The Telemachus Story Archive

By Wolfpek
Email: Wolfpek



Disclaimer: The story contains themes of male on male nonconsensual sex. The author in no way condones rape or torture. This is a fantasy only. If these themes do not interest you, or you are under eighteen you have no business reading this. If they are of interest to you as an adult reader, then please enjoy: Wolfpek

“Where is your heart?
You give your heart to each thing in turn.
Carrying, you do not carry it...
You destroy your heart on earth”

—Nahua poem

Things in this desert didn’t just die; they baked and fried in the heat until there was nothing left. The Chihuahuan desert is a place of bones, where innards were turned out, to desiccate into the dust which coated everything from the nostrils, to the back of the throat. Dust under the fingernails, dust between the toes, dust in eyes and ears. In every conceivable crevice was omnipresent, relentless dust, and it’s constant companions; the hordes of never resting flies, and a merciless inescapable heat that bore down on he dry earth like a thick shroud.

The tequila was the only thing that seemed to help, stinging his tongue like a honeyed scorpion, some how it helped him believe that their might be such a thing as rain in this parched world.

The drought was well over a year old, stretching all the way back to his native California with no relief in sight.

The annoying sound of a flute assaulted his ears. It seemed like everywhere he went, down here, some tone deaf kid was blowing on one of those things. Between that, and the smell of copal they seemed to burn in every bodega and street corner, a man could go postal. After one sideways look, the kid fled, but the flute remained in his ears.

D.E.A. Agent Erik Tobiassen, pushed the glass away. One was enough. This wasn’t a tropical vacation. He had a job to do.

He’d been sent down here to the backwater town of Guerrero to track the actions of

Vincente Mendoza, who had recently risen to power within the Juarez Cartel, by the murder of his predecessor Pablo Alfonso Guajardo. Mendoza, it was suspected, was not only responsible for a number of drug related gang executions within the U.S., but also the disappearance of dozens of young men, most of them college aged athletes.

They had found no connection between the kidnapped jocks, and any drug, or gang related activity.

The only quality the victims all seemed to share was striking good looks, and athletic bodies.

It seemed unlikely that a homosexual could have risen to power as a Mexican drug lord but evidence indicated that it could be the case.

Only two had been found. The first, promising collegiate quarterback, who seemed to have been the victim of some grisly ritualistic murder. His heart had been cut from his chest. He had been sexually assaulted. The second, had only just made the cut for the

U.S. Olympic gymnastic team, was found alive, but catatonic, overdosed on some sort of hallucinogen. He had also been brutally raped. A pentagram had been painted on his chest with what they believed to be chicken blood. The kid was still at UCLA medical, and still not talking.

Were these murders meant to intimidate rivals, or was Mendoza into some sick snuff kink?

Either way, this sicko pervert had to be stopped, and Erik was here to do just that.

Erik was here to prove Mendoza’s connection to these crimes, and bring him to justice back in the U.S.

He turned to leave and found himself mesmerized by a pair of dark eyes. Yet another dusky beauty wanted to say “hello”.

Erik, had never had trouble getting any woman he wanted, but down here they seemed to throw themselves at him.

He had never had to actually push women away before, but during the four months of this mission, he couldn’t walk out the door without being approached by some hot Latin beauty.

He had taken up, on a regular basis, with no less than four women. Mara, Luna, Pluma, and Flor were all friends, and didn’t seem to mind sharing, on more than one occasion, at the same time. They wanted him to call them his “goddesses”, and he had no problem obliging. It was some of the best sex he’d ever had, and he’d had his share.

He wasn’t exactly vain, however he did own a mirror. He had no memory of his father, but he inherited the famous adventurer’s Nordic good looks, as well has his taste for fiery Latinas.


Erik’s father;Thor Tobiassen had made a name for himself, before the age of twenty-five, as an ethnographer, and zoologist, traveling the world, living with lesser know tribes in the Amazon, and New Guinea and recreating the living situations on ancient peoples. He Had come with his young wife; Astrid, from the tiny hamlet of Vik on Norway’s Sognefjord on a fellowship grant form the Archaeology department at U.C.L.A., where he had developed a taste for the local dark haired women. An “Indian Jones” type rogue with the looks of a Viking god, he was never able to stay at home long, or out of other women’s beds. He had disappeared when Erik was an infant, on a mysterious dig somewhere very close to here.

 After his own experience with the local chicas, Erik couldn’t blame him, and half expected, or hoped, to bump into him while down here.

Not that he had ever wanted for a father figure. In fact, he couldn’t have done better.

Astrid had remarried Santiago Ramos, and ex marine, Commandant of Cadets at the military academy.

Santiago had been tough, but more attentive than any birth father could have been. He devoted every waking hour training and developing the boy, like a sculptor creating a work of art, into an ideal of perfect young manhood.

They studied trained, lifted, ran, swam, hiked, boxed, hunted. Only perfection was accepted. Another boy might have crumbled, but Erik, always eager to please, never stopped striving.

Under Ramos’ strict tutelage, Erik became the star quarterback, fastest runner, the most disciplined, most honorable.

He also grew to become, by far, the hottest stud in the state. Ramos had started calling him “Don Guapo”,making fun of his wandering ways, and cautioning him not to be a dog like his father.

“Just because your looks open any door, you don’t have to walk through every one. Don’t leave a woman behind, the way your father left your mother.

Listen Don Guapo, you have an effect on people, a power over them, which lot of men never have. Not only women, of course, but sometimes even men. They are giving you a gift of their admiration. Treat them with respect and honor, as I have tried to raise you as an honorable man.”

