune. The sound jarred in Rocket’s ears.
“Sweet dreams are made of this … Who am I to disagree? I travel the world. And the seven seas, Everybody’s looking for something … Some of them want to use you. Some of them want to get used by you … Some of them want to abuse you. Some of them want to be abused …”
Mr Blue snapped his finger, and Rocket’s attention returned to the Chief Orderly’s words.
“So, we call this the gallery. It’s where the patients can mix and entertain themselves with some games,” explained Mr Blue to Rocket’s Stepfather, “And this is Dr Gorski, she is our resident psychologist. She uses a Polish form of patient protocol.”
Dr Gorski appeared to be an attractive woman in her early forties, with only a few fine age lines across her face to give away that she was no longer in the prime of her youth.
“I take care of my boys here,” she said with her heavy Polish accent, “I look forward to getting to know you, Rocket.”
Rocket didn’t reply.
Turning to Rocket’s Stepfather, she added, “They are usually like this when they first arrive,” said Dr Gorski, “But soon they get to know us better. It’s like one happy family.”
Rocket’s Stepfather nodded. He wasn’t concerned with his stepson’s treatment — as long as he was lobotimized as soon as possible.
“I don’t want to stay here,” Rocket said as he began to make for the door.
“Stop him,” shouted Mr Blue.
The two burly orderlies grabbed him, and Dr Gorshki quickly plunged a needle into his neck.
“As I said,” added Dr Gorski, “It’s like one happy family!”
xxxxx
After they had all left, Rocket sat in the corner of the gallery. He just dribbled and stared into space. He was virtually catatonic. Withdrawn, he seemed to be only vaguely aware of his circumstances. Maybe it was something to do with whatever it was that Dr Gorski had injected him. Rocket’s mind seemed unable to focus. But in sudden, panicked moments, he caught glimpses of Jojo lying in a pool of blood. Other times, he seemed to be surrounded by a mindless mist of nothingness.
That’s when a voice spoke to him.
“Why are you here?” asked an unfamiliar voice that seemed to penetrate Rocket’s mind soup.
“I don’t know. But I want to get out of here,” Rocket answered.
“You mean … you want to be free?” answered the voice from beyond his vision.
‘Yes. Yes, I do. I want my freedom. Who are you? Are you an angel?”
“It doesn’t matter who I am, but if you want to be free, then you must escape!”
“But how?” asked Rocket.
“An evil cult has caught you. The cult is very powerful. It is an ancient and wicked order that uses sex slaves to serve their perverted desires. They intend to use you as a sacrifice to their demon god. In five days, when the moon is full, they will perform a profane ritual. It’s one where your anal virginity will be taken by their High Priestess. She is both male and female in one body. A witch. A succubus. Their demon is known by many names — one of which is Philotanus, the demon of Pederasty.”
“They use the boys as sex slaves?”
“Yes, and if you want to escape, you will need four things. A map, fire, a knife and a key. There is a fifth item that only you can identify. At the appropriate time, you’ll discover this. It will mean a deep personal sacrifice to reach freedom.”
“And where will I find these things?”
“Ah, Rocket. That is your challenge … And your adventure starts now!”
Rocket’s drugged mind seemed to suddenly clear at these last words from the mystic voice. The misty haze began to recede. The faces of the other patients, around him, began to be clearer.
“Er, I’m Baton,” said Baton with a strong East London accent, “What’s yer bleedin’ name?”
The fresh, friendly voice seemed to penetrate his isolation.
“Rocket,” he answered.
It was then that he realized that others were all staring at him.
“This is me brother, Snake. This is Joystick. And that’s Wang. Over there are Doodle and Flute.”
Rocket looked at the sea of unfamiliar young faces. He suddenly missed his brother.
“I have to get out of here,” said Rocket
Baton began to laugh.
“Nobody escapes the cult,” said Baton, “… Ever! They’ll kill yer if yer try! We’re ‘ere to serve the cult. We suck cock and bend over for their bleedin’ deviant pleasure. They’re mean and cruel, and though I’d love ta get away, there’s nauffing any of us can do!”
“I have to get away before the full moon ritual … I have a plan.”
“You’re the bleedin’ new boy. You’ve been ‘ere all of a few hours, and you already have a bleedin’ plan?” Snake answered sarcastically.
“Yes, I do. We just need four things: a map, fire, a knife and a key. I saw the map on the wall in the office on the way in, and the key was around the boss guy’s neck. A knife could be found in the kitchen. And there must be matches or a lighter somewhere.”
“Well, yer can count me out,” said Snake, “And you ain’t getting involved in this bird-brain plan, Baton. I’m yer older brother, and we’re already in enough shit!”
