Chapter 4

Pain. So much pain. Constant, unremitting, piercing pain. How long had it been? It felt like months though Number 5 realized it was more like days. It was hard to tell. It was pitch dark all around him. He couldn’t see shit. There were no windows in that part of the basement. No way of telling how much time had passed. He was starving among other things and severely dehydrated. He had never felt this parched his whole life. The dirty socks he had balled up in his mouth had once been drenched in spit but they were barely damp now.

The taste in his dry mouth was awful. And most of all, he wanted a fix. He needed a dose of the ‘fagdrug’, like godly Master Justin liked to call it. The slave was showing every single symptom of withdrawal in the book. His whole naked body was shaking, covered in sweat, he had palpitations and troubles breathing. He wanted it so badly, he was convinced he would have likely killed for it. He would have done anything, ANYTHING to make it all stop. Why had he put himself in that position when his life was so goddamn perfect? He had it all. He was a slave in a house of straight gods. What more could a faggot vermin such as himself possibly want? Huh?! WHAT?! He was so stupid. Always had been, since he was a little kid. Always finding a way to fuck things up. And this time was no different. He had fucked up big fucking time. Yet again.

He had been warned to get his shit together in every possible way. His fellow slaves had reported him more than once and the godly masters had tried to teach him. But had he learned? Of course not. He was simply not bright enough. Some animals are but he wasn’t one of them. A bright animal would have finished cleaning his godly master’s room BEFORE he came back with his newest fuckhole. The look of pure disgust on Master Justin’s face as he, the slave, had rushed out of the room to give them privacy had shattered his heart. Sure, it wasn’t easy to calculate how much time they had to clean the Masters’ rooms because those godly studs would rightly come and go as they pleased and the rooms had to be in perfect condition at all times.

How the slaves managed to make that happen was certainly not the godly Masters’ problem and obviously no mistakes could be tolerated. Not even if, as it had been his case, the dumb slave only literally needed three more minutes to close the windows and crank up the AC so the temperature in the room was just to the godly master’s likings. No. It had been his own fault and he knew it. And the pain he was enduring was well deserved. Yet, he couldn’t bear it anymore. It was too much for his fag brain. Tears kept falling down his cheeks as he stared at the door, praying for it to open. For Master Blake to come back and free him from that torture chamber. He suddenly would have slapped himself if he could. ‘Moron!’ he thought to himself. It was a correction room and he deserved that much and way more. ‘Stupid! Stupid fucking faggot! You’re still having these disrespectful thoughts?’ The muscles in his arms and neck were hurting the most. They were the only thing that prevented him from having his ass torn open. The device he had been tied to was hellish but somehow so effective.

It was his first time on it, it was very rarely used after all. In fact, of all the current slaves in the frat house, it had only been used on a couple of them who had been incompetent enough to deserve it. It kinda looked like one of those high bar-stools, you know? The extra-large wooden seat had a ‘u’ shaped hole large enough to fit the slave’s neck so that his shoulders were right underneath the edge and his chin was placed on top of it so that he was facing the seatback. His hands were tied to the metal pole underneath the seat to which he was holding on for dear life. His ankles were tied to the base of the stool. His uncaged balls and constantly hard dick were trapped between two thick metal plates, one over the other. As the weight on the seat increased for any reason, the upper plate would squash down the fag’s junk mercilessly. Right now there was a fifty pound dumbbell placed in front of his muzzle which was the main cause of his insufferable pain. But that wasn’t all. See, he was squatting over a metal dick-shaped dildo that grew larger and larger towards the base. He had a good six inches inside of him and his asshole was stretching way beyond ‘tolerable’. That’s why he was holding on to the stool pole to try and hoist himself up a bit and ease the pain to his ass which unfortunately caused the upper metal plate to be pushed down hurting him even more in an endless cycle of pain and moaning and crying. The only silver lining was the used jockstrap, godly Master Blake had left inches from his nose. He couldn’t see it but he could definitely picture it in his mind and he could smell it. God, such a godly smell. He simply couldn’t help trying to reach it and rub his face in it and the more he leaned forward the more he pushed down with his hands and the more his balls were squashed. Yet he kept doing it with an animalistic urge, a yearning that he couldn’t hope to suppress. Moaning, grunting, sweating, crying, shivering, hurting ... Again and again and again...

