Date: Sat, 13 Jul 2002 00:19:32 -0700
From: e@iomfats.org
Subject: Into the Lion's Den Chapter 1
Into the Lion's Den
A story by e
Copyright 2002 SunShine DayDreamers UnLimited
all rights reserved
DISCLAIMER: This story may contain graphic
descriptions of violence. It also may contain descriptions
of sexual encounters between minors that are homosexual,
heterosexual, and/or bisexual in nature. If offended by
such things or if you are not of legal age in the country
where you live, then read no further. The characters and
events depicted in this story are completely fictional and
any resemblance to any real persons, places, or events is
purely coincidental. This story may not be reproduced in
whole or in part without the expressed written consent of
the author. Comments or questions regarding this story may
be sent via email to e@iomfats.org. My stories and those of
some other very good authors are hosted at
http://www.iomfats.org/ Please visit us there.
*********
Chapter 1
"All right you little fudge-packin' fairy, it's time to
die."
Cornered. That's what I was. Wrong turn into the
wrong hallway. Dead end. He'd caught me. Ron Recob. The
biggest, baddest mutherfucker in the whole school. Six foot
four inches and two hundred sixty pounds of pure killing
machine. His size alone was enough to make even me piss my
pants. His reputation enough to make me shit them. I knew
it was true that he'd beaten the shit out of Joey Millar,
another homosexual at our school. He'd beaten him to a
pulp. Joey's eyes were swollen shut, his jaw broken, ribs
too. Joey hadn't stood a chance. Then there were the
rumors. It was said that Ron liked to torture cats. He
hated them. Some said that he'd tied two of them together
by their tails, hung them over a clothesline and watched as
they ripped each other to shreds trying to get loose.
Another story had him tying a gasoline soaked rag to a cat's
tail, then setting fire to the rag. Some said the only
thing he hated worse than cats were homosexuals.
I felt myself shaking, trembling with fear. Nowhere to
run. Nowhere to hide. Nothing left to do but face him and
take my beating like a man. But if I was going down, I was
going down swinging. As I turned towards him I ducked under
his right hand, a hand that caught nothing but air as it
sailed over my head. My right was cocked behind me. Ron
was off balance. With all the force in my legs I lunged
upward and towards him landing a powerful uppercut. The
punch landed with every bit of force I could muster. It was
more than enough. I caught him square in the balls. Ron
went crashing face first into the wall, then to the floor as
I scrambled out from underneath him. I felt more than heard
the thud as he crumpled into a quivering heap. I turned
again to face him but he wasn't moving. I wasn't even
certain that he was still breathing. Blood was oozing from
his nose where his face had smacked the wall. I heard a
muffled groan.
I breathed a sigh of relief and turned to run. I
wanted nothing more than to get as far away as possible
before Ron could recover. It was then that I saw them. A
crowd had gathered at the end of the hall. They were dead
silent. Certainly they didn't expect that I would be the
one walking away. Even more certainly they didn't expect
Recob to be the one lying in a pool of blood.
As I moved hesitantly towards the crowd I saw him. He
stepped out, towards me. It was Joe Kirshner, Recob's best
friend. His eyes cold as steel, glaring at me, his jaw
tight. Joe was damn near as big as his friend.
Instinctively I raised my fists. My eyes cold and yet full
of fire. Joe raised his hands above his shoulders, palms
open and facing me. His eyes were wide. I detected fear.
He stepped back away from me and glanced over at his fallen
friend. I quickly moved my head in that direction
indicating that he could pass. As he did I slipped into the
crowd and moved away as the sea of students silently parted
in front of me.
As I continued I began to receive pats on the back and
congratulations. I didn't stop to accept the compliments.
I wanted nothing more than to get out of there. I wanted to
be away from these people, these hypocrites. Some of them
had been my friends. Then, when they found out what I was,
they shunned me. When Ron came after me, they cheered him
on and called me a queer, a fag, a fairy. They had hoped he
would teach me my lesson. That he would rid the school of
another fag. Now that I was the one walking away, they
wanted to congratulate me, to cheer me, to pat me on the
back. They could all go straight to Hell.
*******
What had I done to deserve all this? Not much. Just
stand up for Joey. That's all. I'd been the one to find
him. He was under the bleachers. I had been walking by, on
my way to the parking lot after football practice. I heard
sobbing, whimpering. I looked over and saw him. He was
caught up in the railing that supported the bleachers. He
was covered with blood. The poor guy could barely move. He
was having a hard time breathing. His eyes were red, puffy
and swollen shut. His jaw was hanging open. He couldn't
move it. I pulled him out and carried him to the coach's
office.
While Coach Chambers called an ambulance, I asked Joey
what had happened. He smeared his own blood on the floor
spelling out the name R-e-c-o-b.
When the coach returned he saw the name.
"Is this who did it?"
I nodded.
