Finally Thursday came, the day the corrupt scum of the NSA apparently met at the Yale Alumni Athletic Club and discussed their schemes.
Merritt prepared exhaustively. He looked up Yale Alumni records and found a couple of married students who would fit. He hacked the web site of the Yale Alumni Athletic Club and added an ID to their records for “Derek Biddle”, 11 and a half year old son of Susan and Preston Biddle, both of the Yale class of 2004. He printed out an ID card in that name matching others that had been issued. He found out which locker numbers were used by Carruthers and Fairfax. He loaded up a gym bag with some options for how to dress. And he rigged up a dummy phone that wasn’t a phone at all but a top of the line recorder.
He even altered his Derek Biddle body just slightly. He gave himself a light but full body tan. He also brushed up on the back story he should give this beautiful 11 and a half year old boy. What kind of story would excite them even more? Merritt decided that Derek’s father should be separated from his mother. Derek should be gregarious but not independent minded, a bit of an exhibitionist and sexually . . . curious.
At first, things went almost perfectly. Late Thursday afternoon, Merritt drove to a spot at the edge of a strip mall with a 24 hour convenience store. He parked in a spot partly hidden by trees encroaching on the edge of the pavement and ran through the Chronivac menus. He knew it was playing with fire but he didn’t know how long he would need to be a strikingly good looking 11 and a half year old version of himself with the face and hair of a blond French boy model. He would be relatively weak and vulnerable but that vulnerability was because Carruthers and Fairfax and other sick pervs at the NSA wanted to fuck his underage brains out. He could turn that interest and the loss of focus it entailed against them. He had to try.
He pressed START and answered yes to the Chronivac’s “Are You Sure?” prompt. Instantly, he went from being a 165 pound 25 year old to being an 82 pound 11 and a half year old with the face and hair of a boy model from France. His clothes instantly changed to perfectly fit his new body.
Merritt felt a little ridiculous in the driver’s seat of his car, just seeing over the steering wheel and looked at his beautiful little self in the rear view mirror.
He shook his head at the perfection of the face reflected. He ran one thumb along his full lips. That’s me, Derek.
He got out of the car with a gym bag slung over one shoulder and waited behind a tree for Carruthers, Fairfax and who knew who else to show up. After a few more minutes, those two pulled into the parking lot in separate cars. Merritt got ready. He had so much fidgety energy in this 11 ½ year old body. At last the two pervs trudged out of their cars and were half way to the entrance.
Merritt broke into a sprint, floating along on long loping strides, and ran right between them almost brushing against both of them. He stopped at the entrance, holding the door open and broke into a grin. He pretended to be looking behind both of them but keenly noted how they reacted to the sight of him. Both seemed to suddenly perk up at the sight of him. Merritt held the door long enough for Carruthers and Fairfax to get there. Now their expressions really perked up at close inspection of this beautiful boy.
“Where are they?!” he chirped then ran ahead of Carruthers and Fairfax again to the sign in desk. It was a low counter and he leaned over casually presenting his spectacular little backside to the two men.
“Derek Biddle,” he said, flashing the same sort of laminated ID card as Carruthers and Fairfax had. The next they saw him he was in the locker room a level below opening, coincidentally, the free locker right between their two assigned ones and pulling off his shirt.
He continued stripping and noted that they engaged in small talk but both of them seemed to have trouble getting all their words out, stretching syllables and seeming to forget the next word they were about to say in sync with Derek revealing more and more of his spectacular, slender body.
When, at last, he was naked, he calmly strode past them to the bathroom and took a good long piss. He strode back to a spot just inches from them and promptly jumped up to look over the lockers toward the entrance over and over again.
“Where are they?!”
He bent over and picked up what looked for all the world like a phone, dialed and spoked standing naked just inches from the two men he knew desired him.
“Where are you guys? You said you were gonna be right behind me!”
Not right-right-right behind you like that ballet teacher guy!-came a voice from the phone
“You wish someone thought you had talent! Are you coming or not?”
Nope, fortnite
Derek shook his crown of wavy blond hair and tossed the phone. He looked at Carruthers and Fairfax who he could tell were looking at him.
“You guys need an extra player?” he laughed.
Carruthers and Fairfax both spoke with him in a friendly fashion albeit continually discreetly inspecting his amazing little body. He bent over and took out a dance belt from his gym bag. Fairfax openly raised an eyebrow.
Derek shrugged and pulled it on, adjusting himself. “Ever since I started doing ballet I wear a dance belt instead of a jock. Sooo much more comfortable.”
He pulled on a pair of shorts, a t-shirt just big enough for him and some socks and running shoes. He went off with his phone, really just a recording device, wrapped in a towel and loped off.
“Hey, I meant that offer of being an extra player if you need me,” he laughed from the doorway and turned and ran for the indoor track.
