Date: Mon, 29 Oct 2007 18:57:18 EDT
From: Charlietalk@aol.com
Subject: "A Halloween Story."  GM Authoritarian

	Chad's mantra and motto was, "Chad McCall Has Got It All," and
nobody at Southern Kentucky A&M could dispute or doubt that.  Not his
classmates.  Not his profs. Nobody.  His sophomore year saw him cop the A&M
Steamer's MVP award for quarterbacking the school's team to its first
winning season in seven years, and now, in his junior year, he was well on
his way to a second MVP citation.  Life was good, MVP two years in a row,
Homecoming King two years in a row, and his pick to prick any cheerleader
or sorority chick on campus.  "Chad McCall Has Got It All."

	Strikingly handsome at twenty years old, extra tall at six foot,
four with a well defined, lean and muscular body, he starred as state champ
at the quarterback position throughout high school and was a natural for a
string of scholarship offers.

	"Why in God's name did you choose SK A&M," his father shouted in
dismay on hearing of Chad's choice.  "You could go anywhere, USC, UCLA,
Notre Dame for Christ's sake."

"Because, dad, if you're a little fish in a big pond, you don't get
noticed; but, if you're a big fish in a little pond, you're in all the
Sunday sport pages every week.  And I'm a big fish.  That's why I picked
SK.  To be a top draft pick in two years."

	With his mid season win on the last Saturday of October against
rival Alabama, Chad was riding high and ripe for the upcoming Halloween
blow out.  The geeks of Delta Sigma had challenged the jocks of Omicron Pi
to a "Trick or Treat" dog shit competition, and Chad, the Omicron Pi man of
the hour, was ever ready for any kind of competition.

The rules were simple: fill up two brown paper lunch bags with dog shit,
one for Delta Sig and one for Omicron Pi.  Pick two addresses on "the other
side of the tracks," one of which had to be an address targeted from a
previous year's competition,

	An anonymous "Hero" would be secretly chosen who would not reveal
his identity to play this variation of Trick or Treat till after the deed
was done.  The Hero would drop his bag of dog shit at the selected house's
front door, knock and shout loudly, set the bag on fire and run like hell.
The owner of the house would open the door, see the bag on fire and try to
stomp it out, and that's when all the fun would begin.

The prankster would run around hootin and hollerin while the poor sap at
his front door had dog shit all over his shoes and pants and murder in his
eyes.  Chad was chosen Hero for the OP's and some nerd for the Delts.
9:00pm Halloween night was set as the `do the do-do' time; nobody but the
last year's Heroes and this year's Heroes knew the addresses of the night's
victims. No one else was ever invited.  A bunch of giggling, half sloshed
frat boys hiding in the bushes would just blow the night's escapade.

Each fraternity sponsored its own Halloween beer bust, and the Heroes,
after leading their vics around for a couple of hours on a wild prearranged
goose chase were due back around 2:00am to give their report.  Of course,
nobody expected any of the brothers to still be sober by then, or even
conscious, so the "official" report would be held until the next house
meeting, and, quite expectedly, on returning after the do-do run, the
Heroes would always quickly join their brothers in beer bust Nirvana.

The guys in both fraternities knew enough local chicks with pet canines or
chicks working at dog grooming places to guarantee two bags of shit.  The
end of October showed a marked increase in young college guys offering to
walk these gals' dogs, and those brothers took back to the frat house a lot
more than just dog shit.  They could definitely count on getting laid
regularly at least up to semester break by some very appreciative dog
owners of the female variety.

Chad did not know the OP guy from the previous year's do-do run, and as a
matter of fact wouldn't meet him at all before this year's.  All he needed
to know about doing the do-do was printed out on index cards and left in
his mail box at the frat house.

	"Park your car at least two blocks away from the target."

	"Do not under any circumstances take anyone with you.  Companions,
even ones with tits as big as the pyramids of Giza, just screw up the
scene."

	"Wear all black clothes and black soft soled shoes."

	"Carry a whistle with you and when the sap stomps on the dog shit,
blow it really loud and run around screaming, then get the hell out of
there."

	"Leave your car unlocked but keep the keys in your pocket."

	"Your target is 717 Wabash Ave.  There are no sidewalks or street
lights, and lots of bushes and trees for cover."

	"Have fun!"

	"Oh, yes, and take a small flash light with you so you don't trip
over anything and fall on the dog shit yourself."