Coach didn't say another word.
"So what are you gonna do about it?"
"You just let me worry about that. Besides, you should
be on your way home by now, shouldn't you?"
I was a good football player, but for some reason
Chambers never cared much for me. He'd been my coach since
the seventh grade. I'd never done anything but perform well
for him. But somehow I'd just started off on his bad side
and stayed there. I exhaled with a huff and walked away
shaking my head. Chambers wasn't going to do anything.
Recob was the anchor for both the offensive and defensive
lines. He'd been all conference as a sophomore and all
district as a junior. He'd be a good candidate for all
state this season. If you were good enough, you could get
away with murder. The way Joey had looked, Recob might have
just committed one.
*******
It was the last week of summer vacation. School would
start next Monday. That meant we were still having two-a-
day practices and practice began at 7am. We'd run offensive
drills for two hours, take an hour lunch break, then
defensive drills for two hours with one final hour in the
weight room. It was August in Ohio. The temperature had
been in the 90s with 90% humidity. Working out in heat like
that wearing full pads sapped every last ounce of strength.
The morning after I'd found Joey, all conversation
stopped as I entered the locker room. Everybody just stood
there and looked at me.
I stopped, looked around and put my hands up in the
air.
"What?" I was asking everyone and no one.
"They heard you're a queer lover. Maybe even queer
yourself"
I turned to see that the voice was that of Ron Recob.
"What the Hell are you talkin' about, Recob?" I had no
idea what he meant.
"You took Joey to Chambers' office didn't you?" There
was a lot of anger in his voice and the look on his face
wasn't pleasant.
"Yeah." Just what the fuck had Chambers told him? I
was starting to get worried. The last thing I needed was to
have Recob pissed off at me. That would be like signing my
own death warrant.
"So you fuckin' told him I did it, didn't you?" He was
growling more than talking.
"Uh, no." Fuck. I hadn't told Chambers anything. All
I'd done is confirm what he already knew.
"Wrong answer, asshole! You're such a fuckin' pansy
you can't even cop to it. You're just as fuckin' queer as
Joey is. Chambers told me what was what."
I took a deep breath and prepared myself for the worst.
I was about to get the living tar beat out of me and I knew
it.
"This asshole is a mother-fucking faggot. All of his
friends are mother-fucking faggots. And you all know what I
do with mother-fucking faggots, right?" He paused a second
and looked around the room. "Nobody talks to him. Nobody."
He turned to walk away.
"What? That's it? You're not gonna beat my brains
out?" Why the hell couldn't I leave well enough alone? Why
did I have to open my fucking mouth? He was going to let me
live and I'd just called him out in front of the whole team.
He'd have to kill me now.
"Humpppfff!" He laughed. "Not the right time, not the
right place. Chambers is gonna let me have some fun on the
field today. Don't count on being alive this afternoon."
I swallowed hard and blinked. He wasn't going to let
me live. It was going to be a legalized execution.
No one spoke to me as I changed into my practice pads
and uniform. Not one word. Even my best friend Richard had
cleared his gear out of the locker next to mine and moved to
another isle. I was alone. Nobody had the guts to stand up
to this animal and his pack of wolves. I couldn't blame
them actually. These guys weren't your typical bullies. It
didn't take a gang of them to beat up on some weakling.
These guys could each take on most any two or three other
guys in the school, at once. This bunch consisted of both
offensive tackles, Recob and Kirshner, the star runningback,
George Boselli, and the quarterback, Jeff Larkin. The only
one who wasn't a gargantuan was Boselli, but he was every
bit as tough as the others. No one in their right mind
would cross any one of them, let alone the entire group.
How had I gotten here? All I'd done was help a kid who
needed help. That's what you're supposed to do, isn't it?
Be a good Samaritan. Look where it had gotten me. I was
being called a queer-lover. Or even worse, a queer. I
wasn't. I hated fucking queers, like everybody else. I
didn't want them around me, watching me change in the locker
room. Looking at me. Fuck! If I'd know Joey was a queer
I'd have left him there.
No I wouldn't. Would I? I wasn't sure. Fuck! What
am I thinking? Am I really a queer-lover? I didn't want to
be. I couldn't be. I wouldn't let myself. But I am. And
what's even worse, I'm a fucking queer. I look around at
the other guys in the locker room, don't I? I like seeing
my friends in the showers, don't I?. I think about them
when I jack off, don't I?. NO! Goddammit! NO! God, I
hate my fucking life.
As I left the locker room and headed towards the field
I was fighting back tears. I was crumbling inside. Afraid
of what I might be. Afraid of who I might be. Afraid of
what might be in store when I step onto the field.
I stepped out onto the field to assume my usual inside
linebacker position on the dummy defense. That's what it
was called. Just a rag-tag group of misfits, mostly
sophomores like myself, who were set up as practice dummies
to be knocked down and stomped into the ground by the first
and second team offenses.
