Date: Thu, 11 May 2017 07:05:47 -0700
From: Boy Mercury X <boymercuryx@gmail.com>
Subject: Full Fathom Five, Part 2

This story is an entirely fictional work of adult erotic fantasy, involving
consensual sexual relations between related persons.

PLEASE NOTE: This particular story includes disturbing plot and theme
elements including manipulation, coercion and worse.

Copyright me 2017.

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when you're of legal age.

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FULL FATHOM FIVE, ACT TWO by Boy Mercury X

1.

Dad vanished five years earlier in an undercover job, trying to bring down
a sex trafficking ring. At last I had some evidence: an S&M style photo
sent to me that I was convinced was my father, with the word Algiers in it,
the same word that appeared on the calendar of his former partner, now my
stepfather, Tony.

In the last five years I'd been the only person who believed Dad was still
alive.  Not the agency, not Mom, not Tony. I tried to rationalize it,
wondering if my heartfelt belief was an expression of my guilt for my part
in his disappearance. On that night I told Dad I was gay, and far worse I
kissed him, sliding my tongue into his mouth, knowing it would upset him,
throwing him off his game when he most needed all his composure and
competence.

With this photo I had evidence he was alive, but I knew I was in way over
my head and would need help.

I knew about a dozen guys at the agency.  When Dad disappeared they
promised to be there in his place.  Most, I imagine, got busy with their
own lives, some still sent me Christmas cards. I suspected I could call on
them, but I also knew if they did I'd be cut out of the process, and I
badly needed to be part of this.  I couldn't trust anyone else.

That left Tony, who was also part of the undercover mission in which Dad
went missing.  On top of everything I'd been blowing him for the last two
years, behind Mom's back. It suddenly seemed fortuitous that we had this
bond, because I really needed it now.

When Mom started her shift at the hospital I showed Tony the photo on my
laptop and told him it was Dad.

"Will, this could be anyone," Tony said.  "The head is cropped out, and
there's no identifying marks."

"No, it is him -- I can prove it.  Look, he has that little third nipple,
just like Dad.  Exactly like Dad."

Tony paused to consider this, and then said, "Must be hundreds of guys with
that.  And look at this guy, your dad's not that built."

"But it's five years, Tony.  He could have changed.  I know it's him."

"So that's the other thing, kid.  It's five years.  What's he doing out
there, hiding for five years, posing for kink shots?"

"Maybe he's a prisoner.  You said you guys were after the sex trade, maybe
they have him."

"Sex trade deals with women and kids, Will.  How old's your dad, forty
something?"

"He's thirty-nine."

"Not a lot of thirty nine year-olds being used in the sex trade, Will."

Tears welled up in my eyes thinking about it.  When I learned Dad had been
a child victim in sex trafficking, I couldn't imagine anything worse than
him being a prisoner in it again.  I almost wished he were dead, after all
these years holding out hope that he was alive.

"Son," said Tony, "I have to ask you this.  You're online and trading these
sleazoid S&M pics?  You tell me you know it's your dad based on his tits.
You told me you slipped him the tongue that night.  What kind of shit are
you into?  Cause I'm starting to get concerned here."

I told Tony I had a teenage crush on my Dad, and I was sorry I was so sick
and disgusting.  I sobbed a sea storm of shameful tears, and felt weird and
lame and knew I always would, and Tony held me tight until the storm
passed.

"Son," he said, wiping the hot tears from my face, "I feel so close to you
now. I want to be inside you."


2.

I was almost in a daydream as I stripped off my clothes and lay down in bed
the way Tony wanted me to.  I couldn't think any more about Dad, about Mom,
about what I'd done to both of them.  I just wanted my head to stop
spinning.

Tony jerked his clothes off, and I saw his barrel chested pale body, the
strong cock and blonde pubes I knew so well. He climbed on my back and I
could hear him spitting in his hand, and smearing it on his erection.  He
positioned the helmet-like head at my hole and asked, "Are you a virgin
down there?"

"Yes," I lied.

"Good," he whispered as his cock speared me.

The head spread me open and the rest followed, Tony eager to get deep in me
and fill me up.  He worked up to a hard steady thrust quickly, and although
it was rough his fuck pulled me out of my head and I tried to spread my
cheeks to take him deeper.

"Cal Miranda's boy likes to take it up the ass," he grunted, pumping even
harder as he said the words.

I felt everything flash on and off as my prostate got slammed.  I wanted to
be punished and Tony was giving me what I deserved, and the way I loved it
made me deserve yet more.

"Is that what you wanted?" her said between his teeth, "Is that the daddy
dick you wanted, boy?"

"Yes," I moaned.

"I can't hear you, boy."

"Yes!  Yes Daddy, fuck me!" I barked, betraying my own father yet again.

At the word Daddy he thrust up hard in me, spasms shaking him as he made
groaning animal noises and came, his hips and balls working together to
fill me with his seed.  I grabbed the mattress to steady myself against his
bigger, stronger body slamming against mine unrestrained by love or
kindness.

He dropped on me, spent, letting any remaining semen ooze slowly out of him
into my rectum, and I slid a hand under the weight of both of us to stroke
my own erection.  It took only a minute to cum, and when I did, Tony's own
cock stirred in me and half hard he fucked my own load out of me.


3.

"That was amazing," Tony said, lying next to me as the sweat on both our
bodies cooled us.  "You know I love your mom.  But some days I think I
married the wrong member of this family."

I looked at him shyly, trying to absorb his words.

"Maybe," he said, "I should have married you."

He kissed me long and slow and hard, and I felt so wanted despite all my
flaws and sins.  I realized Tony had come to know me better than anyone.
Better than Mom by far, and even better than Dad did, when he was here.

Dad.

