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THE DEBT
A Short Story
by
Yungie Boi
2026
Copyright
The Debt
Copyright © 2026 by Yungie Boi
All rights reserved.
Disclaimer
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This work contains explicit sexual content and is intended for mature readers aged 18 and older only. By purchasing and reading this story, you acknowledge that you are a consenting adult of legal age, fully aware of the graphic depictions of consensual power exchange, dominance and submission, older/younger dynamics, and intense erotic acts contained herein. All characters are fictional and above 18 years old. This is adult erotic fiction.
THE DEBT
The Camaro's starter grinds in the bay behind me, but I'm not thinking about the Camaro. I'm not thinking about the torque wrench in my hand or the oil stain spreading through my jeans or the fact that my boss is going to dock me for leaving early on a Friday.
I'm thinking about the number. Four hundred. That's what I owe Dano. Four hundred dollars I don't have, won't have, can't get by tomorrow night.
I set the wrench down. Wipe my hands on a rag that's already black with grease. The clock above the parts counter says 6:47. Dano's boys will be at the alley by nine. I have two hours to figure out how to produce four hundred dollars, or I show up at the alley and take whatever deal Dano offers instead.
There's no deal. I know that. Everyone knows that. Dano doesn't make deals. Dano collects. And when you can't pay, Dano finds another way to get his money's worth.
I pull my phone out. Scroll through contacts. Jamie—owes me sixty, doesn't have it. Mom—hasn't spoken to me in eight months since she found out about the betting. Rico—dead or in jail, nobody knows which.
I put the phone away. Lock up the shop. Get in my truck.
The alley is behind the old Cudahy packing plant, same as always. I park on the service road and walk in. The streetlight at the entrance has been dead for two years, and the city isn't going to fix it. That's the point.