"Paul! Mike Paul!"
I turned to face Coach Chambers.
"You're playing defensive end today, left side"
Defensive end? I wasn't exactly big enough to play
defensive end. Not that I was small, but at five-ten and
160 I was no match for whichever offensive tackle I'd be
lined up against. Oh shit! Wait a minute. THIS was what
Recob meant by having fun. I would be lining up against
HIM! I suddenly realized that I was already dead. I just
hadn't stopped breathing yet.
Surprisingly enough, I survived the first half of
practice without too much damage, well, no broken bones or
missing parts, anyway. Ron had taken a couple cheap shots,
a fist to the gut, a slap on the head. He'd stepped on my
leg with his spikes once while I was laying on the ground.
The cheap shots were unnecessary, though. He had knocked me
down on nearly every play. I was as bruised and battered as
I'd ever been. He'd been ramming my shoulder pads into my
chest all morning and it was so bruised and sore that I
could hardly breath. It hurt just to move and was becoming
nearly impossible for me to pick myself up off the ground.
The offense had been practicing running plays. Finally
Coach Chambers gave us a water break and signaled that it
was time to practice pass plays. I breathed a sigh of
relief. The offensive line doesn't come charging out at you
on pass plays. They have to stay behind the line of
scrimmage. Pass rushers usually had a bit of an advantage
that way. I figured the worst was probably over. I
couldn't have been more wrong.
I was a pretty good pass rusher and had a couple of
rather nifty moves. On the very first play I faked an
inside rush. Recob went for it and was out of position to
block me as I moved to the outside and beat him to the
quarterback. There was a rule in practice that no one hits
the quarterback. A defender was to grab him instead. That
way the quarterback wouldn't be injured in practice. I
grabbed Jeff, but he shoved me aside with his left arm and I
fell to the ground while he completed the play. He laughed
as I picked myself up.
"What the fuck are you doin' Paul? Are you a player or
a spectator? A big pussy more than likely. My 5-year-old
daughter can play better than that. Now get back over there
and be a man this time." Coach Chambers was in my face.
"You said don't hit him." I didn't know why I was
being singled out. "I was only following directions." I
muttered to myself as I turned and headed back to the
huddle. I wouldn't let that happen again. Rules or no
rules, if I got around Recob again, Larkin was dead meat.
On the next play, once again I faked inside and went
outside. Again I got to the quarterback. But this time I
didn't grab. This time I lowered my head and ran right
through him. I hit him square in the middle of the back and
just as hard as I could. Jeff sprawled onto the ground in
front of me and the ball came free, rolling towards our
goal. I scrambled to my feet, scooped up the ball and
sprinted to the end zone. Touchdown defense! Score one for
the good guys.
"What the fuck is the matter with you?" Chambers was
all over me. "You trying to end our season before it
begins? You know better than to hit the quarterback!"
"Just being a man Coach, a player, not a spectator. My
little sister is tougher than he is." One of these days I
was gonna learn to keep my mouth shut. But not today.
"That's it, one lap for hitting the quarterback and one
lap for being such a smart ass! Now go! I took off for the
track. A lap was a quarter mile. Fuck, I hated running.
"And you!" Coach had turned towards Recob. "You get
one for letting that little faggot by you!"
Under normal conditions anyone on the team could run a
quarter mile in under two minutes. And that was the team
rule. If it took longer, you got a second chance. But
these weren't normal conditions. It was hot and humid.
We'd already been through most of a grueling practice
session and we were in full pads. I barely finished both of
my laps in the allotted time. Recob got a second because he
couldn't finish his first on time.
We were both breathing pretty damned hard as we lined
up for another play.
"You are fucking dead." Recob panted out the words as
Jeff called the signals.
The ball was snapped. Ron didn't go for the inside
fake. Instead he stepped back and turned outside. It was
all I could do to keep from laughing as I blew by him on the
inside. This time it wasn't a fake. Jeff didn't stand a
chance. He hadn't even finished his drop when I lowered the
boom. He managed to hold onto the ball this time, but was
staggering back to the huddle.
Coach Chambers was not pleased. He simply pointed at
the track as I picked myself off the ground. Then he headed
towards Recob. I saw him grab Ron by the facemask and yank
him around. He was right in Ron's face yelling at the top
of his lungs, cursing, swearing, and calling him all kids of
demeaning names. I was halfway around the track by the time
he let Ron start his lap. Again I barely finished in time
and Ron had to run a second.
Practice was nearly over by the time Ron stepped back
onto the field. He said nothing but was still breathing
heavy as he lined up across from me. Jeff again barked out
the signals. The ball was snapped. Again I made an inside
move. Again Ron bit, but this time not so hard. As I juked
back to the outside and started by him I saw it. His
forearm was outstretched. He was swinging it at my head.
