Date: Sun, 12 Feb 2006 08:30:46 -0800 (PST)
From: Kylie Maddison <kylie2mc@yahoo.com>
Subject: Looking Deeper

This story is purely fictional; any similarities to
real life are compleyely coincidental. This story also
contains male/male relationships, and explicit sex. If
you are offended by this, this is obviously not the
story for you. Enjoy.


                              Looking Deeper
                                  Chapter one

                       Trey Clark Meets His Destiny


"I'm swimming deeper! (Deeper!)
Sinking harder! (Harder!)
Into this poison,
That you call reason..."

            My voice rang out loud, penetrating, and
haunting in its low timber that is uniquely mine. The
overpowering rush that flowed through me only
intensified as the restless crowd and booming amps
exploded with sound; my body rocked and swayed in
ecstacy as I took in my surroundings. It's just
another stage in another musky, smoke-filled club
overflowing with society's outcasts and delinquents.
        The kind of people little kids run away from
while their mothers stare on in disgust. Yet, this is
home to me; I belong here, and the blaring music
prompted me to keep singing until I had no rage left
to vent and the burning in my heart dulled to a mere
ache.

"I'm stranded here, wondering when you're going to see

What you've taken from me (TAKEN FROM ME!)
And as I close my eyes
I drift back to that place I fear to be (FEAR TO BE!)

"I'm swimming deeper (Deeper!)
Sinking harder (Harder!)
Into this poison
That you call reason...

"Hold me back! (Wait no!)
Let me go!
And watch me at a distance
As I crumble out of this existance."

The song ended on a bleak violin/bass note as I once
again scanned the crowd, waiting; searching. For what,
I wasn't sure. Saving, acceptance, redemption,
understanding maybe. But I saw nothing. The emptiness
returned and I smiled; it failed to reach my eyes.

A wave of silence settled over my spectators as they
stood there dumbfounded by my performance, but soon a
collective roar erupted from them and I sighed. In
their eyes, I am talented; a  one-of-a-kind kid with
my deep, resonating voice. But they only see the
illusion. In reality, off this stage I am nothing to
no one. The fucking that is sure to come will only
serve to remind me how tainted I really am.

That's how all these gigs go. I play on their stage,
sing using their mic and in return they get me. All of
me. My band members don't know though; not even Kent
Parker who has been my best friend since the second
grade. I think about telling him sometimes, but then I
think the shame would kill us both, literally.

        The music finally died out and my band and I
gathered our equipment and headed out. Kent was
walking beside me and he was a real piece of work
tonight; he could barely hold his excitement.

"Trey, did you see that scout? He was so digging our
shit man! I even heard he might be interested in a
demo! You know what that means? Man, I'm telling you,
we'll have a record in no time, and fame, and all the
hot chickas we want dude!"

As much as I love Kent, he's disillusioned and I
rolled my eyes. It's always the same and that means no
scouts, no deals, and no records. No fame, but that's
fine with me. I don't need fame; if it comes, then it
comes, but I'm not holding out on any kind of hope. I
didn't tell Kent that though. He lives and breathes
for the idea of fame, but not without good reason.

His family. They are the worst kind of people out
there; druggies. Kent considers fame to be his only
meal ticket out of the slums of Chicago and away from
his family. Not that they'd be heartbroken. They're
ashamed of Kent because he's `straight edged'; even if
he doesn't look it. After seeing what drugs and
alcohol can do to a person, a family, or a friend Kent
swore to himself as a child that he would stay clean
and build a real life for himself.

However, that's easier said than done. Especially when
he's constantly being surrounded by the sweet poison,
but he's held fast to his promise and to this day
Kent's never even smoked.

For someone like me, an avid smoker and well known
partier, that is amazing. I admire him for it, and I
respect his decision to stay clean. I've even been
known to encourage my friend to stay that way. I
frequently get calls from Kent, saying he's about to
drown himself with the damning substances and forget
all his troubles. So I pick him up at his house and he
stays a week or two at my place, which isn't really
much, but it works.

