Harem Boys - Blog Posts

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Arabian Nights

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[NSFW] ‼ 18+ >MDNI<

Summary: Aizawa Shouta goes to a suspicious spa for a relaxing day, when things take a turn

Pairing: Aizawa/Harem Boys

Content Warning: Male Gay Sex, Smut, Dub/Non Con, Gangbang(?), Harem Boys, Hypnotism, Brainwashing, Drugging, Kidnapping, Chastity Cage, Cock Cage, Anal Fingering, Anal Play, Prostate Massage, Prostate Massager/Toy, Nipple Play, Cumming Untouched, Milking, Prostate Milking, Unethical Masseuse Actions, It's porn, Body Oil, Body Hair, Pampering, Loosely based on Aladdin's aesthetics, This is not meant to be offensive in any way, though it is pretty stereotypical

Word Count: 5.8k

Disclaimer: Character belongs to Kohei Horikoshi

A/N: This was my first requested fic!! I had sm fun writing this, especially researching stuff to be at least somewhat accurate lol

Hope you like it @princeasimdiya12 !!🥰❤

My Masterlist

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Aizawa Shouta has been notably stressed lately; more so than usual. And as his friend, Hizashi decides that he needs a break. Just a day to relax and unwind. He knows that even that might be asking too much of him by himself, so he enlists their other friend Nemuri for help.

Together, Hizashi and Nemuri conspire and come up with a plan, and they somehow convince Shouta to go along with it.

They book him a spa day at a themed spa, Arabian Nights, and though he rolled his eyes and grumbled, Shouta is secretly grateful for the reprieve.

When they all get there, because they both feel the need to make sure he actually goes, Shouta gets the feeling that something is off.

He voices this to them of course, but is brushed off because they think he's either just trying to get out of it or the stress is making him paranoid, it could be either or both.

As they check him in, he scopes out anything and everything he can. The outside of the building looked normal enough, but the interior, even just the reception room, is like a whole new world in itself.

Intricate designs cover the cream walls and high ceiling, with gold accents; tapestries and paintings lining them tastefully. The carpet beneath their feet, and decorative pillows on the available seats are plush and a matching wine colour, while the furniture are all dark reds and browns, with potted plants placed at the corners of the room.

He takes notice of all the employees he can see, all of which are male, though of different ethnicities and stature.

They're all dressed to fit the theme of the spa, in puffy, cream coloured pants with the crotches dropped, tight, black, low cut V neck vests, and maroon sashes tied around their waists. Gold sashes are draped across their chests from their right shoulders to their left hips, and thick, gold bands adorn both of their wrists, along with a cream coloured headpiece, each with a slanted gold stripe across the front and a red jewel at the top center, most likely rubies.

When they're finished checking him in, he's lead through a detailed, arched doorway, to get started, with Hizashi waving him off, saying that they'll come pick him back up later when he's done.

Though, as Hizashi and Nemuri exit the building, they don't see the eyes of one of the employees glow a bright, swirling mix of red and gold as he looks at them leave.

And by the time they reach the car, they can't remember why they're here, where they are, and with no recollection of an Aizawa Shouta.

*****

The man leading Shouta is taller than him; slender and lithe, almost serpentine in his movements. He's dressed in a black, floor length robe with red bell sleeves and a low cut neck that shows off his muscular chest, a matching red sash around his waist, along with a tall, black headdress, a thin and wavy gold pattern wrapping around the middle, going downwards at the front, with a garnet stone situated just above his forehead, and a long, crimson feather above the gem; a maroon cloth attached to the base of the headpiece is draped over his shoulders. It's extravagant as it is, but to top it all off, a black, dramatic cape with a scarlet interior flows behind his every step.

Shouta thinks that that might be a bit much, but who's he to judge?

Just as he's starting to wonder just how far they're going, the man leading him stops in front of what seems to be a shower and changing room and turns to him, allowing him to take in his features properly. His eyes are dark red, lined in black and lidded, and he has a neat goatee and mustache which just seems to emphasize the sharpness of his jaw and high cheekbones.

His voice is low and damn near hypnotic as he djrects Shouta to shower, just to freshen up, showing him to the towels and amenities. Shouta quickly obliges, as it seems to be like a pool or a public bathhouse; rinsing yourself off beforehand so that you don't bring in any outside dirt and germs.

When he gets out, the same man leads Shouta, now clad in nothing but a towel, to a large, opulent hot spring.

Ornately patterned tiles decorate along the walls, the high ceiling and around the spring itself. There are intricately carved pillars and arches, and statues of cobra snakes with embedded rubies for eyes placed around the room.

Shouta hides a scowl as he thinks how how much time and money is being wasted on this, though it's quickly wiped away as he settles into the water, it being far more pleasant than he anticipated.

He lets out a soft sigh as the warmth seeps into his skin, easing his muscles and draining the tension from him; sitting and soaking in the water for a long while, his head tipped back on a rock, eyes closed. Beads of water drip and trickle down the pale column of his throat, pooling in the dip of his collarbones and sliding down his pecs; facial and chest hair glistening with the droplets.

After only a few minutes, he begins to feel woozy. Though, the steam of the hot spring is rather thick, so he just chalks it up to it being the heat.

An attendant, dressed the same as those in the front lobby, brings him a bottle of water. It's sealed, so he assumes it's perfectly safe, and drinks.

By now he's completely relaxed, pliant really, and somewhere in the back of his mind he thinks that something is wrong, but he doesn't know what.

Eventually, the same man in the dark robes come back to collect him. Shouta stands from the water, about to head over to the changing rooms, when the man stops him. It's then he realizes that the man has a towel thrown over his forearm that he holds out to Shouta, and a maroon pillow, with gold stitching and tassels hanging from the corners, in his hands with a black and gold box atop it.

Accepting the towel with quiet thanks and beginning to dry off, Shouta thinks he should really worry that he hadn't noticed that until then, but the thought is shoved down almost as quickly as it appeared.

At Shouta's questioning look, the man nods to the box with a smile. He steps forward, gently unclasping the latch. When Shouta sees what's within the box, he blinks confusedly, wondering if he's hallucinating.

A chastity cage.

All shining gold metal, nestled in velvet pillowing.

Brows furrowed, he asks, "Why?" The corner of the man's smile twitches, because really, he shouldn't be questioning anything at this point, but he takes a breath to keep himself calm. It probably just hasn't settled in properly yet.

Keeping his eyes locked onto Shouta's, he says, with that same low, hypnotic tone, that people often get aroused from the massages, ending up uncomfortable when they're face down because the position presses on it. The man smiles contentedly when Shouta accepts this and complies without any complaint or fight, not seeing anything wrong with what he said.

Shouta reaches for it before the man stops him. "Allow me to put it on for you, Aizawa-san." Shouta furrows his brows in hesitation, and seeing this, the man adds, "It is part of my job. I must ensure that it is on properly and securely." Shouta nods slowly, accepting the answer and ignoring the nagging hesitance at the back of his mind.

He's guided back inside to another room with a massage table, being directed to sit on it, thighs spread.

Propped up on his hands, Shouta gasps softly as the man kneels in front of him and grasps his soft cock in his large hand, his cheeks burning with embarrassment at the contrasting sizes. He's a grower, not exactly a shower, and it's obvious.

The man's hands are slender and graceful as he works, placing the gold ring of the device around his balls, then slipping the rest of the cage itself over his shaft.

"How does that feel, Aizawa-san?" 

Shouta does his best not to squirm as he replies, voice strained. "Weird." 

