This story is fiction. It contains some boy/boy sexual activity. Please obey all laws that pertain to you, and don't read this if it would offend you or if you are too young to do so legally.
This story is plot and character driven and only contains sex that is appropriate to the tale. If you are reading this for its sexual content, you will probably be disappointed. You would be better off reading a different story.
Copyright 2005. All rights are exclusive to the author. This story is not to be copied, nor is it to be displayed on any other web site.
Thank you for reading this, and any comments would be appreciated. They will reach me at firstname.lastname@example.org I try to answer all messages.
At lunch the next day we were discussing the performance competition at the Prom. No one had heard who was signed up. I hadn’t told anyone Adam and I were going to perform because it would have made our going to the Prom together seem less spur-of-the-moment. Kevin was just wondering how many people would be actually performing when I looked up to see Adam walking towards me.
He looked nervous. Which was unusual for him. He was not the nervous sort and didn’t lack self-confidence.
He came to our table and stood by me. Kevin saw him standing there, looking at me, and stopped talking.
Adam spoke into the sudden silence. “Excuse me a moment, guys,” he said to everyone. Then he looked at me. “Greg, I understand you’ve been talking about going to the Prom with another guy. Is that true?”
I tried to look very nervous. I fidgeted a bit, looked down, looked up at Tim, then said, hesitantly, “Uh, yeah, I guess I have.”
“Well, I need a date and you need a date. Will you go with me to the Prom?”
“Yeah!” “Right on!” That was Kevin and Bobby, both greeting the question with enthusiasm. Becky and Susan were both grinning while looking at me expectantly. I guessed it was my turn to say something.
I looked up at Adam and tried to gulp as noticeably as possible. “Adam, I’d be honored to accompany you to the Prom.”
He looked at me, then the others at the table and said, “Whew, that was hard!” And grinned.
Everyone started talking at once. The general feeling was one of excitement. Everyone seem to be in high spirits over us going together and they were all curious over how other kids would react. Eventually, Adam said he had to get going, said he’d talk to me later and left.
Tim spoke up. “You’re really going to do it! I guess some people will go to any lengths to go to the Prom. I still think it would have been better to ask a girl, but at least you’re going.”
“He’s going, but what I want to know,” asked Bobby, “is if he’ll get a good night kiss?”
+++ +++ +++ +++
When I met Adam in the library, we exchanged high fives. We were both excited, and I had a huge smile on my face. We’d pulled it off, at least as far as our friends were concerned. They accepted us as two guys going to the Prom together and didn’t for a minute think we were gay. Who’d have thought that possible when the idea of going with a boy first crossed my mind only a short time ago?
Dale was sitting in his usual chair. I shot him a quick glance, and was startled to see him looking directly at me. The expression on his face wasn’t difficult to read in the very brief sight of him I had as I quickly scanned my eyes past him. If I had to describe it, the word ‘malignant’ might come close. Whatever it was, it unsettled me. I spoke to Adam.
“Dale’s looking at me with murder in his eyes. Makes me nervous. Maybe he saw me smiling when I came in. Is everything set up for our plan?”
“It should be. Steve’s going to let me know next period. Why? You want to do it tonight?”
“Seems like it might be a good idea. One, if he’s thinking about me right now, that makes it easier, which is to our advantage. Two, if we don’t move and he’s thinking about me and acts on what he’s thinking, I might be in trouble waiting until we’re better prepared to go ahead. I’d say, tonight’s the night, if everyone else is ready. I’d sure feel better about it.”
“Yeah, knowing what we’re going to do and just waiting is nerve wracking. I’m all for tonight.”
“OK, you handle getting it ready with your and Steve’s part and I’ll make sure Tim’s a go. I'll call you before seven tonight if it’s on.
“OK. And Greg, good luck. I have to tell you, this scares me. A lot.”
“Yeah, but you’re looking forward to it also, aren’t you? I am, even though I am nervous.”
“I guess so. Anyway, see you tonight.”
+++ +++ +++ +++
At 6 PM, I dialed Dale’s number. A woman with a rough voice answered.
“Is Dale there?”
“Yeah, hold on. Dale, phone, and hurry up, I’m expecting a call.”
The phone clattered down on a table, and a few minutes passed where I could hear background noises in the house. Someone had the news on, and a stereo was playing. I heard a young kid crying.
“Uh, Dale?” I asked, feigning as much nervousness and timidity as I could.
