Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories Organization: America Online, Inc. (1-800-827-6364) Lines: 393 Message-ID: 3as1db$f4i@newsbf01.news.aol.com NNTP-Posting-Host: newsbf01.news.aol.com
Rollie was not a particularly attractive boy. At sixteen, he had considerable acne from eating too much junk food. He couldn't get a date -- none of the girls at his high school would go near him. It wasn't just that he wasn't good-looking that drove them away. Rollie was also a hateful kid. He mistreated what few friends he had, and took particular pleasure in embarrassing people in class -- especially kids who were smarter than him -- especially kids he thought were fags.
When he wasn't in school, Rollie spent most of his time in his room, hacking away on his computer. This pleased his parents, who didn't care much for his smart-ass attitude, and were glad they didn't have to entertain him.
Rollie was in an especially bad mood this evening. He'd had to stay after school for detention -- he'd made one crack too many in his world history class. With him in detention was a kid named Chet. Chet was always in detention, too. He was a punk -- liked to listen to a lot of alternative rock and tell the teachers there material lacked relevance because it failed to take into account the decay of civilization.
Today, Chet and Rollie had been the only ones in detention, and the teacher had left the room, telling them to stay put and not trash the place... and no drugs, boys. Rollie didn't have any drugs, and he certainly wouldn't have gotten high with Chet. Chet was undoubtedly a fag, in Rollie's opinion. He'd said so often in class, when Chet had started talking about relevance.
They stayed quiet for a while, then Chet started talking, just bullshitting, really. Rollie wished he'd shut up, but he wouldn't. Finally, after pretending to study for a few minutes, Rollie had just asked Chet to shut the fuck up.
"You're a very uptight person, aren't you, Rollie?" Chet had said then. "You need to loosen up. Yeah. You know what you need, Rollie?"
"What do I need, Chet?"
"You need to get laid. Bad."
"Thanks for the free advice. Asshole."
"No, no, I mean it," Chet had said, in an affected British accent. He'd gotten up and crossed the room, taken the seat next to Rollie's. "You need it. Let's go out back, to the woods."
"What, you got an inflatable girl out there, asshole?"
Chet grinned. "You don't need a girl for what I'm talking about.
It dawned on Rollie what Chet was suggesting. He really was a fag! Rollie recoiled. "Get the fuck away from me!" He jumped out of his chair, knocking it over.
Chet had just kept on with that obnoxious grin. "Come on, Rollie. What are you -- afraid I'll hurt you? Hey man, I got vaseline."
The teacher had returned and ended the exchange, but Rollie brooded over it for his entire walk home. How could that fag think he was interested? What was wrong with him, that a fag would want to fuck him?
Rollie tried to put the whole thing out of his mind as he sat back in his desk chair and booted his computer. The thought -- and the sight of Chet in his mind -- turned him off completely. If he couldn't clear his head, he wouldn't be able to enjoy today's postings in the erotic pictures and stories boards.
As he signed on and called up Usenet, Rollie thought about pussy, almost making a mantra of the word, trying to block out the homosexual advances of that fucked-up kid. He concentrated on all the naked pussies he'd be able to download pictures of tonight. He thought about making himself come, over and over again, as he brought up picture after picture of naked babes, and read posts about guys getting their cocks sucked by cheerleaders.
Then his evening was shattered. There, once again, on his Usenet stories board was another of those goddamn fag stories. Worse, this one was about some grown man butt-fucking a little boy. Rollie couldn't take it any more. Every day, there was more and more of the same shit. Pictures of naked fags. Pictures of fags fucking other fags. Stories about fags smearing quiche all over their small-dicked bodies. Fags, whining because they couldn't get naked pictures of little boys.
Goddamn fags.
Rollie knew that, once again, it was time for him to stand up like a man and say something, something really meaningful. It was time for a display of defiance against these disease-ridden homos taking over the Net. Not even bothering to put his dick, which he'd been fondliong, back in his pants, Rollie bodly typed out another angry post and sent it to the group (through the anon-server, naturally -- couldn't be too careful with fags!)
His post's header was classic -- "AIDS is God's gift to all straight people." In the text of his post, he simply wrote "Fags Die!"
As he chuckled over his cleverness, Rollie was startled by a sound behind him. Something heavy had just fallen in the hallway. Probably the damn dog had knocked over the bookcase aagin... Rollie got up to go clean up the mess. He didn't bother zipping his fly, since his parents wouldn't be home for hours.