"But it doesn't hurt? There's no pinching?" He holds Shouta's gaze as he asks this, eyes intense and searching.

"Well, no, but—" he cuts himself of when his breath hitches at a stray jolt of pleasure when his touch brushes his tip.

The man hums in acknowledgment, ducking his head to hide his pleased amusement, fiddling with it a bit more before Shouta hears a soft click. "There we go."

A low heat settles in his stomach as he sees the gold cage surrounding him, contrasting prettily off of his dark body hair and pale skin.

A dangerous glint of satisfaction flashes

in the man's eyes and Shouta flushes when his finger drags through the openings along the cage as he pulls his hand away. Shouta sucks in a sharp breath. The sensation is light, but that almost hungry look in his eyes makes it feel like so much more.

"Perfect." The man practically purrs, his voice hot and low, eyes dragging over him with intensity so potent that it feels like a caress in itself.

Shouta bites his lip, lest he says something mortifying, as the man stands back up. He moves over to a cupboard, taking out a few items of cloth before going back over to Shouta. "Please change into these, Aizawa-San."

Swallowing thickly, Shouta nods and stands, taking the clothes and quickly slipping them on.

It's a matching set of an open chest vest and baggy, puffy black pants with thick gold trimming, though they may as well be nonexistent with their thin, sheer material. The gold of the cage can still be clearly seen through them.

After he's finished changing, he's guided back to the same massage table, now adjusted to more resemble a chair, where other workers join them, quickly introducing themselves.

They're all of course unfairly handsome. Some with sharp features, others soft, with varying skin tones and ethnicities. Some are tall and muscular, while some are shorter and more lithe, but they're all dressed almost the same. All of them are in all white, silk, low cut robes, puffy pants and tall headpieces, with a matching cloth attached to the base of the headpiece, draping over their shoulders; the only difference among them being the variety of colours they each chose for their accessories, specifically the gem and feather adorning their headpieces, the sashes tied around their waists, and the sheer veil masks covering their noses and mouths, which match their eyes that are lined in black which make them stand out.

There are five of them, two dark skinned men with peridot and aquamarine eyes respectively, two tanned skin men dressed in emerald green and sapphire blue, and one with pale skin and amethyst eyes, seemingly albino, with snowy white hair peeking through his headpiece.

At first, it doesn’t register with him what’s happening, with them bustling around and setting up tables, appliances and products, but then they talk through the options of scents for the humidifiers, incense and massage oil. He chooses a light coffee and vanilla scent for the humidifier, cinnamon for the incense and rose for the oil.

When they're finished setting up, the same man in the red and black robes stands in front of him, hands clasped behind his back.

"They will now treat your hair, nails and skin, before the massage. Please be patient and enjoy." He explains, and they immediately begin as he leaves with a bow.

They adjust his seat, reclining it back to wash and treat his hair, while two take each of his hands, the ones with peridot and sapphire eyes, and begin carefully treating his nails, and another two, emerald and amethyst, does the same to his toenails after soaking, scrubbing, and treating his feet, all while the one with aquamarine eyes is behind him, treating his hair. When he's done with his hair, he moves on to giving him a facial, along with neatening his eyebrows and stubble.

And Shouta sinks. There's a low buzz of calm and peace from being pampered and taken care of, his eyes closed and breathing even as he relaxes with the aroma of the incense and humidifier in the air, and he's pretty sure they're all wearing the same sweet but mild perfume, though he can't place the scent. He doesn't know what could be causing it, but he feels loopy, his ability to think straight slipping away bit by bit.

By the time the manicure and pedicure are finishing up, along with the man doing his facial treatment, including a massage, his head is fuzzy and light.

The rose oil is warm on his skin when they begin the massage itself.

He starts at his jaw, going down his neck. From there, he goes to his shoulders, and then eventually his chest, all from behind him where his chair is tilted back, and Shouta barely reacts when they slip the vest off his shoulders and fully adjust the seat back into a table.

Now laying on his back, he pays no mind when they strip him back out of the very pants they instructed him to wear, now leaving him completely bare yet again, barring the chastity cage.

With multiple pairs of strong yet soft hands gliding over his body, Shouta feels utterly blissful as he basks in their ministrations, letting out soft, relaxed moans.

Every inch of him is given attention, from top to bottom. His upper half is paid great care as oiled hands knead his muscles and caress his skin, while the men at his lower half start from his feet and gradually move up his legs, rubbing out the tension.

He can't help but pant and squirm as hands simultaneously squeeze and knead his inner thighs and his chest, hands brushing over his now sensitive nipples, trying to muffle his little gasps and groans.

"Fuck," He whispers, voice all soft and breathy, then going higher and more breathless, turning into almost a whimpering moan as the man repeats the motion, grazing his palm over his nipple. "Fuck." 

And Shouta freezes, going dead silent; his whole body locking up as his brain blanks. He feels himself flush to his chest as he clenches his jaw, eyes darting to them to gauge their reactions. It's absolutely mortifying to be affected like this, by this, but before he can begin to fully panic, one of them drags the nail of their thumb over his other nipple, while another rubs soothing circles into his upper thigh, making his breath hitch and hips twitch.

He sees the pleased smiles on their faces through their masks at his reactions, the intensity in their eyes, and he bites his lip, considering.

He really shouldn't. It's irrational, perverse; downright whorish really, and he's never done anything like this before.

Though, seeing the prominent bulges in their white pants and the heat of their gazes, feeling it in their lingering touches, settles his decision.

He spreads his legs further, arching his back into the touch. The man's smile widens, pale blue eyes shining as he presses a thumb to the pert bud, rolling over it and taking in the way Shouta's face melts. The man huffs a soft laugh, pinching the nub between his fingers, eliciting a gasp from Shouta.

From there, he suffers sweet torture.

They run their hands over his skin leisurely, along his sides, tummy and chest, play with his nipples until they're puffy and sore, and massage and stroke the sides of his crotch without ever actually touching his cock, teasingly only focusing on everything but where he needs it most, and all he can do is pant, moan and whine.

Humiliation burns through him as blood tries hopelessly to rush to his cock, but the cage does it's job and doesn't let it fill, only pathetically twitching. His nerves are alight with the pulsing, needy heat with nowhere to go.

He doesn't know how long he's played with like this, basking in their groping, deliciously torturous touches.

Momentarily freeing him from torment, he's mercifully flipped over, face directly in front of a taunting bulge that's so close, yet too far for him to actually reach without stretching.

Their mercy does not last long.

Brushing his dark hair to the side, exposing the pale expanse of his neck and back, they start at the base of his neck and his calves at the same time, and Shouta melts into the table as the sweet torture begins anew. Their hands move down his back, and up his legs to his ass simultaneously, more forceful than he expects, like they're actually massaging out the tension, lighting his every nerve aflame.

A part of him feels silly for thinking that he’d released all of his stress back in the hot springs. Shouta doesn’t remember his muscles being this loose in his life.

Though, that’s not exactly a surprise. With his career, it’s a miracle he hasn’t keeled over from stress before now, honestly.

.

.

.

What is his career again?

......

...........He—

He's quickly distracted from the thought when he realizes that his sensitive nipples are brushing against the table and the chastity cage is at an awkward angle, so he shifts, raising his hips a bit to alleviate the discomfort.

That's when he feels hands spread his thighs further, rubbing and squeezing the flesh there's before moving up to knead and spread his asscheeks, while another hand slips between them, brushing over his hole.

