never, ever come to the third floor of The Medieval Market ever again.

But – something in his compelling gaze, and in his gentle, deep voice, reassured me – that, and the fact that this obviously huge-muscled stud with the loose-fitting robe, that did not hide his god-like body, had something pushing the front of his robe into a distinct tent – a tent with a wet spot at the peak of it. My reeling brain could not conceive of a such a monstrous cock, that could achieve such a huge erection, but that looked to me for all the world to be the case, and it made my mouth not water, as it did over the frat boys, but to go suddenly dry, and my voice became hoarse and ragged. I said, in a raspy whisper, “Well, ok, I guess.”

He grinned big at that, his bright-pink tongue lolling out over his thick burgundy lips, and he said “Cum ba yar, Bas, cum ba yar.” And he motioned me to enter the ring of mirrors.

I stepped into the ring slowly, and again it seemed as if the room around me disappeared into smoke – there was, in all the Universe, only me and the mirrors, and The Shopkeeper. I slowly pulled off my shirt, and dropped it on the floor, and kicked off my loafers – I hesitated at first, but with the same determination that won me a state championship, I resolved to see this through, regardless of the outcome. At least some part of me hoped that whatever the outcome of this strange experience was, it involved the full lips, the strong body, and the massive cock of The Shopkeeper.

I unbuckled my belt, and dropped my trousers and briefs, and kicked them aside. I now stood naked in front of the circle of mirrors – there were seven more images of my scrawny body reflected back at me, from all sides, from angles that I had never seen before. As always, they seemed to mock me, as I saw my own smallness - the thin legs, the pipestem arms, the narrow chest, the ridiculously long feet, as if made for clowns’ shoes – and the final touch, the laughably small penis that now seemed intent on adding the crowning touch to my own public embarrassment in front of The Shopkeeper, by swelling with its own pathetic erection.

From the depths of my humiliation, I turned defiantly to The Shopkeeper and gazed again on The Shirt, its shimmering folds held firmly in the strong grip of The Shopkeeper, the chiseled planes of his incredibly handsome face grinning at me over it as he beheld my nakedness. I murmured “I don’t know if I could ever wear such a thing…”

The Shopkeeper held The Shirt up in front of me full-length, shoulder-height, its shimmering folds reaching just to my knobby knees. He said, as he walked – or rather glided – slowly to my right, “Bas wear whatever Bas want – do whatever Bas want – Be whatever Bas want” as he circled slowly around me, behind me, and on my left. As he said the last, he placed his massive, shiny-black head close to mine, and breathed his words softly into my ear, and then took a playful nip of my ear lobe with his big, soft, full, luscious burgundy-cherry lips.

I inhaled a deep, ragged breath – I had not realized that I had stopped breathing while he was speaking –