“Yeah. Who’s this?”
“Uh, Dale, this is Greg Colson. You were looking at me in the library today. Look, Dale, I don’t want any more trouble from you. You already tore up some stuff in my locker. Then you shoved me into it. It hurt my cheek. I saw how you were looking at me today. I want you to leave me alone.”
“Oh, the sissy boy doesn’t like to play, huh? Well, fuck you, pussy. I’ll do whatever the fuck I feel like doing. Fuck you.”
“Dale, what did I ever do to you? Leave me alone. Please. I don’t want to get hurt.”
There was a moment of silence while Dale digested this. Then, he said, “You know, faggot, we should get together and talk about this. You don’t want to get hurt, and I have some things I want, too, and you’d do fine.”
“Get together? You mean, meet some place? I don’t know. Maybe that wouldn’t be so good. Or, maybe we could meet in the library at school and talk if we had to.”
“No, I think we should meet right now. I’ll meet you at the school, in the back. It’ll just be us two.”
“Dale, I don’t know. I don’t want to do that.”
“You’ll do that, or I’ll beat the crap out of you. You got that, pussy boy?”
“Dale, what’d I ever do to you? I can’t meet you all alone behind the school! I’m scared.” I was almost whimpering now. Most of it was acting. But I did feel some real fear. Even though this was going much better than I’d hoped. I needed to get him to meet me, and out of the blue he’d suggested it himself. I didn’t have to talk him into it, or set it up the way I'd planned.
“Look, fag, you meet me or you’ll wish you had. Nothing will happen if you show up. But you got to be there. Tonight.”
“Well, if you say nothing will happen. I can sneak out. I can’t be there before eight. Eight o’clock behind the school. I’ll be at the baseball backstop. But you got to promise. We just talk. Nothing else.”
“Sure, sure. Eight o’clock. I’ll be there. Make sure you are.”
He hung up. I sighed. This whole plan was based on getting him to agree to come to the baseball field. And I’d done that. The fact it was now his idea just made it easier. So, tonight really was going to be it. I had to get in touch with everyone else.
+++ +++ +++ +++
It was dark. There were patchy clouds in the sky and the quarter moon was just beginning to make an appearance. A cool breeze, very gentle but persistent, brushed the leaves in the nearby trees. I was standing on the infield side of the backstop, leaning against it, all alone. I felt fear, but also exhilaration and anticipation. Lots of nervous energy. I just hoped everything went as planned. My part had so far. Everyone else had to come through too.
It was five after eight. I was looking around, seeing nothing, and then saw a dark figure trudging toward me. Dale. He was looking down at the ground, but when he was about 25 yards away he looked up and saw me. There was a faint light coming from the street lights about 100 yards away. It, and the moon that was just now above the horizon, allowed me to make out a grin on his face when he noticed me. It looked more like a sneer than a grin. His trudge became a swagger.
He kept walking and came up to me, stopping on the other side of the backstop from me so the screen separated us. I’d tried to achieve that by positioning myself where when he arrived, he’d have to walk all the way around the backstop to come up to me. I’d thought he’d probably take the shortest route to me, and he had.
“Hey, fag, nice of you to show up.”
“I’m not a fag. Don’t call me that. And I don’t want any trouble from you.” Sounding nervous and scared.
“OK, and you won’t get any. As long as you do what I want.”
“What do you want? I never give you any problems. Remember, you promised me we’d just talk. Nothing’s going to happen. So, what do you want?”
“Yeah, I promised, but I changed my mind. Something IS going to happen. You’re going to come around the fence. Right over here. Then, you’re going to get down on your knees in front of me and give me a blow job. You get your ass around the screen here and get on your knees. You do this, right now and whenever I ask, and you don’t get pounded. You don’t do this, you’re dead. First, I’m going to kick the shit out of you tonight. Then, when you’re not even thinking about it, you’re going down the stairs at school when you won’t even know it’s happening, and you’ll be dead. Now, get over here.” He glared at me, and rubbed his crotch.
I looked at him for a second, just stared, wondering why some kid would turn out this way. What made someone want to be a bully, to take advantage of weaker kids? To hurt them when he could get away with it? But I only thought for a second. I had things to do now. I had to make him mad. I didn’t want him either thinking or walking away.