No time to duck! WHAM! They don't call it getting
clotheslined for nothing. I was laid out, flat on my back.
There was a strange sound around my head. A whirring,
buzzing sound. My eyes were open, but I couldn't see. Then
little beads of light started dancing before my eyes. A
tingling sensation swept throughout my body. It felt like
thousands of little pin pricks, like when your foot goes to
sleep. I thought I might explode. I wanted to cry out, but
I couldn't get my mouth to move. As the whirring died down,
I heard a voice.
"C'mon Paul. Get up! You're not hurt!" It was Coach
Marcus, one of Chambers' assistants.
Yeah, get up. That's what I needed to do. Everything
might just be ok if I could just get up. I tried. I
couldn't get anything to move.
I'm not certain how long I laid there. But eventually a
couple of the guys helped me to my feet and walked me off
the field carrying me with my arms around their shoulders.
When I got to the bench they sat me down. I removed my
helmet. It broke into three pieces. My head was spinning.
I couldn't focus my eyes. Someone was holding a finger in
front of me, except, was it one finger or three?
"January!" That's it. The answer was January. I was
going to be ok.
"January? What the fuck is January? I asked you how
many fingers I'm holding up?"
I stared blankly. I had no idea what he was talking
about. He may as well have been speaking Martian. The
remainder of practice is a total blank. I awoke the next
morning in a hospital bed. I had a broken nose and a severe
concussion. They'd kept me overnight for observation, but
that morning I was sent home.
Two weeks. That's how long I would be out. No
contact, but I could still run and lift weights. Coach
Chambers wasn't happy. He called me a pussy and said that
only a fairy would sit out two weeks with a concussion. He
said that he'd been knocked out cold by none other than Dick
Butkus when he played and he hadn't missed as much as a day
of practice.
Ha! That's all I had to say to that. Chambers had
been claiming that he was a professional ballplayer for the
Chicago Bears. I had an uncle who was a big Bears fan and
lived in Chicago. He'd never heard of him. He even checked
some old programs from years when Chambers would have
played, and never found his name on the roster. The guy was
just full of shit.
No one on the team was talking to me. A couple times
guys would walk by and I could hear the word "faggot" being
muttered. When I stood on the sidelines, guys would move
away. As far as the team was concerned, I was an outcast, a
non-entity. The coaches did nothing to discourage it. It
was as though everyone just wanted me to quit. Friday
finally came and at least now I had the weekend to sort
things out. School would start on Monday.
*******
Saturday I headed over to my aunt's house to visit my
cousins, Cliff and James, who lived across town. They had
attended my high school and graduated a few yeas ago. One
of their neighbors, Chris, a boy who was still at my school
was also visiting. They were teasing me about how ugly I
looked with my swollen nose and black eyes. I wasn't in
much of a mood to be teased. I had a horrible headache from
the concussion that no amount of aspirin could make go away.
Finally Chris invited me over to his house to listen to a
record album he had recently purchased.
I had known Chris for a few years. Even though he was
younger, he hung out with my cousins and he had bowled in
the same league with me once. He was a senior and very
handsome. He had the most captivating and sweet smile I had
ever seen. Brown hair and brown eyes. His build was rather
slight. Not much muscle on his bones, but he wasn't exactly
skinny either. I was taller than he was, maybe by an inch,
and outweighed him by at least thirty pounds. But I had
been working hard in the weight room and he was on the cross
country team.
We made small talk as we walked to his house and then
into his bedroom. It looked like a typical teenage boy's
room. Single bed in the corner, posters on the wall, and
dirty clothes scattered about. He seemed a bit embarrassed
about that and scooped up a pair of pants and a couple pairs
of underwear and tossed them into the closet as we walked
in. About the only difference between his room and mine was
that I had a queen size bed and the posters on my walls were
of athletes, his were rock stars. David Bowie, Kiss, Jim
Morrison, Elton John. The kid had good taste in music.
"I hear that you helped Joey the other day."
I sighed as my heart sank. "You're not going to hate
me too, are you?"
"Hate You? Why would I hate you? I wanted to thank
you. That's why I was over at your aunt's house. James
told me you were going to visit today."
"Everyone says he's queer. Now everyone's calling me a
queer lover. Some even think I'm queer. And Ron, well." My
voice was breaking up. It was too much. I'd not let myself
feel anything about what had been happening. I'd pushed it
all down, way down, deep inside and now it all just came
out. Tears fell from my eyes. I couldn't stop them. I was
persona non grata on the football team. Guys who had been
good friends wouldn't talk to me. It hurt. It hurt bad.
And now, I could hold it in no longer.
Chris wrapped his arms around me in a rather tight hug.
His head rested on my shoulder and mine on his.
"It's ok Mikey. You're ok. Joey's my friend. Ron
can't do anything to turn me against someone who helps my
friends. He can't do anything to keep me from helping
them."
