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Captivation	By : Rina76 Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Tokio Hotel Views: 6307 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not know Bill or Tom Kaulitz or any members of Tokio Hotel and this story is a complete work of fiction; it is all made up and not true. I am not making any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Chapter 28. Twinning
I schedule another meeting, wanting to get back into a routine after days of being out of one. I don’t want the boys to think I’ve gone soft on them. Next time we meet in the conference room, I’ve cleaned it up, righting the table and mopping the dried blood off the floor. When I first walked into the room, it was a bit disconcerting seeing how much I bled that day, large rusty-red smears and droplets splattered everywhere, but I seem to have recovered fine. I’ve made fresh coffee and offer it to the two teens when they enter, along with cigarettes.
Today, Bill chooses to wear a tight T-shirt with a skull printed on the front, surrounded by glittery flames. He’s wearing grey skinny jeans that show off his long legs, as well as black combat boots with the laces half-undone and a studded belt that emphasises the slimness of his hips. As for his hair, he painstakingly blow-dries it to straighten it out perfectly and then pulls the dark strands back into a sleek ponytail like mine, leaving the long bangs falling over his brow and left eye. I’ve never seen him with a ponytail before but it really suits him and makes him look even more feminine. It also exposes the tattoo on the back of his neck. He’s got on various rings, necklaces and bracelets, even a touch of mascara, eyeliner and lip gloss, all in all looking very much like a cute Emo kid. He hasn’t worn makeup for a while so it’s nice to see him back to his usual self. When he sits down at the table opposite me, I let my gaze caress his slender figure, warmly and intimately.
“You look very nice today, Bill.”
“Do you think so?”
“I do. I like your hair. You should wear it that way more often. It makes you look even prettier.”
He drops his eyes, blushing at my compliment. “Thank you. I will.”
Aw, look at him lighting up like a candle. Anyone would think he dressed up for me. In fact, I suspect that this is exactly the case. His attitude has changed dramatically since I first brought him into my underground hostel. He’s gone from swearing at me, biting me and trying to escape, to wanting my interest, admiration and affection. He catches his breath when I look at him, he flushes when I smile at him and his gaze follows me everywhere I go. Anyone would think he’s in love with me but I attribute this sudden attention-seeking to a full-blown and extreme case of Stockholm Syndrome, as Tom pointed out yesterday. A couple of my other twins got it when I had them but not this badly, not as strongly as Bill has.
He was starting to develop the disorder when I first brought him here but now it’s kicked into high gear, caused by my temporary abandonment. He thought he’d displeased me somehow and that’s why I didn’t visit, and now he’s trying extra hard to win my approval and make sure I don’t leave them again. I realise the sympathetic psychological attachment he’s formed towards me isn’t real or lasting, but I’m just happy he’s not afraid of me anymore.
Tom is well aware of Bill’s intense infatuation with me and even though he knows Bill is only acting this way because of their captive situation, the older boy still doesn’t like it very much, scowling at me for encouraging his impressionable little brother.
“Okay, we’re gonna do a little exercise today,” I announce, once the small talk and pleasantries are over with. “Tom, please take off your clothes.”
He looks startled but quickly covers it up with offended outrage. “What the hell for?”
“Take them off and give them to Bill.” I face the brunette twin. “Bill, you do the same. I want you to swap outfits.”
“Okay,” Bill replies easily, starting to unbuckle his black studded belt, but Tom halts his brother’s hand and demands, “Why?”
“Because I’m in charge and I’m asking you to. I’ll give you five minutes privacy and when I come back you better be wearing each other’s clothes.”
“But Bill’s clotheses won’t fit me!” Tom objects in his cute German-English.
“How do you know that? Have you ever tried them?”
“No, but…look at how small they are!” He indicates to Bill’s pint-size shirt, which could easily fit a much younger child.
“Just try them on,” I patiently tell Tom. “You do this, I’ll let you out early. No more questions. No more games. No more gay movies. The sooner you do it, the sooner you go back to your room.”