The others seemed equally uninterested in Rocket’s plan and his plight to escape before being ritually sodomized, and began to disperse.
xxxxx
Dr Gorski clapped her hands.
“Attention, everyone.”
All the boys turned to face the Polish Doctor.
“I want Rocket and Wang to stay behind. The rest of you are dismissed. Return to your dorms immediately!”
Rocket saw the orderlies pushing the others towards the exit. What was going on? Why was he and the small Asian kid singled out? But before he could get any answers, they were all gone. And the two boys were left with Dr Gorski, who sat on one of the metal chairs in the middle of the room facing the mirrored wall. In her arms, she carried two flimsy costumes that appeared to be translucent harem unfits.
”Wang. Rocket. Stand and face the mirror,” ordered the Doctor, “We must ready Rocket for the full moon ritual of Philotanus.”
Wang seemed to understand what that meant, even though Rocket had no idea. He took the outfits from the Doctor and gave one to Rocket. When it came to the mention of the full moon ritual, all he knew was that the ritual wasn’t going to end well for him, and that escape was the only option. He decided to play along with whatever the doctor ordered, while he figured the rest out … even if the others were not going to help.
“The ritual is a highly sensuous ceremony,” explained Dr Gorski, “And you will be our star attraction, Rocket. So you must learn to dance. It is an erotic dance. Now put on your costumes, both of you, and look at yourselves in the mirror.”
Without a murmur of disagreement, Wang did exactly as the Doctor instructed. And Rocket followed skeptically. Wang, somehow, reminded Rocket of his younger brother, Jojo. And to his delight, he noticed that Wang’s penis was fully erect, standing upright, stiffly against his concave stomach. Despite the awkwardness of the situation, Rocket also began to be aroused. They both dressed in the flimsy costumes that were completely transparent and did nothing to hide the boys’ arousal.
“Now sway your hips!”
The music began. It was definitely something Arabic, maybe Turkish, with an energetic rhythm, punctuated by the Darbuka (a goblet-like drum), the Zurna (with its distinctive melody), and the Bendir (enhancing the rhythmic complexity).
Rocket watched the sweet Asian boy, Wang, who seemed to adapt to the task. His thrusting movements countered his arms, which moved as if drawing his lover to his groin. Rocket followed his lead.
“Face each other! Excellent! By Philotanus, you both look delicious!” remarked Dr Gorski, who seemed to be getting off on their bizarre display, “Closer! That’s it. Closer! Gyrate! Yes. More vigorously! Yes! Press your hips together!”
Wang and Rocket were now so close that their wet-tipped erections pressed against one another, with only the diaphanous organza of their harem costumes separating them. Dr Gorski clapped her hands in time to the throbbing beat.
”Turn around, Wang. Press your butt against him. Yes. Show me your passion! Grind harder. More intensity! Excellent!”
Rocket couldn’t deny that he was highly aroused. Wang seemed to be equally excited.
“Yes. Made me believe in your lust! Thrust harder, Rocket. Convince me that you want to penetrate him!”
The fact that they were like sex toys seemed to only intensify their frottage. Wang’s hands gripped his own cock, and he was rubbing himself through the texture of the translucent costume. They were both breathing heavily as they moved in time with the bizarre music. Rocket began to suddenly audibly gasp. He felt the rush of orgasm begin to grip him. His hands held onto Wang’s hips tightly. He couldn’t stop even if his life depended on it.
”Aaaargghhhhhh …” he cried as they both began to ejaculate.
They both slowly fell to their knees, still spooning. Rocket’s semen had flooded in between them, and Wang’s dripped through the thin fabric of the spoiled costume. The music abruptly stopped. As their breathing began to return, they both turned and looked toward Dr Gorski, who’d suddenly become very silent since their mutual orgasm.
That’s when Rocket realized that something even stranger had occured. Dr Gorski appeared to be suspended. Frozen in the moment. Rocket and Wang looked at each other. This was impossible. An idea immediately came to Rocket’s mind. The map. Were the others also frozen in the moment? How long did they have?
”Follow me,” said Rocket as he led Wang out of the Gallery and into the hallway. The office lay just beyond. Despite the discomfort of being drenched in his own semen, Rocket kept low and quietly opened the door to the office. With Wang’s help, they took down the map and folded it away. Returning to the Gallery, Rocket hid the map inside his patient’s gown. Almost immediately, the inanimate Doctor sprang back to life, as if nothing had happened.