"You're Joey's friend?" I knew nothing about Joey
other than what other kids said about him. I'd never met
him before that day.
"Yeah, I am." Chris' tone was matter of fact. His
smile was gone and replaced by a rather somber look.
"Is he. I mean. you know. what they say?" I couldn't
say it. I wasn't sure I even wanted to ask, but somehow I
needed to know.
"Gay? You want to know if he's gay?" Chris sounded
anxious, maybe even a bit angry.
"Yes, no, well. I don't know. I guess it's not that
important." I paused for a second. "I think I'd help him
again anyway."
"Really?" Chris looked up at me.
"Yeah, it just wouldn't be right not to."
Chris smiled. "Then I'll answer your question."
I looked up at him and shook my head. "It's not
important anymore."
"But it is. And we are. Both of us." I could tell
Chris was anxious, waiting, watching to see how I would
react.
"You mean. you.him. you're."
"Boyfriends, I think that's the word you're looking
for?" He was still anxiously awaiting my response.
I stepped away from him, breaking our embrace. I
wasn't trying to get away. I just wanted to step back and
look at him. I'm not sure why. Maybe I just wanted to see
what a gay person looked like. I'd never met one before.
As I stepped back, I tripped over my own feet and fell
backwards. As I did I reached out and grabbed at Chris,
trying to catch my balance. Thud! I landed smack on my
ass. Thud! Chris landed smack on top of me. His chest
touching mine. His face inches from mine. This beautiful
boy, so sweet, so caring, he'd just told me he was gay and
seconds later he was laying on top of me. Our bodies
pressed together. I couldn't stop myself, it was a sudden
urge, an impulse, uncontrollable. I raised my head. I
pressed my lips to his. I wrapped my arms around him,
pulling him tightly against me. I kissed him. And he
kissed me back. Right there on his bedroom floor. My left
hand moved up his back, under his t-shirt. His skin was
smooth, silky, his bones hard as I ran my hand over his
shoulder blade. My right hand was just under the cheek of
his buttocks, partly on his cutoffs and partly over the
edge, feeling the silky smooth hairs that lightly covered
his thigh.
I felt the hand of this wondrous boy move under the
back of my head, holding it at the base, drawing it further
into him. His lips parted and his tongue darted across
mine. Instinctively, I opened my mouth to allow it entry.
Our tongues intertwined, I tasted him, really tasted him for
the first time. I'd never tasted anyone before. It was
wonderful.
I felt his other hand on my thigh. Lightly stroking
its way up towards my crotch. I felt it slip underneath the
leg of my cutoffs, then inside the leg band of my shorts.
He'd reached the edge of my bush. It tickled a bit as he
played with my hair, an inch, maybe less from my rapidly
expanding boyhood. His fingers moved closer to their prize.
I tensed and raise my hips, trying to help him. Then I felt
it. An electric shock ripped through my body as his
fingertip brushed the side of my penis. Then quickly he
withdrew his hand. His movement was so quick I didn't have
time to protest the absence before I felt it on the front of
my jeans, tugging at my zipper, then pulling at the snap and
slipping inside.
I quivered as I felt the hand of another boy move
across my dick for the first time. Quickly he slid down my
body. He grasped my cutoffs and my underwear in his hands,
I raised up to allow him to pull them over my hips and
completely off.
He smiled and licked his lips and lowered his mouth
until he tasted his treasure. He licked quickly up the
shaft, swirled his tongue around the head, and licked his
way back down. I grew dizzy as I felt the tightening in my
balls.
"I--I think. I'm gonna." I felt his mouth slip over my
head and he sucked my entire shaft inside. "Ugggggghhhhhh!"
My hips tightened and thrust forward. "Uggggghhhhh!"
Everything went black. Wave after wave of pleasure swept
through me. "Ugggghhhh!" I was lost in time, lost in
space. Nothing mattered anymore. Nothing but the pleasure
this boy, this wondrous boy, was giving me. I lay there
panting, sweat dripping from my forehead, pouring off my
body. I could feel my heart pounding, thumping away inside
my chest. Beating it as if it were going to leap out at any
moment. My chest swelling with every breath, thrusting
upward, then rapidly collapsing, sinking back into the
floor.
I looked down at my lover as he sucked, milked, and
squeezed every last drop of my essence from my rapidly
wilting member. There was a radiance about him. I'd swear
he was glowing.
"Wow! That was incredible. I never dreamed it could
be so good." My chest was heaving and I was panting. It
was hard to talk.
"Yeah, I never thought it would taste so good." He
looked up at me, a big grin across his face and a small drop
of my cum clinging to the corner of his mouth. Delectable.
That's the only way to describe him. God I wanted to lick
that boy until there was nothing left. Every inch of him
starting with that little drop of my essence on his lips and
continue all the way to the tips of his toes. But wait a
minute. What had he just said?