Following Ramos’ example he joined the marines, after a tour of duty, he had joined the DEA.

The night before this mission, they had gone out, man to man, to play pool. After a few drinks be met Solveig, an aspiring actress originally from Balestrand, a town not far from his parent’s birthplace. He wasn’t normally attracted to blondes. Too much like his own family, he tended to choose more exotic women. It must have been the tequila shots, but it was as if they were under a spell. He had no memory of even leaving the bar. They tore into each other like wild beasts. He awoke in her apartment amid a pile of torn clothes and confusion. Neither could explain what had happened. She was very much in love with her fiancée, who must never know. It had been one of the hottest nights either had experienced. They decided to part friends.

He’d had a text from her last week. She was happily married, and pregnant with his son.

She wanted him to know that she would give him the middle name; Tobiassen. A family name she’d told her husband. It would be their secret. She thanked him for this gift, and would always remember that magical night. Goodbye.

It had happened. He’d become his father, and left a woman behind with a son who would never know him. It seemed fate had mapped out a destiny for him that he could not escape. He resolved to find a way to be in the boy’s life when he got back to the States, even if only as a family friend.

Now he looked into new eyes. He just couldn’t help himself. He stood a foot taller than most of the locals. That fact, his blonde hair, big tight muscles, and blue eyes made him somewhat exotic in these parts. Pilar? Lupe? He had already forgotten this one’s name, but enjoyed the way her eyes drank in his big pecs and ripped six pack, framed in his sweat covered ribbed tank top . She put her hand on his rough cheek. Luna asked him to keep the stubble. She liked the way it felt on her skin, like a cat’s tongue.

Maybe he could spare an hour.


“Hey, El Nebeda”

It was Chuy, the police chief, and his men. They’d been working closely together on this case, and become close. Chuy’s family frequently hosted him for dinner. He rarely saw his stocky mustachioed friend without his cap, expect when Rosa, his wife, demanded he remove it at the table, forcing him to expose his bald spot. Chuy had taken to calling him “Nebeda” or catnip because of the way the local women ran to him like cats to nip.

“Sorry Nebeda, but we got to go.”

There was an archaeological zone in Casas Grandes. With the region of Juarez, the very heart of cartel country, this site, called Paquime, may have had something to do with Mendoza’s bizarre ritualistic murders.

It was not yet open to the public, but considered very important.

Leonard Caldwell, the American professor in charge of the dig, had agreed to show them around.


Erik stared at the dried carcass of a no longer definable animal as the sped through the drought ridden parched landscape to the roped off grouping of ancient adobe buildings. A slight weather beaten man waited for them.

“Tobiassen did you say?” Caldwell had the weathered look of a man who had spent most of his five, or six decades under the harsh sun. Bright friendly eyes squinted out from the weather worn skin, and old Oxford hung lightly on his vowels. “Any relation to Thor Tobiassen?”

Erik felt a rush of excitement. “Yes. I never met him, but he was my father”

Caldwell smiled. “I knew your father, very well. He was one of my best friends. In fact it was he who discovered this sight. We had been working on it for two years, before he left. I must say, you’re quite the chip off the block. You look so much like him”

He couldn’t keep the excitement out of his voice “Do you know anything about where he might have gone?”

“If only I knew more. There was a woman. There was always a woman, but this one was different. Jacinta was quite a beauty, a married beauty. He left me a note saying that they planned to run away together, and they were gone. Her husband was never heard from again either. I wish I knew. I hope he’s well. Maybe he and Jacinta have settled somewhere. Maybe her husband caught up with them. I just don’t know. I miss him. He was one of the best. He had an instinctual understanding, and respect, for what he found. It was as if he lived and breathed these forgotten cultures, and became one with them. He could have discovered so much more, if he could have got out of the way of his looks.”

He sensed Erik’s disappointment, and put his hand on his broad shoulder.

“ Would you like to experience what your father discovered?”

The men entered one of the buildings, and down a set of stairs to a tunnel like cave

Erik made out a point of light at far end, which gave him a vague sense of apprehension

When that light gave way to a clearing, what he saw took his breath away.

A majestic step pyramid loomed over them, magnificent and terrible, like an alien Spacecraft.


Erik’s heart quickened. The apprehension grew less vague, and into an aching, nameless dread

“Sublime, isn’t it?” whispered Caldwell.

“We are two thousand kilometers from the known Aztec Empire. Either this is an anomaly, or this will force the academic community to rethink everything they know about this civilization. Why is it hidden behind Pueblo ruins? There is much we must discover before we publish this find, thus the secretive nature of this dig. We are among the few people alive today who know of the existence of this pyramid. We keep this very well guarded. I’m sorry, but I believe this is a dead end. There is no chance your Senor Mendoza would have come here, although I am told he operates nearby. I hope you will bring him to justice.

Come, let’s explore”

As they walked toward the structure, Erik grew more unsettled. As he set his foot on the first tread, he felt as if a heavy stone had grown in the pit of his stomach. He struggled to concentrate.

Caldwell seemed not to notice ‘However the ritual killings you described are not inconsistent with what took place here, during the month of Toxcatl.”


“Yes during the month of..what is the date today? Is this May already? Well, that would have been just about now.

You see, at the top of this pyramid there is an excellent sculpture of the god; Quezalcoatl, represented as a feathered serpent with impressive claws, in this case. Its eyes are made of huge rare emeralds, worth a fortune. If Mendoza had come here, he would certainly have taken them.”

Erik’s heart pounded into his ears as he gazed upon the hideous barbaric deity. He seemed to recognize it from every unremembered childhood nightmare.