“But I don’t wanna go back to our room,” Bill insists in dismay. “It’s boring in there!”
Tom gives his sibling a glare. “Fine. Whatever. We’ll play your fucking game. Now get out so we can change.”
Such attitude. And I was being so nice too. I arch a brow at Tom to let him know that he’s only talking to me like that because I’m allowing him to. Other kidnappers wouldn’t be so lenient. Other kidnappers would have knocked out his front teeth by now. However, I just perform a subservient little bow and then leave the conference room, locking the door behind me. To tell the truth, I’m secretly pleased to see his rebelliousness back. I’d sort of missed it. Tom just doesn’t seem like Tom when he’s not arguing with me.
After I’m gone, Bill is a good boy and starts stripping, removing his top and toeing his unlaced boots off.
“What’s the point of this shit?” Tom grumps, crossly yanking his enormous blue printed T-shirt off and reluctantly swapping it for Bill’s much smaller, tighter one, struggling to squeeze his bulky arms into the petite sleeves. “I really don’t see the point.”
Easily slipping into Tom’s shirt like it’s a nightgown, Bill shrugs and flips out his ponytail, not as concerned about it. “He’s probably doing some twin test, making us confront our identity difference issues or something. Like reverse role-playing.”
“I don’t care what he’s doing, it’s stupid.” Finally stretching Bill’s tiny top over his head and wide shoulders, Tom rolls it down his larger frame like the skin on a sausage, the glittery flaming skull screen-print looking a bit warped and out of shape over his wider chest. Tugging at the neckband of it in uncomfortable irritation, he complains, “This is too tight. It’s cutting off my circulation!”
“Pants,” Bill dryly instructs, only his knees, calves and socked feet visible beneath the huge T-shirt hem, the slender boy handing over his slim-fit jeans and waiting for Tom to exchange them for his voluminous, baggy denim trousers.
Grizzling and mumbling his objections, Tom shuffles out of his sneakers and drops his pants to the floor, standing there in designer boxer shorts which boldly boast their brand name, woven across the elasticised waistband.
Bill has to use the very last notch on Tom’s canvas belt to hold the bigger boy’s pants up on his narrow hips but they still threaten to slip down at any given moment.
“Wow, so much space,” he muses, plucking at the sides of the saggy jeans and feeling the air swirling around his bare legs inside. “They’re like clown pants. I bet I could fit twenty balloon animals in here!”
Meanwhile, Tom curses, jumps and wriggles around like a pissed-off earthworm in his effort to pull on a pair of skinny jeans for the first time in his life. This is not exactly what I had in mind when imagining him getting into Bill’s pants, but it will certainly entertain me for now. I think it entertains Bill too, because he’s biting his lip, trying not to laugh at Tom’s terrific struggle. Sucking in his stomach just to get the zipper and button done up, the older twin eventually succeeds, letting out an exhausted, frustrated puff.
“Fuck! I can’t breathe in these! I’m gonna pass out in a minute.”
“And people call ME a diva. Really, Tom.” Rolling his eyes at the other boy’s melodramatics, Bill holds his hand out for Tom’s peaked baseball cap, the slimmer boy setting it upon his head and then adjusting it at an angle, like Tom does, the dark mane of his ponytail poking out the back.
After buckling the studded belt he certainly doesn’t need, Tom peers down at himself in the skin-tight layer of Bill’s clothing and announces in disdain, “I look utterly ridiculous. And you can see all my junk! Shit, this is humiliating.”
He adjusts his dick to the side but it’s still rather visible through the close-fitting grey denim and nothing he can do will hide it. Unable to contain his mirth, a giggle escapes Bill, the younger teen seeing the humorous side of the clothes-swapping situation.
“It’s not funny! Unless you’re a chick, I don’t like anyone looking at my cock,” Tom snaps but this makes Bill laugh even more. Tom shoves him in annoyance and calls him something in German that translates very much like ‘smelly vagina’. Bill just shoves him back, grinning. They trade shoes and there’s no problem there because they both have the same size feet.