Face down, ass up, his breath hitches and his hands tighten into fists beside his head as he feels oiled fingers glide over him there, a thick thumb rubbing over the tight ring of muscle.

He can't help but gasp and writhe as they tease and prod at him, slipping in just the very tip of a thumb, tugging at the tight rim, before immediately removing it, over and over again, all while the others continue to grope at his thighs and chest, hands slipping under him from where he's now propped up on his forearms.

And eventually, he can't take much more. "Mmn, stop teasing me." His voice is gruff and strained as he complains, but it just comes out thready and begging.

The men shiver at the sight of him, dark eyes glazed over and needy, lips shiny and swollen from biting them parted in panting little gasps, back arched beautifully and hips swaying tauntingly; his shiny, unshaven hole on show, winking and clenching around nothing, just begging to be filled.

They lament being unable to stuff him until he's dripping this very instant, knowing it's against the rules during working hours, but feel their cocks twitch in anticipation of the day they get to feel him wrapped around them, tight, pliant and hot.

For now, they settle for seeing him feel good and bask in it; some biting their lips at the sweet, low moan that's pulled from Shouta at a finger slipping into him slow and deep, others moaning right along with him at the sight of his hole greedily sucking in the thick digit.

It does nothing to make the desperation for his cock to get any sort of friction lessen, but Shouta can't help but rock back onto the finger, impatient for more as the man fucks it in and out, loosening him up.

It isn't long before he pulls out nearly all the way, a little whine of protest starting in the back of Shouta's throat, that quickly turns into a moan when instead of pressing in one, he has two of those long, thick fingers sinking into him.

His hole burns a little with the stretch, but even that feels good as he slowly pumps in and out, stretching him. He thrusts and twists them, dragging along his walls deliciously, before crooking his fingers, pressing them down and moving them inside of him like he's trying to create a hook towards his belly button, searching.

A long, low moan escapes him as his hands scramble for purchase on the table when a bolt of pleasure rushes through his nerves. He keens desperately, grinding back; the fingers pressing against his prostate again and he sees stars.

He feels mouths on his shoulders, lower back, and the back of his thighs, hot and wet as they nip as suck at his skin, leaving pretty marks and bruises in their wake on the pale canvas of his flesh, all while a hand fondles and plays with his balls just as a third finger slips in; and eyes rolled back, cock twitching in its confines, he can't do anything but moan and roll his hips, wanting them deeper, even as his nerves scream at him.

Because really, he shouldn't want it so badly, not when every stroke inside of his greedy hole is just making his cock hurt more, just making his muscles tense and fingers grip tightly onto the sheets of the table as his body tries desperately to find something to do with the pleasure wrecking his nerves.

The man scissors his fingers lightly while continuing to rub against his prostate, and Shouta's thighs tremble; practically vibrating and his cock aching.

And then the fingers are removed.

He whines needily, wantonly, as he tries to push up to complain, only to be held in place. One of them, the one with peridot eyes, chuckles lowly, tucking a strand of hair behind Shouta's ear and whispers, "Stay still, Gorgeous. We'll take good care of you." His voice is breathy and hot, all saccharine velvet as he tilts Shouta's head by his chin to the side.

Shouta turns, going with it, and sees the man dressed in sapphire blue holding something.

A toy. 

It's black silicone, and thick, but Shouta can't help the breathy laugh that comes out as he takes in the shape of it.

Not a replica of a cock like one would expect, but not one of the less human and stranger variations he knows exist either. No, this is shaped like an upside down 'T', but also almost like a genie's lamp, with a handle and everything, with the top of it elongated and curved like a dick, away from the handle part, more towards the other end.

It takes a second with his brain so soaked in his heady arousal mixed with amusement for him to make sense of the shape, realizing the curve of it is going to push against his prostate perfectly.

Shouta hum a moan, desperate, sweet, and excited, ass swaying in anticipation.

When the thick, slick head presses against his twitching, stretched hole, Shouta forgets how to breathe. And when it starts to push inside, he thinks he forgets his name. His world narrows down to the glide of the solid weight that's gliding over his quivering walls as it pushes so achiniy slowly in, and in, and in.

By the time it's all the way inside, Shouta doesn't care one bit about rationality, or decency, or reputation.

Because he feels full, so full and so good, and oh fuck he was right about the shape; that thick head pressing up against his sweet spot has his thighs shaking, to the point that he feels like he's going to shake apart completely.

"How does that feel, Aizawa-san?" The man purrs, tone all teasing, velvet heat as he presses the toy in deep, rocking it, while hands and mouths continue to map Shouta's skin.

"Good, good, so fucking good, please—" the words trip over themselves to get off his tongue, it already feels so good, so much, but he already wants more, wants him deeper, wants him to move—

Their eyes are molten on him as they hear him beg so prettily, the man pressing the toy in firmly and grinding it against his prostate. They revel in the moan he sends echoing off of the walls, and it's all they need to keep going.

He pulls it back, about halfway out, before thrusting it in again, and grinding, and Shouta trembles and strains against the hands keeping him in place, not actually wanting it to stop but it's just so much more than he's used to, so new and so good. And though futile, he doesn't know what to do other than try to escape the pleasure before it completely consumes him.

The man does that over and over for a while that feels like hours on his frayed nerves, and all Shouta could do was pant and moan and take it.

He feels someone tuck his hair that fell back into his face behind his ear. Focusing his pleasure hazed gaze, he sees it's the one with amethyst eyes, the albino, though he doesn't know when they switched places. Seeing Shouta looking at him, he smiles, rubbing his thumb against Shouta's bottom lip, tugging on it. When Shouta parts his lips, slick tongue licking at it before sucking it into his mouth, he moves his thumb back and forth inside his mouth, fucking into it, eyes hungry on him as he coos, "Oh you were made for this, weren't you, Sweetheart? Who would've thought that the great Eraserhead would be so desperate to be stuffed full."

His tone is all teasing heat as he rubs his thumb against his gums and tongue, caressing and playing with his mouth, and Shouta wishes it was more than just a thumb that's pressing on his tongue. The man shudders as Shouta looks up at him from under his dark, glistening lashes, moaning around him, seemingly in agreement, until he pulls it out of his mouth with a wet pop.

Shouta's cock hurts. They won't touch it, and the man won't pull the toy back more than an inch before he's pushing it back against his sweet spot and it feels so good, feels like so much more than it really is with his cock all locked up and useless, his hole so much more sensitive. 

He's close, so close to cumming, his orgasm is pressing against his nerves, pulsing across his whole body with a building insistence, but he knows he can't, knows his cock can't let it out; and it makes the need burn that much more. He didn't know he could feel so good, so desperate for release, without going over the edge, the pleasure instead just building on itself.

"I need to cum, plea-please let me cum, please—" he pants, voice slurring and strained, breathy and sweet as he begs. The man with amethyst eyes just smiles behind his mask, caressing his cheek and throat, the others running their hands all along his heated skin as the man fucking the toy into him hums in acknowledgment.

"You will, Aizawa-san. We'll help you, don't worry." He soothes, thrusting the toy in a little harder, drawing out another low moan from Shouta.

A hand pushes up lightly on his lower stomach as he grinds and rocks the toy against his prostate, settling the base of it directly against his perineum and balls.

"I'm going to help you now, Aizawa-san. I'm going to count down for you, and when I get to one you're going to stop fighting it and let go, hm?" 

What?

"Five."

He can't—

"Four."

He can't cum with his cock locked up like this.

"Three."

Can he?

"Two."

Oh fuck.

"One."