“Dale,” I said, and my voice was different now. I wasn’t whining. I wasn’t sounding nervous and scared. I was sounding confident and even scornful without of trace of my intimidation remaining. “I wouldn’t blow you if my life depended on it, and with you it sure doesn’t because you couldn’t catch me if YOUR life depended on it. You’re fat and stupid and you probably don’t even have a big enough dick to suck. I’ve heard it around that you pick on people to compensate for having the littlest dick in school, a fifth grader’s dick. Go ahead, whip it out and show me your baby’s dick, you fucking shithead.”
Dale looked at me in shock. I’d changed from a scared little boy to someone who was insulting him and wasn’t the least bit afraid of him. I didn’t want him to think, I wanted him to react, so I kept on. “I see you’re not whipping it out, so I guess I’m right. I heard from someone who saw you in the locker room that you could pose for the ‘before’ picture for male enhancement surgery. You’re a loser Dale. Probably can only get it up with your mother. Did she teach you about blow jobs? Huh? You know, kids must be stupid to be afraid of a guy with a kindergarten dick.” And with that, I hawked up a mouthful of saliva and spat at him, hitting him right in the face.
He turned red. “You motherfucker. You’re dead,” he screamed. And with that, he took off running toward the edge of the backstop.
I started running in the other direction, towards the dugouts and past them towards the outfield fence. He came around the backstop and was after me, about 20 yards behind. He was a lot taller than I was and had a longer stride, so was gaining on me. As he ran past the dugout, however, everything changed.
Out of the dugout came Steve and Tim. They blindsided Dale, hitting him hard, Steve with all his weight across the shoulders, Tim with a perfect football tackle at the knees. Dale went down hard on the shaved infield, scraping his face in the rough dirt.
As soon as he hit the ground, I stopped and hurried back to them. He was slightly stunned from hitting the ground so hard. Tim was squeezing his knees together for all he was worth. Steve was lying across his back and shoulders, pinning him to the ground and pounding on his back, raining heavy blows with one hand and grunting as each struck it’s target, his other hand tightly grasping Dale's hair and forcing his face into the dirt. As I was coming up, Adam also ran out of the dugout and began kicking him hard in the side. I joined in and began kicking his other side, in the ribs and stomach, getting all the force into my kicks that I could.
Dale struggled at first, but as all our blows took their toll and he was unable to get any leverage to stand up, he very quickly stopped trying to get away and started yelling, “Stop, stop, cut it out! Help! Shit!.”
“You stop struggling, we stop pounding,” said Steve.
“OK, OK. You fuckers.”
I gave him another hard kick for that. He grunted. Steve told him to put his hands behind his back. He did so, and Adam quickly pulled the rope he brought for this purpose out of his pocket and began to try to wrap it around Dale’s wrists.
As soon as Dale felt the rope, he made a lunge and yanked his hands away, but Tim had never released his hold and Steve was still on his back so he couldn’t accomplish anything, and Dale was quickly rewarded for his effort by getting another solid blow in the kidneys from Steve’s elbow and another sharp kick in the side from me.
“Hands behind your back, fuckwad. Or not. We can beat on you all night if you’d like. Fine either way with us. Once we’ve beaten you unconscious, then we’ll tie you up.” That was Adam. There was something in his voice I’d never heard before, a raw quality.
Dale’s hands moved behind him, and Adam tied them tightly.
Once his hands were secured, Tim took his arms from around Dale’s legs and stood up. He grabbed one of Dale’s arms, Steve grabbed the other, and they duck-walked him over to the backstop. Steve slammed him up against the screen and pulled him upright. Adam ran around to the back side and, using two other pieces of rope, tied his arms just under his shoulders to the wire fencing, one rope for each arm. Dale was being forced to stand up. If he tried to slide down, the ropes under his arms bit into him. He had to stand.
“Ready?” Steve asked Adam.
“Ready,” Adam replied, and he ran back to the dugout, quickly to return with three pairs of scissors. He handed one pair to Tim, one to Steve and one to me. We moved in and began cutting at Dale’s clothes.
“Hey, what the fuck!” he yelled. We ignored him and kept cutting. Dale started to move, probably intending to make cutting more difficult, but Steve slapped him across the face and said, “Listen, dipshit, you move around and we’re going to accidentally cut things we didn’t intend to cut. I’d hold very still if I were you.”
About at that time I was cutting his jeans up the inner left seam. I let the point of the scissors touch the inside of his thigh. He immediately yelled, but also stopped fidgeting.