”Excellent!” she said, “Get cleaned up. For your first attempt, Rocket, that was very good. Now, put on your gowns, and I will take you back to your dorm.”
xxxxx
CHAPTER TWO OF “SWEAT DREAMS ” (2,376 WORDS)
The burly orderlies brought Rocket and Wang back to the patient dorm.
“Lights out in fifteen minutes,” said one of them as they closed and locked the door, leaving the young patients alone together in the dorm.
Rocket wasn’t sure how to explain what had happened. But with the aid of Wang’s corroboration, the others were prepared to listen to Rocket’s rather bizarre tale. Rocket showed them the map. It was the final proof.
”It was … as if everything suddenly froze,” he said, “Don’t know why I knew, but something told me. Maybe it was an angel? I just knew that there would be enough time to grab the map. So we did. Now, we just need the knife, the flame, and the key.”
Everyone began talking at once. They were all intensely excited.
”Stop! Stop!” interrupted Snake, “It doesn’t mean a fing. We ain’t going anywhere,”
“Why? This is a sign!” replied Snake’s young brother, Baton, “It must be magic!”
”Cos, I don’t like it,” Snake snapped back.
”Well, you weren’t there, Snake,” said Wang, “It was … real!”
”Come on, Snake,” said Baton, “I say that Rocket could be onto somefing here.”
“Yes,” agreed delicate, young Doodle.
“Tomorrow, the Hierophant will be arriving,” said Flute, “And he’ll want to see the new boy for sure. He always insists that he be masturbated as he watches our performances. You know how me smokes those stinking cigars. And you know he carries that special lighter, Joystick? Fire! What do you think? If Rocket and Wang can distract everyone, maybe Joystick can steal it from his pocket?”
”Look, this could get us all killed. Magic or not, it’s very risky,” said Snake.
”Okay, how about we go through with it, try to get the lighter,” said Rocket, “But if you think that it could go bad … we abort?”
”Snake?” pleaded Baton.
“Okay. But if I say over. It’s over. Right?”
They all nodded.
xxxxx
Rocket knew the High Priestess would be there in just four days. The full moon ritual felt so close. He had no margin for error. What if the magic only worked once? What if the angel was wrong? Rocket didn’t have to wait too long. As Mr Blue announced to everyone in the gallery, that the Hierophant would be arriving shortly and that Dr Gorski must rally the boys, in preparation, for the show.
“Make sure the Hierophant gets off! He’s very influential in the cult. Don’t fuck this up, or there will be hell to pay,” he threatened everyone.
Even Dr Gorski seemed to be nervous.
”Tonight, you will perform a new act with Doodle. Now go fill your bladders and get into your altar boy costumes. I have devised a new routine that will appeal specifically to the fetishes of the Hierophant … it will involve blasphemy, demonology, and urolagnia. Joystick, you pleasure the Hierophant dressed as his twisted acolyte … get dressed now!”
“Yes, Dr Gorski,” replied the pretty little Joystick.
The new routine not only involved them acting as demure altar boys, being virtuous and praying to Jesus, but there was a turning point, triggered by a change in the music, where they’d remove the top layer of their costumes to reveal something sinister, evil, and sexual below.
The stage lights looked bright as Rocket peeped from behind the velvet curtains. The Hierophant was supposedly hard to please. A real disgusting pervert, dressed as a bishop, who enjoyed sodomizing his effeminate altar boys. Joystick was his latest. Joystick’s predecessor had suddenly vanished, and it was rumored that the Hierophant had strangled him during his orgasm. Wearing their thin white gowns, Rocket and Doodle practiced prancing around on the stage behind the curtain; their bladders began to have that dull ache of fullness. For Rocket, it wasn’t so much the thought of what they were about to do, but whether or not Joystick could manage to prize the special lighter from the Hierophant‘s pocket.
The musical sound of a church choir was the first cue. The curtains rolled back, revealing little Doodle and Rocket kneeling, with a large crucifix in the backdrop. It was a palpable scene of affection and thankfulness, with their hands tightly clasped together in mock prayer, their eyes demurely downcast.
Out of the corner of his eye, Rocket could see the ugly, old Hierophant. He sat smugly, with his ornate bishop’s mitre on his head, in a throne-like chair, at the center of the darkened room. His heavy, white legs were spread, and his gown open to the waist. Rocket saw Joystick, dressed as his acolytes, kneeling between his open thighs, his small hands stroking the Hierophant‘s erect cock.
The evil Hierophant had a lewd expression on his face as he chewed down his smouldering cigar in the corner of his mouth. Plooms of blue-grey smoke escaped his black-stained lips. Rocket saw the lighter, as he snapped it shut and tucked it into his gown pocket.
