After Matthew got home, and later that night, he supposed he was over the drug that Christian had given him, though it was only the following morning, when he thought back over the day before, the night before, that he realised how out of it he’d been.

He wondered if his parents had noticed anything, anything in the way he had acted, or the things he had said. He had sat up late with them in the sitting room, his eyes glued to the screen. Like it was the most fascinating thing he’d ever seen.

Christian had given him both pairs of Lukas’ jocks, the Superman ones and the baseball ones. He had lent him a pair of the glasses, lent him the strobe light, and had given him the tablets, though now, lying in his bed Tuesday morning, Matthew couldn’t imagine ever wanting to do that again, ever wanting to go into Lukas’ mind, into his body.

He frowned.

‘I’ve had enough of him,’ Christian had said, meaning Lukas. ‘I’m tired of playing him.’

And yesterday, when Matthew had heard this, he had been happy at the idea that he could play Lukas on his own, without Christian there, though when he thought about this now, the idea of “playing” anyone was awful to him.

It was an expression he hated. As though the world was a game of cards. And you were either a “player”. Or you got “played”.

He didn’t think things were like that.

Most people, people he knew, were kind. They didn’t set out to get other people. To deceive them. To use them.

He didn’t want to “play” Lukas.

There was something wrong with Christian.

And, Matthew realised, saying it to himself with his hands behind his head, staring at the ceiling, as though it were an audience,

‘I don’t even like him.’

I don’t think, he added silently.

Matthew rolled over and opened the drawer to his bedside cabinet. The pills were there. He reached his hand in and pulled them out.

It had felt so fucking good, these things.

He could take them again, just for the hell of it.

It didn’t mean he had to mess with Lukas. He could just enjoy the feeling.

Though if he did do it again, he could use the Superman jocks. Stick those on his head, like I’m a Superhero, he said to himself, ironically.

It was odd to think that he had two pairs of Lukas’ jocks here, in his drawer, in his bedroom, while Lukas was unaware of this. It made him feel strong, somehow. Like he was winning a game.

Though he didn’t suppose Lukas was anyone to beat.

He reached his hand into the drawer of his bedside cabinet and pulled them out. They were right in the back corner, where he had put everything, the pills, the glasses, the strobe light. They were two tight little bundles. He pulled them out and held the Superman ones in front of his face, holding them so he could see the big faded S on the front of them. They were so small and so faded and so threadbare thin that Matthew could see his fingers through what had once been navy blue. He had used to have a pair just like this. When he was a kid.

He pulled them against his face and sniffed them, inhaling deeply, smelling the smell of Lukas’ groin, of his lemon scented soap. And then he put them down again.

He should have said to Lukas that they could go this week to the beach. He had said next week, and it was only Tuesday. He could ring Lukas, even today, and ask him if he didn’t want to go up to the coast today. Why not?

Matthew got out of the bed and pulled Lukas’ jocks on. He could hear some of the stitching tearing as he tried to get them over his thighs, over his arse. His balls flopped out on either side of the groin, and he could barely cover his cock with the triangle of fabric. They were stretched tight against him, riding up into the crack of his arse. He looked at himself in the mirror, turned around and looked at his arse. The jocks were barely covering it. Most of them were in his crack.

He was so much bigger than Lukas. It was extraordinary to think he was this much bigger than him.

But it had felt good to be in Lukas’ body, wearing little jocks like these, which Matthew supposed had to be eight or even ten years old.

With a little dick.

And little balls.

Didn’t Lukas think he needed some new underwear?

These things were too small, even for him. Didn’t he think he should get himself something new? It wasn’t like he had any shortage of money.

Matthew left the jocks on and got back into bed. It was cold anyway.

What would Lukas be doing now? he wondered.

Hurting his nuts?

Maybe.

Probably.

It seemed like he wanted his nuts creamed up. He had said as much.

Matthew could make him do that.

Christian had said that if he walked around in Lukas’ body for long enough. Forced his movements. Lukas would forget what he was doing.

Christian said he had walked Lukas to the post office and posted that parcel himself – had put the padlock on Lukas’ nuts, wrapped the key and the jocks up, gone to the post office himself.

He said when Lukas had got back he hadn’t known what he had done – just known he had to give a key to Matthew. He thought he had a spare.

‘He just goes blank. If you do it for long enough. He just forgets what he’s doing. What he’s done,’ Christian said.

He’s like an automaton.

Matthew could make him do anything.

Or could he?

It was really Christian who had done that. Matthew couldn’t do it on his own, could he? And anyway, had any of that been real? How did he know? Unless he tried it for himself and then he could maybe tell Lukas. Fuck Christian. He could tell Lukas all about it.

Matthew stopped.

The thing was, he thought, he wasn’t going to do anything to hurt Lukas. When they had been friends, as kids, they had always been doing silly shit together. Giggling and laughing together sometimes until their stomachs ached, sometimes.

It wasn’t like he was going to hurt Lukas.

He wouldn’t do that.

Matthew slipped the jocks off under the covers, pulling them over his arse, over his thighs, and over his feet.

It was only eight-thirty. Some days he didn’t get up to twelve. He could take two of the tablets now and he’d be okay by twelve. They would have worn off, mostly.

Matthew got up and thought about putting some clothes on, but then decided not to bother. He walked into the bathroom and took two of the tablets and then he came back into his bedroom and pulled the strobe out of the drawer. He set it up on his desk and plugged it into his powerboard, though he had to unplug the printer first. He could wait a bit. The tablets took half an hour to come on. But he didn’t want to get out of bed again, so he turned the strobe on and got back into bed.

He put the Superman jocks back on again under the covers. And then had to get out of bed to make sure that his door was locked.

He got into the bed again, pulled the covers over him and tried to imagine what Lukas was doing. He was maybe still asleep. Probably.

What would that be like? If he went into Lukas’ mind and Lukas was dreaming?

He could probably wake him up.

Matthew rolled over and felt around on his bed for the other pair of jocks.

These ones were even more threadbare than the Superman ones. If he wore these ones, they would probably tear. They were already fraying at the top, near the elastic, and some of the stitching around the groin had come undone. Matthew looked inside them, supposing he would see skidmarks. He didn’t like the idea of getting shit on his hair. But there were no skidmarks, though it was hard to see in the ticking of the strobe. Just the creases from where they had been wedged up Lukas’ arse.

Lukas was so clean.

It was pretty funny to think that he had Lukas’ jocks. To think that Lukas had sent these in the post without knowing it. To think that Lukas might be wondering where they were when Matthew had them, was wearing a pair.

Matthew began to feel excited. It was the same feeling he had had yesterday when the drug had started to come on. But it was his dick as well. It got hard without him even thinking about anything he wanted to be hard about. He angled it up so it was outside the Superman jocks. He stretched the triangle of fabric out so it covered his balls. He could just get it to do this.

Matthew supposed it had been the drug yesterday that had made what happened with Christian happen. That never would have happened otherwise.

He didn’t want to think about it.

He rolled over and pulled the glasses out of the drawer. And then decided to lie on his back and stare at the ceiling intently, making sure he was going into a trance as Christian had said you had to.

He didn’t really think he could do this.