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Maggie is dying to show the married man her big, fake tits.

But that was great." Then I left. I didn't wait for the elevator. I just ran down the stairs. What was wrong with me? I mean I love to shoot my juice and all that, but it's so fucking exciting to beat on them as they're swallowing it.

The next Monday Professor Stoner asked me "Did you beat up any homosexuals this week?"

"No, sir, I didn't." I told him.

"Did you meet any homosexuals this week?"

I decided to be honest. "Yes I did. I met this guy and we went up to his apartment for a cold beer and he wanted to give me a blowjob, so I let him."

"And you didn't flatten him?"

"No sir. I did not."

"Why is that do you suppose?" he asked me.

"I don't know. I thought I was going to hit him and then I didn't."

"That's very good," said Professor Stoner. "Roll up your sleeve."

I rolled up my sleeve and let him inject the stuff into my vein, and then we were sitting face to face again and I was staring into his dark swirling swimming pool eyes.

"You look very tired," he told me. "It would be good for you to get a little sleep. But try to listen to the sound of my voice, even while you are sleeping. Okay?"

"Uhhh," I answered, and I knew that my head was lolling.

"That was very good," he told me.

"You mean it's over again?"

"Yes. Treatment Number two."

"How many treatments are there?" I asked him.

"We'll see," he told me. "Be back here next week same time.

And two nights later I had a similar experience to the one I'd had the week before. I went down to the docks and let this gay guy pick me up and take me home and suck my cock, and I didn't even roll up my fist. Something was happening to me.

I reported for treatment number three, and took another dip in the dark swimming pools.

"Is it over?" I asked.

"Yes. You know that poor young man you hurt, Nicholas Reed. You really injured him. It's going to take months for him to mend. You broke his arm, and you caused some slight internal damage. What a shame."

"Yes," I said. I was starting to feel a little guilty. I had been thinking about Nicholas. He had been a nice boy. He hadn't done anything to deserve what I had done to him.

"Next week same time. Treatment number four," he told me.

"Yes," I said. I mean I really didn't mind the treatments. They were actually very restful. I always felt very good after the treatments. And somehow I was feeling better about myself than I had in a very long time.

I was lying in my cot in the halfway house reading a girlie magazine. Well, not actually a girlie magazine. A fuck magazine. I liked to see the guys fucking the girls. That was really hot. And then I started thinking about Nicholas. What had I done to poor Nicholas? I wondered if there was any way I could make it up to him a little. No. That was ridiculous. How could I make it up to him? But I couldn't get him out of my mind.

I found myself walking in the vicinity of Deasey Street. Right near his building. Maybe I should apologize to him, I thought. No. He wouldn't even see me. I had hurt him. He would be afraid of me. He would call the police. But I kept walking toward his building. I went in the outside door and rang the buzzer. I heard his voice on the intercom.

"Who is it?"

"It's Chester Grange," I said.

"Who?" he asked.

"Chester Grange. I'm the guy who beat you up."

"What do you want? To beat me up again? Get out of here, before I call the police."

"No. Please. I feel very bad about what I did. I wanted to apologize," I said through the intercom.

"Go away," he said. "You're crazy."

"Please, please forgive me," I said, and now I was sobbing into the intercom. "Let me come up and apologize. I'm so sorry."

"You apologized. Now you can go."

"No, please," and I was really crying now. "I want to see you. I want to really apologize. I swear I won't hurt you. Please."

And then the buzzer rang. I was so surprised I almost didn't push on the door in time. He was letting me in.

I took the elevator up and went to his door.

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