“Quezalcoatl was the enemy of the most powerful god in the Aztec pantheon” Caldwell continued unaware that Erik could barely breathe “Tezcatilpoca; the god of the north. The name means obsidian, or mirror, due to his excessive strength, and shining beauty. He is depicted as a golden warrior, pale skinned, like the snows on Sierra Madres. He has the power to forgive sins, or to release a man from the fate assigned to him at birth. The two gods remain in constant conflict, which causes discord, particularly drought, here on Earth.

During the month of Toxcatl, a young man was chosen, whether from the community, or from captured enemies. They chose only the strongest, bravest warrior, and always the most beautiful. Throughout the course of a year, this youth would be dressed as

Tezcatilpoca, and treated as a living incarnation of the god. The youth would represent

Tezcatilpoca on earth; He would ritually wed four beautiful women as his companions, representing four goddesses; Xochiquetzal, or feather, Xilonen, flower, Atlantonan, the moon, and Huixtochihuatl, goddess of the sea.”

They had climbed about two thirds of the way up, and encountered an odd looking block of stone, rising from a square platform, in the centre of the stair. As seen from the bottom of the pyramid, it was a square, perhaps 60 centimeters high, coming around, it seemed to be more than a triangle on it’s side, at the base of which seemed to be something like an eye hook. The sight of it filled Erik with revulsion, but for some reason his cock stiffened.

“This piece is unique. I have not seen it on any other Aztec pyramid. Your father found this inscription here, that reads; ‘The Priest’s gift’ But we have yet to understand it’s function”

Erik was beginning to feel a bit dizzy and short of breath.

“At the end of the year, during the month of Toxcatl, the beautiful young warrior, would be marked on his chest in the shape of a pentagram out of chicken blood, usually drugged with peyote, so he walked freely up the stairs.”

They had reached the top of the pyramid, before the terrifying, and remarkably realistic image of the Quezalcoatl, behind a large stone slab. At its feet, lay a male figure, almost

Hellenistic in it’s realistic detail, and grace, which somehow seemed familiar to Erik.

In the glowering light, its fangs seemed to drip blood. It’s claws, like razors seemed to reach hungrily for him. It sported an absurdly large, out of proportion phallus, which Erik swore pulsed at the sight of him. The emerald eyes seem to stare hungrily into Erik’s soul, as if it recognized him.


Those eyes burned into Erik with an unquenchable searing heat. Was he having a heart attack? He was rock hard now, and so dizzy he could barely stand.

He prayed Caldwell did not notice.

He put his big hand on the statue. Nothing like stone, the scales felt like the wet skin of a

living reptile. He could feel a heart beating in time with his own. The scales moved under his hand. The creature was breathing!

“Remarkable isn’t it?” Chuckled Caldwell. “Something about the humidity makes it feel as if the statue is moving. I still find the illusion unsettling myself.

Once the youth reached the summit, the priests would lay him on this sacrificial stone, open his chest with an obsidian dagger, and remove his heart.”


“It is said this would bring the rains. I daresay there would be some around here, who would volunteer for the job, if it would end this damnable drought.”

Erik could barely hear him for the buzzing in his ears. The air was thick with the scent of sweat and man sex. A nameless, but familiar, dread filled him, as if he had been here before. He felt as if the pyramid was spinning wildly, and the ground under his feet shifted.. He put his hand on the slab. It was thick with fresh hot blood, which coated his hand.

His own blood!

He felt he heard the god’s whispering voice in his head. “I see you. Tezcatlpoca!”

As if the creature had reached out and pushed him , the tough straight stud collapsed face down, over the cold slab, his big round ass pushed up toward the idol.

“My dear boy! Are you alright?”

Erik, with Caldwell’s help, struggled to right himself. His hand was dry. There were some dry dark stains on the altar, but if it was blood, it was centuries old.

The statue was just stone.

“I’m sorry professor, it must be the heat. I think I’m a little dehydrated”

Caldwell handed him a canteen. “Aren’t we all these days? Listen, take this book I’ve written on human sacrifice in the Aztec world. It may help you understand the ritual, so perhaps you can understand and catch your killer.”

The water helped. He was relieved to walk down the stairs and get out of this place.

Normally brave, and unflappable, Erik couldn’t explain what had overtaken him back there. That voice in his head still echoed in his ears. It must have been the tequila.

As they emerged from the Pueblo structure, his cell started to ring.

It was his boss; Marco Alvarez. “Erik, we’ve had a breakthrough. We’ve intercepted one of Mendoza’s U.S. buyers; Marquez. They’ve never met face to face. I’m taking his place at a meeting in a warehouse, just out side of Casa Grande. What is your location?

Meet me here in ten. I’ll explain the rest”


Once they could speak discreetly, in person, Alvarez explained; “This is a dangerous mission. I have no right to ask this of you. You are free to say no. No one will blame you”

“What is it chief?”

“Marquez wasn’t just bringing Mendoza cash in exchange for the meth. He was also bringing him,… well he was bringing him,.. a young gringo as payment. We all know about this perverts errr.. ‘tastes’, he’s been trafficking in white slavery. The kid is safe, but Mendoza is expecting a new sex slave. We need you to pose as the bait. Can you do it?”

Erik was still unsettled by what had happened on the pyramid, but he was a professional.

“I’ll do it sir.”

“I’m sorry, I’m going to need you to take off your shirt.”

For the first time in his life Erik, normally not at all shy, felt self-conscious about his body. All the men took in the massive pecs, delts and ripped abs of his bare torso. Without doubt, he was the logical choice to play this part. Any sex slaver would pay good money for this rugged Adonis.