We worked in silence, and in only a couple minutes, we’d cut every bit of clothing off Dale. I had the honor of cutting his briefs up the side and watching them slide to the ground at his feet. He stood before us, tied to the backstop, naked. I took the time to look, and was surprised to see he really did have a very juvenile looking dick. It was embarrassingly small.
I seized the opportunity. “Hey look guys. He really does have a baby dick.” And I laughed.
“OK,” said Steve. “Who wants to go first?”
“I do,” I said. I stepped up to Dale. “Dale, I don’t have the slightest idea why you’re such an asshole, but I’m going to tell you something. Your days of hurting kids littler than you has ended. It’s all over. Now we’ve got you, and you’re the one that’s going to be hurting. Starting right now.” And after saying that, I reached back and with an open hand slapped him across the face as hard as I could.
He let out a bellow. I used the back of my hand and slapped him on the other side of his face. “Dale, I don’t know why you picked on me, I must have looked easy, I don’t know, but that was a big mistake. I don’t think you believe me yet, so I have some more work to do.” With that, I slapped him twice more, very hard.
At the point, Adam came forward. “Hey, Dale, remember me? Adam? You almost drowned me in the pool last summer. Only the lifeguard seeing you stopped you. You would have held be under a lot longer otherwise. So, I wanted the chance to say thanks.” Adam then started in where I’d left off. He slapped him four times before stopping.
By this time, Dale had tears running down his face. Probably part of it was anger, but a lot of it was from pain. It really hurts to get slapped, and to get repeatedly slapped is awful.
We’d decided to play good cop, bad cop with Dale, and Tim had been chosen as the good cop. Steve now spoke up. “Hey, he’s about my size. Let me take a few whacks at him. Let him see what it feels like to have a guy his size work him over a bit.” That said, Steve slapped a sharp blow with weight behind it that rocked Dale’s head to the side. Then, with a clenched fist, he hit him hard in the ribs. Dale gasped.
“Hey, that felt good. I’m going to do that again!”
“Hey, hold up, Steve. I think he’s had enough. He’s got to be really hurting. Don’t you think we should stop?” That was Tim, sounding worried.
“Nah,” I said. “We’re just getting started. I think we should probably keep going till he’s unconscious. If we stop and let him go, he’ll just come after us when he can. We talked about this. We can’t let him go. We’ve got to kill him.”
Tim sounded worried when he said, “No, no, I told you guys we shouldn’t kill him. I was against that. We can’t kill him.”
“Then he’ll get us when he’s loose. We’ve got to.” Adam. Sounding sincere and very matter of fact..
It was Steve’s turn to add his two cents. “Tim, if you can think of some way to protect us from him, OK, we won’t have to kill him. But I can’t think of anything. We all tried and came up empty. I still say kill him. We all agreed to this. Nothing’s changed. I’ll do it if you guys are chicken. I’ll sort of enjoy it. I hate bullies. They're scum. You guys can walk away. It’ll be just him and me. For only a short time. Then it’ll be only me.”
I’d been watching Dale while we were talking. He was still crying, but he was shivering now, too. He looked awful. His face was dark in the poor light, probably from being flushed from the slapping. He had to be scared shitless. I couldn’t see his eyes. They would have told me something.
Tim thought a minute. “Steve, hold on. You don’t want to kill him, I know you don’t. And I CAN think of one thing we could do. If he’d confess to everything he’s done, all the kids he’s hurt, and someone could write it down and have him sign it, then he couldn’t get us. He does anything to any one of us then, the paper gets turned over the school, the cops and the boys’ fathers. He wouldn’t touch us if we had that, because he’d be in too much trouble.
“Aaaah, he’d never do that. And it’d take too long. I say we just slap him unconscious, then Steve does him. No one’ll ever know we did it. No one would miss the son of a bitch either. We can alibi for each other, we have nothing to worry about.” That was my contribution.
“Yeah,” said Steve. “I don’t think we should dick around with this. Besides, I sort of WANT to kill him.”
At that point, Dale finally spoke. His voice was scared. He had obviously bought our act. “Hey, I’ll do it. I’ll sign anything you want.” His voice had a pleading, scared shake to it.
Tim walked up to him. “You’ll tell us all the names of the kids you hurt, everything you did to them? Because if you leave something out, and one of us has heard about something you’ve skipped, we’ll know you’re lying. We hear that, I’m not going to be able to stop Steve.
“Yeah, anything you want. You got some paper? I’ll tell you.”
