Boston

The day began anew, but in the same monotonous mold. Maurice awoke to a lavishly decorated room fit for royalty, as he always did. From pursed lips he released an audible yawn, summoning a single maid from a neighboring hallway. Twin rows of pristine teeth greeted the young man upon his arrival to the waking world.

Taking a moment to yawn, Maurice thought it would turn into just another day. He would wake up to His husband missing in bed, probably slaving away at his office. Not that he blamed him too much. Boston worked hard to provide for them, and still tried to make time for his husband. Maurice found it cute considering how young his significant other was. At twenty-six he worked like a man twice his senior, although, you couldn’t tell it by looking at him. Bequeathed a slender frame and perpetual babyface. Boston was often mistaken for someone in their late teens, in fact it wasn’t uncommon for him to be carded when buying alcohol. It didn’t help that the man hated facial hair not that he could grow much even if he tried.

“Is Boston working late again?” His voice sounding more routine and mechanical than sincerely inquisitive. The corporation his husband worked for was your typical company. It demanded lengthy hours from its executives and vital employees. So, he’d already knew the answer, but it’d become a morning ritual at this point. Not that it mattered because he already had plans for the day.

Unbeknownst to Boston, his “devoted” husband had been seeing someone behind his back. His name was Asim and while older than Maurice by two decades. He was a handsome man with a dark bronze complexion. In his youth he frequented gyms and even many years later still worked out, refining his powerful frame. At forty-two he possessed the physique of a man in his twenties. He was a senior executive at the same company Boston worked for. An assertive man with an ambition to match they held a natural attraction for one another. Of course, their relationship was fueled by more than just sex. And while Boston saw him as a mentor, he saw Boston as a threat. As for Maurice, he simply wanted so much more than what he had, and so a conspiracy was born.

Exhausted, but motivated to press onward, young Boston was nearing the end of his work. Well, he would be if not for yet another urge to pee. Thankfully he hadn’t yet suffered an accident as result of his bladder’s impatience.

He had, however, developed some unusual habits he was growing embarrassed of. While his taste in music was never refined, he found himself listening to children’s songs and nursery rhymes. Likewise, his appetite for entertainment significantly regressed. Instead of sports and action films he ravaged through children’s shows and cartoons. Once he’d found himself clapping along to one of said shows. Boston had even lost his taste for steak instead opting for animal crackers. To worsen matters it was growing increasingly difficult for him to focus on a task. He’d often catch himself daydreaming about playing with stuffed animals or toys.

Maurice knew all too well about his new “cravings.” In fact, he had been the source of them. Through a combination of mental conditioning, suggestion, and diuretics. Maurice ensured the regression of His young husband. His reasoning was simple: he wanted a chance to start over with a fortune of his own. Asim’s position would remain safe, and he’d spend his days in the lap of luxury doing as he pleased. Boston on the other hand, would be committed to a home. If Maurice were feeling kind, he might allow the youth to live with him.

Nevertheless, the young executive soldiered onward, he only needed to finish a sentence or two before he could leave. “shit!” He cried. His voice trembling with anger and confusion. Noble though his attempts were the lads’ efforts withered before biology. The proof of this valiant, but fruitless effort was seen in urine-soaked trousers clinging to slender thighs. Despite his status and attempts to feign an ever-serious demeanor Boston began to weep. Burdened by the stress of work and battling his strange desires he’d finally lost.

After an eternity of tears, Boston left his desk to deal with the issue at hand. It was mercifully late, which meant no one would be around. A thankful prayer slipped his lips, before he rushed off to the men’s room. Without the prying eyes of others, he could at least clean up before going home. The idea of his beloved Maurice seeing him with piss-stained slacks sent chills down the executive’s spine.

“Gffot get home…fhuh?” Planted squarely in Boston’s mouth was his thumb. It was until just then that he noticed he’d been sucking his thumb the entire time. ‘When did this happen?’ He wondered, but he just couldn’t stop himself. Something about the sensation made him feel safe and secure. Despite the serenity he felt, Boston ultimately wrestled the rouge digit from his maw and refocused on the task at hand.

Admittedly there wasn’t much he could do about his pants or the situation. All Boston could do was drive home in defeat and hope Maurice was either out or asleep by the time he arrived. By the time he arrived shock and rage overtook the beleaguered executive.

In the center of their home, Asim his colleague was locked in sexual throes with his husband. Asim’s large member was half buried in Maurice’s supple buttocks as Maurice moaned in passion. Already overcome with emotion Boston let out an expletive-filled rant targeted at the two people he thought would never betray him. Thoughts of his peculiar situation and the dried urine on his pants having long since vacated his mind.

“What the fuck is going on here!?” Strangely the baffled husbands’ words fell on deaf ears as the larger man continued his assault upon Maurice’s delicate behind. It wasn’t until Asim climaxed inside of Maurice that latter addressed an irate Boston.

“I see someone had an accident.” Asim said with a grin attached, completely unphased by Boston’s discovery of their duplicity.