"Are--are you saying... you've never...?" He didn't let me
finish.
"Never. That was my first." I hadn't thought it
possible but the grin on his face had grown even bigger.
"I thought you. and." Fuck. Joey. I couldn't say the
name. Joey was his boyfriend. The boy I'd helped. This
would destroy him.
"No. We never did that." He paused a second. "We
never did." I could see the joy drain from his face. "We.
never. will." He was choking on the words.
Tears were running down my face. I felt him take his
thumbs and wipe them away. I looked into his eyes. They
were full of tears as well. I watched as the first ones
fell from his face to mine.
"This is my fault. Please don't cry. I--I made you do
it. Seduced you. Now I've hurt you." I began to crawl
from under him.
"But you haven't. You didn't. I--I wanted it. I
still want it. I feel sad for Joey, but I know now that it's
you I want."
I stopped moving and swallowed. "You? You want me?"
"Yes, oh yes. I want you. I need you. I have to have
you." He looked down on me, tears still dripping onto my
face. "I love you. Please, please tell me you love me,
too."
I did love him. But if there were words for what I
wanted, what I felt, I didn't know them. I'd have to show
him instead. I raised my head towards his and began licking
the tears from his eyes and I didn't intend to stop until
I'd licked every last inch of him.
*******
"Aaagggghh!" I awoke Sunday morning with a scream.
Sweat pouring off me, soaking my bedsheets. Heart pounding.
Chest heaving. Out of breath.
"Please God, tell me it was just a dream!" But God
wasn't answering and I knew it had been real. I was a
fucking faggot! I'd made love to another boy! I'd enjoyed
it! "Please, please, please tell me I didn't. I couldn't.
I wouldn't." But I did. God I didn't want to be gay. I
couldn't be gay. No! I would refuse. I'd call Chris and
tell him it was a mistake. A cruel joke. Anything.
Anything but real, that is. It just couldn't be. I
wouldn't let it.
"Mike! Mike! You awake yet?"
"Yeah, Mom." I said with a yawn. "What's up?"
"Are you decent?"
"I'm under the sheets if that's what you mean?"
Decent. How could I be anything but decent? Naked perhaps,
but still decent.
She opened the door and cautiously peaked inside.
"Chris is on the phone. I didn't know you two had
become friends."
"Yeah, Mom, we kinda hit it off yesterday over at Aunt
Maxine's."
"Well he's a nice boy. I've always liked Chris."
Yeah, right Mom, if only you knew just how nice and how
friendly we'd gotten. I'm sure you'd be singing a different
tune.
"Well aren't you going to get the phone?"
"Uh, yeah, if you'll close the door so I can put on
some clothes." I mean I could have just thrown back the
covers and stepped out of bed with my dick pointing at the
ceiling. Yeah, wouldn't that have been just grand. The
last time she'd seen me with a boner I'd gotten a 30-minute
lecture on the evils of masturbation. I'd only been ten at
the time. I giggled to myself as I imagined what she'd
think if should could see me now.
I dressed quickly and raced downstairs.
"Uh, hi Chris."
"Hi Mikey, love you."
"Uh, yeah. Me too." No I don't. I don't love you. I
can't love you. I won't love you. The voice inside my head
was screaming those words, but my mouth wouldn't say them.
"I talked to Joey this morning. I told him about us."
"How'd he take it?" Oh shit! No! Why did you go and do
that! You could still have him! You can't have me! Not
possible! I'm not a FUCKING FAGGOT!!!
"Not very well. He cried and screamed at me. He said
a lot of things he didn't mean. At least I hope he didn't
mean them. They hurt though."
"Do you need a shoulder to cry on?" Michael James
Paul, just what the Hell are you doing? You're just going
to hurt him. Tell him it can't be. Get it over with now.
DO IT!
"More than just a shoulder, I think."
"Hold a sec." I moved the phone away from my mouth.
"Mom, can I go over to Chris' house?"
"Something wrong?" I knew it. She was always
eavesdropping.
"He just broke up with. uh, someone, and could use some
moral support." Nice recovery Mikey. Oh God. Now he had
me calling myself Mikey. Nobody had called me that in
years. FUCK!
"Mom says I can come, see ya in a few."
There were giggles at the other end.
"What?"
"Oh nothing, I just didn't realize you needed your
mom's permission to cum."
"You perve."
*******
It was about a two-mile walk through Branyan's farm or
a five-mile bike ride around it. Either way it was about a
30-minute trip. I chose to walk. I kicked myself the whole
way. Why was I doing this? I wasn't gay. It was just a
one-time thing. I didn't love him. I can't be a fucking
queer.
Or can I? Damn! I fucking enjoyed making love to
Chris yesterday. I wanted to again today. It felt good to
hold him, to be held by him. His kiss was awesome.