The door finally opened and the light hurt his eyes.

“What up, faggot? Still alive?” Master Blake snickered, entertained as he switched on the light which caused the slave to shut his eyes instantly.

“MMMMMM!!!” He screamed in his gag, in joyful desperation.

“Hehe! Missed me that much?” Master Blake replied.

The fag couldn’t see his gorgeous features very well, he was still trying to adjust. He could hear him getting closer though. And then suddenly the pressure on his balls became way stronger. His whole body tensed even more than before as he yelped in agony and realized Master Blake had casually leaned on the seatback of the device and was smirking two feet from his stupid muzzle, very, very calmly.

“So, how do you like the ‘queeredeemer’?” he asked “It’s been in the frat since ‘84, you know!”

“MMMMMMMMMM!!!!!” The fag’s throat was hurting too now. He was screaming his lungs out and crying.

“Helped hundreds of dumb faggots understand that rules must be obeyed. Always. No exceptions.” he was talking to him like you talk to a small child. Not moving an inch, still leaning heavily on the seatback, his green eyes stabbing him with mirth and derisive disgust.

“MMMMMMMM!!!” Number 5 was about to go crazy. He didn’t even understand what parts of his body hurt anymore.

“The guy who invented it must have been a genius, don’t you think?” godly Master Blake had that super conversational tone you have when you chat about the weather.

“MMMMMMMMMMM!!!” the fag was pleading with his eyes.

“I know, dude! I agree! All faggots should try this at least once. It’s fucking perfect for subhuman scum like you! That’s what I keep telling everybody!” Master Blake vented “It fucking teaches you your place in life and this should happen waaaay before college!” he snorted “I mean, fine, first grade is too soon, sure! But I say sixth or seventh grade ... that’s the perfect time to start! God, it would make school soooo much more fun for us and it would totally help you learn the skill you actually need in your sorry life.” he smirked down at him. “What do you think?”

“MMMMMMMMMMM!!!!” the slave was biting the dirty socks in his mouth with so much strength it felt like his teeth were about to crack. Master Blake was still smirking serenely at him.

“Uuuhhh! Yeah, I can’t even begin to imagine how much that shit must hurt!” he winced mockingly “But you fags love this, don’t you? You’re all the same.” he stated then suddenly spit on his face arrogantly “Each and every one of you stick around no matter what we do to you and you even keep coming back for more, hehe!” he snickered “Pathetic doesn’t even begin to describe your existence!”

“MMMMMMMMMMMMM!!!!!” The amount of pain was probably only comparable to how much Number 5 was loving being talked to like that by someone like godly Master Blake. How had he ever thought that straight gods and fag vermins were part of the same species was beyond him. HOW? The cocky smirk the master had on his beautiful face was so dreamy. His expensive looking headphones were around his neck and he was wearing a simple wife beater and a backward cap. One of those MAGA caps. The masters must have been out recruiting for the patriarchy again. The fag’s dick got even harder. But the pain was overwhelming. He was positive he was about to pass out. However, all of a sudden the pressure almost disappeared as the god straightened up and even removed the dumbbell on the seat.

The fag’s heart was beating so hard, the inside of his chest hurt. He was still panting and the noises he was making were sounding more and more similar to an actual animal. The pain was still running through his body and every pore was producing so much sweat it was embarrassing. But the little rationality he had left told him that somehow, slowly, very slowly, the pain would have subsided now that his junk wasn’t being crushed anymore.

His gag was removed and he opened his mouth to let the socks roll out of it.

“Hehe! I forgot they were there, hehe! Did you wash them good for me, fag?” the straight god cackled, looking down at that pitiful creature. He picked up a water bottle and drank avidly from it.

“Sir...” The fag’s voice was all raspy “Thank you so much, Sir...” he said “For teaching me, Sir ... and for letting me suck of your dirty socks, Sir ... and for leaving your dirty jockstrap for me to sniff, Sir ... And for spitting on my face just now, Sir ... I am sooo honored, Sir...” he poured every single ounce of sincere gratitude he had inside which was a whole lot. He kept looking at that god, drinking ... he needed to drink too. So badly that it probably showed.

“Thirsty, fag? Hehe!” Master Blake snickered as he put the bottle down.

“Y ... yes, Sir...” the fag pleaded. The straight god simply smirked.