Now that they’re properly attired, I return to the conference room. They turn as I enter, two pairs of eyes fixing on me, one eagerly inquiring, one hostile. They don’t say anything as I study them, just wait for my response. Bill seems quite comfortable with what he’s wearing, even though his slight build is completely swamped in Tom’s triple-sized items. At a glance, he could pass for Tom. If Tom combed out his dreadlocks and suddenly lost a lot of weight, although you can’t really see how thin Bill is with all those clothes floating around him. If he twisted up his hair, stuck a fake piercing on his lip, put on a pair of sunglasses and ran quickly through a crowd of fans dressed like this, I bet nobody would realise it was Bill. It’s quite fascinating. With their opposing dress styles it’s hard to tell that they’re identical twins but sometimes their similarity is simply striking.
But Tom, even in Bill’s trademark rock-star clothes, still looks like Tom. You can’t mistake it. It’s not even the dreadlocks or the lip-ring or the lack of tattoos. I just cannot imagine delicate little Bill with a buff, bulky body like that. The older Kaulitz teen stands there awkwardly and uncomfortably as I scrutinise him, letting my gaze travel over his fit figure, taking in every detail. The tightness of Bill’s thinly-stretched top means that I can see all of Tom’s hidden beauty under it, even his nipples. His arms and biceps are handsomely muscled, shoulders broader than Bill’s will ever be thanks to his daily weightlifting routines. His chest and pecs are firm and sculpted and his awesome abs are on display like a six-pack of beer cans. The too-small pants cut into his chiselled waist, which is thicker than Bill’s but no less trim, not a gram of fat on him to be found. He has strong thighs that could pin a grown man to the floor in a wrestling match and his ass…My God. It’s a work of art, Bill’s grey skinny jeans outlining its rounded firmness perfectly.
“Well, well, Tommy,” I drawl, smiling slowly and leaning to the side to check out his rear even further. “Who knew you had such a fine behind under all that gangsta gear?”
He scowls and shifts his stance so he’s facing me directly, putting a protective hand over his butt.
“Don’t look at my ass, you pervert!”
With deliberate slyness, I drop my focus to his similarly-emphasised front package, which is just as well-developed as the rest of him, Tom’s other hand immediately covering his groin in outrage.
“And don’t look at that either!”

I chuckle. “Come on, Tom. Can you blame a guy for drooling? You look hot.” Eyeing him over again, I confess in a low murmur, “Smoking hot, in fact.”
He stares at me after I tell him that, unsure if I’m kidding or making fun of him. I’m not. I’d jump on him right now and start tearing those clothes off if he wasn’t in such an unreceptive mood.
“What about me?” Bill pipes up, pouting because he’s not getting any attention. “How do I look?”
He actually poses for me, attempting to stand in a typical Tom-posture with feet apart, hands curled in half-fists above his pockets, Bill turning his head to the side, lowering his chin and staring up at me with as much ghetto attitude as he can muster. He straightens his shoulders and puffs out his chest, trying to make himself seem bigger and more macho than what he is, looking very much like a ten year old boy who has raided P. Diddy’s wardrobe. I smile indulgently at him, this elfin creature getting lost in metres of fabric and a baseball cap.
“You’re adorable in Tom’s clothes. Very, very cute indeed, Bill.”
He seems indescribably pleased by my praises, dropping his lashes and smiling shyly, a rosy blush on his cheeks.
“So, what’s the point of this dumb test?” Tom demands, still protecting his man-goods from my evil amber eyes. “Did we pass or what?”
“Oh, you passed,” I inform him. “As for the point…well, there really wasn’t one. I just wanted to see how you’d look in tight pants. That’s all.”
I grin at the murderous fierceness of Tom’s expression. “Aw, don’t be like that. Don’t you have a sense of humour? It was just a bit of fun.”
“Yeah, for YOU,” he grits out, still humiliated that I put his dick on display. “Are you done amusing yourself? Can we go now?”