OH God I hate my fucking life! Was I gay? Was I not
gay? I was in love. Oh God, please don't let anybody find
out. I'm in enough trouble as it is. The team already
hates me and all I did was help one of them. Yeah, one of
THEM! Not one of US, one of them. FUCK!
All the mental anguish and torment I had heaped upon
myself had exhausted me by the time I arrived. Chris'
parents were home and we had to head out to the back yard
for enough privacy just to talk. My heart melted in his
presence. I couldn't refuse him. We agreed to be
boyfriends. We were worried about Joey. Neither of us
wanted to see him hurt. But Chris was absolutely certain
that it was me he loved, not Joey. We managed to get out of
sight of his parents just long enough for me to steal a kiss
before I left.
Everything was all right when I was with Chris. I
didn't have a care in the world. It was the most incredible
high, like walking, no, dancing on clouds. Never before had
I felt such feelings. Never before had I felt so good.
But that incredible feeling dissolved into nothingness
the instant I left him. I hated myself. I loathed what I
had become. But more than anything, I feared Recob and his
band of ape-men.
*******
With Monday, came the start of school. Usually I
enjoyed first days. I had many friends that I hadn't seen
all summer. I always looked forward to chatting with them,
catching up on the summer's events and seeing how much
they'd grown or changed since I'd last seen them. Friendly,
pleasant reunions. But I wasn't enjoying today. My head
still hurt from the concussion I'd suffered last week. I
was getting teased a bit about my `racoon eyes.' No one on
the team was talking to me and I just had a poor attitude in
general. I could swear I sensed an uneasiness in some of my
friends. What did they know? What did they think they
knew? What had they heard?
I hadn't seen Chris all morning, not even in the
hallway. That wouldn't be so unusual though. He was a
senior and I was a sophomore. We wouldn't have any classes
together. I needed him badly. He would be the one person I
could talk to. The one person I could trust. But there was
still a part of me that didn't want to be near him, that was
glad I hadn't run into him. We had planned to meet at
lunch. I never made it.
"You back-stabbing son of a bitch!" The voice came
from behind me. I turned. It was Joey. His face was red
and he had tears streaming down his face.
"Chris was my boyfriend. Mine! Not yours! Mine! I'm
the one who loves him." He was half yelling, but his voice
was shaky, breaking up a bit.
A lump stuck in my throat. My mouth dropped open. I
think my heart stopped beating. I had no idea what to say
to him.
"What, nothing to say? Cat got your tongue? Or are
you just ashamed to admit that you're gay? "
I was suddenly aware that we were standing in front of
dozens of students. They were all staring at me. Their
eyes piercing through to my soul. I felt scared, naked. I
was being exposed. Now, everyone was going to know. I
wanted to hide. I wanted to go back. I wanted to say
something, anything that would make this go away. But I
froze. I could say nothing. I could do nothing.
Joey was just standing there in front of me, looking
for all the world like I'd just ripped his heart out. I
felt as though I were holding it in my hands, still
squeezing, wringing out every last drop of blood.
There was a buzzing, whirring sound in my ears. Beads
of sweat formed on my forehead. I was dizzy, disoriented.
Everything went out of focus. The whole hallway and
everyone in it swirled together before my eyes. I couldn't
breathe. I felt myself choking.
"I knew it! You ARE a faggot!" The words brought me
back to reality. Helped me regain my senses.
Quickly I looked around. Joey was gone. Standing
before me, towering over me, was Ron Recob.
I was already too late when I saw him. His right hand
was just inches from connecting with my rib cage and headed
there faster than I could move.
"Uummmpppphhhhhffffffff!" I could feel my ribs crack
as my chest caved in. My knees buckled. My back slammed
into the lockers on the wall behind me followed quickly by
the back of my head. Everything went black.
As my knees hit the ground, instinct took over. I
dove, low and away from my tormentor. I scrambled to my
feet, pushed a couple of spectators from my path and darted
down the hall. My breath was short and painful. I knew I
couldn't go far. I pushed my way through the sea of
students and practically fell around the corner. I
struggled to my feet and looked around. I'd hit a dead end.
Yeah, pretty appropriate, don't you think? Nowhere to run.
Nowhere to hide. Cornered. And standing there, right
behind me, was Recob.
*******
By the grace of God I had managed to escape, or maybe
I'd sold my soul to the devil and just couldn't remember it.
Either way, I was still fucked. I'd been exposed to the
whole school. My deepest, darkest secrets revealed. My old
friends hate me now that I'm a fag. Even Joey had turned
against me. I couldn't blame him, though. Hell, I'd stolen
his boyfriend. Maybe I deserve to be hated. I'm not even
sure that I don't hate myself. The only friend I have left
is Chris.
Oh God, CHRIS! Joey had not only exposed me. He'd
exposed Chris as well. Fuck! Does this torture never end?