“These are rope cuffs, Erik, it makes it look like your wrists, and ankles, are securely cuffed. But, you can see, you’ll easily be able to separate them when the time comes”

He paused awkwardly “There’s one more thing. You have to appear drugged. I’m going to have to carry you in… the way Mendoza likes it”

Erik nodded, disgusted at the prospect of being offered as a sexual object to another man.

He had nothing against gays, but the thought of engaging in such activity was repulsive.

“None of this will go in the report will it?”

“I think we can both agree no one wants that. Don’t worry. We got your back in there”

Alvarez leaned in, and Erik bent over his shoulder, his pants stretching tight over his big muscle ass.


Mendoza, a cigar in his mouth wandered among his treasures. His small podgy frame, and combed over bald spot, belied the fact that he had become the most ruthless and powerful drug lord in North and Central America. As a dirt poor urchin growing up on the dusty streets of Juarez, it was his frustrated longing for everything denied him, and everything he was not, that drove him to take what he wanted at any cost.

Not only money, but his unquenchable desire for the privileged hunky young gringos, who swaggered south of the border with their big muscles, and square jaws, looking for adventure, and cheap women, which gave him the steely ambition to rise to what he was now.

It wasn’t until after he killed Guajardo, and earned the fearful respect of any rival, that he could be open about his unique desires.

No one now dared spit on him or call him “maricon”. Not if they wanted to live. Soon he found like-minded “collectors” who shared his tastes, and a new business had developed. He soon found it doubled his profits, during his business forays across the border, to abduct innocent young studs, and sell them off as sex slaves on a global market.

It was easy, too. His victims were always arrogant, gullible, and not very bright.

Their superior physical prowess, and homophobic natures led them to believe themselves invincible. They could not conceive anyone would look on them, in the same predatory fashion that they viewed the bikini clad co-eds they bedded, so easily, on spring break in Cancun, or Cabo.

The market for this man flesh had proved inexhaustible, and unlike his other mind- altering merchandise, it did little harm to sample the wares from time to time.

This time he had a nice assortment of twelve athletic young bucks tied up here in his warehouse. It added to an intoxicating sense of danger that these powerful beasts, if freed could destroy him with even one punch. Of course, they were also kept subdued in a peyote-induced haze, so they were as unresisting as the sex dolls they were to become.

He looked at the treasure trove of muscle before him. Like collection of priceless art, each of these beauties more rare, and exquisite, than living statues of Greek gods.

Eight were already in boxes ready for shipping, and the other four were hanging by their ankles, tied to meat hooks, like sides of beef.

../../shimages/wolfpek_toxcatl/toxcatl_html_m6959acb2.png   ../../shimages/wolfpek_toxcatl/toxcatl_html_3378a0be.jpg   ../../shimages/wolfpek_toxcatl/toxcatl_html_7dfb15d9.jpg   ../../shimages/wolfpek_toxcatl/toxcatl_html_753336c2.jpg

He pointed to the stocky young wrestler, bits of his torn singlet, still hanging around his neck, and upper right thigh. He had stalked this one for some time, and watched him defeat a larger opponent impressively in what would be his last match.

They had grabbed the youth in the locker room before he could change, and so overcome by his beauty in the tight spandex ripped it apart and raped the stud on the spot.


His henchmen took the stud down.

“Gently, gently. You know I don’t like any marks on my merchandise.”

They wrapped chains around his barrel chest and massive triceps, and bent the grappler over some waste containers.

He had only just buried his cock in the wrestler’s big plump ass when a henchman cleared his throat.


“Hmm hmm.. Don Mendoza. Your clients are here”

Unsatisfied, he pulled out of the tight hole, and did not notice the henchman eagerly take his place to finish the job.

Mendoza’s jaw dropped when he saw the prize Alvarez had hanging over his shoulder.

“Senor Marquez, I see you brought me something exquisite. Put the merchandise on the table over there”

They put the money down first. Mendoza never took his eyes off Erik’s ass while his men counted the money.

Erik could feel the perverted slaver’s eyes on him, and fought the urge to pound him into dust then and there.

“It’s all there, boss”

“And now let me see this special gift you have brought me”

Alvarez laid Erik down on a steel meat-sorting table. The metal was cold against his naked back.

“Careful, I don’t want any marks on my merchandise. No cuts or bruises. They are too valuable”

Mendoza approached in awe, and grabbed Erik’s square jaw in his pudgy little hand.

He had enjoyed many frat type jocks in the past. Full of delicious youthful spunk and energy, but here was a man. A real man.

While still a classic specimen of youthful strength beauty, this one was tough, hardened by life experience.

Cleary this one was a fighter, perhaps a soldier, and a shrewd opponent. He was going to keep his new prize carefully contained. He sensed this stud could be deadly if freed.

He had never seen a man this beautiful, throbbing with raw masculine power.

“Dios Mio. This is one of the best pieces of ass I’ve ever seen.”

The hand ran down his throat to cup Erik’s left tit. Erik tested the bonds around his

Wrists. They did not give as easily as before. Something was wrong.

He tried not to shiver as he felt the panting drug lord’s sandpaper cheek kiss his neck just behind his ear and below his Adam’s apple.

Mendoza, face pressed against Erik’s tight flesh, inhaled deeply and loudly through his nose, drinking in the scent of bound stud’s manly musk.

“Ahhhh delicious. I may have to sample this one before I sell him. “

He grabbed both man tits roughly with his podgy little hands.

“ Or maybe, I’ll just have to keep this one for myself”

The straight DEA agent had had enough. NO MAN touched him this way! He pulled at the breakaway bonds, which still did not give. What the fuck?

“Oooh thank you senor. This is the most beautiful slave I have ever seen. Where did you find him? Who is he?”

