Chapter 1

Every single person, living or dead, has had at least one significant moment in their lives whether they know it or not. Now when I say significant, I mean life altering in a way that removes every single ounce of innocence from your life. Forever. Well, maybe every single person hasn't ... but it did happen to me. Fifteen years ago I walked into an "abandoned" warehouse with my best friend, Terrance, and his fourteen year old sister, Molly. My best friend and I were eighteen, he was rich and I wasn't but his family were good people and my parents were ... absentee. We met because I got an after school job with their gardener, Vinny Simons, who I later found out supplied Terry with weed. I was fourteen then and couldn't care less about drugs or anything except keeping my ass out of the system.

To that end I kept my grades up and my nose as clean as humanly possible, so four years later I insisted I go in that warehouse with them. Even now I couldn't tell you why, maybe it was the wild eyed looks the brother and sister gave me and tried like all hell to keep me out. Or maybe it had something to do with how strange both of them had been acting for the last seven months. Whatever the reason, walking into that warehouse changed my life. The first thing I saw as the door clanged shut behind us were the ratty mattresses circling every support beam in the place, the second thing I saw were the chains and collars hanging from six of the I-beams. Only six were hanging because all the rest had someone wearing the collar, and there was a shitload of collars. Twenty two beams with four collars per beam, do the math.

There was an office like structure to the left with all the windows painted black. Terry and Molly made a beeline for it, all the while telling me to wait for them out here. So I wandered around the warehouse and even in the night like gloom I could tell there were some really young guys and gals chained up, and not many of them looked very healthy, though as far as I could see the collars would come right off. So they were there by choice, it seemed. It was the sound of puking from a few beams over that finally clued me in. I walked over to see if the puker needed help, that's when I noticed the badly infected tracks along his arms. A quick look around confirmed every strange feeling I had had over the last seven months.

I ran at the little office door like a bull, it splintered when I kicked it, practically flying off the hinges. What I saw inside that room, together with the sudden meaning of all those chained people in the warehouse, took me from the everyday "that stuff doesn't happen HERE!" straight to the realization that fucked up shit happened to everyone. I had the perfect view into the life of two junkies and the sick fuckers willing to supply them. Terry was on all fours, naked and crying, as one guy jammed his dick down Terry's throat and another violently sodomized him. Poor Molly's arms were tied behind her back and she was face down with her ass sticking high in the air so it was easier for the Doberman to mount her while dealer number three laughed and pissed on her face.

Molly wasn't crying though, she just stared at me and drooled, but I saw the needle a foot away and figured she had already shot it. The next thing I remember is being handcuffed to a gurney as they put me in an ambulance. I had taken three gun shots and several deep cuts, but that was nothing compared to what I did to the three dealers. They were dead. The DA wanted three counts of murder one, but after they watched the videos -the dealers had been recording everything, from two angles so they missed nothing- the charges got dropped to three counts of voluntary manslaughter. I pleaded guilty on all counts, against council's wishes, and the judge said I should have pled not guilty because no jury he had seen would have convicted me. Then he sentenced me to eighteen years in Tucker Maximum Security Prison.

I got lucky and only spent ten years there, and that's ten years I never want to remember. I was told I had visitors and phone calls but I always avoided them. The last five years have been a lot of shitty construction jobs and playing bouncer on the weekend, at least my parole officer was a decent guy that had read all about me. Once a month I went to dinner with him and his family, which did a lot more toward making me feel like a real human being than anything else. And that was my life until three months ago when I got a call from Martin, my PO. He had a job offer, one of those seriously off the books kind of job offers, but he didn't want to talk over the phone so we met up the next day for our weekly basketball game. We didn't play much ball.

"I'm setting up a crew, Jack, and I want you part of it," he said as he tossed the ball to me.

"Exactly what kind of crew are you talking about?" I didn't move while waiting for his reply, just stood like a statue with the ball gripped tightly in my hands.

"I'm retiring in two months, twenty-five years goes fast, but I'm not ready to give up yet," he pretended to tie his shoe laces the whole time he spoke.

"What kind of crew, Marty?"

"The kind that gets shit done, Jack," now he looked at me, and I could see in the hollow emptiness of his eyes that something had happened.

"What happened?" he tried to turn away, hide shame and revulsion but not the unbridled anger.

"Sandy's been skipping school," she was his eleven year old daughter and I had a really bad feeling where this was going considering my past and how much Marty knew about it. "Not classes, school. I followed her and two of the girls she's friends with last week ... followed them right to an apartment building only three things come out of. Drugs, junkies and kiddie porn."

"Christ, Marty..." what can you say to that? 'Oh, sorry your baby girl is nob gobbling on camera for some smack... ', I knew that wasn't going to be the right thing to say. "Okay."

"Okay?" he looked a little confused.

"As in 'Okay, let me know when and where to meet to start planning this', " he looked like he was going to start crying and thanking me, but I ignored him and started taking some practice shots. "We here to play or sit around talking?"

Martin wasn't some naive kid that knew nothing of the fucked up side of life, but for him it had always been happening to someone else, always happening over there, not in his house. It was strange, watching his innocence evaporate like that. I didn't enjoy it, but there was a feeling deep inside that said quite clearly 'Welcome to my world'.