I live in a two bedroom apartment with my guardian and
principal; Blake. Mr. Rogers at school. Honestly,
Blake is a good guy, but he's not my parents.

Ahhh, my parents...I don't like to dwell on them too
much. I mean, they were here and now they're not. No
big deal. Nope, I don't need my parents. Hell, I don't
need anyone...especially my parents. And that dull
ache I get in my chest whenever I think about them is
nothing. Heartburn probably. Red meat does that to me,
y'know? Yeah, meat does that, not memories of my
parents.

"Trrrreeeeyyyy?! Hello?! Dude, yeah, back to earth
please."

"Oh, sorry Mikey, I was zonin.'"

"No shit," he replied. "So, anyways, as I was saying,
I think next week I can get us a gig up at the "The
Lab" and..." As much as I tried to pay attention to
what my bandmates were so excited about, I found
myself tuning them out again.

Mikey Roberts is our bass player and he's a genius on
the instrument. So good in fact that a couple months
ago a very well known record company offered him a
place n one of their up-and-coming bands after seeing
him play only once. He turned them down. Yep, that's
Mikey. Loyal to the end. He promised us that if he
reached the top, we'd be right up there with him.

He's also the person who brought our band together,
and we nicknamed him `leader'. He settles our
band-related disputes and we can always count on him
to be fair. He takes both sides into account and makes
what he feels is the best decision for the band.
Sometimes, he doesn't even like the decision that was
made but it was the best for that band so he accepts
it. He always explains his reasoning behind the
decision so we don't feel like he is picking sides. To
be honest, when he explains why he made the decision
he did, we almost always agree with him so our
disputes rarely last long, and for the most part, we
are all satisfied in the end. For only being 19 and
the oldest member in member in the band, Mikey is,
when it comes to the band, mature and all business,
which is why we put so much faith in his decisions.

There are five of us in the band. I'm the lead vocals.
When Mikey approached me and asked me to sing for him,
I thought he'd gone mad and told him so. He laughed
and said I was crazy for not realizing what talent I
had. I still told him no, though. It wasn't until he
weasled Kent into BEGGING me to do it that I caved,
and to my surprise I loved it. I still don't see what
is so spectacular about my voice, but other people
seem to love me for it. I figure they're just hearing
or seeing something I'm not.

 Kent is the lead guitarist, and he does for the
guitar what Mikey does for the bass. It's like the
instrument was made simply for Kent's hands; begging
to be played by the 17-year-old master. Kent can do
things with the guitar that most people, even famos
rock stars, can't dream of doing. Of course, that's
probably because he lives, breathes, sleeps, and even
dreams the instrument. Every moment he isn't at school
or playing the clubs with us, you can bet he's
practicing with his guitar. Either honing his skills
or learning new ones; like playing backwards. Yes,
that's right, backwards.

Then there is John Lawrence. He's the back up guitar
and though he doesn't have the skills Kent seemed to
be born with, he more than makes up for it with his
determination and uniqueness. John is one of those
"outside-of-the-box-thinkers" who's always finding new
ways to spice up our sound and style. He and I
collaborate on the lyrics most of the time, while
Kyle, our drums god, Kent, and Mikey focus on the song
composition.

Where Kyle is loud and obnoxious, John is quiet and
reserved. And annoyingly observant. If there is
something wrong with one of us, he's the first one to
notice it. It's useless to put on a fake smile around
John because he can see right through it, and he's
very sensitive to our, or anybody's, hurt. Needless to
say, the rest of us have all spilled our guts out to
John at one time or another. The only thing he doesn't
know about me is my putting my ass on the line for
gigs. Getting gigs is one of my "jobs" now. Since I
got so good at getting us play-time, the guys never
really thought about anyone else doing it. Of course,
they'd kick my ass if they ever found out my whoring
myself out.

It's not that they're homophobic. In fact, they've
known about my "gayness", as they like to call it,
ever since I tried to kiss Kyle one night while I was
completely shit-faced. That was also the night we
found out that John is gay, Kyle's bi, and the two
have been seeing each other ever since they met.