“You’ll enjoy this Don Mendoza. He’s actually a former marine, and DEA agent, sent down here to spy on you.

He was trying to infiltrate our organization. I knew he was the perfect gift for you, so we let him think we believed him, until his guard was down.

I chloroformed the arrogant stud myself. It was a thing of beauty. I knew you’d like him”

This had gone too far.

“Ah hahahaha. That is even hotter.” He grabbed Erik’s big jaw again. “You were going to bring me down were you, you big slab of meat? Now you’re all mine.”

He forced his tongue deep into Erik’s mouth, so passionately the helpless agent struggled to breathe.

“And I’m going to enjoy your sweet suffering. I’m never going to tire of raping you”

Why wasn’t Alvarez helping him? The straining muscles only excited the drug lord further. The little hands ran freely over the quivering torso.

Mendoza began panting. This particular slave was driving him mad with lust.

His mouth closed around Erik’s nipple.


He kissed down the treasure trail. His tongue wormed into Erik’s quivering navel before heading further south. He opened the fly and took out the impressively long cock.

He leaned in to nuzzle the balls.


“NOW!” Shouted Alvarez.

Erik, grabbed the fat trafficker’s head between his mighty powerful thighs and choked him out, before rolling out from under the fire fight.

Finally the break away bonds, broke away and he was free.

Alvarez tossed him his gun, and he joined in.

Mendoza’s biggest henchmen came at him from the side, knocking the gun out of his hand, and picked him up in a bear hug choke hold, his pants, still open and riding down over the curve of his butt, baring the crack. He head butted the beast elbowed his way out of the hold and felled the giant in two punches.

That was the last of them. All the henchmen had fallen.

“STOP” Shouted a recovered Mendoza, His arm around Chuy’s neck and gun at his temple. “I’ll need an escape vehicle and that case of money, thank you. Oh and I’ll keep that hunky piece of meat you brought in. I’m not going to part with him.

Drop your gun stud, you’re MINE”

Erik had no choice. He laid his gun down on the ground. Mendoza’s eyes ran up and down his shirtless torso

“You” he shouted at Alvarez. “Tie him up properly this time. I don’t want any trouble when I rape his ass in my getaway car”

Alvarez reluctantly took a piece of rope from the table.

“Sorry man.” He said as he pretended to, once again, tie the stud’s wrists.

Instead he handed him another gun.

“That’s right.” Mendoza sneered “Now, you stud, slowly walk toward me.” He licked his

parched lips. “I’m going to enjoy ramming my big cock up your helpless ch.. ..”

Erik took the shot. A small hole appeared in the middle of the drug trafficker’s forehead.

Mendoza fell backwards, dead before he hit the floor

The DEA agents and local police rounded up the rest of the gang, and freed the hanging, boxed up young hunks. They found five more young studs locked naked in a cage, unharmed. The surviving criminals were sent back to the States to stand trial, and the young athletes sent back to U.C.L.A. medical for treatment and counseling.

Alvarez put a hand on his bare shoulder and he jumped.

“You okay man?”

“Yeah fine” Erik lied. He felt humiliated, even violated. He could still feel the slavers teeth on his nipple, his hand around his hardening cock. Somehow, deep down, his cock had reacted to the fondling. His body almost sang, as if his perfectly toned muscles were designed to be used, and taken, in this way.

He was not all right. Maybe he would never be quite the same again.

Alvarez looked concerned “I’m sorry you had to go through that. You were a hero today.

You brought down some real scum, and saved a lot of innocent people. No one should have to go through what you went through, but think of those young men whose lives you saved.”

Erik nodded. He was a professional. He did the right thing. He always did the right thing.

He would get over this.


Erik stood alone in his apartment after packing up, wearing only a pair of white boxers, too short to cover the lower curve of his thick ass, and a white V-neck T-shirt, which did little to hide his over muscled physique. This would be his last night down here. An appreciative Chuy had given him a very special bottle of tequila in gratitude for saving his life. He needed it to process the events of the day, and maybe somehow, help him sleep.

Something didn’t add up

They got Mendoza and his ring. Stopped the drug and sex slave operation, but Mendoza himself had said that his slaves were too valuable to ever harm or bruise. The young men were all unharmed, physically anyway.

There was no evidence of ritual murder.

“Could it be that another sick, murderous pervert was still out there? Should he be heading home just yet?”

Alvarez told him he was over thinking it. “You were a hero today, just get some rest.

We’re out of here tomorrow”

He paced. Something still didn’t add up.

He took a shot of Chuy’s top shelf tequila. It had an odd earthen taste to it. It was good. It had a warm sort of kick to it that he felt all the way to his balls.

He spied Caldwell’s book on Aztec human sacrifice, on the night-stand. He sat on the bed, and picked it up.

According to Caldwell, Aztecs believed that a great on-going sacrifice sustains the Universe. Everything was “tonacayotl”; The spiritual flesh-hood on earth. Everything, earth, crops, moon, stars, and people-sprung from the severed or buried bodies, fingers,

blood, or heads of sacrificed gods. A strong sense of indebtedness was connected with this worldview. The word for sacrifice was “nextlahualli” or debt-payment.

It seemed a great honor, in Mesoamerican society was bestowed on those who became

“ixiplta” or a god’s earthly representative. That divinity had been given human form. The victims were worshipped as the deity.

The dread he felt on the pyramid returned as he read the grisly details of flayed skin, and beating hearts removed and shown to, still living victims.

Which god was it Caldwell told him was sacrificed at this time of year? It had been difficult to listen with the buzzing in his ears. He skimmed the pages until the name leapt out at him.