The large crucifix behind them began to turn upside down. Now, blasphemously inverting the image of Jesus, the soft choir voices sounded more chant-like, creating a jarring and discordant pagan beat that Doodle and Rocket used to begin their fuck-dance, as if performing a sensual ballet, in their deliberately white short gowns with rosary beads hanging from their anuses.
”O, yer! Fuck Christ! Fuck Gawd! Fuck yer,” the Hierophant roared with the acknowledgement of his obscene approval, as their inelegant movements displayed their erect genitals.
Again, the music became darker or more misanthropic. The tempo became faster, the choir was replaced by shrieking vocals, demons groaning, and heavily grinding sounds. This was the cue for Doodle and Rocket to rip away their white gowns, and now, with black horns upon their heads, they appeared to be little demons, as they both stroked their penises, thrusting their hips, and squirting droplets of piss as they moved to the devil’s beat.
”Yerrr! Fuck the Holy Spirit! Aarggghh …” the Hierophant grunted out as Joystick gobbled on his ugly cock-head, stroked his shaft furiously, and squeezed his heavy, hairy testicles.
Baphometic shadows, with both breasts and penises, danced like an animated zoetrope across the stage backdrop. Upside-down Jesus sported an erect penis. Doodle and Rocket laughed and masturbated furiously, as they both began to urinate over each other. Urine spashed over their bodies. They both smiled deviantly, as their pissing cocks pointed towards each other’s open mouths.
Their timing was flawless. The Hierophant gasped at the depravity, and began to buck hard against Joystick’s face, grabbing a fist of the young boy’s hair, as the old pervert watched their golden fluids spurting over their gleeful, fiendish, little demonic faces.
”Aaaargghhhh … Goin’ CUMMMMMM” groaned the Hierophant.
Rocket licked the salty piss from his lips. He wasn’t sure whether they both came hard, at the same time as the Hierophant, but the result was the same.
… A dramatic pause … a frozen moment of opportunity …
The demonic music abruptly stopped. Droplets of semen hung in the air. Rocket saw Joystick’s fingers clasp the Hierophant‘s lighter and tuck it in his acolyte gown. And then, the deed done, the curtain closed, and everything began to move again.
xxxxx
”The Hierophant was very pleased with your performance,” remarked Dr Gorski to the piss-wet boys.
Mr Blue, on the other hand, didn’t appear so convinced. He looked at Rocket and Doodle with a level of suspicion. It was as if he knew something wasn’t right but couldn’t quite figure it out.
“Now get all this piss cleaned up,” continued the Doctor, “Tomorrow we begin practice for the full moon ritual!”
xxxxx
Back in the dorm, the boys seemed to be convinced. Even Snake had to concede. Twice now this phenomenon had occurred. Twice now they’d got what they needed. They now hide the lighter and the map by taping them to the underside of one of the drawers in the dorm room. This left only the knife and the key for freedom. These wouldn’t be easy to acquire, but with the euphoria of their success, they all seemed happy to press forward.
They knew that the chef often was caught perving over the practice sessions. He wasn’t supposed to be there, but he had a taste for young boys (literally, it seemed, as it was rumoured that he’d eaten several of the patients). They also knew that he always carried his sharp blade on his belt.
If they could distract the chef, Dr Gorski, and the orderlies, then maybe this would create an opportunity to gather their third item on the list.
xxxxx
So, as the practise session began, Flute hung around the back of the gallery, while Dr Gorski conducted the session.
“No! No! That’s not right,” she sounded tense and frustrated, “Baton! No! Just sit this one out … Where’s Snake? Right. Snake, you take his place. I want you to do this part with Rocket,” she ordered.
Baton and Snake switched places and costumes. The practice session had become intense.
“As the dark spirit of the serpent uncoils …” narrated Dr Groski passionately, as she paced around the scene, “… from the chakra at the base of the spine, through the anal sphincter, to the tip of the erect phallus, it releases the sodomistic powers of the shadow demon, Philotanus! … As the High Priestess, rapes and penetrates the offered one … you must all reach orgasm! … I want to hear you cry out to provoke the dark spirit of Philotanus as you cum! And I want to see your semen squirt across them, as they copulate, upon the blood altar!”
Dr Gorski clapped her hands loudly to make sure she had their undivided attention.
“Now, places! Doodle, Wang, and Baton … stand closer …” she ordered, pushing them into position, then turning to Snake and Rocket, she added, “I want you both to do it again, but this time, do it as if you mean it!”
On cue, the cannibalistic chef arrived at the back of the gallery. His glasses made his eyes look beady and sinister. He licked his fat lips as he loitered around at the back, touching himself when he thought nobody was watching. Flute eyed his blade.