In all my time of knowing John, I don't think I'd ever
seen him so furious with me as he was that night. I
felt terrible, and it was only after a week of
grovelling, and a promise from me to never try to
touch Kyle again that he forgave me. I never so much
as fluttered my eyelashes at Kyle Nickson again.

Kyle. The dude is a total character and such a hottie,
but then so are all of my bandmates. Kyle probably has
it the easiest out of all of us. He lives in white
suburbia right outside of Chicago, and lives like a
king. His mom is a house mother and his dad is a
lawyer. A fact that the rest of us get countless hours
of enjoymentout of teasing him for . He hates it; we
get a good laugh at his expense.

When I first met Kyle, I couldn't stand him. None of
us could, except for John. Just seeing him pissed the
rest of us off. He was always complaining about how
his life sucked and how his parents never let him do
anything fun, like party. I think it was mine and
Kent's scathing comment about him at least lucky
enough to have parents that gave a flying fuck about
him that shut him up. He never complained again and is
now one of my closest friends, and our drum god.

Kyle's been playing the drums since he was five years
old. He can also play the piano, violin, trombone,
guitar, bass, and he can sing. He has a very distinct
ear for music, and he's a professional when it comes
time to make and compose our songs. It's easy to feel
inferior around Kyle but he never rubs his talent in
our faces.

Kyle's also the most innocent guy I've ever met in my
entire life! Just mention sex and he flushes a deep
red that cracks all of us up. I was in one of those
moods tonight so I decided to play a little with him.

"Heyyyyy, Kyle babay. Good show tonight huh, honey?" I
asked, putting on my best "faggish" voice I could
muster. Kyle look confused while John, who was walking
beside his boyfriend, shot me a warning look. But
seeing as how I ignored him, he settled for glaring. I
blew him a kiss; sending Kent, Mikey, and even Kyle
into a fit of giggles. "So anyways, Kyle, you planning
on doing any celebrating tonight?"

"Uhhhh, well, ummm..."

"Oh, I know that stuttering. You and Jonny boy here
planning on doing some of THAT  celebrating , huh?"
Kent spoke up, catching on instantly to my meaning.
Sometimes it's good to have a friend who has known you
for 10 years and can pick up on your thoughts right
away.

"Nah, he can't do that. We've got a gig tomorrow. We
don't need any sore asses on gig nights." Mikey piped
in and we all burst out laughing as Kyle's face went
an almost purple shade. We laughed harder when we saw
John move in to throw his arm around Kyle's shoulders
protectively, and send us a withering look that could
have toppled a giant.

"Knock it off guys. Mine and Kyle's sex life is none
of your business, so back off,"  John stated quietly,
but the threat wasn't lost on us and we sobered in
record time.

"WHOA! So wait, you guys have like..." Kent didn't
finish his sentence, but rather used his hands in an
obscene gesture to finish it for him. This made Kyle
flush yet again and he actually nodded timidly. Kent
and Mikey both laughed; it's not like they could help
it. Kyle's embarassment about sex was just too cute
and even John looked slightly flushed, even if he was
giving the two other boys death glares.

However, the mention of sex reminded me of what I had
to do tonight and my after- performance high came
crashing down. I began to dread my "session" tonight
with Big Joe; the club owner and his cronies. It's
painful, and the guys who fuck me ensure that it is.
They like to hear me scream, and scream I do as they
rip into my ass over and over again. I'm always a mess
of tears, blood, and semen when they finish; feeling
dirty, sick, and broken.
 I deserve this though. It's not like I'm actually
woth anything. I'd be crazy to think anyone could ever
really love me as I am. No, not after what I've done.

I felt someone watching me and when I looked up I
almost groaned aloud when I noticed John studying me
carefully. I knew he must have seen the look that was
probably utter sorrow on my face because his eyes were
questioning me as his brow furrowed. Before he could
say anything though, I smiled that fake smile of mine
and turned back to the guys and started teasing Kyle
once again. I was hoping John would forget about it.
He didn't, but that wasn't really a surprise to me. He
kept looking over at me with this worried expression
on his face, but then his expressioon turned into one
of determination.