Had someone shouted the name out loud as he read it? The sound seemed to have come from within himself. He had heard that voice before. He had heard that name before.. in the pyramid!

The tequila seemed to be making him a bit tired, dizzy, and very aroused. He rubbed his eyes, yawned , and shook his head.

The human incarnation of Tezcatilpoca walked around playing the flute, and copal was burned everywhere he went. Erik had heard nothing but that damned flute, and smelled the ever present copal, every day, since he arrived! According to the book, the victim was ritually married to four goddesses who names meant;

Feather, Moon, Flower, and Sea. His head was spinning as it had on the pyramid.

It occurred to him that the Spanish word for feather was Pluma. The word for sea, Mara. Flower, Flor, and moon was Luna. The names of the four women he’d been sleeping with since he’d been here!

Could it be? Even if it was his imagination he felt the urgent need to get up, and ready to fight.

But his eyelids became very heavy. His head dropped. He could barely move. He couldn’t seem to stay awake.


He lay back on the bed. Strange heated images passed through his mind of fire, and blood.

Drums seemed to play in his ears, or was that his beating heart?

His perfectly sculpted body began to writhe, and undulate on the bed. Suddenly he became aware he was not alone in his bedroom.

His eyes flew open. Four figures, in hooded monks robes stood staring at him. How long had they been there?

He tried to jump up, but his movements seemed slowed some how. Each of he monks grabbed an arm or a leg. He struggled, squirmed and fought, but his usual superior strength seemed to fail him. Was it the tequila? Had he been drugged?


One of the monks took both ankles, allowing the fourth to move to the head of the bed while pouring something from a bottle onto a cloth.

He managed for a moment to pull an arm free and knock the hood of the monk with the cloth off. Professor Caldwell smiled at him comfortingly.

“SSSShhhh” he whispered “It will all be okay now”

He clamped the cloth firmly over Erik’s nose and mouth. The stud struggled to pull his head away, and tried not to breath, but he relaxed into stillness.


One of the monks ripped his T-shirt apart from the V-neck, exposing Erik’s massive chest.


Caldwell dipped his finger in chicken blood, and lovingly drew a pentacle on the bare skin connecting the two pert nipples and navel. The other monks held their hands over him, and began to chant softly. Erik’s cock seemed to rise in response.


Caldwell ripped away what was left of the T-Shirt and pulled off the white boxers.


He looked down at the motionless naked form of the muscular D.E.A. agent as it was prayed over by the monks.


“This one is even more beautiful than his father. Quezalcoatl will be pleased”

His eyes ran over the flawless, chiseled body, and licked his lips.

“Yes, Quezalcoatl will be very pleased indeed”

The tough, straight former marine, lay completely naked and at the mercy of the mysterious hooded figures who uttered strange incantations over the sleeping stud.

Deep within his fevered dream he seemed to feel a gentle hand push the blonde hair from his forehead, and cup his cheek. He heard a voice as if from the bottom of a deep well.

“Don Guapo” It was his stepfather’s voice.

“I am so proud of you. I have watched you grow, every day, from a beautiful athletic youth into a powerful young god. After twenty-seven years of training you, and sculpting your beautiful body, it is time to harvest you.

You are the perfect offering to Quetzecoatl”

The hand continued to stroke the bared flesh, now that it had unfettered access. You have exceeded my every hope, and I am given the honor to carry you to your sacrifice.

I thank you for this gift, and the honor to have shared your life.”

In his dream, he felt Ramos tongue enter his mouth in a passionate kiss. With that Erik’s nightmare surrendered him into total silent blackness.

Ramos pulled his hunky stepson into a sitting position leaned in and slid the helpless beauty onto his shoulder.

This was the second time today that Erik had been carried, ass up, slung over a shoulder.

This time however, the danger was real. His magnificent ass was completely naked on display to adoring eyes as a mysterious hooded figure carried him, fully exposed, to meet his fate.

His head and arms swayed limply in time with each step.

Torches dotted the night air before Paquime, like a cluster of stars.

The rest of the village waited for them outside his apartment, and joined a solemn procession as they carried their precious offering to the place of sacrifice. The chanting grew louder as they entered the sacred place, and echoed off of the walls of the tunnel. The light flickered and danced off of the rough hewn tunnel walls and of the smooth skin of the nude, unconscious D.E.A. agent’s luscious exposed muscle butt.


As they entered the clearing, the moon hit the pyramid in such a way that cast a series of triangular shadows against the western balustrade, on the north side, that evoked the appearance of a serpent wriggling down the stair case to greet them.


A hand lightly slapped his cheek. His eyes opened to small slits. He swayed a little. He seemed to be kneeling in front of that small block of stone called “The Priest’s Gift”.

There was a golden collar and chain around his neck.

There was no longer any doubt in his mind as to the purpose of this stone, or the nature of the gift.

“El Nebeda? Hey El Nebeda??”

Chuy? Erik’s brow furrowed trying to make sense of what was happening through the mescaline haze. It couldn’t be. His best friend, and partner had also betrayed him.

“Here, Nebedea, swallow this. It will make it easier. I already put some in your tequila,

but this should dull the pain” He forced a peyote cap into Erik’s mouth, the same way one would give a pill to a dog.

Trembling with lust, Chuy pushed his friend by the back of the neck, bending him over the block, and hitched the chain around his neck to the eyehook of the triangular side.

This stone was designed to present the victim’s ass, balls and cock, in the ultimate position as a gift to the priest. There had never been a more perfectly shaped ass offered up upon this ancient stone, than the firm round muscles presented to their unrestricted access.