Shouta's whole body tenses as the toy starts to vibrate. Against his prostate, his perineum and his balls, the entire thing takes him apart from the inside out. That sudden burst of new sensation along with the grinding pressure, tips him over the edge, and he dissolves into nothing but loud pants and desperate moans.

But he's not orgasming.

His body feels like there's a thinner kind of pleasure pushing through it, taking away a little of the pressure, but it doesn't feel as immediate, as strong or good, as his orgasm usually does.

And then he feels it. His cock twitches in his pretty golden cage and he looks to sees a slow constant trickle of cum spilling out of him against the sheet covered table, before his vision goes white; his mouth dropping open in a silent, screaming moan, painting the table with thick globs of his release.

"There we go. Perfect, baby. So good for us." The man praises, breathy and fond as he keeps the toy vibrating, low but on, as he shallowly fucks it in, grinding it against him. But it's still enough, still too much, still perfect.

Still makes Shouta let out another little moan when he moves it, making more spill out of him as his eyes roll back. And it doesn't stop, it keeps going, trickling out in thick globs; that burning ache slowly being drained out of his soft cock, spilling out and out against the table, soiling the cloth there.

It's so much, both almost too much yet not enough. Though amplified by the hands and lips roaming his skin, it's not satisfying in the way an orgasm usually feels; it's more of that continued, gentle, pressing pleasure, but stronger. No, this is different from an orgasm, he's not cumming.

He's being milked.

It lasts so much longer than he's used to, like it's pulsing out across his veins for ages, before it finally stops, turning into just a few more drops, and he finds himself laying limp against the sheets, his arms giving out beneath him, muscles trembling as he tries to greedily fill his lungs with air, though his lower half is still being held up by them.

And he can't do anything but lay there and let out a thin whine as the man pets his hand over the swell of his ass as he eases the still vibrating toy out of him. 

The drag of it over his sensitive walls and swollen hole gives his body another little flicker of utter bliss as it slips out, his cock giving another tiny, pathetic twitch in response in its cage.

The man with amethyst eyes strokes his hair, running his blunt nails over his scalp, easing him back to his senses. When Shouta blinks glossy, dazed eyes up at him, he pulls his mask down, running his tongue along Shouta's bottom lip, licking up a line of drool from the corner of his mouth, before fully slotting their mouths together in a deep, languid kiss.

Shouta moans weakly into his mouth when he feels his grip tighten in his hair while hands grip his asscheeks, spreading him open. He shivers at the cool air hitting his sensitive, gaping hole, hips twitching at a thumb running along the puffy rim. The man pulls away from his kiss swollen lips, leaving a thin string of spit connecting them still that snaps when he moves far enough.

They gently coax him off the table, quickly switching the soiled sheets with clean ones before guiding him back to it, laying him flat on his back, rubbing over his muscles and joints to ease whatever tension he regained.

They clean him up as he floats, eyes lidded and hazy as they wipe him down so gently he manages to doze off, a small, dopey smile on his lips.

The men smile contentedly over him as they take care of him, another beautiful Jewel to add to their Master's collection.

They'll need to finish his training first of course, as this was just the first stage. Along with teaching him to be a legitimate masseuse, they still need to properly train his throat, which they will have very much fun doing, along with his ass to take more than just a toy. And after how wonderfully sensitive he is, oh the Master will enjoy him.

But they get the privilege of doing so first, and they will savour that thoroughly.

For now though, they need to get their new fellow Jewel settled in.

*****

[Two Months Later]

Shouta barely remembers his past life by this point. He knows his name, and knows he's a hero, or at least used to be, but most importantly, he knows he enjoys his new life as a Jewel. He's pretty and pampered, precious and treasured as his Master's Jewel, and he loves it.

The other Jewels take care of him as well, and he cherishes his relationships with them, whatever they may be; be that friendship or as lovers.

He exchanges gentle smiles with Aoi, the man with sapphire eyes, as he prepares the equipment and products to be used today on a trolley.

They have a new guest today after all, one Yoshida Kogane.

It's the first time he's being allowed to tend to a guest, and possible new Jewel, rather than just observe since his training is finally complete. It's also the first time he's finally allowed to wear his Jewel uniform during working hours, rather than the plain black he'd been wearing before.

Now, he's dressed in silk white robes, the low cut showing off his toned specs and chest hair, pants that hug his ass wonderfully, and a tall headpiece, matching with the others, but with black with a red sheen as his added colour. The sash tied around his waist, the sheer veil mask, and of course the feather and gem on his headpiece, a black opal stone, with flecks and swirls of red mixed in, suit him well.

Master chose it for him himself, saying it matched him perfectly.

Shouta's eyes are lined in black, making them appear that much darker; his inky hair falling in waves over his shoulders, barely hidden by the cloth attached to the headpiece. His facial hair is neat and groomed, trimmed into a light stubble beard and mustache, his skin smooth and glossy, almost porcelain, lips soft and supple.

His reflection is happy and healthy, pretty and perfect.

They soon move out to the room where Akashi, the man in the red robes who led him to this new life, is settling in their guest.

He's adorable really, on the shorter side, tanned, freckled skin, curly, blonde hair, and bright, golden eyes, and Shouta thinks his name suits him perfectly.

He would be a lovely addition to the Master's collection.

⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑

Ｌｕｒｅｄ Ｉｎ

⬐ All Jack wanted was a quite place to rest his head after a encounter with a monster on his mission that left him wary and muscles aching for relief, what he receives is what he’s wanted and possibly something more.

authors note : this was a story requested by @princeasimdiya12

warning : this story is an 18+ one shot story between men. If you find men on men action to be something not of your taste I ask that you click off and not read please

The valley reeked of smoke and death. A soft wind carried the ash of what once had been a thriving village, brushing against Samurai Jack’s face as he stood at the edge of a scorched cliff. His katana hung loosely in his grip, its polished blade catching the faint light of the setting sun. Below him, blackened structures jutted out like broken teeth, the remains of homes reduced to cinders.

This wasn’t the first time Jack had arrived too late. And as much as he tried to steel himself, it never got any easier.

A low rumble shook the ground beneath him, drawing his attention to the heart of the destruction. Standing there amidst the rubble was a hulking figure, half-machine, half-sorcery. Its body gleamed like molten iron, patched with cracks that glowed green, pulsating like a diseased heartbeat. Its head swiveled unnaturally, glowing eyes locking onto him with a mechanical whirr.

“Another pest crawling to meet its end,” the construct snarled, its voice layered with malice and static.

Jack narrowed his eyes. His fingers tightened on the hilt of his sword. He didn’t reply. There was no need.

The construct—a creation of Aku, no doubt—rose to its full height. It had to be at least twenty feet tall, its limbs reinforced with jagged plating. With each step it took, the earth groaned beneath its weight. This thing had destroyed the village and its people, not out of necessity, but out of cruelty. Jack could feel it. He could always sense the twisted fingerprints of Aku’s darkness.

“You’ve come to die like the rest,” it said, raising an arm that ended in a massive blade. “I’ll make it quick.”

Jack moved.

The construct swung its blade down with the force of a falling tree, splitting the earth where Jack had stood a moment before. The shockwave sent chunks of rock flying in every direction, but Jack was already gone, darting to the side and closing the distance. His katana flashed in the dim light, striking the creature’s leg with precision. Sparks flew as the blade bit into metal, carving a shallow groove before Jack leapt back to avoid the counterattack.