Oh shit. I know that look. He wants to talk, but
there's no way I can tell him right? He'd tell the
other guys and then I'd really have my ass reamed in a
whole new way. Besides, how can I ever face them again
if they found out? They'd think I was sick or demented
and I can't deal with that. They are all I have now.
No, I can't risk losing them and that means I can't
tell John about how I get us gigs. Besides, doing
shows and getting play-time is how a band gets
recognized; if I just keep telling myself this is for
the band, it's okay. I can do it.

"Hey guys, I gotta jet. Blake's gonna go postal on me
if I come home late again. He's already moved my
curfew to 11; I've only got 20 minutes to get home." I
lied and felt like complete shit when Kent looked over
me, confused. He knew I was lying; Blake hadn't moved
my curfew up and we both knew it. I was glad when he
didn't say anything though. He was just studying me
with this unreadable look on his face. My guilt
increased ten-fold. Here I was, lying to my best
friends to go have my ass violated by some sick
perverts.

It hurt inside, and John noticed immediately.

He had also noticed the exchange between Trey and
Kent, and wondered what was going on. Obviously,
something was up and he was going to find out just
what it was. John was so preoccupied with his thoughts
that he didn't even notice when his boyfriend looked
up at him, wondering what was going on in John's mind.

He was watching Trey closely, and Kyle felt a pang of
jealousy surge through him. Oh, he knew John would
never cheat on him but he still didn't like it when
his boyfriend looked at other guys. He stood there and
looked up at his boyfriend for a full minute, and
realized that if he wanted John's attention he was
going to have to get it. He flushed a bright red right
before he brushed his hand right against John's. John
looked down at Kyle, but Kyle couldn't bring himself
to look in John's eyes. John laughed. How his
boyfriend could be so bold one second and then become
so meek the next was such a mystery to him, but it was
one of the things John loved about him the most.

He leaned down and gave Kyle a lingering hug, while
nipping, biting, and licking at his ear. Kyle
shuddered and his dick hardened. John laughed again,
and Kyle blushed furiously. It didn't help any that
his band members had seen the whole thing, and were
now teasing Kyle about his erection. He glared at John
who was grinning from ear-to-ear. In retaliation,
Kyle, becoming very bold, reached down and squeezed
John's crotch until he was properly tenting his pants.
It didn't have the effect he was looking for though.
Kent and Mikey were telling him to save it for the
bedroom, and John wasn't the least bit embarassed.
Trey was no where to be seen.

I was walking up the stairs at a near snail pace of
the second floor of the club our band had just
perfomed in. John and Kyle had given me the perfect
distraction, and I managed to slip away from the guys
undetected. I was trying not to think too much about
what was going to happen, which would probably explain
why I collided with what felt like a brick wall. At
first I wondered if I had indeed run into a wall, but
when I looked up I was met with a pair of frigid blue
eyes, surrounded by very dark skin. The contrast was
breathtaking and I was entranced at first.

The guy was huge, his body was hardened; most likely
from living on the streets like everybody who visited
this club was. His expression was stony and I found
myself wondering what he was thinking. I came out of
my trance though, when out of nowhere I was knocked to
the ground by a pair of fists. All the air left my
body with an audible "whoosh", and I groaned. I was
about to get up and ask the guy what the hell was his
problem, but then I heard a voice. Big Joe. I froze,
terrified.

"What da fuck ya thinkin' ya little cunt? Don't you
know how to show respect to a real man when you see
one?" The mysterious guy hadn't hit me, Big Joe had. I
was just too proccupied and didn't notice. I tried to
pick myself up only to be kicked in the stomach and I
stayed down.

"Hey Joe, go easy on the kid." The guy bent down to
help the kid up when Big Joe's next words stopped him.

