Date: Tue, 03 May 2011 08:36:23 -0700
From: Boise Dix <boisedix@operamail.com>
Subject: JACK & SHANE IN THE SHOWER (3rd Revised Version)

This story, based on the "cyber-bullying" storyline on the ABC daytime soap
opera ONE LIFE TO LIVE, belongs in the chronology of the show within the
episode "I Hate You! I Hate All of You!" (aired on March 31, 2011), in
which Jack Manning and his pals steal Shane Morasco's clothes and lure him
into the gymnasium in order to make a humiliating nude video of him, which
they subsequently post on the internet. It recounts events that take place
inside the locker room after gym class, up until the moment when Shane is
about to step back into the gymnasium.

The story is entirely fictional and has nothing whatsoever to do with the
real lives of the actors who play the characters depicted. It is not
intended to imply anything about their real-life sexual identities,
personal feelings, behavior, or private relationships, whether past,
present, or future; nor is it intended to be disrespectful to them in any
way.

As a work of erotic "slash" fiction in the time-honored tradition, this
story contains descriptions of gay sexual acts involving its main
characters (two high-school-aged boys). Please do not read it if it is not
legal for you to do so, or if you have any reason to believe you would not
enjoy reading a story including such descriptions.

ONE LIFE TO LIVE and all OLTL characters, including Jack Manning, Shane
Morasco, and Jack's friend Brad are the property of American Broadcasting
Companies, Inc.

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JACK & SHANE IN THE SHOWER

by Boise Dix


Shane Morasco entered the locker room quickly. He wanted to get in and out
of the shower as fast as possible. He was depressed and shaken by the
failure of his most recent attempt to make peace with Jack Manning, the
ringleader of the boys who were his daily tormentors at Llanview High, and
in cyberspace. If only he hadn't mentioned Jack's dad, who had been
hospitalized and comatose for about two weeks. Yet how could he have known
that Jack would become so explosively angry? He had only meant to express
his sympathy.

Shane stripped in front of his locker, looking around self-consciously at
the two other guys near him, already naked and heading into the showers. He
wasn't afraid of these guys, as he was of Jack and his friends. But he
always felt uncomfortable seeing other guys naked, and being naked in front
of them.

Following the others into the shower room, Shane saw that, as almost
everyone always did, they had both chosen showerheads on the same side of
the room -- the side where the water pressure was better. Shane chose the
showerhead at the far corner of the other side, where he could have
slightly more privacy, and also have his back to two walls if someone
attacked him. Here he might escape notice, at least momentarily.

Shane's hopes of escaping notice were dashed almost immediately as Jack
Manning entered the shower, completely naked of course, and headed straight
for Shane. Sometimes Jack and his friends made fun of Shane in the shower
or in the locker room, but Jack had never before singled out Shane in the
shower in such an alarming way. Watching the tall, handsome youth approach,
in spite of the fact that he'd taken a dose of medicine from his inhaler
only a few minutes before, Shane felt his breathing become more
constricted.

What does he want? Shane wondered. What is he going to do to me now?
Involuntarily, Shane's eyes flicked down to survey Jack's cock, so much
larger than his own, which he'd never seen before at such close range.

"I said I was sorry, Jack," Shane blurted out nervously, his voice shaking.

"I'm sorry, too," Jack said quietly, taking a position at the showerhead
next to Shane's. "I shouldn't have yelled at you. You were right. I am
worried about my dad. Let's be friends."

Shane hesitated, looking doubtfully at Jack's outstretched hand. This
wasn't the first time Jack had apologized to him or pretended to reconcile
with him. He'd apologized once before when he was trying to lure Shane to
some kind of sex and drug party that he and his friends were having. Later,
after Shane had been forced to write a false letter of apology to Jack for
accusing him of stealing the Booster Club money -- something Jack had
actually done -- Jack had pretended to accept Shane's apology in front of
both their mothers, to make them think everything was OK between the two of
them. On both occasions, he had reverted to his normal cruel behavior
within minutes.

Yet Shane felt he had to try. It wasn't just that he wanted to make peace
with Jack so that Jack and his friends would stop harassing him. He really
longed for Jack's friendship, and for acceptance within his group -- guys
who seemed to have so much fun together, who moved with such confidence,
who seemed free to do anything they wanted.

"OK," said Shane, taking Jack's hand. They shook on it.

There was a moment of silence as they each began showering. Then Jack
spoke, as if he'd been thinking about something for a long time.

"Now that we're friends," Jack began carefully, "I want to ask you
something."

"What?"

"Were you looking at my junk?"

"What?"

Shane had felt for a few seconds as if a heavy weight had been lifted off
his chest. But now he was filled with terrible apprehension.

"My cock," Jack explained patiently. "Were you looking at my cock?"