The golem roared, slashing horizontally. Jack ducked low, the blade slicing just above his head. He countered with a series of quick strikes, his movements sharp and efficient, each one aimed at vulnerable joints and exposed mechanisms. But the creature was fast—faster than something its size had any right to be.

A heavy fist came crashing down, forcing Jack to roll out of the way. He came to his feet in one fluid motion, his breathing steady despite the intensity of the battle. He studied his opponent, looking for an opening.

“You’re nimble, samurai,” the golem sneered, its glowing core flickering as it spoke. “But your blade is useless against me. You cannot destroy what is unbreakable.”

Jack wiped a bead of sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. “Everything breaks,” he said softly, his voice calm but firm.

The construct roared again, its core flaring brighter as it unleashed a barrage of energy bolts. They screamed through the air, leaving trails of smoke in their wake. Jack dodged, his sandals barely touching the ground as he moved. One bolt grazed his shoulder, singing the fabric of his gi, but he pressed on, ignoring the searing pain.

He closed the distance once more, darting under the construct’s arm and leaping onto its back. His katana struck true, severing a bundle of cables that ran along its spine. The creature staggered, sparks erupting from the wound.

“You little—” It spun wildly, trying to shake him off.

Jack jumped clear, landing in a crouch a few feet away. He could see the damage now—the flickering core, the uneven movements. It was weakening. But he knew better than to get careless.

The creature raised its remaining arm, dark energy coalescing into a massive, crackling orb. Jack stood his ground, waiting. The energy surged forward, a blinding wave of destruction aimed directly at him. At the last second, he sidestepped, the attack missing him by inches and carving a deep trench into the earth.

Before the construct could recover, Jack charged. He sprinted up a piece of fallen debris, using it as a ramp to propel himself high into the air. With a cry that echoed through the ruined valley, he brought his katana down in a two-handed strike.

The blade pierced the construct’s core.

For a moment, time seemed to freeze. Then the light within the creature flared violently before fading altogether. Its body shuddered, joints seizing, before it collapsed to the ground in a heap of twisted metal.

Jack landed softly beside it, his katana already sheathed. He stood there for a moment, the only sound his steady breathing and the distant crackle of dying flames. The battle was over, but the weight of the loss lingered in the air.

He turned toward the horizon, the setting sun painting the sky in hues of gold and crimson. There was no one left to save here. But there were others—other villages, other lives that Aku sought to destroy.

Jack adjusted the strap of his sword and began walking.

The road stretched long and empty ahead of Jack, framed by distant hills and thick clusters of trees. Each step was measured, his sandals brushing against loose dirt, the faint sound of birdsong filling the quiet spaces in his mind. The fight earlier had left his muscles tense and his spirit heavier than usual, though he kept his composure as always.

The sun hung high in the sky when he reached the outskirts of a small town nestled in the valley below. Smoke curled from chimneys, and the hum of daily life buzzed faintly in the air—a blacksmith pounding steel, children laughing somewhere nearby, and the muffled conversations of townsfolk trading goods. Jack paused on a ridge, taking it all in.

It wasn’t much, this town, but it was alive. That alone was enough to soothe him.

As he stepped onto the main road, his presence drew the occasional curious glance. His attire—worn from travel and battle—marked him as an outsider, his katana slung at his side a clear testament to his purpose. Yet most people went about their business, leaving him to his own path.

The scent of cooking fish drifted through the air, mingling with the earthy smell of fresh-cut hay. Jack followed the aroma to a modest restaurant with wide-open windows and a simple wooden sign swaying in the breeze. His stomach tightened, reminding him how long it had been since his last meal.

Inside, the restaurant was quiet but welcoming. Lanterns hung from the low wooden beams, casting a warm glow over the small crowd of patrons. Jack found a seat in the corner and rested his katana against the wall beside him. His movements were deliberate and respectful, as if the weight of his journey carried into every gesture.

When the server approached, Jack gave a small bow of thanks and ordered a plate of grilled fish, rice, and tea. He didn’t ask for anything more; simplicity had long been his way.

As he waited, the soft murmur of nearby conversations floated through the room. A table of women sat not far from him, their voices carrying just enough for Jack to catch snippets of their conversation. He wasn’t one to eavesdrop, but something about their words drew his attention.

“The Lucid Dreams Inn,” one of them said, her tone hushed but eager. “Have you been yet? It’s just outside of town, through the woods.”

“Not yet,” another replied, a wistful note in her voice. “But my sister went last week. She said it was like paradise—baths so warm you feel weightless and staff that treat you like royalty. It’s a dream.”

Jack kept his gaze on the table in front of him, but his focus shifted to their words. He didn’t often indulge in luxuries. His path was one of duty, not leisure. Yet the mention of a spa—a place of peace, even for a short while—stirred something in him.

“You should see the themed rooms,” another chimed in, laughing softly. “They make you feel like you’re in another world. And the massages…” She trailed off, sighing dramatically, which drew laughter from the group.

Jack’s food arrived, and he ate slowly, savoring each bite. The fish was perfectly cooked, the rice soft and steaming. He felt his body relax just slightly, as if the meal itself was a small act of kindness.

When he finished, he stood and approached the women’s table, bowing his head respectfully. “Forgive my intrusion,” he said, his voice calm and polite. “But I couldn’t help overhearing. Could you tell me where this Lucid Dreams Inn is located?”

The women exchanged surprised looks before one of them smiled warmly. “It’s not far,” she said. “Just follow the eastern road out of town until you reach the edge of the woods. You’ll see a path lined with lanterns—it’ll take you straight there.”

Jack gave a small bow of thanks. “I appreciate your guidance.”

With his meal paid for, he left the restaurant and followed the directions he’d been given. The eastern road was quieter than the bustling town, flanked by trees that swayed gently in the breeze. As he walked, the weight on his shoulders seemed to lighten slightly. The idea of a spa—a chance to rest, even briefly—felt indulgent, but perhaps it was something he needed.

It wasn’t long before he reached the woods. Just as the women had said, lanterns lined a narrow path, their warm glow cutting through the shade. Jack followed them, the soft crunch of dirt under his sandals blending with the rustle of leaves overhead.

The woods eventually opened to reveal the inn, and Jack stopped in his tracks. It was breathtaking—an elegant structure that seemed to glow in the fading sunlight, its carved arches and intricate patterns whispering of distant lands. Soft golden light spilled from its windows, and the gentle hum of a nearby stream added to its tranquil aura. It wasn’t just a building; it was a promise of peace, a refuge from the chaos that had defined his journey. For a moment, Jack allowed himself to simply stand there, taking in the stillness. Then, adjusting his katana at his side, he stepped forward. Perhaps, for just one night, he could leave the weight of his remaining mission behind.

The soft sound of the flowing stream faded as Jack crossed the threshold of the inn. The air inside was warm and fragrant, carrying the faint scent of jasmine and sandalwood. A tranquil ambiance enveloped the space, with low lantern light casting a golden glow across the polished wood floors and richly woven rugs.

Jack was immediately greeted by the sight of a staff gathered near the front, a diverse group of young men and women. They moved with an effortless grace, each dressed in elegant yet modest attire that complimented their features. Their bright smiles and welcoming demeanor immediately put Jack at ease.

However, it was the group of men by the front desk that caught his attention. A handful of them lounged casually against the counter, clearly enjoying a break. Their voices carried across the room, drawing Jack’s gaze in spite of himself.

“Too rough,” one of them groaned dramatically, rolling his shoulders. “I’ve still got bruises!”