He called me two days after his retirement party, Sandy wasn't at the party because she had been in rehab since Marty told me, and said it was time to meet and start planning. I had to go see my new PO, which was rather comical, I walked into his office and was about to sit. "Don't sit."

"I'm sorry, I should have asked first, I'm just used to..."

"I don't want you sitting, because you won't be here long enough," he cut me off, I was sweating because this guy could violate me for any damn reason he wanted and I would be doing the last eight years of my sentence in ten minutes. "I read your file and every note, quote and scribble in the margins of anything that might be remotely connected to you. From now on call me once a week and tell me you aren't in jail and keep your cellphone close in case I need to call you. Other than that, I never want to see your face in here, understand?"

"Not really, but you're the boss," I answered with a shrug.

"Kid, I was a cop for twenty-two years and I saw some terrible shit, but nothing quite like walking into a warehouse full of kids barely out of diapers strung out and chained up like animals to be some piece of shit drug dealers toys so they could get just one more hit," he just stared at me, letting his words sink in. "You know those three you killed were on parole, and not one had checked in for over two months. So I retired and became a PO so I might keep shit like that from happening again. Now do you understand?"

"Yessir, and it has been a pleasure meeting you," with that I turned and walked out of the building, it had just barely sank in that I was basically free by the time I met Martin at The Hideout. It was actually just a doublewide in a pretty deserted neighborhood.

"You're early, really early," he said as I got out of my old rusted truck.

"The new PO told me to stay the hell out of his office," I gave him a shrug and then turned to look back down the road at the sound of powerful engines heading our way. Motorcycles, two of them, turned the corner and I shook my head because either those were the biggest goddamn hawgs I had ever seen, or those were the smallest riders I had ever seen.

" ... the fuck?"

"That'll be the twins." Marty grinned as he watched the motorcycles descend on us. "Don't let them know you're afraid."

I must have given him a funny look because his grin just got bigger and then I was too busy looking at the mini bikers to care about his grin. I'm 6' 6" and weight 307lbs, so most people look small next to me. But these two guys were freaking TINY! If either of them was over 5' 4" tall or 90lbs soaking wet I would become a monk! And Marty wasn't kidding about them being twins: identical black Kawasaki Stryker's, biker boots with rattling chains, skin tight black leather pants and jackets, the exact same tinted full face helmets with some crazy demon design.

I don't think they meant to do it, but they dismounted the bikes in exactly the same way at the exact same time, then in perfect synch reached up and pulled their helmets off. The first thing I noticed was the hair. Maybe the only thing not the same on the two of them because it was plastered down by sweat, but the colors were the same. Black, bright red and a royal blue.

Then the piercings. All on the right side of their faces. Three small hoops in the eyebrow, two hoops in the nostril, two larger rings in the lip and more than I could count in the ear. They were also the prettiest dudes I had EVER seen. It honestly made me a little uncomfortable, I'm ashamed to say. They quickly shucked their jackets and I could see the sweat soaking their NOT identical tshirts and outlining two pairs of small, but noticeable breasts.

"Those aren't guys." I whispered to Marty. He laughed so loud I think they heard him 20 miles away. The nearest of the twins turned toward us just as she stripped off the soaked tshirt and used it to wipe the sweat from her neck, chest and underarms. I got a very good look at the tattoos that snaked over her left arm, side, back and stomach and disappeared below the waistband of the low slung leather pants and crawled up her breast to her neck just below the ear. But just on the left side. There was also a bar through the right nipple, but it took me a few seconds to notice it.

The other twin did much the same thing, also revealing identical tattoos and breasts. They looked like lightly tanned punk rock biker pixies. Finally redressed in tshirts with no sleeves and slit almost down to the hemline, they decided to join us. And stop directly in front of me, looking me over from head to toe several times.

"Who's the beef?" they intoned simultaneously.

If Marty's grin got any wider his head would fall off. "He's the muscle."

The one on the left snorted a laugh, "As big as he is he better be the fucking muscle."

What happened next I blame on shock. While the left twin was speaking, the right's hands snaked out and had my zipper down and one dainty little hand inside and gripping my tackle before I could blink. "He's definitely the fucking muscle."

"Get your hand out of there, slut." the left twin groaned and lightly smacked her sister on the back of the head, and just that fast there was no longer a tiny hand rhythmically squeezing my rapidly hardening dick. "Damn, I can't take you anywhere, can I?"

"C'mon!" the right twin whined while I tried to get the blood flowing back up to my brain. "I had to check and see if it fits the rest of him!"

The left twin heaved a sigh and rolled her eyes, then stopped and looked at her sister with a serious expression. "Did it?"

"It belongs on a bigger guy." the right twin answered solemnly. Then they both raised the pierced eyebrow and looked me right in the eye and grinned how I imagine sharks scenting blood would grin.

Turning away the left twin walked over and gave Marty a big hug, "Damn, I'm sweatin' balls, Marty, you got anything to drink?"

The twin that had so recently been copping a very thorough feel grabbed my hand and lead me along after Marty and her sister, who were heading into the trailer. I hate to say it, but I was almost afraid to go in that almost empty double wide trailer. I didn't think there would be enough room for the three of us.

Kim was the talker and Cam was the grabber, or sitter as the case may be. The case being that she decided I was her new chair as soon as I sat down and had spent the last fifteen minutes grinding her muscular little ass against my painfully erect cock. She was currently trying to talk Kim into passing her the beer across the table.