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.
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.