“Yes, you may.” I courteously open the door for them. “Thank you for co-operating, boys. That was most enjoyable.”
Tom doesn’t reply with anything but a furious glare, however Bill gives me a small smile as he passes me, having enjoyed the game a lot more than his brother did.
“See you later, Tommy-cat,” I cheekily call out as the older twin is stomping away. “Nice ass!”
Not even bothering to turn around, Tom just flips a rude middle finger up over his shoulder as a final farewell gesture. I smirk to myself, leaning back against the doorframe and lazily watching his sexy butt disappear down the hallway.
In their room, Bill closes the door, grinning excitedly at Tom. “Oooh, he wants you, Tomi!”
“No, he doesn’t.” Still disgruntled, Tom immediately starts peeling off Bill’s restrictive clothing.
“Yes, he does. He said you were hot.”
“He was just mocking me,” the older twin retorts with much annoyance, trying to get the flaming skull T-shirt over his dreadlocked head. “It’s YOU he wants, Bill. You’re his favourite.”
“Really?”
“Duh. It’s pretty fucking obvious. Why do you think he’s always been so damn nice to you? Plus, he kidnapped you first.”
Bill grins wider before biting his lips, his eyes bright with exhilaration at being my ‘chosen one’.
“Your clothes suck,” Tom complains, throwing the tiny top at Bill and attempting to undo the button on the too-tight pair of jeans he somehow squeezed himself into. “How can you wear stuff like this without suffocating?”
“Easy, ‘cause I’m so skinny. I kinda like yours, though. You have so much freedom.” Like a hyper child, Bill spins around and around in circles, making Tom’s giant shirt flare out like a dress around him. The pants finally give way, slipping down over his girlish hips and pillowing around his feet like a pile of ship-sails, Bill giving his squeaky, chipmunk laugh.
“Oops.”
“Give me those back, you dork,” Tom orders, indicating to the baggy jeans. “You can’t make my clothes look good. The only one who can make my clothes look good is ME.”
Bill sticks out his tongue, kicking the oversized denims over to his brother. Pulling his familiar comfy threads back on, Tom sighs in relief, jiggling his hips and letting his privates swing free.
“Finally. My boys can breathe again. You know Bill, if you keep wearing tight pants like that, you won’t be able to have any kids.”
“I don’t want kids.”
“You must. You’ve picked out names already.”
“So have you,” Bill reminds his brother. “But that was just for fun. I don’t really want children yet. I’m far too young.”
“Me too. There’s a lot of pussy out there I haven’t tapped.” Tom stops to think for a moment and then admits musingly, “Although, I do believe I’d make a pretty cool dad one day.”
Gazing at Tom and pondering this, Bill eventually says in agreement, “You know, you probably would too.”
“Why’s that?”
“You have a lot of fatherly qualities. You always try to protect me and keep me safe.” Bill’s eyes soften with affection and gratitude. “You always look after me, Tomi.”
“Only because you’re useless and can’t look after yourself,” Tom jests, not wanting to ruin his reputation by admitting that he cares. “But yeah, if I can look after a clumsy little shit like you, I guess I could take care of a kid or two.”
“What if we never meet anyone special, though?” Bill broaches, furrowing his forehead as he contemplates the future. “What if we never get married, Tom? What if it’s just us two for the rest of our lives and we never have any wives or kids?”
“Well,” Tom shrugs logically. “We’ll just get more dogs.”
It’s as though Bill is asking something serious and Tom’s being all flippant about it but strangely enough, Bill seems content with this answer, smiling at his brother before handing over Tom’s top. I always thought sweet little Bill would be the marrying kind but maybe he doesn’t really care if he meets a special lady or marries or has children. Maybe Tom doesn’t either. Maybe they’re perfectly satisfied and comfortable with it just being the two of them. Perhaps being separated made them realise that they don’t need anyone else to be happy. Just each other.
Which of course was my sneaky plan all along.
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Captivation