Pete threw a quick look down at his watch. 4:10 glimmered back at him through the darkness. Yawning widely, he rubbed his eyes tiredly. Looking down a dark alley, Pete's brain began to debate with itself whether or not he should venture down there. Before he had even made a choice, his mobile phone let off a steady ring, causing Pete to jump slightly in surprise. Smiling at his own stupidity and sleepiness, Pete shot a glance at the screen; the phone number being displayed was from his house.
"Holy shit..." Pete muttered. "They got one!" Excitedly, he fumbled across the phone until he had opened it, and taking a deep breath, he answered the call.
"Hello?" Pete asked quickly. No reply. Pete heard what he thought sounded a bit like a distorted shouting, but the receiver was quickly covered up, as he soon could not hear anything.
"Anyone there?" Pete asked, growing impatient. Still no reply. There was a strange mumbling choke on the other side of the phone. Something was wrong.
"Bloody hell..." complained tiredly. His patience wasn't going to hold up much longer. A few seconds more of waiting, and he heard a loud clacking sound. Pete had had enough; sighing, he closed the phone and stuffed it back into his pocket. Pete looked back down the alley.
"What the hell..." Pete muttered, walking down through the shadows of the alley. He stealthed through the darkness quietly, stopping every so often to check if there were any hidden dangers smothered in the dark crevices of the alley. It was quiet. Pete continued to pace through the alley, his nerves beginning to get the better of him. His pace quickened. Not looking where he was going, Pete stumbled over a large object protruding from the ground. Pete panicked, struggling to get up off the ground and tripping over his own feet. Finally getting up, he sprinted a few feet further down the alley to escape, but realised that he wasn't being chased. His heart still beating heavily, Pete stumbled back across to where he had fallen. The object he had tripped over was surrounded in darkness. Gulping, Pete stepped closer, squatted to the floor and examined the object.
Several hours later in a quiet neck of the woods overlooking the beach, Carl awoke to find Matt and Greg in a deep sleep over his crotch, a string of drool sliding down Matt's mouth onto Carl's black briefs. A flash of memories surged through Carl; it was Matt he had captured earlier that morning, then he had, well, turned into a Speedo Fag. Carl stretched peacefully, draping his hands over Matt and Greg's bare shoulders. However, as his erection died down, along with it disappeared his comfort. He had just had sex with two guys whilst wearing a Speedo! How could he live with himself? Before Carl could think any further, Matt and Greg began to wake up. Greg's eyes fluttered open, blinking a few times to become accustomed to the sunlight. When he realised he had his face staring directly into another man's penis, he shot upright. Matt seemed slightly bored, taking his time to get up.
"Morning," Matt smiled, stroking Carl's thigh.
"Wha...what? You..." Carl stuttered.
"'Spose I should apologise, but you realise I had no choice, don't you? I mean, now you can see things from my perspective. Everyone against you and all. I don't want to be trapped in some cage and feel ashamed because of some change I go through at night," Matt explained, looking between Carl and Greg.
"I wasn't going to hurt..." Carl began, but realised that he would have acted violently against Matt had he remained there the whole night.
"Oh," Carl exclaimed. "I guess you're right," he said, accepting Matt's apology.
"Yeah, but you could of...I dunno...asked or something before...well...you know. That thing we...erm...did in the alley," Greg muttered. Matt smiled.
"Well, I admit; that was purely for my fun, but you can't say you didn't get anything out of it. You're still feelin' it!" Matt laughed, pointing out Greg's erection pushing against his blue briefs. Greg blushed slightly and covered it up with one hand.
"So Greg and I were both changed last night then?" Carl asked, shifting his gaze from Matt's own erection that he was fingering through his green briefs.
"Yeah. And I was changed the night before last. I don't really remember much of it though. I woke up alone and I only realised what had happened to me last night," Matt explained. Carl nodded in understanding, but a look of puzzlement settled over Greg.
"Wait a second," he interupted. "If you were only turned into a...S..S...Speedo F...Fag two nights ago, then who were the Speedo Fags that attacked Pete originally?"
"No idea," Matt shrugged. "I got surrounded by three Speedo Fags just on the outskirts of the forest. They attacked me and bit into my ass," Matt smiled, pointing at his rear. "Then, they all scampered and I guess left me for dead. I don't really remember if anything happened from there, but I don't know who the other Speedo Fags are."
"Well, if it's that guy...uh, Tom, that's it; yeah, if it's Tom, Cameron, Jim and Pete against us, the numbers still aren't in our favor. If we could maybe just get one of them to join us, then we'd be set," Greg thought aloud.
"Hey, that's not a bad idea..." Matt said. "Nice to see you are accepting the change; it's like it's a part of you, isn't it?"