The conjuring music began. It sounded deep, throaty, and guttural. Much like the chants of Dark Kundalini or Dark Night of the Soul that, through black magick, would bring the ritual to its climax.
As Rocket lay on his stomach across the staged version of the blood altar, he felt Snake’s naked body press against his. Both of the boys began to breathe shallowly, as if they’d been running for miles. The heat between them felt unnaturally hot and sweaty.
Rocket couldn’t explain the intensity of this sensation … though it was supposed to be a rehearsal of what would eventually be his anal rape … something seemed to fill his mind … urging him on towards sexual gratification … as if he were surrendering to this guiding presence and the control of this demonic spirit.
That’s when he felt Snake’s erect cock pressing hard against his anus … as if he fully intended to sodomize him. He was only supposed to fake it … but he wasn’t … what’s more, Rocket wanted his hot cock inside him. He pressed back against Snake’s hip as the tip of his penis penetrated his oily sphincter … he gasped!”
“Ohhhhh … fuck me, Snake! Fuck me!”
Snake’s boy-cock sank further into his tight bowels, thrusting back and forth against his prostate. Rocket felt himself tightening his anal muscles around his new lover’s cock. Their small, shallow movements became more urgent. More and more of Snake’s cock thrust into his rear. Rocket felt the fullness. The joy of the friction against his prostate built quickly against their need to orgasm.
That was when Snake began to ejaculate inside him, just as Rocket began to do the same across the fake blood altar. Snake’s mouth moaned into Rocket’s sweating back as Rocket felt the warm jets of semen spurting upwards inside his bowels.
The music had stopped.
Everything had stopped. But both of them were so caught up in the passion of the moment that they’d forgotten what they were supposed to be doing … which was, of course, getting the chef’s knife from his belt.
“Excellent! That’s what I’m looking for!” cried Dr Groski, watching the two boys disentangle, and seemingly unaware of Snake’s actual penetration.
“That was bleedin’ ‘ot!” Snake whispered to Rocket.
They both kissed momentarily.
xxxxx
“Did he get the knife?” asked Rocket.
The chef had left abruptly (maybe from the urgent need to masturbate). But Flute seemed to have a smirk on his face that said that he was successful. That’s when Mr Blue grabbed him by the hair and pulled him to the floor.
“What do you think you’re doing, boy?”
The knife fell noisily from under his gown onto the floor.
“What’s this you sneaky little faggot!”
Flute tried to pull away, and that’s when Mr Blue stabbed him with the chef’s knife. Without warning, he thrust it between the boy’s ribcage and into his heart.
“Aaaaghhhhrrr …” gasped Flute as he fell to the floor with the blade sticking out from his side.
His gown was immediately soaked in red. His eyes rolled back in his head.
The other boys jumped down from the stage. Joystick, Snake, Baton, Doodle, and Rocket all rushed to Flute’s aid, but it was too late. The damage was done. By this time, the orderlies had caught on, and each tried to grab as many of the boys as they could. The gallery was a scream box of pandemonium.
“Get back! Shut up! Get back all of you! Now,” bellowed the crazed Mr Blue.
Somehow, in the confusion, it seemed that the miscreant knife had disappeared again, leaving only Flute’s small body in a crumpled heap on the ground covered in blood.
Doodle and Joystick thrashed in the arms of one of the orderlies, while Baton and Rocket were held by the other. Snake slowly backed away from the angry Mr Blue.
“What have you done?” cried Dr Groski, as she bent down over the broken body of the fallen boy — his dead eyes stared right back at her.
“It was an accident!” lied Mr Blue.
xxxxx
CHAPTER THREE OF “SWEAT DREAMS ” (2,802 WORDS)
Mr Blue and Dr Gorski met later that night. Mr Blue had secretly faked the psychologist’s signature on the paperwork for Rocket’s lobotomy. And the surgeon would be arriving the day after tomorrow. Mr Blue’s rash actions in the gallery had not only upset the Doctor, but had drawn to her attention that things were not exactly right in the institution. He had to be more careful.
”I swear, it was an accident. The boy had a dangerous weapon, and I was trying to contain the situation,” he lied.
“This is not the first time that patients have been harmed or killed,” she stated, “I will have to submit a report to the Board about this.”
”Well, you do what you need to do, Doctor. We’re all on the same side. What if the patient had harmed you or one of the others?”
”The boy had never done anything dangerous before. I’m not sure what he was up to, but his death seemed unnecessary,” replied Dr Gorski.
”Let’s just put this behind us,” said Mr Blue, fingering the key that hung around his neck. “Besides, those in glasshouses shouldn’t throw stones.”