Chad followed the directions to the letter.  He was hyped.  He was psyched,
and standing in the dark, looking at the dilapidated house at 717 Wabash
Ave., he was excited and stressed all at the same time.  The house, butting
up next against trash littered vacant lots, neighbor to chained and
padlocked auto repair shops, welding shops, and long abandoned and boarded
up houses down the block, was set back about ten yards from the street

The windows were dark, but the flickering illumination from a TV set
bouncing around on the surface of one of them assured Chad that some wank
was home and would soon be stomping on dog shit.  What Chad did not know
was that this house was one of the previous year's targets, and the night's
occupants, seven strong, were hoping someone just like him would show up
again.

The star quarterback for the Southern Kentucky A&M Steamers football team
and this Halloween's Omicron Pi Hero, crept up to the front stoop, dropped
the bag of dog shit onto it, struck a match and held it to the bag until it
caught, banged on the front door, hollering "Trick or Treat," turned to run
and got sacked.

Six huge hulks burst out of the darkness like a tsunami, overwhelming him
and slamming him to the ground; a seventh shadowy figure sprayed a fire
extinguisher at the burning bag of dog shit.  Chad's arms were twisted
behind his back, and he was grabbed around his knees, and ankles and pulled
up off the ground.  He was punched in the stomach, hard enough for his
mouth to pop open long enough for the smoldering bag of dog shit to be
shoved in.  Choking and squirming, he was then carried quickly into the
darkened house.

He tried in vain to struggle against his attackers, but the feel and taste
and thought of dog shit in his mouth paralyzed him more than his captors'
considerable combined strength.  He was carried through the house and down
a flight of rickety wooden stairs to the basement where he was thrown to
the floor.  His attackers fell on him like a rock slide.

Immobilized and helpless, terrified and on the verge of puking, Chad felt
his shoes and socks being yanked off his feet.  His belt was unbuckled, his
fly ripped open and his pants and boxer shorts pulled down his legs, over
his feet, and tossed off somewhere.

Someone grabbed his balls and started squeezing really hard; Chad tried to
scream, but his mouth was stuffed full by the bag of dog shit, and he began
gagging instead.  Naked from the waist down, he was clad in only his black
tee shirt which was quickly torn in half and off his body.

He lay spread eagle on the floor, completely naked, pinned by his wrists
and ankles, other hands dug the bag of dog shit out of his mouth.  Someone
snapped on overhead lights, and as he was being yanked off the floor and
wrestled onto the top of a table, Chad could see that his assailants were
wearing full face black ski masks, only their eyes and mouths visible.  He
tried again to struggle against the strength of the seven men forcing him
down on the table top, but it was as before, a useless endeavor.

Four restraining cuffs at the ends of chains dangling from the basement
ceiling were quickly snapped around his wrists and ankles and the table
pulled out from under him.  Four of the seven attackers were busy pulling
the chains, working Chad into the exact position and height they wanted him
in.  None of the seven spoke as Chad's arms and legs were raised and
lowered and spread apart.

	Hanging from the ceiling by his arms and legs put a painful strain
on his shoulders and neck, and made it almost impossible for him to hold
his head up to watch what was happening.  He tried to shout for help, but
his mouth and throat were bone dry, still filled with the taste of dog
shit, so all he could muster were unintelligible squawks.

	A couple of his captors stood on either side of his free hanging
body and began slowly stroking him from his arm pits, over his ribs and
hips, across his belly, down his silky treasure trail, and into his thick
brush of black cockhairs.  A third stood between his outstretched legs,
cupping his cock and balls in his hands, rubbing them, squeezing them,
tugging on them.

	"What a pretty, pretty boy you are," the one playing with Chad's
cock and balls said, stretching his limp tool as far as it would go "We
been watin a whole year for you.  Yeah," he said gleefully.  "Yeah," he
repeated.  "And now we're gonna trick or treat you."

	Chad's captors all guffawed at that remark.

	"Yeah," the one twisting and pulling on his cock and balls said
again.  "We all gonna fuck your ass hole, then we all gonna fuck your mouth
hole, then we all gonna play with your tits and suck on your nips, and do
to you whatever the hell else we want to."

While all seven of his tormentors shouted their agreement and approval,
Chad kicked and jerked against his restraints, screeching as loud as his
parched throat would let him.