Adam got the paper he’d brought, along with a clipboard to write on, out of the dugout. He told Dale to go ahead. Dale started talking and Adam started writing. We were amazed. It was going just like we’d planned it. Listening to Dale was troublesome. He’d hurt a lot more kids than we could have imagined. It took him some time to recount them all. He finally got to Riley, but it was a good 20 minutes after he’d started. Riley had been his last victim.
“OK,” Tim said. “Anyone know of anything he missed. We looked at each other and none of us spoke. “All right, then. Dale, we’re going to loosen your right arm. You’re going to sign the paper. Then we’re going to tie your right arm back where it is now. You’re not going to try to get away when your arm is loose. The reason you’re not is that Steve is going to stand behind the screen with the scissors. You even reach for the knot on your other arm, you wiggle even a muscle, you’re getting stabbed with the scissors. You clear on that?” For emphasis, Tim slapped him. Hard.
Dale whimpered when he was hit, then quickly answered. “Yeah, no problem. Sure.”
Adam went behind the screen with Steve. He loosened and removed the rope tying Dale’s wrists together, then used it to tie his left wrist to the screen. Then he removed the rope at Dale’s right shoulder, completely freeing that arm. It fell to his side, and Dale began shaking it and clenching and unclenching his fist, trying to get circulation back in his hand. While he was doing that, Adam was looping other pieces of rope though the backstop wires and around each of Dale’s legs, then tying them tightly.
I brought the clipboard with the paper on it close to Dale and held it for him while Tim slipped a ballpoint pen into his fingers.
“At the bottom of the paper, underneath what Adam’s written, write ‘I am making this confession about these crimes freely and without any pressure to do so because I want to be free of the guilt I feel about them.’ Then sign your name,” Adam instructed him. He had to repeat the words several times. Dale wasn’t remembering well.
Dale had no fight left in him. He was scared and cold and hurting. He wrote what he’d been told and signed it. Then he put his arm back behind his back without even being told. Adam retied his wrists together, then tied both upper arms to the screen as they’d been before.
I spoke to Dale. “We’re going to make copies of these. We’ll all have one copy ready, should any of us get hurt. You’d better pray that never happens. Even if you weren’t involved in how it happened, any of us gets hurt, you suffer. That’ll stop you from sending someone else after us. And another thing. Don’t think you’d get away denying this, saying we forced you to sign it. You’re the only one who knows about all these things you’ve confessed to, so you’re the only one who could have done them and described them. You’re obviously guilty. Besides, we all heard you confess. Even without the papers, we can testify to what you said. It’s all over, Dale. Fuckhead.” And I slapped him again as hard as I could. He yelped.
We were done. Well, the plan wasn’t over, but we were done. I said to the others, “OK guys, let’s get out of here.”
We all started to walk away. We’d only gone a few steps when Dale let out a cry.
“Hey, you can’t leave me here. I can’t be here all night. Let me loose. C’mon. I signed your stupid paper. Let me go.” He was whimpering.
“Yeah, we’re going to take the chance you could get the paper you just signed. Not on your life,” I said.
“But you can’t leave me here all night. I’ll get pneumonia. I’m already freezing my ass off.”
“You know, Dale, that really gets to me, you being uncomfortable and all. But, I’m a guy with my heart in the right place. I’m going to cut you some slack. I’m not going to leave you here all night. I’m going to arrange getting you loose.” Having said that, I took out my cell phone and pressed a number on my speed dial.
I stepped a few paces off so I could speak privately. I finished the call and then came back.
I spoke to Dale. “OK, a group of high school girls is coming down here. I told them there’s a pretty pathetic sight at the backstop behind the school, and they’re typical giggly schoolgirls. They want to see it. They’ll be here in a few minutes. There’s a whole bunch of them, because I told them what they’d get to see. They’re all eager. They all want to see what I told them was the smallest dick in the school. That got them curious. So they’re all coming for a look. You don’t mind a bunch of girls coming out and looking at you, do you? No, I thought not. And if you plead with them, beg a little, maybe cry for them, perhaps they’ll be kind enough to cut you loose. I’m really sorry we can’t stay and watch this. You’re going to be standing here, naked and cold and crying, and a bunch of teenaged girls are going to be standing in front of you looking at you. Think about it. It’s going to be great and we’re going to miss it. But you won’t. You’ll remember it all your life. Happy thoughts, Dale.”