“You know, what? I’m feeling suuuuuper generous today! So I’ll cut you a deal.” he said, fishing something out of his pocket. “You do know what this is, don’t ya?”

The godly master showed him a green pill. The fag’s eyes widened.

“It’s ... it’s ... the fagdrug, Sir...” the slave stuttered, so excited now.

“Bingo! Hehe!” replied Master Blake “Only this is about five times the daily dose you’re used to.” the fag realized his tongue was sticking out “Do you want it?”

“Yes!! Please Sir!” the fag’s eyes lit up.

“Yeah, I’ll bet! What the hell, I might even consider pissing down that fagthroat to give you something to wash it down with.” he said.

“Oh my god, please, Sir, do it! Please! I’ll do anything, I swear!” the fag’s dick was now so hard it hurt.

“Good, fag! That’s what I like to hear!” Master Blake said smirking “So I’ll make it super easy for you, ok? Listen carefully!”

“Yes, Sir!”

“All you gotta do is beg me to sit on the queeredeemer.” He said calmly “You see, I need to do a series of suuuuper boring stretching exercises for my shoulder and I need a place to chill. You wouldn’t want a player of the Golden Panther’s lineup to suck at the next game, right?” he asked, almost diabolically.

“N ... n ... no, Sir, never...” stammered number 5.

“Good! And besides you should consider it an honor that I even asked!” Master Blake smirked as the fag started to nod “I mean, sure, it’s probably gonna hurt like nothing ever before.” the jock shrugged unconcerned “But let’s face it, fags don’t need balls, anyway, do they? Hehe!” he snickered. “So? What do you say?”

Number 5’s eyes opened wide in pure unmitigated horror. How the hell was he gonna take what was coming? It was impossible. The pain would be unbearable. Completely unbearable. Yet the second he started to consider the implications, he already knew deep down he was gonna do it. And he was gonna beg so hard no other slave in that frat could compare to him.

“Please, Sir!” He started whining “I’m begging you, would you please sit on the queeredemer for as long as you like so that you can crush my balls? You’re absolutely right. Disgusting faggots like me don’t need balls, Sir so they deserve to be crushed by a straight god such as yourself! Please!”

“Hahaha! Wow! Three whole seconds to decide. So fucking eager! I think this might be a new record, fag! Hehe!!” Master Blake cackled “Alright, you got it! You get the pill, my piss and a healthy dose of educational pain. It really is your lucky day!”

“Yes, Sir! Thank you, Sir!” the fag was crying, he couldn’t help it. Even though inside he was more excited than scared.

The Master temporarily removed the seat of the device and got close to his face.

“Open up.” He said and dropped the green pill inside his mouth. Then he lowered the front of his gym shorts and his perfect dick came into view. The piss hit the back of his fag throat almost immediately and the slave started swallowing gratefully. “Yeah, chug it, bitch! That’s any fag’s favorite energy drink, am I right? Hehe!” It was so good to finally taste Master Blake’s piss. It was the first time and he definitely lived up to his godly reputation. It was arguably the tastiest piss the fag had had in the year he had spent in that frat. So fucking good. “Fucking pathetic!” Master Blake muttered disgusted and spit right in the fag’s eye. That was the moment that lowly fag cunt promised himself he would never EVER screw up again. He had to do better if he wanted to keep living the dream. Unfortunately the tasty drink finished way too soon and before he knew it, Master Blake was shaking his perfect dick in front of his face and sadly putting it away.

“Thank you so much, Master. It was so good! I’m not worthy of the honor, Sir, you are so good to me...”

“Yeah, yeah...” the straight teenager said distractedly while putting the seat back and trapping the fag’s head again.

“I am so grateful to you and all the other Masters to be ablmmmmm...”

“Shut the fuck up!” Master Blake grunted and forced his damp socks back into the stupid faggot’s mouth. “There, you’re all set.” he said looking down at him then added “Oh, and feel free to scream as much as you want. I need to try the noise cancellation on these babies, ok?” He said as he put his headphones on.

The fag’s heart was pounding as a whirlwind of emotions ran wildly through his entire body. Then the teenage god sat on the queeredemer. And that was the excruciating beginning of the end.