The four “monks” dropped their robes revealing brightly coloured Aztec ceremonial garb adorned with feathers and beads.

Seen from the bottom of the pyramid, those luscious round melons, looked even more in danger, and alone in the harsh landscape of dark stone, and feathered monsters, helpless, before the grotesque idol.

Caldwell, in his role as high priest, dropped to his knees before the most perfect bubble butt he had ever seen, and placed each hand on the big granites curve, forcing the apart to reveal a tender pink hole ringed by golden hairs.


He spit a long frothy white drool into the open whole, providing the only lubricant allowed to the suffering hunk.

The aging archaeologist ravenously dove in, tongue first. The hairs on the back of Erik’s neck stood up, and he shivered at the rough stubbly invasion of his most private place, and the cool tongue worming it’s way into his defenseless hole. Caldwell, took each ball tenderly in his mouth, and sucked, causing Erik to arch his back up. Then dove back into the warm tunnel with his tongue.

He pulled out and dipped his finger into a mescaline paste which he rubbed into the winking hole.

The effects of the hallucinogens were beginning to take effect. Erik felt himself flying up, far above the pyramid, and in a swift circular path back deep within the earth. His solar plexus tickled with every breath, where it came in contact to the stone. He was intensely aware of the vulnerability of his exposed ass, and the lust it inspired.

Caldwell gently kissed each cheek, rubbing and pinching at the taught young skin

He blew into the opening and spoke into the hole.

“Thank you, great Tezcatilpoca for this gift”

He stood, and pressed the tip of his impressively sized cock against the victim’s small hole.

The chanting grew more strident.

He pushed in. He had never felt anything so intense as the way Erik’s chute constricted and embraced his raging cock.


He looked down at the two firm round gluteal muscles in his hands speared, by his cock, the sight drove him wild and he began to thrust increasing in speed and passion.

Pounding his lust into the helpless D.E.A agent, until he exploded deep within the victims Bowels.

Each man took his turn. First giving thanks to the spirit of the god which resided in the muscular form of the virile young beauty whom they were about to rape


Chuy hammered into his friend like a rabbit.

Alvarez varied his tempos and motions, first more of a circular grinding, before finishing with insistent needy thrusts

But Ramos, who came last, made love. He had watched and nurtured the boy has he grew into a great, honorable and beautiful man. With growing lust, he had watched the youth’s thighs running in tight football leggings. He remembered him as young cadet, lifting weights shirtless. Spied on the youth, in shower preparing for senior prom. He had observed him with all his women, confident, kind and strong. He saw him serve his country with bravery and honor, distinguishing himself among his comrades. He had been tempted to take him so many times, but knew his vocation was bigger than his lust.

He had for so many years, watched and waited for this moment.

He grabbed each big, muscled ham in each hand, enjoying the tight hard feeling of the muscles he, himself, had trained with so many squats, pulled them apart to watch his cock finally find it’s home in Erik’s tight ruined chute, which constricted around his member

like a tight fist in a velvet gloved. He teased a little, in and out before pushing his hips firm against those beautiful glutes, watching them change shape, and jiggle slightly from the pressure. He pushed them together to intensify the snug feeling around his cock. He pinched, slapped and rotated the muscles. He hoped that Erik might take some enjoyment in the rape as well.

In spite of the hallucinogens, the straight stud, had not grown accustomed to the pain, and humiliation, but somewhere deep within is blown mind, he registered an intense sweet pleasure that sent his prostate and his mind buzzing. He had never felt so helpless, so taken, so filled.

Ramos spewed years of longing into the stud’s ruined hole, pulled out, and removed the chain from the stud’s neck and shouldered him one last time. For the third time, Erik was tossed, ass up, over the shoulder of a rapist. He continued the journey to the top of the pyramid to deliver the carefully prepared, helpless stud as a gift to the fanged and hungry god.

Ramos let his hand wander up to cup the ass and finger the hole, which was now dripping with the co-mingled seed of it’s four rapists.

As Erik was carried, immobilized, up the last steps to the top of the pyramid, the feeling returned that somehow he had been born for this. He seemed to have known all along , on some level, that his perfectly sculpted muscular body was, only an object, made to be used, against his will. He now understood that he had been carefully bred and raised for this very purpose. That these men, who had abducted him, had watched him all of his life. He came to realize that he had been painstakingly sculpted, shaped and guided, step by step, his entire life, to this place of sacrifice, to be laid across this slab and offered up like a virile lamb to the slaughter, a gift to a fiendish and hideous deity.


As Ramos gently laid the limp form upon the bloodstained altar, and four pairs of hands reached beneath is back and legs to position him exactly in the centre, he felt the presence of his other self, the god within his godlike body, responding to it’s predestined fate, and he was overcome with a supernatural arousal.

One limb at a time, they bound each wrist and ankle to the four corners of the stone.

The four priests donned their ceremonial masks. Caldwell was the serpent. The mask only covered his eyes, but featured a resplendent plume of quetzal feathers. Ramos, became the panther. Alvarez was the condor, and Chuy the Caiman.

The outlandish and barbaric costumes seemed to increase the vulnerability of the victim’s completely naked flesh.

As if to reinforce the bonds, Ramos and Alvarez held down his wrists, and Chuy both ankles

This hardened ex marine womanizing stud. This warrior, of the modern age now lay, a helpless beauty, stretched out naked on the cold stone of a sacrificial altar. His supple, firm bare flesh seemed to glow against the unforgiving stone.


The drugs, and the presence of Tezcatilpoca within, were making him unbearably aroused. His hips undulated slightly pushing his rigid cock up toward the hideous but appreciative god, to whom he would be sacrificed.