Greg and Carl smiled, they could feel the animal pangs in them softly calling, becoming less and less distinct from what it had been earlier that morning. Surely by tonight those urges would be rekindled with the rising moonlight...
Not too far from where Carl, Greg and Matt were waking up, Tom, Cameron and Jim were also arising to the morning sun.
"That was pretty uneventful," Tom muttered as he scratched absent mindedly at his red briefs.
"Sure, if you consider a full night's worth of constant sex uneventful..." Cameron laughed. Jim smiled too, gazing down at the cum stains across his white briefs, the smell filling his nose.
"Man, we WERE busy..." he exclaimed.
"We can't just keep doing this..." Cameron suddenly interrupted. Tom and Jim looked at Cameron.
"What do you mean?" they asked.
"This. Just hiding from others. Look at us! We clearly have the power advantage over the norms, yet we are forced into hiding our "true identities". It makes me sick, being seperated like this from others. So what if we become Speedo Fags each night; is it fair to condemn us for that?" Cameron replied angrily.
"You're right," Jim agreed. "But we can't just go acting rashly with only three of us against everyone else."
"Everyone else?" Cameron asked. "No, I was just thinking of Pete's Vigilante. Think about it; we are the only ones who know of the Speedo Fags. Pete didn't tell anyone about it. He wanted to keep it secret, remember? Well, now he, Carl, Greg and Matt are going to have to share the burden..."
Scarcely an hour before sunset much later that day, the entire crew of the Vigilante showed up at Pete's door (fully clothed of course). Nobody spoke with each other, maintaining a stony silence. Pete greeted them at the door a moment later, a grave look on his face.
"C'mon in..." Pete muttered sourly. They all trudged downstairs into the basement, awaiting Pete to follow. An odd clicking sound of the door locking sounded up the stairs.
"Pete?" Cameron asked slowly.
"Shut up; all of you!" Pete ordered. Everyone stood still, not sure of what was happening. Pete crossed his arms and looked over them calculatingly.
"Well, I didn't think it'd happen, but apparently one amongst us here is a traitor," Pete spat.
"W...what do you mean?" Carl asked.
"One of you six...is a Speedo Fag," Pete announced. Silence followed. Pete picked up a bag off the ground and drew out a familiar looking singlet.
"It appears someone here went into an alley and decided to have a change of attire in the MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT!!!" Pete roared. There was more silence. "I know these belong to one of us here, as
"Now, if any of you would like to come forward now and save the shame of turning into a Speedo clad homo, then be my guest, because guess what? Sunset ain't too far away now..." Pete laughed, pointing at his watch. The same thought went through everyone's head at once; if they were to deny it now, then it would look suspicious, and to joke along and pretend it was you would also be strange. The only choice they really could do was remain silent. Pete kept an eye on them all, shooting looks across to the orange sun every minute or so.
"I apologise to those here that aren't Speedo Fags, but you'll understand where I'm coming from," Pete mumbled. An hour passed; a look of satisfaction spread over Pete's face. Now he would finally be able to find out who was the Speedo Fag; the rat in the ranks...
Darkness began to creep over the horizon as the sun dipped behind the houses. Pete shot a look over his shoulder. Nothing had happened. Yet. Slowly, his vision began to fade out. Keeping a wary eye on the 6 men, Pete edged over to the door to flick on the light switch to get a better view. His hand fumbled across the wall behind him. He couldn't feel the switch at all. Taking one long look at the others, Pete quickly turned around and frantically searched for the switch; it turned out he was a foot or so away from where the switch was. His hand shot across, but as his fingers touched the light switch, he heard a loud ripping sound from back in the basement.
"Shit!" Pete exclaimed, hurriedly flicking the light on and dashing back down the stairs. Everything still appeared to be normal; everyone was standing in a row still. Pete looked into their faces suspiciously. A few faces gave off looks of slight guilt, but nothing he could really pick up on. Pete paused and thought for a moment as to what he should do next.
"Turn around, all of you," Pete suddenly ordered. The men, grumbling slightly, obeyed and turned 180 degrees on the spot. Pete looked them up and down.
"Um...can you all please squat for me?" Pete asked. Pulling faces, they each slowly squated down a few inches. Pete looked over their asses pushing tightly against their shorts, scanning for "evidence".
"There!" his mind screamed at him. The third man from the left; his shorts had split at the rear, and when he squatted down, the material parted to reveal a red Speedo. Pete looked up quickly. It was Cameron, smiling back at him.
"You!" Pete accused. Before the group had time to disperse and allow Pete to confront Cameron, a second rip sounded.
"Huh?" Pete mouthed, shooting another look around. Matt was struggling to keep his zipper up, but a large Speedo covered erection was slowly sliding the zipper apart.