"Awww, don't help the bitch up. Yeah, dats right, he's
my bitch. Ain't ya kid?" The big black man stared down
at Trey, the disgust plain as day in his eyes. But Joe
liked white pussy, and that's all the kid was to him:
pussy. "Well pussy boy you gonna answer me? Or am I
gonna have to hurt you again?"

"Yeah, Big Joe, I'm your bitch." I responded, my shame
flooding every pore in my body. I could feel the
strangers eyes on me, but I didn't dare to look up. I
knew he was probably disgusted with me. I mean, what
guy actually admits to being another man's bitch? Not
a real man, that's for sure.

"Hey," The stranger said softly, trying not to spook
the kid. He looked scared enough, and the stranger
could see why. Big Joe is scary, fortunately for him,
he knows Joe is scared of him. If he wanted he could
destroy Joe, take everything he has, and do it with
ease. He had power and voice in the streets; everybody
feared this teen. "What's your name kid?"

"Trey." I choked out, but it sounded raspy and
strangled. I cleared my voice, and forced myself to
look in this guy's eyes. "Trey Clark."

"How old are you Trey?"

"Seventeen." I replied, my voice sounding small even
to me.

"Seventeen?! Jeezus Joe, what the fuck are you doing
to this kid? He's not much younger than me here!"

Joe just shrugged. "Hey, if the pussy likes it, then
what's the problem, Clay?"

Clay. So his name was Clay, and he wasn't much older
than me.That was a weird thought, as he looked to be
in his early twenties. Of course that could have been
his size. The guy was built like a tank. He was at
least 6'3 and seemed to tower over me like a
skyscraper. I was just below 6 feet, so he wasn't that
much taller than me, but he was ripped with muscles to
St. Patricks Day. They weren't gym honed either. They
were the muscles a man developed on the street,
fighting to survive. His chilly, startling blue eyes
seems to burn holes into me whenever he glanced at me.
He was bald, black, and big; making him even more
intimidating.

"Joe you're my dog, y'know that, but this shit aint
right man." Clay said, looking over the kid. He was a
couple inches shorter than himself, but he looked like
he hadn't eaten a real meal in months. He didn't look
emaciated, just thinner than should be normal for
someone his height. He had a clear complexion and pale
skin, like all white boys have. Usually Clay couldn't
stand white boys, but this one was, dare he say it,
beautiful. He had green-gray eyes, and full, pale pink
lips. His hair was a natural shiny raven black shade
that made his pale face stand out even more. He really
was gorgeous.

"Clay, the kid and me have a deal. His shitty ass band
plays in my club and me and my fellas get to fuck him.
Now I know you aint about to come in between a deal
right man?" Joe said, knowing that in the streets,
deals are sacred and no man, no matter how powerful,
comes between another man's deal. It was like begging
for death. Big Joe had Clay, and they both knew it.
Clay turned his frustrations on Trey.

"Are you stupid? What kind of man does that?"

I glared over at this Clay kid. I was tired of Big Joe
and everyone else telling me I was less than a man for
doing what I do. I snapped. "It's none of your fucking
business what I do. It's my life, my decision, and
there's nothing you can do about it. Besides what the
fuck do you care anyways? You don't even know me, so
what the hell is all this concern about? Joe and I
have a system here, so stay out of it man!"

Clay looked over Trey. His face was flushed and his
eyes were bright green and lost most of their grayish
tint. His chest was heaving slightly, and he looked
pissed. Clay frowned. Did the kid just yell at him?

"Enjoy your pussy, Joe." Clay sneered as he turned and
walked down the hall, and turned to the stairs.

I watched his retreating form and was once again
dreading my fast approaching ordeal. I stiffened when
Joe pulled me into the room and slammed the door shut
behind me, sealing me to my fate.

-----------

Author's note: Well that's it for the first chapter of
Looking Deeper. This is my first attempt at submitting
one of my stories to Nifty. Does is show? XD
If you like, or even don't like this story you are
free to send e-mails to kylie2mc@yahoo.com
If you want to read more of this story I have a yahoo
group:

groups.yahoo.com/group/Kylie2mc

Thanks,
Kylie