"Shout all you want, pretty boy," his cock and ball torturer laughed.
"Ain't nobody around for blocks and blocks.  Even if there was, nobody'd
pay any attention."

Another member of the gang walked up beside Chad's right shoulder, carrying
a small paper cup filled with water, which he poured into the prisoner's
mouth.

"Go ahead," his CBT guy smirked.  "Gargle and spit it out.  We got
something a whole lot better to shove in your mouth now.  But first of all,
we got to give you a lube job," he laughed.  "OK, boys, time to get ready,"
he shouted, unbuckling his belt and kicking off his shoes.  Bending over to
push his pants and briefs down his legs, the guy kept talking.  "We got
rules you got to follow, pretty boy" he emphasized by chucking his clothes
across the room and jabbing his fingers into Chad's testicles before he
yanked his tee shirt over his head and tossed it..

Standing naked, flat against Chad's bare ass, he grabbed his own cock and
Chad's and squeezed them together in his fist and started jacking them up
and down, their ball sacks banging against each other.

 "You got a real pretty cock, college boy," Chad's tormentor gloated, "nice
and thick and hot.  We're gonna make it dance for us tonight, boy.  It's
gonna giggle and jig, and shoot big loads of college boy cum, then you and
me, pretty boy, we're gonna shoot cum together.  Then here's what you're
gonna do," the guy hissed, sweating, tremors of lust crackling through his
voice, "you're gonna suck our cocks and suck down all our cum. You're gonna
swallow it and you're gonna like it.  From now on, you're gonna be our very
own pretty boy cocksucker."

Chad groaned and twisted in his chains as his cock hardened against his
captor's.  "Oh, yeah," he crowed again, pulse pounding, eyes glistening as
Chad started grinding his ass, pumping it up and down in thin air, and
ramming his rod into the CBT guy's fist.

"You like that, eh, pretty boy," he said grinning into Chad's face, holding
both cocks tight.  "Your cock's gonna get a real work out tonight, just
like ours, only yours is gonna run out of cum a whole lot sooner than ours
will."

Except for their ski masks, all members of the gang were now naked, their
cocks jutting out of thick forests of black cockhairs like lead pipes.
With their faces covered, Chad could tell who they were, or how old they
were.  Some of them were hairy all over and heavily muscled, some, smooth
skinned and lean, a couple of them had ab flab hanging hanging over their
balls..  All of them had hefty cocks and large low hanging balls.

They stoked the fires of lust burning in their guts by dragging their rough
hands over Chad's creamy flesh and digging calloused fingers into his
muscles.  One guy handed Chad's tormenter a blue plastic bottle with a long
applicator tube sticking out of its cap.  He let go of both cocks, and took
the bottle in his right hand.

 "Here you go, pretty boy.  You're gonna love this," with his cock hard as
a rock and slapping his belly, he held the bottle upside down and squirted
a load of scented mineral oil over Chad's cock and balls.  He tossed the
bottle back to the guy who'd given it to him and, with the other gang
members holding Chad in place, began hard jerking his lubricated genitals.

Chad groaned and cried out, squirming against both his restraints and six
pairs of arms as the leader of the pack clenched Chad's greased cock tight
in his greased fist, and, with increasing speed and pressure, jerked it up
and down.

No hands but his own had ever jerked his cock, or even ever touched it.
From the time he started going to the showers after grade school PE
classes, Chad stood ready to punch out anybody who'd come near his dick or
little ball sack even though he didn't know exactly why he needed to.  Just
something he had heard.  Something about things called, "fags."

The older he got, the more aggressive he got, challenging any other kid
whose glance happened to pass over his crotch.  He learned that fags acted
like girls, but he hadn't yet learned how girls acted.  He knew they
screamed a lot, and hung out in cliques, and totally ignored boys, just
like a bunch of stuck-ups.

Eventually he discovered the overwhelming attraction the hunk of meat
hanging between his legs had, not from experience, but from what his
buddies told him, from what he read in jo-jo books, and what he saw in
pictures smuggled to school in back packs.  He liked it, and he liked to
think about it when he jerked his cock, and later when he finally learned
how to dick cunt.

Then, one night at the start of his freshman year at SK A&M, he lay in his
bed at the dorm, naked, cock hard like a steel rod, sweatin out a torrid
Appalachian Indian Summer listenin to his room mate, Neil Hardy, moan and
groan while a guy from down the hall gave him a serious blow job.  Chad's
cock tingled like electricity was shootin all around it inside, cryin out
to Chad to grab it and squeeze as tight as he could and jerk it hard until
it exploded in his hand.