"No," answered Shane automatically. But a tangle of complex emotions had
already begun twisting itself into a knot of fear in his stomach.

"I saw you," said Jack, leaning forward. A hard edge of anger had entered
his voice. Shane wondered if the bigger boy was about to start punching
him.

Instead, Jack asked very quietly, "Are you gay?"

Although Jack's tone suggested nothing more than innocent curiosity, the
question was terrifying. Worse than any punch. Shane glanced over to the
other side of the room, where the other guys had been showering, talking
and laughing among themselves. Now they were already thinning out, going
back to the locker room. No one seemed to have heard Jack's question. Not
even Jack's buddies.

"It's OK, Shane," said Jack, gently placing his heavy arm across the
smaller boy's shoulders. "It'll be our secret."

"No," protested Shane, forgetting to be quiet. "No, it's not a secret. I'm
not gay!"

"Relax, Shane. You can trust me," replied Jack soothingly. He ruffled
Shane's damp hair in a spine-tingling gesture of affection. "I won't tell
anybody."

"There's nothing to tell." Shane's frightened voice rose precariously as he
tried to shake Jack's arm off of himself. "I'm not gay!"

"You're not?" asked Jack, smiling an ironic little smile.

"No!" said Shane, suddenly hushing his voice again. By now, the others had
left the shower, but he could still hear them moving around in the locker
room, talking and slamming locker doors. He prayed they couldn't hear
anything he and Jack were saying.

"OK," said Jack agreeably. But now he started advancing toward Shane in
slow motion. Feeling threatened, Shane instinctively backed away from him
until Jack pinned him against the wall, holding him in place with an iron
grip on Shane's skinny upper arms. Jack pressed his naked, wet body full
against Shane's. He bowed his head next to Shane's until his lips found
Shane's ear, and he whispered, "Do you want to suck my cock?"

Shane shook his head fearfully. But at the same time, to his horror, he
felt his own cock stiffen against Jack's leg. Jack stepped back with a
self-satisfied smirk.

They stared at each other silently for a few seconds. Each one seemed like
an eternity to Shane.

Finally Jack spoke. "You better get started."

"Doing what?" asked Shane.

"What do you think?"

Shane couldn't concentrate on Jack's question because he was desperately
trying to think of something -- anything -- that would make his hard penis
deflate.

Impatient, Jack tapped Shane's hand, still holding a bar of soap. The soap
clattered to the floor and slid between Jack's feet.

"You dropped your soap." Jack pointed out helpfully.

Shane looked down at the soap, at Jack's cock, slowly begining to stir like
a cobra coming to life.

"I don't need it," said Shane. "I'm done showering."

"You better pick it up," Jack answered, the threat in his voice
unmistakable.

Shaking slightly, Shane began to crouch down awkwardly to retrieve the soap
from between Jack's feet, while avoiding his lengthening penis.

"It will be easier if you kneel down," Jack advised him confidentially.

Shane looked up at Jack, his cheeks burning. "No," he said defiantly.

But Jack simply grabbed Shane's shoulders, pulling him forward a little to
throw him off balance, and Shane landed hard on his knees, directly in
front of Jack, Jack's fully-erect cock poking him in the eye. Before Shane
could react, Jack's hands were in his hair, pulling it painfully and
holding his head in place as Jack thrust his cock and balls against Shane's
face.

"I know you know how to suck, Wheezy," Jack was saying.  "You've had so
much practice sucking that ass-ma inhaler. It even looks like a cock in
your mouth. I bet you give awesome blowjobs."

Though unable to break Jack's grip on his hair, and unable to pull his face
away from Jack's thrusting cock, Shane kept his mouth firmly closed, much
to Jack's frustration.

"Come on, Wheezy, let's be friends. I know you want this. You've been
asking for it all year. Open your mouth. I don't have all day."

But Shane continued to resist.

Jack slapped Shane's face a couple times, experimentally.

"OK, Shane," said Jack finally. "I don't want to hurt you. Just open your
mouth for a second and I'll let you up. Just for a second. Otherwise, we're
still gonna be here like this when the next class comes in."

Although lunch period was about to begin (so Shane knew the next class
would not arrive for nearly half an hour), Shane could not stop himself
from imagining the scene. Jack would play it off like Shane had given him a
blowjob, even if he hadn't. Everyone would know. His life would be over.

Shane knew Jack couldn't be trusted. If he opened his mouth even for a
second, Jack would probably make him keep sucking until ... he couldn't
even think about it. Yet what choice did he have? And maybe there was at
least a small chance that it would only last a second -- that what Jack
wanted was his submission, like saying "uncle" to show who won a fight,
rather than an actual blowjob. Either way, it would be better to let it
happen now, while nobody was watching, so he could pretend later that it
had never happened. Despairingly, he began to relax his jaws just a tiny
bit.