“That’s nothing,” another cut in, laughing. “Mine was too soft! If you’re gonna pay for time like that, at least make it memorable.”

The others burst into laughter, their easy camaraderie filling the air. Jack found himself averting his eyes, but not before sneaking a quick glance their way. They were striking, each in their own way—tall and lean, or broad-shouldered and strong, their features as varied as the stars in the sky. A faint blush warmed Jack’s face as he cleared his throat, silently admonishing himself for his wandering thoughts.

Still, curiosity gnawed at him. The conversation wasn’t exactly what he’d expected in a place like this, and it left him wondering about the services the inn provided. Steeling himself, Jack approached the main counter where one of the women was smiling warmly at him. But before he could speak, the group of men noticed him. Their conversation stopped mid-laugh as they turned to look at him—really look at him.

The shift was almost palpable. Their gazes swept over him with a mixture of intrigue and appreciation, taking in the broadness of his shoulders, the sharp lines of his jaw, and the quiet intensity that seemed to follow him wherever he went. It was clear, without a word exchanged, that they all had the same thought: they wanted him.

“Excuse me,” Jack said, his voice soft yet deliberate. “I was curious… What kind of services does this inn provide?”

The question hung in the air for a moment, and the group exchanged knowing glances, small smirks curling at the corners of their lips. One of them, a tall man with chestnut hair and a confident air, stepped forward.

“We offer all kinds of services,” he said, his voice smooth and inviting. “Massages, baths, private rooms for relaxation… Whatever you need to ease your mind and body.”

Another man chimed in, his tone playful. “And we do our best to make sure every client leaves completely… satisfied.”

Jack’s eyes widened slightly, and he quickly looked away, his usual composure faltering. “I see,” he murmured, his cheeks flushing faintly.

The group chuckled softly at his reaction, clearly enjoying the effect their words had on him. “Don’t worry,” the first man said, his smile widening. “You’re in good hands here. Why don’t you let us take care of you for a while?”

Jack hesitated, torn between his curiosity and the unfamiliar heat rising in his chest. This place was unlike any he had ever encountered, and for a moment, he wondered if stepping through its doors had been a mistake. But the thought was fleeting. Perhaps, just this once, he could indulge in something beyond his usual discipline and duty.

Jack followed the group of men as they led him down a dimly lit corridor. The soft glow of lanterns and the delicate hum of distant music created an intimate and relaxing atmosphere. The men chatted casually among themselves, their confidence and playful energy drawing Jack in despite his initial apprehension.

They came to a stop in front of an ornate door. One of the attendants, a tall man with striking amber eyes, gestured toward it with a flourish. “This is one of our special service rooms,” he said, his voice smooth as silk.

Jack stepped inside and took in the lavish setting. One side of the room held a heart-shaped bed draped in luxurious crimson sheets, surrounded by soft golden lighting. On the other side was a bathing area separated by a carved wooden screen. The bath itself was a work of art—an oversized tub made of polished stone, filled with steaming water that shimmered with faintly glowing herbs and oils.

“Relax, Samurai,” one of the men said with a teasing smile, placing a hand lightly on Jack’s shoulder. “We’ll take care of everything.”

Jack hesitated for a moment, unused to such attention. “Perhaps you gentlemen can step out for a moment while I undress.”

One of the men tilt his head towards jack, “But whyyy,” whines the man.

“We’re all friends here, no need to be shy.”

Jack hesitated for a moment before nodding his head, as he shrugged off his outer robe and stepped toward the bath, he felt a rare sense of ease begin to settle over him. The warm water enveloped him as he sank into the tub, sighing deeply as the tension in his muscles started to melt away.

The harem boys moved with practiced grace, gathering around the bath with sponges and towels in hand. They began to gently wash him, their hands skimming over his shoulders and arms, tracing the lines of his taut muscles. Their touch was firm yet soothing, accompanied by lighthearted laughter and conversation that kept the mood light.

Jack’s body sat slouched in the tub full of water and scented oils, he hunched over almost as if he was cowering in on himself. It was his way of hiding himself from these men - hiding from their view.

One of the younger attendants, a slim boy with mischievous green eyes, perched on the edge of the tub. “You’ve got some serious muscle,” he commented, poking Jack’s bicep with a grin. “What do you eat to stay like this?”

Jack still nervous chuckled softy, in a nervous manner almost— shaking his head. “Mostly rice and vegetables. Simple food.”

The group laughed, some jokingly telling him that’s not enough for a man of his size and another chimed in, “Well, tonight you’ll have to try something a little more exciting.”

From a nearby tray, the green-eyed boy grabbed a delicate glass filled with amber liquid. “This,” he said, holding it up, “is one of our specialties. Sweet, smooth, and perfect after a long day. You have to try it.”

Jack raised an eyebrow, skeptical but curious. “I’m not much of a drinker,” he admitted.

“Just a sip,” the boy coaxed, offering the glass. “I promise you’ll like it.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Jack took the glass and brought it to his lips. The liquor was surprisingly sweet, with a hint of fruit and spice. It slid down easily, warming him from the inside. He nodded approvingly and took another sip—then another.

Before long, Jack had finished the glass and reached for another, the smooth sweetness of the drink luring him in. The harem boys exchanged knowing glances, their smiles growing wider as Jack unknowingly indulged.

It wasn’t until he set the glass down and leaned back in the water that one of them, a lean man with a cheeky grin, pointed out, “Well, would you look at that.”

Jack followed the direction of his gaze, his eyes widening slightly as he realized what they were referring to. The warm water and the liquor’s effects had left him in an unmistakably compromising state, and he quickly shifted to sit up straighter, his cheeks flushing a faint red.

The group of men burst into laughter, though their tone was more playful than mocking. “Don’t worry, Samurai,” one of them said with a wink. “It happens to everyone here. Think of it as… part of the experience.”

Jack cleared his throat, feeling both embarrassed and strangely amused by their casual demeanor. He wasn’t sure whether to blame the liquor, the bath, or the harem boys themselves, but one thing was certain—this was a night unlike any other he’d experienced.

The harem boys guided Jack from the bath to the heart-shaped bed, their movements fluid and practiced. The room was filled with a soft, golden glow that seemed to pulse in time with the distant hum of the inn’s music. Jack, now dressed in a light robe provided by the attendants, sat down hesitantly, his damp hair falling loosely over his shoulders.

“Lie down, Samurai,” one of the men said softly, gesturing to the bed. His voice was calm, soothing, and Jack found himself complying without hesitation.

As he stretched out on the plush bed, the boys moved around him with care. One began to massage his arms, kneading away the tension that had been building for what felt like years. Another worked on his back, his strong hands expertly pressing into the tight muscles along Jack’s shoulders and spine. His legs, feet, and even his hands weren’t spared the attention, each boy ensuring every part of him was thoroughly tended to.

Another attendant, a younger man with soft features, approached with a small jar of a fragrant cream. He leaned over Jack, spreading the mask gently across his face. “This will help with the wear and tear of your travels,” he said with a smile.

As Jack relaxed under their care, the boys began to ask him questions. Their voices were gentle, curious. “Tell us about your life, Samurai,” one of them asked, his hands still working over Jack’s calves. “What brings you here?”

Jack hesitated at first, but the liquor had loosened his tongue. “My life has been… a long battle,” he began, his voice heavy. “I fight to return to my home, to undo the evil that has taken everything from me. Every day is a struggle—another fight, another challenge.”

The boys listened intently, their hands never ceasing their work. One of them, the man massaging Jack’s shoulders, frowned slightly. “It sounds exhausting,” he said softly. “To live with such a burden. Have you ever thought of letting it go?”