He opened the door and jumped back. A figure appeared just on the other side, pushing the door open as Rollie pulled it. He saw a black leather jacket, and a flash of metal --
And then he was on the floor. The intruder had tripped him, knocking the wind from him as he hit the ground. His heart skipped a beat as he heard the hammer being pulled back on what was obviously a pistol.
"Hey, Rollie boy," said the intruder in a familiar voice -- a voice with an affected British accent.
"Chet," Rollie said under his breath.
"Yeah," said Chet. "You can roll over. I'm not gonna shoot you. Yet."
Rollie rolled onto his back to see the leering face of the punk fag from school, gun in his hand. Chet's gaze took him in, checking him out. Goddamn fag. Rollie felt eyes locked on his crotch, then he remembered his fly was open. His now limp dick was hanging out of his boxers.
"Having a little fun, Rollie?" asked Chet.
Rollie blushed.
"Maybe I can help," said Chet.
"What the fuck do you want?" demanded Rollie, dropping a hand down to hide his crotch.
Chet began nosing around the room, poking into things. He pocketed some cash from Rollie's dresser. "Oh, whatever I can get," he said. "Hey, nice computer." He looked over Rollie's computer, punching keys randomly.
Oh man, Rollie thought, don't let him take my computer.
But Chet seemed more interested in reading the screen. "Doing a little writing, I see. How literate, for a straight boy. And you like to read erotic stories." Chet grinned. "Me too." Then Chet noticed what was there -- Rollie's latest post. He turned to Rollie, his face hard now.
"You little turd. So you're posting a little fag-bashing, huh? You done this before?" He waved the gun at Rollie. "The truth now, are those your posts I've been reading?"
"Some of them," stammered Rollie. The gun was aimed right at his balls now.
Chet stared at him for a moment, then the anger on his face turned to a smile... a nasty smile. "I think you'd better take your clothes off, Rollie."
"Fuck you!"
Slowly, Chet walked toward him, the gun trained on Rollie's balls the whole time. Chet knelt down, then moved the gun to Rollie's temple. The cold metal pushed against his flesh.
"Excuse me, Rollie, we need to clarify here. Do you want to get naked, or do you want to die?"
Rollie didn't answer. He felt himself trembling.
Chet slapped him across the face. "I asked you a question!"
"I... I don't wanna die."
Chet smiled. "Good boy. The what do you want to do? There's only one other choice."
"I..."
"Say it, Rollie!"
"I...I wanna get naked."
Chet smiled and back away a little. "Then do it, by all means. I never tell a boy not to get naked in front of me."
Watching the gun in Chet's hand, Rollie slowly stood and removed his clothes and threw them on the floor. Chet looked him up and down the whole time, and it made Rollie feel dirty.
When he was naked, Chet nodded appreciatively. "Not bad. Terrible complexion, Rollie boy, but a nice ass. I'd like to see it better. Go bend over the bed."
Rollie started to say something, and Chet fingered the trigger. As his blood ran cold, Rollie moved slowly to the bed and leaned forward, his bare ass toward Chet.
"Nice," the other boy observed. "Now spread you cheeks."
Rollie did as he was told. He could still feel himself trembling, and tears were coming to his eyes. Behind him, he could hear Chet pacing, watcing his bare ass and exposed hole.
"You see, Rollie," Chet said. "The problem I have with what you've been doing is this: not only have you caused a lot of pain by posting your hate in public, but you've bashed something you know nothing about. Why do you hate gays?"
"Cause... cause they're queer!" said Rollie. Even to his own ears, it sounded lame, especially with a queer pacing behind him, armed.
"But... how do you know you're not gay? Have you ever had gay sex?"
"No, man!"
"Then how do you know you wouldn't like it?"
"I just know, man!"
"Not good enough," said Chet. "You can't knock something till you've tried it. And, since you're being very stubborn about trying it, I'm just gonna have to make you."
"Please, man -- "
Chet moved very quickly to his side, and the gun was once again against his temple.
"You wanna try it, or you wanna die?"
"I -- "
Chet pushed the gun harder against his temple.
"I wanna try it," Rollie managed to gasp.
"Good," said Chet. "Now just a minute, while I take my clothes off."
Rollie heard the rustle of Chet's clothes being removed, but didn't dare look back. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Chet's leather jacket and black T-shirt hit the floor, then he heard Chet's belt buckle unfasten, and the belt being drawn through its loops.
"Hmmmm," said Chet. "This give me a thought. You know, Rollie, pretty as your ass is, my dick isn't as hard as I really want it to be when I ram it up your asshole. I think I need additional stimulation."
Chet tossed his jeans and boxers on the floor.