Merritt had some fun running alongside full grown men running on the track. At his physical age, he had no stamina but he could run right beside them for almost a half lap even when they ran hard. They were impressed. From there, he went to the weight machines where he found Carruthers, Fairfax and another NSA official he recognized but whose name he didn’t know. He went up to where they were, his recorder wrapped in the towel in his hand but they weren’t talking about NSA business there, just yet.
He used a couple of the machines but it was humiliating how weak he was even relative to these unathletic pervs. He mostly stood off to the side and did ballet exercises and stretches. He slipped casually down into a full split then stood and raised one foot then the other straight up over his head. The other NSA perv, Carruthers and Fairfax called him “Jacobs”, suddenly noticed beautiful Derek and awkwardly forced conversation with him. He had to keep from laughing or even smirking. The guy clearly wanted to put a hand on him. He hesitantly reached out toward him a couple times but Derek deftly shifted his weight each time to move slightly further from him without even seeming to be doing anything.
After that, Derek went to the racquetball courts. Again he listened to hear if they’d say anything about the corrupt shit they were doing at the NSA but didn’t hear anything. He concentrated on playing racquetball. Merritt had played the game quite a bit and knew how to play. As 11 ½ year old Derek, he didn’t have arm strength but he was amazingly quick and ran all over the court keeping points going.
Finally, they all went off to the locker room. Derek went with them, casually showing off his naked body to them as much as possible. They couldn’t stop looking at him. At last, after showering they went to the sauna off on one side of the locker room. Naked Derek followed in after them with a towel in hand. He lay down on the lower bench of the sauna putting his amazing little body on display for them and pretending to take a catnap.
“I noticed you have a full body tan there, young man,” said Jacobs.
Derek yawned. So comfortable with his nudity he was practically falling asleep while on display.
“Went to some rich guy’s place down the coast last weekend where nobody wore clothes. Good thing my father’s out of the picture. If he knew I was running around naked in front of all those people and doing ballet, too, oh my god.”
He let out a soft chuckle and seemed to fall asleep.
Now, the three started talking about NSA matters. It was like they were picking up a conversation they had just left off though the last words were probably spoken the Thursday before in the same sauna. Merritt recorded it all.
They talked about him, too. One whispered "Imagine having that little body!". The guy Jacobs grunted something something “. . . spectacular little ass!”
But, in the course of pretending to shift slightly in his sleep, Merritt accidentally uncovered a corner of his recording device from the towel under his head. He didn’t realize that Carruthers had seen it. All three of them were getting up intermittently and getting a cooling shower or putting water on the rocks at the front of the sauna.
He knew one of them had left. He heard the sauna door open again as he returned but he was pretending to be asleep, taunting them with his beautiful little body as he recorded them.
All of a sudden, Merritt felt a pinprick at one side of his ass.
“Ow!” he yelped and looked over his shoulder and saw the guy Jacobs with a syringe in his hand. “What the hell?!” he complained jumping to his feet and simultaneously reaching behind him to rub his suddenly sore buns and ahead of him for the sauna door as Carruthers boomed out, “What’re you doing, recording us?!”
The sauna door was just two steps away but Derek couldn’t even get through the door before he felt too weak even to take a step.
He remembered a moment right after that of a lot of hands on the sweaty skin of his naked little body. Memory was tricky after that. Consciousness became no longer a stream but an infrequently present sort of thing.
He remembered a moment of being in clothes and being walked out the door of the club, wanting to call for help but unable to do more than whisper even that one syllable. He remembered looking up at the star filled sky from an odd, uncomfortable space with something poking at his shoulder blades. The trunk of a car, that’s what it was! And Carruthers, Fairfax and Jacobs were arguing about him. And then he remembered being carried up a flower lined walk to a large brick building framed by topiary and covered with ivy.
“Unnnnnnnh . . “
After how long, he didn’t know, Merritt at last woke, feeling the effort of recovering every tiny sliver of full consciousness. He sat up. Ouch. Metal.
Metal? “What the hell?” his voice was the pitch of an 11 ½ year old. There was something metal half covering his ass and cradling his disproportionately large cock. He shifted his weight. Ouch. It was like he had a steel speedo on and it was tied very tight around his little hips. He opened his eyes but the darkness barely diminished. There was a bag over his head. He reached with one hand to pull it off but couldn’t grasp anything. His hands felt like they were in thick, rubber mittens but rubbing the two “mittens” together he realized they were both round and the size of bowling balls with enough heft to them that the weight was a chore for him to deal with at his present size.
What. The. Fuck?
He heard a door open with a slight creak 15 feet away and turned that way.
He heard the steps of two men as they entered. “See, he’s awake, ahead of schedule,” said one cigarette roughened voice and Merritt recognized it as that guy Jacobs.
“They thought I’d shot too much into that perfect little ass. You’re going to see that he stays every bit as pretty as he is right now till the party. No rough stuff and the candy is for the guests, not for the help. Understood? That's why we've got him in a chastity belt."
"Yes sir."
"He thought he was going to fuck all of us but it’s going to be the other way around.”