Alvaras clapped a hand firmly over his mouth. There was no need to silence the victim. It simply turned him on to see his cocky former subordinate so completely under his control.

There had been no real need to carry him into Mendoza’s lair ass up either. He had simply wanted to feel the weight of the unsuspecting hunk’s cock pressed against his shoulder, and feel that hard ass against his cheek.

He would always remember the sight of the perverted drug lord’s podgy fingers pawing and groping at this perfect helpless body.

As Caldwell began to purify him by waiving burning copal over his writhing body, Erik thought about the thousands of young men, who had been stretched out on this stone before him, upon whose dried blood he now lay, and those that would surely follow him.

Ramos had introduced him to Solvieg!

That night had been no accident! They had planned for him to be with her!

They knew about his unborn son!

Had that night happened so that he would produce a son?

Was his union with Soveig only to create another offering?

Was his son also predestined for sacrifice?

He came to the sickening realization that his father not abandoned him, not on purpose.

Ramos had conveniently stepped in as a father figure to shape him, and guide him to this place!

The classical nude figure, at the foot of the god, he now knew, was no statue. That was his Father!

Thor Tobiasson had also been stretched out on this very stone!

Erik now lay upon his father’s spilled blood.

They also planned that fate for Erik’s son!

He knew he had to stop this forever.

Caldwell bent down, with one hand on his chest, pinching his nipple, the other rubbing his thigh, and took Erik’s hard cock in his mouth, already leaking it’s sweet seed. He licked it up and down like a melting ice cream cone, and sucked painfully on the tender, egg shaped balls. Erik’s precum tasted like honey to the older man. His hands ran feely over the helpless writing body

It was the most intense blow job he had ever known. The ache was so acute he felt he might burst into the stars.

Erik rolled his head back and forth in sensual agony. He looked desperately into the statue’s emerald eyes, and saw them blink. Quezacoatl was very much alive and staring at him hungrily. They seemed to share a psychic link, and understanding.

He had heard the god’s voice calling him.. taunting him.

He had become Tezcatilpoca. He knew what was necessary.

He locked eyes with the creature, and a bargain was struck.

“All right you cunt” he thought “Take me if you must. Take me so that I will be the last.”

Quezalcoatl nodded, the smoldering ache in his loins became a white hot fire, and he erupted into Caldwell’s sucking mouth. Cum dripped out of the priest’s nostrils and down the sides of his dick. Caldwell gagged but swallowed greedily

The crowd chanted: “Tezcatilpoca! Tezactilpoca!”

Caldwell lifted the ceremonial obsidian dagger high above his head.

The crowd stood in awe, sorrow and lust, at the sight of the naked beauty who’s chest was about to be ripped open by the cruel obsidian blade.

“Please accept this offering Quezalcoatl, to bring us rain, so that we may live”

He stabbed downward.

The blade pierced the skin, Blood ran over the unblemished white flesh, and down the sides of the altar, but it did not pass into the chest cavity.

A giant claw stayed his hand.

The blade clattered harmlessly next to Erik’s shoulder.

Everyone fell to their knees, as the god came to life. Quezalcoatl had heard, and accepted the terms.

He was ready for the challenge.

The forked tongue rattled from its mouth into the fresh wound, to lap up the victim’s blood.

The creature roared shaking the foundations on the pyramid, and lifted the victim’s legs, ramming its scaly member deep within his victim’s center.

Snapping his bonds, he turned the stud over bending him ass up, on the altar, pillaging the stud’s ravaged hole once more.

Erik reached out and grabbed the dagger.

Quezalcoatl lifted his prey up by the torso, and pulled him down, sitting him squarely on his huge stone member. Erik’s head fell back against the beast’s shoulder, as the divine cock invaded his very center.

Erik raised the dagger and, as Tezactilpoca, pierced the serpent’s heart.

The earth shook, as a booming thunder tore from the sky

Both gods cried out, and both gods came as one. Divine seed rolled from Tezcatilpoca’s ruined hole and from his cock, mingling with the blood from both god’s wounds.

The skies opened and a heavy steady rain blessed the parched land. The soft, healing rain continued unabated, up the entire pacific coast, for several weeks. The desert bloomed. Wells were replenished. The crop yield was not only remembered as the most abundant in recorded history, but the quality and sweetness of the fruit was legendary.


“It seems unusual for an Aztec sculpture to be so realistic. They are usually stylized. The central figure can almost be compared to Michelangelo’s David. The detail is so vivid the figures seem to breathe” said the handsome young archaeologist.

The older man nodded, and brushed some dust off of his sleeve. The recent drought left a lot of residue in the air “Yes this sculpture is completely unique within the Aztec world. I hope you are not shocked by the rather graphic lewdness of the subject matter”

The young man’s light skin blushed.

“ I have seen similar among the Vedic sculpture in India, and, as you know, oversized phallic representations are common from Africa, to South America, and ancient Rome, but I agree, I have never seen anything quite like this, and it is disturbing. I’m not sure I understand this version of the myth”

They looked up at the heroic, eternally suffering statue of Tezactilpoca, violently and forever raped by Quezecoatl’s merciless cock. The classical torso twisted and strained as it was seated and impaled on the serpent’s member. The beautiful head was thrown back in agony. With one strong arm, the victim defiantly stabbed a dagger into his rapist’s heart. Two gods locked together in eternal combat.


“Did you say your middle name was Tobiassen?”


The fair -haired young stud nodded proudly. “Yes, after my grandfather Thor, the famous adventurer.”

Caldwell smiled. “You know I knew your grandfather, and your father. Would you like to experience what they discovered?