Jack’s brow furrowed, but before he could respond, another boy—a playful one with a mischievous smile—spoke up. “You could stay here,” he suggested. “Achieve peace. This place could be your refuge.”

Jack opened his mouth to respond, but a soft, melodic tone interrupted him. One of the boys had retrieved a singing bowl, its rim gliding under his practiced touch. The sound filled the room, vibrating softly through the air and into Jack’s very core. It was unlike anything he’d ever heard, a sound that seemed to strip away the layers of tension and pain he had carried for so long.

His thoughts grew hazy as the boys guided him to another part of the room. This area was set up for grooming, with mirrors framed in gold and trays of combs, oils, and brushes neatly arranged. One of the attendants began brushing Jack’s damp hair, while another trimmed his beard with precise care.

As they worked, the questions continued. “What else do you remember about your life?” one of them asked gently.

Jack’s eyes softened, his defenses slipping further. “The hardships,” he admitted, his voice quieter now. “The battles, the loss… I’ve been fighting for so long, I don’t know what peace even feels like anymore.”

One of the boys, who had been running his fingers through Jack’s freshly combed hair, spoke softly. “Then perhaps it’s time to stop fighting.”

The words lingered in the air, carried by the soft hum of the singing bowl. Jack couldn’t help but consider them. The longer he stayed here, the more the weight on his shoulders seemed to lift. Time felt strange in this place; what had been hours felt like mere moments. The thought of staying—just for a little longer—grew more tempting.

Jack glanced at the group of attendants, their serene smiles and gentle hands easing him into a state of complete relaxation. His heart, which had long been hardened by the trials of his journey, softened slightly. Perhaps, just for now, he could allow himself this peace.

Finally, he closed his eyes and gave a slight nod. “I will stay.”

The first boy, Takeshi, with his raven hair and piercing blue eyes, had a smile that could charm the toughest of warriors. His little form was wrapped in a kimono of deep midnight blue, adorned with delicate silver threads that shimmered like stars in the candlelight.

The second, Akihiro, had skin as pale as the moon and hair as gold as the sun, with eyes that held the warmth of a summer's embrace. His kimono was a soft shade of ivory, with intricate gold embroidery that mirrored the patterns of cherry blossoms. Next to him, Satoru's emerald eyes sparkled with mischief, his crimson kimono a stark contrast to his raven hair, hinting at the passion that lay within.

The remaining four introduced themselves as well: Ryuu, whose kimono was as fiery as his spirit; Kaito, whose eyes were the color of the stormy sea and whose demeanor was as mysterious as the depths of the ocean; Yukito, whose kimono of gentle lavender whispered of his tender soul; and finally, Hiro, whose kimono was the color of freshly fallen snow, reflecting the purity and innocence that seemed to radiate from his very being.

The boys' gazes held a hint of something more than mere welcoming, something that sent a shiver down Jack’s spine. They spoke in soft, hypnotic tones, their voices laced with urges of desire that seemed to fill the very air around him. The harem of men had two conditions for his acceptance into their fold, they explained.

Firstly, he must agree to lock away his manhood in a chastity cage, a symbol of his commitment to their unique form of service. Secondly, he must engage in an unbridled orgy, allowing the hypnotic tunes of a singing bowl to guide him through the evening's carnally ecstatic ritual.

Jack's brow furrowed in protest, his hand reflexively moving to the sword at his side. "What is the meaning of this?" he demanded, his voice a low growl of discomfort. The thought of such a restriction was foreign to his warrior's spirit, and the idea of an orgy, though not entirely unwelcome, was certainly unexpected. Yet, the allure of the harem's beauty and the mysterious aura of the mansion made his resolve waver like the flame of a candle in the breeze.

Takeshi stepped forward, his smile never faltering. His eyes locked onto Jack's, and his hand reached out to lightly touch the samurai's cheek. "Do not fear, warrior," he cooed, his voice a velvety caress. "The cage is a symbol of your dedication to us, to the experiences that await you here. It is not a prison, but a gateway to new pleasures." As the other boys closed in, their fingertips grazed jack’s skin, sending shivers of unfamiliar sensations through his body. He felt a gentle pull, as if the very air was coaxing him to comply.

Akihiro offered the chastity cage, its golden metal gleaming in the soft glow of the candles. It was an intricate piece of craftsmanship, adorned with delicate engravings of entwined lovers and blooming flowers. The warmth of the metal seemed to pulse with the promise of pleasure. Jack hesitated, but the hypnotic allure of their touch grew stronger, his thoughts swirling like leaves in a tempest.

The surrounding walls around them began to morph, its walls shifting and flowing like a living tapestry. The grand hall dissolved into a surreal dreamscape, an erotic playground that seemed to exist solely to tantalize the senses. The air grew thick with the scent of jasmine, and the floor became a soft, velvet sea beneath his feet. The harem boys flitted around him like ethereal beings, each one more enticing than the last, whispering sweet nothings that danced around the edges of his consciousness.

Jack's hand hovered over the chastity cage, his mind racing with thoughts of rebellion and curiosity. Yet, the gentle yet insistent pressure of the harem's touch washed away his resistance like sand before the tide. He felt his body relax, his will bending to the seductive power of their words and touch. His eyes grew heavy, and his breathing slowed as their hypnotic whispers painted a vivid picture of the unbridled pleasure that awaited him.

With trembling fingers, Jack unbuckled his obi, allowing the heavy layers of his hakama to fall away. The cool metal of the chastity cage was a stark contrast to the heat rising within him. As Akihiro guided the cage over his erection, Jack couldn't help but feel a mix of fear and excitement. The cage clicked into place, locking his arousal within its embrace, a stark symbol of his surrender to the harem's will.

The moment the cage was secured, the harem boys broke into a fit of giggles, their laughter like the tinkling of wind chimes. They led Jack to the center of the room where a large, plush futon had appeared, surrounded by a sea of velvet pillows. The singing bowl, which had been silently watching the exchange from the shadows, began to hum. The vibrations grew louder, resonating through the air and into Jack's very bones. The sound was mesmerizing, a siren's call that he could not resist. His eyes grew heavy, and his body felt as if it were made of liquid, swaying to the bowl's hypnotic melody.

The boys began to undress, each revealing their own unique beauty. Satoru's muscular chest rippled as he removed his kimono, his cock already erect and bobbing with excitement. Kaito's body was lean and toned, with a trail of hair leading from his navel to the base of his cock, which stood proudly at attention. Yukito, the delicate one, had skin softer than silk, his small, firm nipples pebbling with anticipation. Hiro's innocent gaze belied the fiery passion that lurked within, his body a canvas of untouched perfection.

The hypnotic hum of the singing bowl grew more intense, wrapping around Jack like a warm embrace, dissolving the last of his inhibitions. He could feel his own cock strain against the confines of the chastity cage, begging for release. The harem boys lay down on the futon, creating a sensual mosaic of skin and fabric.

The bowl's vibrations grew stronger, resonating through Jack's body as if he were a living instrument. His eyes fluttered closed, and he let out a low moan as the music took hold of his very soul. The air grew electric with desire, and he felt the mattress shift beneath him as the boys arranged themselves around him. He was the center of their attention, the object of their collective lust and admiration.

Ryuu, the fiery one, was the first to act. He straddled Jack's chest, his cock a vibrant shade of coral against the samurai's tanned skin. Leaning down, he captured Jack's mouth in a kiss that was both fiery and tender. The taste of him was like a spark that ignited Jack's passion, making him ache to feel more.