Recob would be after him now too. Or would it be Kirshner,
Boselli, or Larkin? One thing was certain. They'd all be
seeking revenge.
I headed straight for the cafeteria. That had been
where I was supposed to meet Chris. Lunch period would be
nearly over, but I had hoped he would still be waiting. I
desperately needed to convince him to get into his car and
get home. At least then I wouldn't have to worry about him
while I tried to figure out what I was going to do next.
Next. Yeah, right. I was just about out of nexts. I
think when we're born we're given just so many. I figured
that I had about one left. But what it was, I had no idea.
I had no idea where Chris would be sitting. I don't
even know who to ask. I don't know who his friends are.
Shit. Chris where are you. Fuck. I was starting to panic.
Take a deep breath Mike. Think. I couldn't think. I
looked on this side, that side. I went between the tables,
around them. No Chris. I was breathing hard, starting to
sweat. What class would he be in? I darted out of the
cafeteria and into the hall. Where to go from here? I just
started walking.
"Mike!"
I recognized the voice and turned. I wasn't sure what
to do next.
"I'm sorry, Mike. I'm sorry. Please forgive me."
"Shut up Joey. Where the fuck is Chris? They'll be
after him now too."
"I--I don't know. I saw him a bit ago. He was looking
for you. I told him, warned him they know."
I continued walking by him, barely noticing the tears
in his eyes.
"Please Mike. I didn't mean for you to get hurt."
I turned towards him. "Look Joey, I don't care about
that right now. You want to be forgiven. OK, you're
forgiven. I've got to find Chris before they kill him." I
started to walk away, then turned back towards Joey. "If you
ever loved him then you'll help find him. Tell him to go
home. And get yourself out of here too."
"I--I might know something that will help."
"What?" I wanted to reach down his throat and pull the
words out of him. If he knew something, why hadn't he said
so?
"It's Ron. He went up to Ms. Davis' room. It's 203.
He figured it would give him a view of the parking lot. He
thought he'd find you there."
We'd been standing next to the staircase and I launched
myself up, taking three, sometimes four at a time. Second
floor, 203. There it is, to the left and across the hall.
I didn't bother stopping to look through the window in the
door. I grabbed the knob and burst into the room.
"Recob."
As he turned to face me an evil grin spread across his
face. "Well if it isn't Tinkerbell. I was afraid you'd
split with your little loverboy. Just watched him tear off
out of the parking lot. And speaking of tearing off. It's
about time your head left your shoulders."
He strode towards me throwing desks out of his way as
he approached. I froze. Just stood there. Eyes wide,
mouth dry, gasping for breath. I could feel my whole body
shaking. Why the fuck did I ever come in here? I took one
step forward, away from the wall. Ron was upon me. His
right fist headed straight at my face as he lunged towards
me.
I couldn't believe it. Is this ape really that stupid?
I'd never have to worry about him reproducing. He wasn't
going to keep his balls long enough. What a fucking idiot.
`He's big and dumb as a man can come.' If Jim Croce had met
Ron Recob, he'd never have written those words about Big Jim
Walker. He'd had me trapped. Caught me in an empty
classroom. There was no escape. And just like before he
was leading with a roundhouse right. Again I ducked out of
the way. Again I caught him with a forceful uppercut. And
again it was smack between his legs. He fell face forward
into several desks. Two of them broke into pieces he
crashed so hard.
This time I wasn't stopping. This time I would
humiliate him. He was coughing, wheezing, holding himself
as I kicked him onto his back. A lifetime of anger, a
lifetime of rage had built inside me. It was time to let
go. I looked down at him. He was pathetic. My jaw was
clenched almost as tight as my fists. I was ready to pounce
on him and beat him senseless.
But I couldn't do it. I hated violence. I hated him
for nearly turning me into another him, another ape man, a
Neanderthal, a Recob. Self defense was one thing. But
fucking a guy up for nothing more than pleasure, nothing
more than revenge, that was just plain wrong. That just
wasn't what I wanted to be about.
"Go ahead. Go ahead." He could barely speak the
words. "Why don't you just fuckin' finish me? C'mon you
fucking faggot."
"You're not worth it. I could fuck you up. I could
fuckin' kill you, slowly, painfully. Cripple you for life.
But you're just not worth it. Because that would turn me
into one of you: a pariah, an outcast, an enigma. The
world's full of those. It needs another decent human being,
not a fucking Neanderthal. No thanks. No matter how much
I'd like to, you're just not worth the fucking loss."
"You fucking faggot. I'll kill you next time. I'll
fucking kill you."
I turned and walked out of the classroom shaking my
head. "Some guys just don't get it." I muttered to no one
in particular. But I did. I got it. I was gay and I was
madly in love with the world's most perfect boy. And he was
in love with me. And for the first time in my life, I
actually liked being me.