Number 9 was lovingly folding his masters’ laundry as diligently as he possibly could. Everyone was a bit on edge on that particular day. Number 5 was finally coming back to the frat house. It had been about ten days since the ‘accident’. Yeah, right, everyone kept calling it an accident and that stuck up pink haired slave actually believed it. Number 9 snorted to himself. How fucking clueless. But he knew better. Not that he would ever talk about it with anyone. He minded his own business. His plate was extremely full already. Things with his own two masters had become impossibly hard. Master Alec and Master Kitt were crazy bas ... No! Stupid fag! He quickly grabbed the horse whip the masters used with him and hit his own bare ass as hard as he could. The pain relieved the guilt and he felt better. It still happened sometimes. His mind stupidly slipped into his old life. Unacceptable. He still had a long way to go. They were straight gods which automatically gave them the right to do whatever they wanted to him. No fucking limits. He knew that and he accepted it one hundred percent. He had chosen that life after all and loved every bit of it. Well, he loved most of it. The humiliation and the abuse felt so fucking good and just ... right. The young fag had never experienced anything like it because even though Master Dillon clearly enjoyed degrading him, he had never been as extreme as his two new owners. To be fair, it was just the extreme physical pain he still had a few problems with. But that didn’t matter one bit. He needed to do better, period! Spending the following four years of his pathetic life as a slave in that frat house was pretty much his ONLY ambition in life. He wasn’t gonna blow it. He was there to stay.

He heard footsteps behind him and turned around quickly.

“Welcome back, Mast...” he didn’t finish greeting Master Kitt because the straight boy slapped him so hard on the face he hit the ground instantly with a thump.

“What up, fag!” the god-like boy said casually.

Number 9 quickly got up on all fours and lowered his face till his forehead touched the floor. He wasn’t being punished for screwing up. Not at all. The slap was simply Master Kitt’s way of acknowledging his existence. The straight boy pressed one of his heels to the back of the slave’s head. He liked to use his head as a lever to pull off his shoes. The first one fell on the floor. “Where’s Alec?” he asked as he started pulling off his second sneaker pressing the fag’s nose hard to the floor.

“He hasn’t come back yet, Sir.” the fag promptly answered. Then he lifted his face and used his teeth to pull off his Master’s ankle socks. His fag brain welcomed the smell. So powerful. So manly. It kinda felt like he was being brainwashed by it, more and more with each passing day. He doubted he could live without it anymore. He indulged himself for a couple of seconds. This whole little ritual had become so much of a habit lately, it was completely natural to him, now. And for good reasons, since it happened three or four times a day, every single time either one of his Masters got back to the frat.

Master Kitt’s phone buzzed as he walked to his bed and threw himself on it.

“Where the fuck are you, bro?” he answered, rubbing his eyes in a childish way.

Number 9 stuffed the damp socks in his mouth and crawled to the hamper.

“No, not yet. But you better be here when it gets here.”

Then the fag did the same with his Master’s Vans. He had become so good at grabbing them both at the same time with his mouth. They were warm and obviously smelled as strongly as Master’s perfect feet.

“Yeah, big bro says it’s the first time something like that has happened since he’s been here.”

The slave put his Master’s shoes in the closet and crawled over to him.

“Nah, he says it’s gonna be fine. That Blake dude made sure it never missed a dose. Not even once.”

And then the tasty treat was finally there for him to enjoy. Master Kitt’s feet tasted so wild every single time he licked them clean. They were different from Master Alec’s. Not better or worse, just different.

“I guess, but bro says to just stick to the story if anyone asks.”

The fag enveloped three of the straight boy’s toes in his mouth and coated them with saliva. He liked doing that a whole lot cause it gave him the impression his whole mouth started tasting like straight foot sweat. He moaned ever so softly. Master Kitt lowered his eyes for a second and smirked. God it felt so good to be owned. They could do anything they wanted to him. ANYTHING. He had no control over it and it was just too awesome. He was so lucky to have been assigned to these perfect straight gods.

“It’s a pain but I guess it’s better than listening to Noah’s lecture on ‘the importance of spreading the ideology’!” Zach Taylor rolled his eyes.

“Hehe! Well, he’s kinda right though.” Replied Scott, sipping his coke “I mean, I’m not that much into politics but I was gonna vote for him anyway and if I can help people change their mind...” he scratched one of his pits “Besides we’re getting paid, aren’t we?”

“Yeah, I guess, but talking to people is such a drag!” Zach stretched and yawned.