A second later, he heard Jack say, "Good boy!", as his hard, thick cock
bolted suddenly into Shane's mouth and penetrated his throat, then
immediately began thrusting into him again and again, as Jack held his head
tightly.

Shane's mind was reeling in shock.  This was horrible.  Jack's cock was too
big.  Shane could hardly breathe.  The sensation was all too familiar to
Shane because of his asthma, and it always terrified him, but especially
now, especially with Jack, because of what had happened only a few days
before.  Then, Jack had stolen his inhaler just as Shane started having an
asthma attack, and Shane had almost died.

As Shane's oxygen-deprived mind flashed back over his disturbingly vivid
memories of that awful event, he was suddenly there again helpless,
crawling on the gym floor unable to catch his breath, begging Jack to
return the inhaler as Jack taunted him, holding it just out of reach.

The school nurse was there, cradling his head as she tried to put a
different inhaler into his mouth. He was trying to breathe in the medicine,
but she wouldn't hold it steady. The mouthpiece was too big, and she kept
trying to shove it halfway down his throat, over and over again.

"I know you know how to suck, Wheezy," Jack was telling him. "Open your
mouth ... I don't want to ... put you in a coma ... or worse .... "

Don't hurt me, Jack ... we don't have to do this ....

But as Shane's drifting consciousness rejoined the real world, Jack's cock
was still being rammed down his throat. He still couldn't breathe. He was
trying to suck in air around Jack's cock, but it was impossible.

With white-knuckled fingers, Shane tried to pry Jack's hands off his
head. He couldn't budge them. Desperate now, he started punching Jack with
all his remaining strength anywhere he could reach him. This seemed to have
no effect whatever until one of Shane's flailing fists bumped against
Jack's balls as they slapped Shane's chin for the millionth time.

"Oww!!" cried Jack, as he pulled his wet, still-hard cock out of Shane's
mouth. "You little shit!!" Jack's open, hard hand delivered instant
punishment to Shane's face with a force than knocked him off his knees onto
the floor.

"One second!" choked Shane angrily, coughing, ashamed of the wheezing sound
he was making as he tried to get air back into his lungs. "You said one
... second!"

"Oh, yeah," admitted Jack, still in obvious pain. And then he laughed. "So
you got a bonus."

Shane threw him a dark look of utter revulsion.

"You liked it," accused Jack. "Don't lie. You were totally into it. Look
how hard you got."

Shane blushed with hot shame. It was true. What Jack had done frightened
and disgusted him, but he also felt something close to the electric
excitement he sometimes felt after he'd been drawing superhero comics for a
long time. His mouth ached, and he felt a little sick, but his throbbing
cock was as hard and long as it had ever been before in his life.

"Yours is hard, too," croaked Shane defensively. He stared at it.

"Sure," Jack admitted smugly. "Because you look like a girl. And you suck
like a girl, too. You better dry off now, Wheezy, before you catch
cold. Meet me at your gym locker and you can finish blowing me."

With that, Jack left the shower.


As he re-entered the locker room, Jack Manning was quite annoyed to see
that Brad and the other guys were simply standing around, seemingly doing
nothing in particular except dressing, talking, and drying their hair at
the wall-mounted electric hair dryers provided by the school.

"What the hell are you doing?" demanded Jack. "Did you get his clothes
yet?"

"We couldn't," explained Brad, smiling crookedly. "You forgot to give me
your key."

The lockers at Llanview High had combination padlocks, but all of them
could also be opened with a special master key. Nobody knew where he had
gotten it, but Jack had a copy of the master key. They had had loads of fun
with it. It was how they had opened Wheezy's locker to plant the Booster
Club money.

"Do I have to do everything myself? Why didn't you ask me for it?"

Brad protested his innocence. "You were standing next to Wheezy the whole
time."

"Not in the shower. I mean before that!"

Jack frowned irritatedly.  But as they'd been talking, Jack had opened his
own locker and fished the key out of the pocket of his pants. "All right --
here," he said, handing it to Brad.

"Do we still have time for this?" Brad wanted to know.

"Sure," replied Jack. "I did my part of the plan. I scared the shit out of
him. He peed all over himself."

"Really?" asked Brad, laughing.

All the guys laughed warmly at this, and Jack felt in his element.

"Sure," he said. "Wait a sec."  He raised his voice and projected so that
Wheezy would be able to hear him in the shower.  "Get out here, Wheezy!  I
don't have all day!"

There were general guffaws as Brad stage-whispered, "Shut up, Jack!  Do you
want him to come out before we're ready?" Brad was just starting to open
Shane's locker.

"He won't come out," Jack assured them, looking mildly amused.  "I told him
I was going to kick his ass for talking about my dad as soon as he's done
showering.  I should, too."