"Two of you?!" Pete exclaimed. Matt and Cameron moved over to each other and sniffed at each other. Matt whispered something, and Cameron nodded in agreement. Suddenly, the tension filled air was broken by the howls of both Cameron and Matt. As they continued to roar loudly, their flannelette shirts tightening against their skin. Digging their fingers into the gaps of skin poking through the front of their shirts, they ripped them apart, the buttons flying askew into the air. Pete gasped; he had forgotten just how muscular the Speedo Fags were. Both of them were panting and sweating heavily. Cameron grimaced as his own erection began to force through his shorts, tightening until they began to cut off his circulation. Roaring again, the shorts suddenly snapped apart, sliding down Cameron's bronzed, hairless legs to the floor. Matt, feeling as if he were behind, forced a look of concentration on his face, letting the growth of muscles in his legs bulge through his own shorts, revealing the infamous red Speedo through the seams. Cameron strutted over to Matt and slid the tattered shirt over his muscular arms, letting it crumple to the floor in a ruined pile. Then, slowly, Cameron began to massage Matt's body with his own, letting his Speedo and boner do much of the work into Matt's ass, causing Matt to moan softly. Pete had remained speechless up until this point, but his anger had resurfaced at this sight.
"C'mon; let's get them!" Pete shouted, his voice a mixture of enthusiasm and rage. It took him a second to realise that nobody was moving forward to help him.
"Guys...?" he began, but a sudden look over his shoulder sent a bolt of terror down his spine. Carl had thrown his arms around Tom, their tongues bursting into each other's mouths. Pete felt sick as he watched Tom squeeze Carl's ass with his hands; seconds later Tom's fingers tore through Carl's denim shorts, then forcefully tore them apart. Another Speedo greeted Pete's eyes. Mumbling incoherently, Pete watched as a howling Carl's biceps popped through his shirt sleeves, shortly followed by his thighs tearing through his flimsy shorts. Carl shed his shirt, the thin band of shorts remaining around his waist was half covering a Speedo, his spandex covered balls hanging just in view. Pete noticed that Carl's erection was sliding up it's Speedo, and it seemed as if the band of material was preventing it from reaching any higher, but seconds later, the erection itself forced up through the Speedo, wedging apart the tattered shorts through the centre and sending them to the floor.
"J...Jim..." Pete moaned, as he turned to see Jim's muscular chest bursting from his shirt. Greg leaned in close to Jim and slid downward to Jim's shorts. Slowly, he pulled them down, revealing another red Speedo. Pete tasted vomit in his mouth as he saw Greg letting his tongue explore the red Speedo gradually, as Jim let his shirt slide onto the floor, moaning softly. Seconds later, Greg's own clothes burst apart as muscles combined with a powerful erection thrust through the seams. More tattered clothing fell around the Speedo clad men as Jim helped remove them from Greg's body.
"Sick...all of you...YOU'RE SICK!" Pete screamed suddenly. The others paused in their tracks, a taste of fear stagnant in the air. Pete realised finally that he was completely surrounded by "enemies". He dove for the door, but Tom sprung across quickly, tripping Pete to the floor.
"NOOOOOOOOOOO!!!" Pete wailed as the six men smothered his body, rolling him onto his back. It felt like an entire football pack had thrown itself onto him; all those bodies clawing over him. His shirt was torn apart by one of the hands. He felt a tongue slide across his face. Bare skin and tight Speedos slid over his body in a mass orgy. Then something bit into his neck.
"Ouch, shit!" Pete moaned. Another bite; this time on his ankle. Another bite; one of them had biten the small layer of flab on his hairy chest. Another bite; someone bit into wrist. Pete writhed on the floor in agony; he could feel his penis stiffening in his pants against his will. Hands began to explore his body. Fingers tangled through his hairy chest, fingered his ass crack and ripped down his zipper, shortly before the hand began to rub his penis vigorously through his white briefs. Slowly, his balls began to churn with semen, and as they did so, the hair on his chest was slowly replaced with muscular abs. His moans of pain gradually changed into moans for them to continue. Pete felt his shorts slide down his legs, tugged down by one of the Speedo Fags pinning him down. His shirt followed suit, but rather than a cold chill greeting him, a warm sensation spread across his body. The hands began to pump over him faster, more kisses and bites against his bare skin, and his penis grew bigger within the tight white briefs. His breath rose with his erection...pant...pant...pant...Pete's head shot upward, his mouth widened, as if struggling to find a note.
"Aooooouuuuhhhhhhhhh!!!" Pete howled into the night, coming into his briefs as they tightened even further, transforming into a red Speedo. The bodies that had parted to let him howl quickly smothered over him again, burying him beneath the squirming mound of Speedo Fags.
The vigilante had been disbanded; no one remained with the intention to stop the Speedo Fags.