"Wh- what are you talking about?" asked Rollie.
"Just hold still," said Chet.
Then there was a whistling sound, and the belt came crashing down against Rollie's bare buttocks. He howled in pain, and started to get up.
"Down, Rollie!" ordered Chet.
Rollie sank to his knees. The belt landed again. Rollie knew it was leaving horrible welts behind. Again it landed, stinging. Tears came now, spilling down Rollie's cheeks. "Please," he murmured.
"Please what?"
"Please stop," sobbed Rollie.
"Oh, okay," said Chet agreeably. "You're ready to die now?"
"No!" Rollie gasped. "Just stop hurting me!"
"Once again, Rollie, you have to make a choice. Do you want me to hurt you, or do you want to die?"
"Okay," said Rollie hopelessly.
"No," said Chet, smiling. "You have to tell me which you want. Those are the rules."
"I want you to hurt me," said Rollie.
"Good," said Chet. "I like hurting you, Rollie. Now, I'm going to keep whipping you, until you can think of something better for me to do. When you think of something I can do that I might like better than watching your red ass wiggle, you just tell me -- very specifically."
Rollie had a good idea what Chet meant. He decided to hold out as long as possible. Maybe the pain would make him pass out. The belt came down again and again. Chet was very skilled. It kept hitting the same spot. Rollie sobbed shamelessly into his unmade bedclothes.
When the twentieth or so lash hit his ass, Rollie called out again, "Please, Chet!"
Chet dropped the belt and raised the gun. "Please what, Rollie?"
Rollie hesitated. Even though his ass felt like it were on fire, the words were hard to say. "I... want you to... fuck me in the ass."
"I thought you'd never ask."
With the gun still in his hand, Chet stalked forward, naked. His cock projected threateningly in front of him. Rollie braced himself for the pain to come, and tried to untense his asshole.
Chet went to the bed first, though, and pulled off a sheet. He quickly set about tearing it into strips.
"Wondering what I'm doing?" Chet asked.
Rollie nodded.
"I want to enjoy this, Rollie. I want to fuck you, and feel my dick in your ass, and feel your body against mine. I can't very well do all that and keep track of a gun, can I? So I'm going to tie you up. Get up on the bed, and lie on your back."
Again, Rollie did as he was told. Chet tied his wrists to the bedposts.
"Now your legs," Chet said. "Lift them as high in the air as you can."
Rollie had a sick feeling. Chet was going to fuck him face to face, just like he would a woman. He lifted his legs. Chet pushed his feet back until they practically touched the wall, almost folding Rollie in half. He tied his ankles to the same bedposts.
Rollie shut his eyes as Chet moved around in front of him and began to bu spit onto his cockhead. It would all be over soon, he told himself.
Then there was more pain. His already burning ass was spread open by Chet's hands, and his cock popped into Rollie's asshole. Chet wasted no time impaling his victim, and began fucking furiously. Rollie thought he might die, his sphincter ached so badly with the repeated thrusts.
Then his body began to get accustomed to the rhythym, and there was some relief. Then...
Rollie tried hard to draw back inside himself, to pretend this wasn't happening... couldn't be happening... not on top of everything else.
His cock was getting hard.
As Chet fucked him, he was getting aroused. The head of the other boy's penis, massaging his prostate, was pushing him closer and closer to the brink of orgasm.
Chet began to shower Rollie's upper body with kisses and love bites. He bit Rollie's neck like a vampire, and chewed on his nipples,
as his cock pounded away inside. When Chet finally came, his hot semen flooding Rollie's anus, he screamed out loud in sheer pleasure.
And Rollie's own cock spurted semen all over them both.
There was nothing Rollie could do but sob helplessly while Chet lay atop him. And then Chet was kissing him, tenderly, and stroking his hair.
"Don't cry, baby. I know it hurts. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." Chet was crying himself now. He pulled Rollie's chin up and looked him in the eye.
"I'm sorry," Chet said again. He kissed Rollie on the mouth, and Rollie was too weak to resist. He let the boy's tongue carress his own. "I love you, Rollie, really. I have for months, and..."
Chet was sobbing now, too. "... I had to have you," he finished.
Chet got off of him now, and began to dress himself. He didn't seem to be able to look at Rollie anymore. When he was finally dressed, he did look back.
"I'm sorry," he said again. Picking up the gun, but not really bothering to aim it, he untied Rollie's ankles and wrists. Surprisingly, Rollie couldn't find the strength to move.
"I had to," Chet said again. He moved toward the door. "I hope you can forgive me."
And Chet was gone.