"Don't worry, Jack. We'll get him for you," Brad promised. "He'll know to
keep his mouth shut from now on."

"Yeah, I hope so," agreed Jack, an imperceptible shadow crossing his face.
As Jack finished dressing, he raised his voice again.  "Morasco! Get your
ass out here!  I've got something for you!"  He grabbed his own crotch and
thrust it forward, grinning at the guys, who laughed appreciatively.  Jack
felt great.

"OK, gimme back my key," said Jack. Brad tossed it to him.  "Get your
phones ready," he said to all of them.  "I'll meet you out there in the
gym."

"Hey, Jack," asked Brad, "What if Wheezy's too scared to come out even
after we leave?"

Jack thought for a moment.  "Just before you leave, go in there and tell
him I want to see him right now in front of his locker, and he better come,
or he's going to be sorry."

Brad raised his eyebrows slightly.  "Think that'll work?"

"Sure," answered Jack.  "I can make him do anything I want."


Moments earlier, still sprawled on the floor of the shower room naked,
dazed with the terror and humiliation of what had just happened, Shane
Morasco felt a tidal wave of debilitating panic engulf him as Jack's
parting words registered.  "Meet me at your gym locker and you can finish
blowing me."  Jack was going to make him finish the blowjob out there in
the locker room -- in front of Brad and the other guys who ususally joined
in tormenting him.

Shane scanned the empty shower room frantically for anything he could use
to stop what was about to happen -- any kind of weapon.  But of course
there was nothing.  He was naked, with only a towel.  He didn't even have a
pencil.

Shane wondered for a few seconds if he could pull one of the showerheads
out of the wall.  But he knew he wasn't strong enough.  Jack was going to
get him no matter what he did now.

Shane froze as Jack's voice called out to him from the lockers, echoing
eerily into the shower room.  "Get out here, Wheezy (Wheezy Wheezy Wheezy
... )!  I don't have all day (day day day ... )!"

Muffled laughter followed.  Shane waited, listening carefully to the
unintelligible conversations and the now-only-occasional locker door
slamming shut.

Jack's voice again, sharper and louder this time, everywhere and nowhere
like a disembodied demon sent to destroy him: "Morasco (asco asco asco
... )! Get your ass out here (out here out here out here ... )! I've got
something for you (for you for you for you ... )."

Muffled laughter again.  But the other sounds seemed to be dying away. Only
a few voices now.  One or two locker doors.  Shane waited.

And waited.

Suddenly, Brad's weasel face peeked around the corner into the shower room.

Startled, Shane scrambled to his feet and backed up into the wall.

Brad looked at him with undisguised contempt. "Jack wants to see you right
now in front of your locker, Wheeze-ball." He smiled maliciously. "You
better hurry, or you're going to be sorry."

Brad disappeared.  And then everything fell ominously silent.

Were they gone?  Or were they still out there, waiting to jump him, waiting
to watch and laugh at what Jack was going to make him do -- waiting to get
their own blowjobs when Jack was done with him?

Or was Jack waiting alone -- waiting to force his hard cock back into
Shane's mouth and thrust it deep into his throat over and over as he had
before -- waiting to shoot thick, hot cum into Shane's stomach?

Shane felt his cock getting hard again.  What was wrong with him?  Was he
gay?  Did he want it, as Jack had said?  Was he sending out signals that
Jack and the others could read?  Was he the only person who didn't know?
Was that why they hated him so much?

Shane covered himself with his towel and tried to calm down.

The suspense, as much as the fear, was killing him.  Unable to bear it any
longer, he crept to the open end of the shower room and peered around the
corner.  No one was there.  Daring himself, he crept further out of the
shower, and looked into the first aisle, where his locker was.

No Jack.

No nobody.

Shane almost collapsed with relief.  It was over for now.  Over maybe for
the whole day if Jack skipped his afternoon classes to go visit his dad in
the hospital, as he often did now.  Shane felt totally exhausted, but for
this moment, safe.

Shane maneuvered himself carefully across the benches, using them for
partial support as if he was a hundred years old, stopping at last in front
of his locker in the center of the aisle.  He looked around involuntarily,
half expecting to see Jack sitting on the bench next to him.  But he wasn't
there.  Everything was OK now.

Shane's spirits began to brighten as he worked the combination on his gym
locker.  It was lunch period now.  Maybe he'd be able to eat something
today without throwing up.

But then Shane's gym locker swung open, and the floor beneath him seemed to
open up with it.  He stared unbelievingly at the space inside.  His
backpack was gone, and with it all his clothes, his cell phone, and his
brand new inhaler.

It wasn't over.  It would never be over.

"Hey," Shane called out loudly, trying to make his voice sound strong and
tough, "Where are my clothes?"

He had to get them back.  If anyone saw him without clothes on ....

Shane looked over toward the doors to the gym.