"I got Johnny Powers comin in around midnight to clean out my pipes," Neil
had said to him as they headed upstairs that night after dinner.  "You want
a piece of `im?"

"Uh, no, thanks," he answered hesitantly.  "But, hey, go for it," he added
with too much of a forced laugh.  "I'll probably be asleep before he," Chad
started stumbling over his words, "uh, gets here.  Does whatever. You know.
Just keep it down.  I mean your voice, not your cock," he giggled.

But Neil's little reading lamp over his bed gave enough light for Chad to
watch everything going on between him and Johnny, everything that Chad
needed to see to let him focus on the lightening bolts of lust down his
belly and into his cock and balls and go with them.  He wanted Johnny's
mouth around his burning cock right then and there, more than he ever
wanted anything in this whole world, and the memory of that night would
leap into his consciousness, unannounced, without preamble or invitation
just like it was doing now at this terrifying moment in this torture pit,
inexplicitly in front of his mind's eye.

 In a flash of horrifying clarity, Chad realized he was going to be gang
fucked, suckin on seven cocks like Johnny sucked on Neil's, and more than
what Johnny did, he was going to take seven cocks up his ass.  Ass fucked
and mouth fucked over and over all night long.

Chad's Halloween torturer squeezed his cock so hard, jerking it faster and
faster to orgasm, that it felt like it had burst into flames, and he
screamed as geysers of blisteringly hot cum ripped through his cockhole,
arching ropes of semen over his body to splatter down on his chest and
belly.

He convulsed against the restraints of chains and hands, his body jerking
with each discharge.  His tormentors squeezed and twisted handfuls of
flesh, shouting at each volley of cum he shot, pre cum hanging from the
tips of their pink, satin smooth, rock hard shafts.

Little puddles of cum dotted his upper body; his cock, half hard in his
assailant's fist.  "Know what a grease gun is, pretty boy," he panted,
sweat running down his face and chest..  "It's the way we're gonna loosen
you up, get your ass hole ready to take some real meat, huge hunks of fuck
meat."  He scraped cum from Chad's body and rubbed it into his hole; he did
likewise with the last of the cum he squeezed out of Chad's cock.

"All ready," he hollered.  "All ready for that big old grease gun" He
stepped to the side, keeping his fingers working cum in Chad's hole, as one
of the beefy, hairy gang members took his place between Chad's legs.  He
carried what looked like a weapon, half way between a rifle and a bug
sprayer, with a long, thin barrel attached to a plunger fitted to a
cylinder.

Chad started hyperventilating, screeching at each breath as the end of the
grease gun's barrel was shoved into his ass hole.  The other members of the
rape gang shouted encouragement to the grease gunner as he squeezed the
apparatus' trigger, discharging a load of grease into Chad's fuck chute.
He squeezed off five rounds, and after each shot, shoved the barrel deeper
into Chad's ass as Chad screamed in terror and pain..

The grease gunner kept shooting rounds as he withdrew the gun's barrel.
Jabbing his finger in around it.  "Just be glad this thing don't got no
iron sight on it," he grunted, "or your ass'd really be hurtin."  He shot
the last glob of grease into the palm of his hand and started rubbing it
all over his cock.

Chad knew that in less than a minute, he'd be taking the gunner's huge cock
up his ass; shouting and kicking, he fought wildly against the arms and
chains restraining him, all to no avail.  One of the gang grabbed Chad's
balls and pulled them up out of the gunner's way as the gunner grabbed Chad
around the waist, the tip of his cockhead penetrating his hole, and dragged
Chad back by the hips as he shoved his cock brutally forward into his ass.

Chad kept screaming, flailing the air, and the gunner kept fucking his cock
in and out, back and fourth, full length in and full length out, twisting
his hips with each thrust, digging deeper and deeper into Chad's ass.  He
slammed himself faster and faster, hammering the boy cunt in front of him
more viciously each time, screeching along with his victim and gasping for
breath.

Skewered on the gunner's rock hard ramrod cock, Chad ground himself rapid
fire up and down, ferociously raking the walls of his fuck chute against
the vicious and hairy rapist's hot and rigid fuck muscle far inside.
Slamming violently into each other, ass onto cock, cock into ass, Chad and
his attacker hurled themselves at each other, screaming in a whirlwind of
fuck frenzy as their tortured cocks spit volleys of thick hot cum.