Shit, I thought, the picture.  I needed to show it to Tony again.  I pulled
my laptop over, the monitor light violating the dark intimacy between us,
and zoomed in on the photo.

"Kid, this again?" asked Tony, clearly irritated.

"No, Tony -- look -- there's one more thing," I answered, zooming in on the
black jock strap riding low on the slim hips, "Could this mean anything?"

In white block lettering was the single word ALGIERS.  The same word in
Tony's calendar.

He went silent and ran his finger over the track pad to scan it again.  A
-- L -- G -- I --E --R --S.

I could see him processing as he looked over the image again and again, his
brow furrowing.

"Fuck, kid," he said, wiping his jaw, "This might be your fucking father
after all."


4.

The next days were torture as Tony worked in secret, putting in long hours
away at work, swearing he'd tell me what he could, even what he shouldn't,
but this was major shit.  My only comfort was that he admitted it -- he
admitted Dad could be alive.

Finally he sat me down to tell me everything.

"Will, I never had kids of my own.  You're the only son I've got, so I'm
going to trust you like you're mine, and ask you to trust me in return.
You will never breathe a word of this to your dying day, understand?

"Your Dad and I were on this case.  Algiers is a sex trafficking ring, and
it's crazy complex.  There's Russian money, Chinese money, old Italian
families, the fucking Middle East.  Algiers is old school old, like
hundreds of years old, they've been buying and selling and breeding women
and kids for centuries.

"Name doesn't mean anything.  Maybe it once did, but this has nothing to do
with Algeria.  It's just a brand, the go-to to indulge your sick fantasies
if you've got the means.  And a place where they'll get you hooked on some
fantasies you never knew about before, that get stuck in your head and you
can't get enough of.

"But in the last few decades things went nuts.  Exodus from Hong Kong in
the 90's poured a shit ton of money into the scene on the West coast,
especially here in Seattle and Vancouver. Add in Middle Eastern oil money,
even fucking software money. Upped the ante on everything. We're not
talking about a few bucks for a poor defenseless kid, but obscene sums for
people to fulfill their craziest fantasies.

"Will, you kids talk about wealth disparity, but you have no idea.  No
fucking idea.  If those fuckers let you know how rich they really are, if
they blew the cover - Will, we're like ants to them.  People like us, we're
lower than worms.

"This kind of money isn't about buying cars and swimming pools and shit.
This is a whole other level.  This kind of money is like magic.  Like you
can reshape reality.

"Algiers ring isn't about buying and selling poor women and kids any more.
That still happens too, for the fucks who get off on that.  But they're
high end now, serving up kink fantasies for the richest of the rich.
People who drop millions of dollars the way you shed skin cells and never
notice.

"They don't even need sex slaves any more, except for the most vile shit
sickos go for.  Mostly they can just buy people, like indentured servants.
Imagine you don't have much going for you but your looks -- Algiers can
contract with you for a million, five million, whatever, to serve up some
rich prick's sex fantasy, and you retire at thirty.  Fuck, people slave
away in shit jobs for decades for less than that.

"They used to be on the mainland, but after the raid where your Dad was
rescued when he was a kid they faded away, but a few years ago set up a
complex on a private island in Puget Sound.  The money protecting this
place is like nothing you've ever seen -- they control what goes in, what
goes out.

"Super classy on the surface, super sick underneath.  The Algiers Club
there is like free flowing sex, Will, where you can have anyone or anything
you ever wanted, no consequences, no courts, no AIDS, no judgment, no
resistance -- unless that's your kink.  Just the most beautiful bodies
you've ever seen, doing anything you want, for the price of admission.
It's a fantasy island Will, and even -- even a good man can lose his moral
compass in it.

"Your dad and I and a few other guys were undercover as client recruits.
We were supposed to be wealthy high-tech assholes.  The fucking tech
industry is full of weirdos with new wealth who never learned to have
normal relationships but can buy companionship and sex.

"We were undercover at the same time, but all separate.  They marked your
Dad, I don't know how or what went wrong, maybe they smelled something
fishy.  They didn't go after me.  There was a firefight, and your dad went
down.  After that I got pulled out for my safety.  Too high risk, and
Algiers group was on high alert, and their operation got impossible to get
into.

"So Will, that's Algiers."


5.

"It's in Puget Sound?  Dad could be right here?" I asked.  "That could be
like a few hours away."

"Look Will, we don't know your dad is alive.  It's a fucking longshot.  But
that island compound is a hub. The Algiers group in international and they
shuffle people around like a deck of cards, you could be in Sidney in the
morning, Seattle at night and Moscow by the next morning.  If they have
him, he could be anywhere."

"But he might be there!"  My heart was racing like it never had before.
All these years and Dad could have been less than an hour away. "How do we
get in?"

"Slow down, partner.  WE aren't doing anything.  Will, you're a 20-year-old
kid.

"But here's the thing, and this is just between us.  My cover is still
good.  I spent the last couple days making some connections, and it's
solid.  I'm going in, to see if I can find your dad.  But I'm doing this on
my own.  No agency.  No sanction.

"Son, this is probably the end of my career.  But I have to do it.  If it's
your dad, God, Will, and if this was all my fault,..."

He buried his face in his hands, and for the first time I could see that he
held himself responsible the same way I did.

"Tony," I said, peeling his hands from his face, taking them in mine, "You
have to take me with you.  I have to do this."

"No way.  I lost your dad already.  I'm not gonna' lose you too."

"Tony, I'm going.  If I have to charter a boat and stop at every fucking
island in Puget Sound I'm going.  I'll be safer if you take me with you."

He could see how serious I was.  I really would go without him.  I was
going to go find me dad, or die trying.

Dad was alive.  I knew it.  And so close.


END, ACT TWO