Scott simply chuckled and shook his head, amused.

“Hey, by the way, are you still fucking that blond I saw last week?” asked Zach, taking a long puff from his cigarette.

“Yeah...” replied Scott, a little bored “She’s not exactly mind blowing but I need to empty my balls every now and then, don’t I? Especially now that this fag’s sister is not around anymore!” Scott smirked, extremely amused.

“Woah, woah! What? What’s this about?” asked Zach.

“Didn’t I tell you? I fucked her pretty much all my senior year.”

“Haha! For real?” Zach cackled.

“Hehe! You bet! She started following me around like a little puppy right after Thanksgiving, so I ended up popping her cherry right on this faggot’s bed! Hahaha!” Scott couldn’t stop sniggering. He sounded pretty happy with himself.

“No fucking way, bro! You’re making this up!” said Zach enjoying the banter.

“Swear to god, bro!” Scott lifted his hands “She started giving me head at school like three or four times a week, usually after practice in the locker room...” he reminisced “One time we got caught by a second year and she totally freaked out. So I talked her into sucking him off too to buy his silence, hehehe!” he cackled and Zach joined in.

“Haha! Dude, you made that kid’s day!”

“You bet! For the rest of the year, he kept looking at me like I was some kinda hero! Haha!” there was so much entertainment in their voices.

“I gotta say she was actually pretty good with her mouth. She sucked like a fucking hoover and she was a toooootal cum guzzler!” he recalled conversationally.

“Hahaha! Love those!” Zach cackled.

“I know, right? You know when they fucking suck it right out of your balls? Mmmmm!! Oh, man!” Scott said satisfied.

“Yeah, bro, that’s the fucking best.” Agreed the blond pothead.

“Yeah, anyway, sometimes she’d come over to my place on the weekend but after a while I told her it was getting boring...” Scott crossed his arms behind his head “So right on cue, before Christmas break she took me to her house once when everyone was out and she said she was ready to fuck...” he shrugged.

“Yeah, but why on this fucker’s bed?” asked Zach, still very entertained.

“Haha! Yeah, that was my idea. Thought it was funny, hehe!”

Freddy was completely and utterly stunned. He couldn’t move a muscle, of course. It was an essential part of the job. His knees hurt and so did his back which came to no surprise whatsoever. They were in Scott’s room. Well, technically it was his room too, although it didn’t feel like it was. It never really had, probably because of all the stuff that happened daily in that place. Right now, for example. He was on all fours, serving as a human footrest for the two brothers he called his Masters, who were chilling and casually talking about how slutty his own little sister was. Now that’s not exactly the sort of occurrence that screams ‘this is my safe place!’, does it? To be fair, he wasn’t supposed to have heard their conversation. He was wearing headphones and a blindfold. The used socks of the two straight boys were balled up in his mouth and there was tape over his lips. He was supposed to be listening to his daily dose of educational material. But the track had finished a few minutes before which gave him the chance to hear them go on about MAGA stuff and how important it is to support it and then the little snippet about his baby sister. The weird thing was that the only feeling he could recognize in the internal turmoil he was presently living was ... well, envy. Towards his sibling. Towards someone who had been able to suck Scott’s cock and actually taste and ... swallow his cum. Oh, god.

“Does he know?” Zach asked, still snickering.

“Nah, don’t think so!” Scott replied “She didn’t know how to break it to him since he never could stand me, so she begged me not to say anything.” He was annoyingly amused. “Gotta say, also very good at begging.”

“Haha! Must run in the family!” quipped Zach.

“Yeah, I guess! Hehe!”

“Oh, man, that’s just fucking hilarious! You used one of ‘em as a fucktoy and the other one as a slave! I’m sure their mom and dad would be reeeeeal proud if they knew! Hehehe!”