The other boys followed suit, their hands exploring every inch of Jack's body. They were like skilled artisans, each one knowing exactly where to touch, where to kiss, to elicit the most exquisite reactions. Akihiro's gentle caress of his cheek was as comforting as a mother's touch, while Satoru's rough grip on his thigh was like the bite of a lover eager to claim him.

Kaito's stormy eyes searched his own.

The hypnotic vibrations of the singing bowl grew more insistent, the music resonating with the beating of Jack's heart. He felt as if he were floating in a warm, velvet embrace, the weight of his body forgotten amidst the swirling pleasure. The boys' hands danced over his skin, tracing the lines of his chest, his abs, and finally the bulge of his cock, trapped and pulsing within the chastity cage. They paid homage to his manhood, their lips and fingers worshipping the metal that contained his desire.

Yukito, the tender soul, began to kiss a trail down Jack's body, his soft, full lips leaving a trail of fire wherever they touched. Each press of his mouth sent a shiver through the samurai's frame, his body arching in silent plea. When Yukito reached the base of the cage, he paused, looking up with eyes filled with a mix of innocence and lust. With a gentle touch, he traced the outline of Jack's trapped erection, eliciting a moan that seemed to resonate with the very air around them.

Takeshi, the master of seduction, took hold of the singing bowl, its vibrations now a deep, resonating bass that seemed to echo the pounding of Jack's heart. The other boys began to kiss and touch each other, their bodies moving in a sensual dance as old as time itself. The sight of their passion was almost too much for Jack to bear, his cock straining against the unforgiving metal. The cage grew warm from his arousal.

The air grew thick with the scent of desire as the harem's hands moved in unison, teasing and stroking Jack's body. Their lips and tongues found every sensitive spot, leaving no inch untouched. The heat of their breath against his skin sent waves of pleasure crashing through him. He could feel the beginnings of an orgasm building, a pressure that grew with each stroke, each kiss, each whispered word of encouragement.

Hiro, the youngest, approached shyly, his snow-white kimono fluttering like the petals of a cherry blossom. He knelt beside the futon and took Jack's hand, placing it on the cage. The samurai's grip tightened, his knuckles turning white as the pressure grew. Hiro looked into his eyes, his own filled with a gentle warmth that seemed to pierce the haze of lust that clouded Jack's mind. With a soft smile, he leaned in and placed a chaste kiss on the padlock that kept Jack's cock imprisoned. The metal grew hot, as if responding to the touch of his lips.

The singing bowl reached a crescendo, the vibrations resonating through the room and into Jack's soul. The harem's movements grew more frenzied, their bodies tangling together in a passionate display of eroticism. The sight was overwhelming, Jack could feel the beginnings of an orgasm, a storm gathering on the horizon of his consciousness. His hips bucked, seeking relief from the relentless teasing.

Akihiro took mercy on him, sliding his hand between the bars of the chastity cage. His touch was feather-light, his fingertips dancing over the sensitive head of Jack's cock. The sensation was electric, sending bolts of pleasure through Jack's body. His eyes rolled back in his head, and he let out a guttural moan, his breath coming in ragged gasps. The other boys took turns, each one offering their own brand of torturous pleasure, their hands moving in perfect harmony with the bowl's pulsating rhythm.

The pressure grew unbearable, and Jack felt as though he was on the precipice of something profound. He could feel the beginnings of his climax, a coil of ecstasy winding tightly within him. The cage grew slick with pre-cum, a testament to his desperate need for release.

Yet, the lock remained steadfast.

Akihiro, one of the harem men who had been watching Jack sends a quiet smile his way. His eyes were gentle, yet there was something mysterious about them. He spoke in a soft, reassuring tone, “You’ve done enough, Jack. You’ve showed that you are indeed promising for us all. Your mission is over. All your struggles, all your pain… they’ll be gone by morning. You can rest now.”

Jack blinked slowly, his exhaustion overcoming him. Akihiro’s words felt like a balm to his soul, a promise of peace he had longed for but never believed he would see. His head felt heavy, his eyelids drooping. He gave a small nod. “I can rest… at last…” he whispered.

Akihiro placed a hand on Jack’s shoulder. Jack collapses back onto the bed, and within moments, the weight of sleep consumed him. His breathing steadied, and the room fell still.

But as Jack slept, the world around him began to change. The inn, once a place of comfort, began to shimmer and twist. The walls cracked, the wooden floor groaned and splintered, and the warm air turned cold and thick. The peaceful atmosphere had been an illusion, one crafted to deceive the weary traveler. As the illusion broke, the truth revealed itself.

The harem men, now no longer hidden in human forms, transformed into creatures of darkness. Akihiro’s body lengthened, his skin turning scaly as his eyes glowed bright red. He was no longer the charming man who had spoken to Jack, but a serpent-like beast, coiled and ready. The others, once handsome and gentle, now revealed their true monstrous yet beautiful forms, each one a creature that thrived on human desire.

The world around them was no longer the inn, but a vast, desolate desert. The sands stretched endlessly in all directions, and the sky above was an oppressive shade of deep orange. This was the true world — the one hidden beneath the illusion, a world where they had lured countless souls over the centuries.

Akihiro grinned, his sharp teeth gleaming in the dim light. “We’ve finally found him. A worthy mate after all this time,” he said, his voice dripping with satisfaction.

Another of the harem men, Yukito, who appeared as a towering, majestic wolf, shook his head. “Let him rest, Akihiro. He’s been through enough. We’ll have plenty of time to enjoy our new companion when he wakes.”

Akihiro clicked his tongue but conceded. “Fine. But the wait is almost unbearable.”

The men gathered around Jack’s sleeping form, their eyes gleaming with anticipation. As they watched, Jack’s appearance began to shift. The weariness left his body, replaced with something more regal. His clothes changed, too, from the familiar samurai armor to flowing white robes with purple accents. The outfit looked almost like something from an ancient kingdom, regal and princely. It was as if the weight of his past life had been shed, and something new, something more fitting for his transformation, had taken its place.

At the center of the desert, a figure appeared — one that towered over the harem men. His name was Hed, their leader, the one who had controlled them all for centuries. Hed stood tall and imposing, his wild black hair spreading out like a storm. His tanned skin gleamed under the desert sun, and his powerful, muscular frame was on full display. He wore golden cuffs on his wrists and a dark green vest that hung open to reveal his well-defined chest. His pants were wide and billowed out at the cuffs, tied with a golden-brown belt, and he stood barefoot, his feet firmly planted in the sand.

Hed’s presence was overwhelming, his gaze locking onto the harem men with a knowing smirk. “Akihiro, it seems you were right. Jack is a worthy mate,” he said, his voice low and powerful.

Akihiro nodded, a satisfied grin spreading across his face. “Yes, master. He is the one we’ve been searching for.”

Hed’s smile was almost predatory. “Let him rest. When he wakes, he will join us in this world. And then, we shall see if he is truly ready for the life we’ve prepared for him.”

The harem men stepped back, watching Jack as he slept peacefully, unaware of the transformation that had taken place around him. The desert stretched on, endless and barren, and the harem men, though monstrous in form, stood silently, waiting for the moment when Jack would awaken and face the truth of his new life.

As the night stretched on, the desert was still, the only sound the quiet shifting of the sands. Jack’s fate, sealed by the harem’s dark desires, would unfold in the morning. But for now, he slept, unaware of the world that had changed around him.