”What do you mean?” replied Dr Gorski.
She obviously didn’t like the inference.
”You’re no angel, Doctor. I’ve seen the way you treat that new kid. Like he’s something special … favoritism isn’t to be tolerated in Lennox House.”
”Every patient is special. How are we to cure them if we don’t understand them?” she answered.
“All I’m saying. You have your methods, and I have mine. You have your job, and I have mine, too … we both serve the greater good … so let’s not get all high and mighty, right?”
xxxxx
The mood was awful. For the longest time, it was silent in the dorm. Everyone was still in shock from the unfortunate death of their friend. The orderlies have locked everything down for the rest of the day and night.
Mr Blue had placed Wang and Doodle in a separate dorm from Snake, Baton, and Rocket. He never explained why. It seemed that nobody was going anywhere.
However, they’d stashed the knife away, taped to the underside of the drawer in the dorm cabinet.
Rocket was acutely aware that there was only one day left before the full moon ritual. He’d heard stories about the evil High Priestess. These stories varied according to who was telling them. A vampire. A monster. A succubus. A demon. He’d been warned that being offered to their god-like figure, Philotanus, was a one-way trip to hell. The High Priestess was neither male nor female, but something in between — a sexual freak.
He needed the key — the key that hung around the neck of Flute’s killer.
”It’s over,” whispered Snake.
Baton looked dejected, beaten, and lost.
”But we were so close!” answered his younger brother, Baton.
”We only need the key!” cried Rocket, “Tonight will be our last chance!”
”Yes, but there’s no way to separate the key from Mr Blue!” said Snake, “No way!”
It seemed they’d reach a dead end.
That’s when the door opened, and standing there was Mr Blue and his two burly orderlies. They looked mean and aggressive.
“Okay, I hate to break up this solemn party, but I want you two to follow these guys to the gallery, now. It’s for your own good. I mean NOW!” Mr Blue pointed to Snake and Baton.
The orderlies moved in and immediately grabbed them and pulled them out of the dorm, leaving Mr Blue and Rocket on their own. Mr Blue placed the portable cassette player on the side table, then closed the door and locked it from the inside. He paced the room and then came to a halt in front of the boy, whilst Rocket sat speechlessly on his bunk. Rocket looked down at the floor, though he could feel Mr Blue’s beady eyes on him.
”You think you’re something special, don’t you?” he said.
Rocket didn’t answer.
”Look at me when I talk to you.”
Rocket looked up. His eyes were filled with tears. Was Mr Blue going to kill him, too?
”I don’t know what Dr Gorski sees in you,” his voice quivered, “All this talk about waiting for the High Priestess. I don’t know what’s so special about you … faggot boy! About your role in the full moon ritual. Etc, etc. I don’t buy it. I think I should bend you over this bed. Right now. And beat your fucking faggot ass!”
Rocket began to tremble. Was he going to harm him? Was he going to kill him? Is that why the others were taken away? No witnesses.
”Stand up. Remove your gown,” ordered Mr Blue, “I want to see that ‘dance thing’ you do for the others. You little faggot cock-teaser! Show me why I shouldn’t strangle you right now!”
Rocket’s eye caught a glimpse of the shining master key that hung around Mr Blue’s neck. He also noticed Mr Blue’s pants bulging at the front. Could it be that he was getting off on mistreating him? Was he a sadist? He undressed as Mr Blue ordered. Though his cock was limp, he felt a strange arousal from this situation.
Mr Blue pressed the button on the old-fashioned cassette player, and the sacred tantric music began. The old stretched cassette tape sounded as if the music was distorted, jarring and out of pitch.
Rocket closed his eyes. He let his body sway to the unfamiliar sensual sounds. His angel’s voice resounded in his mind. “If you want to be free, then you must escape!” … Rocket tried to imagine doing it in front of Snake. How he’d found ecstasy in their anal sex on stage. Ah, yes, he thought, it had brought him to an amazing orgasm. Rocket touched himself as he began to slowly gyrate to the undulating waves of sound and auditory elements that seemed to synchronize with his breath and physical arousal.
He thought of Wang. Soft and demure. Remembering the sensation of Wang urinating over him as they danced together for Dr Gorski. The smell of their mixed urea on their bodies as they frotted. His boy-cock began to stiffen. It felt strange to do in front of this horrible, vile man. His nubile, young body moved erotically to the magical music as he began to stroke himself to the earthy vibrations of the beat.
”That’s it. Fucker! Do it. Show me, faggot boy. Show me what I want to see!” insisted Mr Blue.