Throwing himself on Chad's defenseless body, his cock straining to the
point of rupturing, the gunner flung his arms tight around Chad's chest,
sucking his mouth down on his throat, his powerful leg muscles still
pumping, still ramming his cock deep.  Both cocks kept discharging round
after round as the gunner dragged his mouth from Chad's throat to his
mouth, and shoved his tongue in, sucking Chad's into his own..

They writhed on each other until their madness abated and their cocks
slowly, slightly, softened.  The gunner stood up and scraped his fingers
along Chad's cum smeared belly.  Then jamming his fist into Chad's mouth,
he growled, "Here, cunt.  Eat your own cum."  The rest of the gang howled
and gathered in tighter around Chad's body as the CBT attacker took his
place at Chad's raw and burning hole.

While Chad gasped protests and pleas, the CBT guy held out his hands for
the gunner to shoot globs of grease into his palms, and as the gunner had
done, after he too had greased up his cock, grabbed Chad by the hips and
dragged his ass down on his rigid, throbbing cock.

Arching his back, throwing his head back, and pumping himself back and
forth on the balls of his feet, the attacker screeched, "Holy fuck!  He's
like cunt.  Like fuckin cunt."  He ground his ass clockwise at each forward
thrust; he slammed Chad's ass like a battering ram.  He grabbed Chad's cock
and began viciously jerking it with his fist.

Chad's head hung down below his shoulders; unable to scream any longer, he
groaned and gasped each time the CBT guy drilled his cock into his ass.  He
clenched his gut muscles when the guy started pulling back, then he would
hump it, prolonging the burning release, reigniting the insanity pounding
his guts.  He wanted this inferno, and that made him gasp louder.  He
wanted this fire sweeping through his body.  He wanted the boiling lake of
cum searing his balls and the lips of his ass hole.  He wanted rough hard
hands scraping his body, twisting it, grabbing it.

Once again, two cocks blew cum in synch, Chad's gut muscles squeezing the
spike buried in his ass, milking blasts of cum.  When the rapist yanked his
still rigid cock out of Chet's ass, he howled, "Gonna do that ass again.
Goin to have to make a lot more cum beforehand," he laughed.  "Then I'm
gonna do his mouth."

He had to wait until the five remaining gang members had their go at Chad's
ass before he could make his wish come true.  The table had been shoved
back under his body; he hadn't the strength to do more than just hang from
the chains.  With the table under him, the gang members fucking his hole
could at least hold him in place.  Two hours after the gunner had greased
up Chad's fuck chute and his own rigid cock, Chad's wrists and ankles were
unshackled and he was pulled off the table and shoved down onto his knees.

The gunner, standing behind Chad, grabbed him by the hair, two handfuls,
and yanked his head back.  The guy standing in front, bare assed and ski
masked, clamped his hands on both of Chad's ears and twisted them until his
mouth opened wide enough to suck in the guy's massive hard on.

Chad's mouth bulged, stuffed full of cock.  "Suck, you motherfucker.  Suck
my cock," the guy in front of him snarled bouncing up and down.  "And when
I shoot my cum, you swallow every drop.  You hear?"  He gave Chad's ears a
violent jerk.

Feeling the guy's fuck tube dilate inside the cock inside his mouth knocked
Chad out of his fuck numbness.  "Here it comes, baby doll," the mouth
fucker screeched.  He pulled back so only half his cock was crammed into
Chad's mouth when his fuck tube exploded.

Chad fought his gagging reflex as cum shot to the back of his mouth, and he
swallowed instead.  Chad's mouth fucker howled at each discharge ripping
out of his cock.  Finally his entire body shuddered with his final barrage,
and Chad kept sucking the last squirts of cum till there was nothing left
but the taste.

Chad was forced to suck all seven cocks before the CBT guy said, "Put him
face down on the floor.  I wanna lay on top and fuck his ass."  The gang
howled with laughter as they shoved Chad onto the floor and the CBT guy
fell on him full length.  He had no strength left to resist.  The CBT guy
clamped Chad in a full nelson and wrapped his legs around his, wriggled
into a humping position and jammed his cock through Chad's ass hole.  He
could only moan.

