Disclaimer:
The following story is a work of fiction; any resemblance to real events, situations, or people is purely coincidental. The story contains graphic descriptions of sex between men, and anyone who is forbidden by law to read such material should exit this story immediately. These characters may have unprotected sex, as characters in fiction sometimes do. In our world, don't be a douche: wear the rubber.
Peter, so fucking neat. Neat fucking Peter always replaced his chair under the desk. I pulled it out, and sat down.
I waited.
The boy with him tumbled into the room, and I heard Peter prop the door open with the doorstop. I don't know what subliminal currents he felt in the room, but Peter immediately knew I was there. His demeanor changed, and he started whining for Simone.
Simone. That slut. She looked like a man, acted like a man, and I'm told she only ever wants it in her ass. Just like a man. Hell, she carried more testosterone in her mini-tits than Peter did in his entire body.
No sense in me getting upset though. She was now inconsequential in the grand scheme of things. I had a plan.
Short of running from the room, screaming like a little girl, he did the only thing he could do: he draped himself out on the bed.
The boy - blonde, blue-eyed, every limp-wristed faggot's late-night, fantasy-fuck-wet-dream - sat next to him and started jangling Peter's keyring.
"I want Simone. I want a blowjob", said Peter. "Get me Simone."
Andrew laughed. "She'll never come over here. Besides, she's out with her new man. Alex. Alan. Something like that."
"Shut up!"
Peter grabbed Andrew's hands. "Stop playing with those keys. Why do you have to do that?"
Their fingers meshed. It lasted longer than it should have. Andrew pulled Peter's hand from the ring of the keychain, and put it on his thigh.
"I want Simone to help me shower. I need help. I'm too drunk. I want a blowjob. I want a shower."
The door to the room was open, but the crowds passing ignored the room. It was a ghost room, closed off to the rest of the campus. No one stopped in to say hello, but Peter didn't seem to notice. He took a bottle of Jack from under the pillow and drank a double-shot.
Andrew laughed again at Peter and took the bottle from his hand. "Drinking this shit won't help your situation."
He took a long swallow. Peter grabbed for the bottle, and there was another spark of electricity in the room.
"Fuck you! You drank all my booze. Now you have to help me shower! Get up. You're my slave! We're going to go shower now. Go in there and get ready slave! You have to wash me!"
I winced. It was the same routine he used on me, this coy way to get some poor guy to act as his "slave".
I heard Peter say, "You cannot take the keys in the shower with you. I don't like threesomes".
The poor boy didn't understand what Peter was getting at, but I did.
I made my exit. No flash, spark, bang, anything like that. I just left quietly, to Peter's obvious surprise.
"What? I can't take the keys with me? You don't like a little kink in your shower?"
Andrew laughed, dropped the keys, and hauled Peter to his feet. It took them both a moment to focus.
Peter said, "Get undressed while I lock the door."
Andrew obliged, then picked up the keys again, teasing Peter by dangling them in front of his cock.
"You sure about the threesome?" asked Andrew.
Peter muttered, "We've had all the company we need tonight. Come on slave! Go into the shower!"
Peter pulled Andrew to him, and they kissed. Andrew lifted Peter's shirt off, and untied the drawstring of his shorts. They fell to the floor, and Andrew got his first look at Peter's cock.
They stepped into the bathroom, and slowly jerked each other off as the water heated up.
"Slave, get in the shower. I'm going to fuck your ass now." They stood under the hot water, and Peter explored Andrew's asshole with his fingers for a few moments.
Without warning, he thrust his cock the whole way into Andrew's ass.
"Fuck! Next time, a little warning, okay Peter?"
"No, slave! You like it rough, don't you faggot? You like it to hurt, don't you?"
My cue. I once heard those exact words from Peter. They were what kept me coming back to his room night after night - anytime I thought he had the slightest chance of having his own warped brand of sex.
The rest of my time, I practiced. I practiced what I would do when the time came - so to speak.
I waited until Peter was near orgasm, and then I took over his body.
He screamed in fury. His body tried to follow the master it had obeyed for twenty-three years, but I had been practicing. I had been practicing against the inevitable tantrum Peter would throw when I forced my way into his flesh.
Peter had had his hands on the boy's head, ready to bash his face against the wall of the shower stall. I used my power to take control of those hands and turn the boy to face me.
I couldn't control all of the energy from Peter though - tears of anger were washed off of my face, and I was only able to retain control by flailing my arms onto the boy's chest. I screamed for him to leave, to get out of the bathroom, the dorm room, the building. I pushed the boy out of the dorm, took Peter's body into the bathroom and released him.
A glimmer appeared next to Peter's body, then solidified into a naked, erect, young male.
"Do you want me to do to you what happened to me? Should I rape your virgin ass, Peter? What you give is returned seven-fold. Do you want that, Peter?"
He screamed at the man, flailed on his chest with his fists.
"Faggot! Fuck you! Fuck you faggot! Why would you do this? I'm not a faggot. Who the fuck do you think you are?"
I clamped my hand over his mouth, and answered him.
"You took my life away from me. You killed others before me. It's your turn now - you are your own worst enemy, because I am your destiny, your avenger. I am your death. Meet the floor, fuckstick."
I kicked his feet out from under him, and he hit his head on the lip of the shower stall.
Blood started pooling everywhere, then washed down the drain.
The young man watched for a moment, fading from a glimmer into nothingness.
Copyright 2003 Slater Mondale
All rights reserved.
All material contained in this story are protected by United States copyright law and may not be reproduced, distributed, transmitted, displayed, published or broadcast without the prior written permission of the author. You may not alter or remove any trademark, copyright or other notice from copies of the content.
This story was written over the summer of 2003, and is being posted for the first time to the Nifty Archive on September 14, 2003.