Rocket opened his eyes. Mr Blue was sitting on the opposite bunk bed. He’d removed his shirt, opened his pants, and was masturbating while he watched Rocket dance. His cock was incredibly long and thick, with a blueish cock-head that was already wet with precum.
Rocket licked his lips and dared to stare directly into Mr Blue’s perving eyes. He moved closer, and closer, thrusting his narrow hips, as if he was about to fuck Mr Blue’s snarling face.
”Do that fuck-dance! You fucking faggot! Mmmmmm! More!” he moaned.
Rocket bent forward, his flexible spine enabled him to first lick the tip of his own cock, as he continued to dance and thrust back and forth. He danced like a contortionist. With a little bit more effort, Rocket found he could gobble his own cock-head. It felt so bizarre, doing this sexual act in front of this evil man who threatened to harm him, just by the way he stared.
”Fuck! Mmmmm … Fuck! Freak! Fucking faggot freak!”
Now, Rocket moved directly in front of Mr Blue. His left hand rested on the man’s shoulders, while he masturbated himself with the right, straddling Mr Blue’s naked thighs, lower and lower, just hovering over Mr Blue’s huge cock. Both of them were masturbating furiously as Rocket leaned forward and kissed his open mouth. Mr Blue went to grab his waist to press him downwards onto his impatient cock. It was clear that he wanted to penetrate the boy and fuck his faggot ass.
”Not yet, Master,” moaned Rocket.
Mr Blue let go and grinned evilly. It seemed the sadist liked being called “Master” … as if it was him who was in complete control. But of course, that wasn’t the case now. Rocket drew Mr Blue’s knees together, standing upright, so that his young cock was aligned with Mr Blue’s sweating face.
”Suck me, Master! Suck my little, fucking faggot cock!” taunted Rocket in a faggoty sweet voice.
Mr Blue opened his mouth, as if under the boy’s spell. He began to gobble Rocket’s cock greedily. That’s when Rocket blow his load, over his face, into his mouth, and down his neck and chest. Ropes of whitish cum squirted into his eye sockets, as Rocket gasped for breath from the intensity of his orgasm.
Everything stopped suddenly. Just as it did the time before. Rocket looked at Mr Blue, covered in his copious ejaculate.
He took a moment to collect his thoughts. Rocket’s hand clutched the key that hung around Mr Blue’s neck and pulled it, so that the chain broke. He had the key. The angel’s words sang in his head.
“If you want to escape there is a fifth item that only you can find. At the appropriate time, you’ll discover this. It will mean a deep personal sacrifice to reach freedom.”
He went to draw, pulled it out and turned it upside-down, to retrieve the map, the knife, and the lighter. He picked up his gown and quickly dressed. He wasn’t sure how long he had, but this was the moment. He unlocked the door and rushed to the gallery to find Snake and Baton.
They looked at Rocket in disbelief. He had the key. He actually had the key. Rocket looked at the orderlies, as they stood like frozen statues.
“We need the map to guide us out of here,” explained Rocket.
“Yes, and we can use the lighter to set fire to the stage curtains, as a distraction, while we make our way out the back door,” said Baton excitedly.
“I’m guessing that the key opens all the doors?” Asked Snake.
“Yes. It’s the master key,” answered Rocket, “I’m just not sure yet what we’re supposed to do with the knife?”
“We’ll figure it out as we go!”
They lit the old velvet curtains, which began to smoke and burn brightly. Then they were out in the corridor. They followed the twists and turns of the map that led them to the rear of Lennox House. As Rocket opened the door, he heard the booming voice of Mr Blue as he tried to close the distance between himself and the escapees. No way was he going to let some faggots get away on his watch.
“Run,” said Rocket, holding the knife.
“No, Rocket, let’s go!” cried Snake.
It was in this moment that he realized the fifth item on his list.
“Oh,” he said in a moment of realization, “It’s me, of course it’s me … This was never my story, it’s yours,” he said to Rocket, “Now don’t screw it up, okay?”
Snake and Baton looked at Rocket. They only had seconds.
Rocket turned to face Mr Blue with the chef’s knife in his hand.
xxxxx
Rocket found himself naked. He tried to move, but his wrists and ankles were restrained. So much for the dance. The gallery still smelt of fire that they’d lit. But the room had been transformed. It was no longer a theater but a satanic temple. He gasped at the realization that the ‘full moon ritual ‘was about to begin. The gathering where all were clad in long, black robes. Hundreds of twinkling black candles seemed to be the only light source. The participants began to chant their devilish enns. A slow drum beat joined their awful, evil chorus.