"One thirty AM, "the gunner shouted above the din.  "We been shootin cum
for four and a half hours, and I need a beer," he laughed.

"The college boy was a good fuck," one of the gang called out.  "We should
give him one last parting gift to remember us."

"You mean besides his red ass hole?" one of them hollered.

"Yeah," the CBT guy said.  "Something to remember us by.  Put him on his
knees again,"

Chad offered no resistance as he was dragged from the floor to his knees.
The rape gang crowded tight in around him.  The gunner took hold of his own
limp cock, and standing in front of Chad, let loose a full force blast of
piss directly in his face.  The rest of the gang screeched and hollered and
let loose their own barrages of piss, drenching Chad's face and head. His
shoulders, back, and belly also.  Streams of piss ran down his body through
his cockhairs, over his thighs, onto his cock and balls .

Chad's rapists shouted and howled at the sight of this high and mighty
pretty college boy coated in piss and slumped in a heap on the basement
floor.

"Get the fuck out of here," the CBT guy snarled, throwing Chad's clothes on
top of him.  "Get out of here before we start all over again."

Chad drove quickly back to the frat house, snuck in the side service door,
and crept silently up the back stairs to his room.  He stripped off his
piss soaked clothes, grabbed soap and a towel and padded silently down the
second floor hallway to the bathroom.

He stood under the hot shower for almost an hour, soaping and re-soaping
his body.

	He thought about giving himself an enema to flush out all the cum
clogging his guts.  If his ass starts feeling worse than it does at the
moment, he might do that.  He was not inclined at all to shove a finger
down his throat and puke out his cum filled stomach.

Two thoughts tore at his mind, first, that his body was digesting cum from
his stomach through his intestines, and second, "You are what you eat."

	Chad sent the word out the next morning that he'd caught a nasty
cold doing his "Trick or Treating" Halloween night, so he wouldn't going to
his classes or to football practice.  A couple of his professors called to
wish him a speedy recovery, but the head coach was pounding on his door
well before noon.

	"What's this crap about a head cold," he demanded.  "We've got a
game Saturday and you've got to be up for it.  You're the team captain.
How are you going to psych the team up lying in bed sniffling?"

	Chad didn't answer, but the coach could see that the tears in the
kids eyes weren't from any head cold.

	"What's the problem, Chad?"

	"Nothing, Coach.  Really.  Nothing."

	"That's bullshit, Chad.  Anyone can see something's wrong, and it
ain't no head cold."

	"Coach, please.  Give me a day.  I'll be there tomorrow, I
promise."

	Even though he couldn't hide his concern for his star quarterback,
Chad's coach said as gruffly as he could, "Well, we better see you then."

	As he turned to leave, one of Chad's fraternity brothers came to
the door with a package in his hands.  "Special delivery," he said.  "I had
to sign for it."

	"Thanks," he said taking the package.  "And thank you, Coach.  I
will be there early tomorrow."

	The head coach nodded, forced a grim smile, turned and left the
room; Chad's frat bro rolled his eyes, shook his head, and left the room,
closing the door behind him.

	Chad looked at the package for a minute before opening it; there
was no return address, and it was special delivery.

	As soon as he opened the package and saw the contents, his jaw
dropped open, his guts shriveled in panic, and he gasped, "Oh, God, no.
No.  No.  No.  Pictures.  They took pictures.  Oh my God.  They were taking
pictures," he groaned.  There in his hand, a stack of eight by ten glossy
prints of him sucking cock, of a hooded man lying on top of him, fucking
him in the ass.  Picture after picture after picture.  The whole gang fuck
from beginning to end.

	A note slipped out of the package along with the pictures.  Chad
picked it up and with his heart pounding in terror he read, "Here you are
cunt boy.  For all the world to see.  If we let them.  And we're not going
to let them unless you disobey us.  You're going to be our whore, the boy
whore of Wabash Ave.  You're going to suck our cocks and all our friends'
cocks.  And we're all going to fuck you up the ass.  We got all kinds of
fun things planned.  And it starts tonight.  You be here at eight o'clock.
And don't even think about not showing up or telling anybody about our
invitation.  Or else these lovely pictures are going to find their way to
your mom's front door, your coach's desk, and your teammates lockers.  And
don't think we're kidding.  We're not."

	Chad crumpled the note in his hand, realizing he had no choice in
the matter.  They made him their boy whore, and there was nothing he could
do about it.