Both boys cackled, kinda stupidly

So, yeah. Freddy was indeed stunned. He should have gotten up, freed himself and taught these two misogynistic pricks a thing or two about respect. ‘Should’ being the operative word here. As in ‘he knew he was supposed to act that way’. Problem was he had no intention of doing so. None whatsoever. He couldn’t stop thinking about his sister sucking off Scott. Hell, even sucking off a random kid just cause she’d been told to. That was way bolder than anything he had ever done. He was actually a little impressed that someone like her could have peaked Scott’s interest. Maybe she had acted that slutty exactly for that reason. To get noticed. Oh, fuck. Who cared? The taste in his mouth was making him hornier than ever and the only thing he actually wanted to do was lick their feet. Sick? Totally. But he didn’t care. He wanted to do that more than anything. Their legs were heavy on his back but strangely enough he didn’t really mind one bit. As much as he would have liked to deny it, it did feel good to be used like that by them. He kept suckling on their used socks. His dick was hard, as always. Morning, afternoon, night, his dick was always hard as fuck which didn’t use to be the case before, at least not like that.

“Hey, did you finally let’im give you head?” Zach asked suddenly.

Freddy almost felt the urge to laugh. If only! God, he would have killed for that to happen. He was positive he would have done a much better job than his inexperienced sister.

“Nope!” replied Scott.

“Dude!” Zach snorted, exasperated.

“Started pissing in his mouth, though!” the handsome athlete added defensively.

It was true. Not an entirely unpleasant experience either. Freddy chewed on the socks even more.

“For real? Good job!” Zach sounded impressed “Feels pretty awesome, doesn’t it?” his tone changed to amused.

“Well, I don’t know bout ‘awesome’ but it sure is funny as fuck! Hehe!” Scott cackled “This stupid fuck keeps looking at me as he swallows my fucking piss ... that’s just fucking pathetic, man!”

“Hehehe! Oh, totally bro! But you have no idea how handy that shit it! I haven’t used a real toilet on campus for over a year, bro!” Zach declared proudly.

“Haha! Yeah, I believe you and I can totally see myself doing that!”

Hang on. What did he mean by that? Over a year? That was just part of the taming, right? That was so confusing.

“Which is why you’re the one using him as a footrest right now and he’s ... well ... down there, hehe!” stated Zach.

“Fucking-A-right, bro!” commented Scott.

“Actually, you know what? Now that you mention it...” Zach continued.

Freddy felt one of them move and a hand taking off his headphones rather roughly.

“Hey, fag!” Zach called “Need to piss. You thirsty?”

It was soooo not a question. And Freddy knew it. Even more than that, by now, Freddy knew that giving a haphazard answer was not a wise choice. So, even though he was still a little confused, he started nodding vigorously. The two boys cackled.

“Haha! Well, then, c’mere!” barked Zach.

Scott’s feet remained heavily planted on his back as Zach pulled his hair forcing him to turn around. They took off his blindfold and he winced slightly. Zach’s impish smirk greeted his eyes. He ripped the tape off his lips. “Spit the socks.” the straight boy ordered and he obeyed instantly. He watched Zach unbutton his black skinny jeans and take out his plump, gorgeous dick. “Open.” Freddy was ready for the stream to hit the back of his throat. But Zack stuck his dick into his mouth, pushing the back of his head till his nose was buried in his blond pubes. Freddy couldn’t believe his luck. He hadn’t tasted a dick since the previous summer. His heart raced. The smell of sweat and unwashed crotch filled his brain. It felt so good to have a dick in his mouth he almost choked when Zach actually started to piss. Almost. Getting praise for his skills had become very important to him. So he swallowed and swallowed again. And then again. The few times he had done it with Scott he had been ordered to sit into the shower and the jock had simply directed the stream into his open mouth. This was completely different. He couldn’t simply spit or gag. He would have made a mess and he would have been punished for it. Big fucking time. And being alone with Blake literally scared the shit out of him. That guy was terrifying. So he focused on swallowing as fast as he could. Mouthful after mouthful. He didn’t love drinking piss but it kinda seemed like a small price to pay to get into the frat. Wait, was that still what he actually wanted? He swallowed again.

“Hey, this bitch ain’t even half bad!” Said Zach. Stupidly, Freddy felt a little proud of himself.

“Yeah, I guess.” Scott replied kinda smugly “Does whatever the fuck I tell him now.”

“Good, you got a shot then!” said Zach. Freddy kept looking up at the boy’s face as he continued swallowing his piss. Like Scott had mentioned, looking up at them was something he actually liked doing. There was something about the satisfaction and even the amusement in their face that made him feel ... at ease. Especially now that the two boys were ignoring him, literally acting like he was a real urinal. Why did he like that? The taste of piss was acrid and so fucking strong. He felt a little queasy but strangely remained calm enough. He kept swallowing.