Rocket tried to raise his head to see what was going on. Though she wore a demonic mask across her eyes, he recognized Dr Groski as she rallied the femboys around him. They all stood as naked as he did. The cocks were already upright as they masturbated in a semicircle to his left and right, looping around behind him, where he could not see.
The chanting began to get louder. The beat became stronger. And from between his parted legs, he saw the High Priestess. She was dressed in a bright red gown of shiny silk, emblazoned with a black, inverted cross.
The High Priestess called out in Latin.
“Ave Philotane, daemon pederastiae. Deus gallinorum, voluptatis sodomicae. Accipe hoc sacrificium stuprationis ut signum devotionis nostrae ad infinitam libidinem tuam, nequitiam, et perversionem sexualem. In nomine tuo futuimus. In nomine tuo ejaculamus! Ave Philotane! Ave Philotane! Ave Philotane!”
[Hail Philotanus, demon of pederasty. God of cocks, of sodomistic pleasure. Take this rape offering as a sign of our devotion to your endless lust, depravity, and sexual perversion. We fuck in your name. We cum in your name! Hail Philotanus! Hail Philotanus! Hail Philotanus!]
“Ave Philotane! Ave Philotane! Ave Philotane!” replied the gathering.
Rocket found himself aroused most profoundly. He knew full well that this would end badly. But still his cock was fully erect. Rocket watched as the High Priestess opened her bright red gown. It was a signal for the others around him to open their black robes too. They all began to press the naked boys down between the legs, holding their heads, as they began to face-fuck them.
“Ave Philotane! Ave Philotane! Ave Philotane!”
“Ave Philotane, daemon amoris puerilis. In nomine tuo lambunt. Urinum nostrum in nomine tuo bibunt! In ora eorum in nomine tuo eiaculamur! Nates eorum in nomine tuo futuimus! Ave Philotane! Ave Philotane! Ave Philotane!” cried the High Priestess.
[Hail Philotanus, demon of boy love. They suck in your name. They drink our piss in your name! We cum in their mouths in your name! We fuck their asses in your name! Hail Philotanus! Hail Philotanus! Hail Philotanus!]
Rocket remembered stories about the evil High Priestess. A vampire. A monster. A succubus. A demon. The High Priestess was neither male nor female, but something in between — a sexual freak — and he’d been warned that being offered to their god-like figure, Philotanus, was a one-way trip to hell.
“Ave Philotane! Ave Philotane! Ave Philotane!”
Now, seeing her before him, her breasts were small. Her nipples pointed and her areolas swollen. As she moved between his thighs, Rocket saw her cock. It was one of the biggest cocks he’d ever seen. It was huge and thick. Her testicles hung low, filled with her demonic seed.
Rocket felt her cock-head pressing up against his meager anus. She was an ass-splitter. It was far too thick and too long to penetrate him without dire circumstances.
“No, please!” He begged.
xxxxx
The surgeon checked his patient’s vitals. Rocket was heavily sedated, but still the boy seemed to stare back at the surgeon. The lobotomy was a quick process. It was true that often it didn’t work, frequently resulting in seizures, chronic headaches, brain abscesses, haemorrhaging, and, often, death. But that was the nature of the thing. Unpredictable and often irreversible. It was a process of cutting the connections in the prefrontal cortex. A long, pointed implement would be hammered through the upper eye socket into the brain.
“I heard he tried to stab the chief orderly,” said the nurse, “He even started a fire in the gallery. And helped two patients to escape. He’s extremely dangerous. He needs to be treated.”
“Well, I just don’t like the way he’s looking at me,” said the surgeon, “It’s like he’s daring me to do it. I’ve just never seen this behavior before.”
xxxxx
Snake and Baton looked back in the darkness at Lennox House. The fire was still burning in the night sky. It appeared to be such an evil place.
However, the full moon lit the path ahead. They’d have to take the back roads. Stay out of sight. They stole some clothing from a nearby farmhouse so that they could shed their institutional gowns (a giveaway that they were escapees from Lennox House).
“You have a long way to go,” said an angelic voice in Snake’s mind.
Yes, everyone has an angel. A guardian who watches over them. We can’t know what form they’ll take. One day, an old man. The next day, a little girl. But don’t let appearances fool you. They can be as fierce as any dragon. Yet they’re not here to fight our battles … but to whisper to our hearts and remind us that it’s we who hold the power over the worlds we create. We can deny our angels exist … convince ourselves they can’t be real. But they show up anyway. At strange places. And at strange times.
xxxxx
THE END?
xxxxx
If you have enjoyed this story or would like to offer praise to the author, who is always hungry for encouragement and affirmation, please email xpanther2019@protonmail.com