In this chapter we'll see Jordan making plans for Stephens's future that are rather different from the ones he was making a few weeks ago. And, of course, we'll see troubles continuing to swarm around the head of the beleaguered Rat.
Jordan had been easing back a bit on Larkin since the start of the summer term. He still insisted on the fourth-former wearing shorts and running errands for them during morning break, but – knowing that Larkin was still getting a hard time from his brother at home – he had cut back on the lunchtime sessions in the drama store room. He and Baker had double-ended Larkin a couple of times, but otherwise he had allowed the older boy to have his lunch breaks in peace.
On the morning of Monday May 2nd he went and found Baker and took him up to the store room as usual. The third-year boy was surprised to see no sign of Larkin.
“He’s not coming,” Jordan told him. “I wanted to talk to you in private, and this seems like a good place. Look, Baker… you enjoy doing this stuff, don’t you?”
“Sure. You know I do.”
“Well… see, what it is… I know this boy who likes boys, and he’s looking for a boyfriend, and I wondered if you might be interested.”
"What, you mean… go on dates, and stuff?”
“Well, probably. But he likes sex, too, so I suppose there’d be plenty of that.”
“Well… crumbs, Fielding, I’m not sure. I mean, I like the sex stuff, and it’s true that I like seeing boys with no clothes on, but I don’t know about… well, being someone’s boyfriend and going on dates and snogging, and stuff. I’ve never even thought about stuff like that.”
“No, nor had I until… well, most of what I’ve done so far has been like what we do to Larkin, making older boys do sex stuff for you. But now… see, there’s a boy in my form and we really like each other, and we do sex stuff together, but it’s sort of more than that: we just like hanging about together and stuff, even when we’re not doing sex. I mean, if we go out somewhere we don’t think of it as a date, and we haven’t kissed each other… well, not yet, but I sort of think I’d like to try… anyway, it’s different from us doing things with Larkin, and it’s better, somehow. And I thought maybe you’d like to try that sort of thing, too.”
“Well… I’m not sure. Who is this boy? I mean, is he really ugly, or what?”
“No, he’s quite good-looking, actually. I’ll point him out to you later, if you like. He’ll be in school tomorrow for an exam.”
“Huh? What, he’s doing exams? How old is he?”
“Fifteen. He’s in the fifth year.”
“No, I don’t think I like that idea,” said Baker. “Getting told what to do by an older boy, and having to do the stuff he wants to do? No, thanks.”
“It wouldn’t be like that at all. He’s not like that – in fact, it would probably be the other way round: he’d ask you what you wanted to do, and it would be you who made all the decisions. You wouldn’t have to do anything you didn’t want, and he’d let you do anything you wanted with him.”
“Well, it’s a bit of a long story, but he’s just like that: he’s never had a boyfriend, and he’s sort of timid. He looks younger than he really is… I’ll point him out to you tomorrow, and if you want to meet him, keep next Saturday morning free.”
“And you really think he’d let me put mine up his bum, or in his mouth, and he wouldn’t insist on doing it to me?”
“I’m sure. Of course, you do suck nicely, so maybe you could do it to him if you wanted, but he wouldn’t make you.”
“Well… okay, then: show me what he looks like tomorrow, and then I’ll make up my mind.”
After he had been forced to suck all the first-years until they got excited, David was dressed in his normal shirt, tie and blazer, with the long socks and the pocketless shorts, and no underpants, and sent to lunch.
“Come back here straight after school,” Osterley told him. “You’ll have to suck Bertie before you go home – we haven’t got time now – and then you’ll have to get changed into your girlie clothes. And we’ll expect you here at quarter to nine tomorrow morning, and then tomorrow at break you can start with form 2C. I know my friend Pope will be really keen to see you dressed like a girl.”
David went to lunch, and of course it wasn’t long before his shorts were noticed by the rest of his own form. The teasing of Larkin, who was of course also wearing shorts, had eased off almost completely since the Easter holidays, but the sight of the hated Rat in shorts drew a chorus of scorn and mockery. And they wouldn’t let him alone, either: they kept up a barrage of jokes and taunting right through lunch and, sotto voce, afternoon school.
At the end of school David headed, reluctantly, for the music block, but he was met on the way by Sherwood and another kid in first-year uniform whom he didn’t know. This boy had dark red hair and was a little overweight.
“This is Julian Stagg,” Sherwood told David. “He’s got a brother in your form.”
Now David recognised the kid: his brother Michael, who was a lot skinnier than his brother and whose hair was bright red, was indeed in David’s own form. He’d hardly ever spoken to him: after all, the boy lived on a council estate, and so they had nothing in common... and now David could guess which council estate he lived on.
“Orders from Tim,” Sherwood went on. “From now on you have to show every mark you get to Michael Stagg, and he’ll tell Julian, and Julian will tell me, and I’ll tell Tim. Every single time you get some work back from the teachers, or take a test, or an exam, you’re to show Julian’s brother the mark you get. If you don’t, we’ll decide that you scored zero for that piece of work. And Tim says if your marks aren’t high enough you’ll be punished. He didn’t say what the punishment would be, but we’re all going to come and watch, so I expect it’ll be funny. And this starts tomorrow. Don’t forget, now!” And he and Julian Stagg walked away.
David walked slowly on to the music block, feeling even more miserable. He knew his results at school were no better than average: he hadn’t felt he needed to work too hard as his mother had always assured him someone of his quality would always be able to find work, provided he did enough to get to university, and he had been confident he wouldn’t have to worry too much about that until the sixth form and A levels. And he hated to think what sort of punishments Devlin would inflict once he started hearing about the seven out of twenty scores he’d been notching up lately…
In the music block Osterley and Little Collins were waiting for him. He was made to strip naked once more, and his school uniform was folded up and put into the cupboard in the corner of the room. Then he was forced to his knees in front of the chair while Little Collins removed all of his clothes and came and sat in front of him.
“You don’t need to get completely undressed,” Osterley pointed out.
“I know, but I like doing sex stuff without anything on at all,” Little Collins told him. “It feels nicer, somehow. Okay, Rat, show me what you can do… except, before we start: how long is your willy when it sticks out?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then we’d better measure it, hadn’t we?”
“Okay, it’s one point eight inches,” said David, who had no wish to let anyone else touch him.
“Good, so you are smaller than me: mine’s two point four. Come on, then, show me why the first-year kids liked it so much.”
David leant forward and got on with it. Little Collins was slightly smaller than either Downing or Lithgow, who had both been in the region of three inches, and so there was no danger of this hitting the back of David’s throat. But the thought of doing this filthy thing still made him feel sick, and he had to try to close his mind to what he was actually doing and just try to do it automatically.
It took ages, but at last Little Collins started to writhe about on his chair, and eventually he grabbed David’s head and thrust up hard against it, squealing as he experienced a brilliant orgasm. Even though there was nothing in his mouth David still crawled to the waste bin and spat as soon as he was released.
Little Collins got dressed.
“Was that nice, Bertie?” asked Osterley.
“It was brilliant!”
“Good. Then maybe next time we can try something else: you stick yours in his mouth while I stick mine up his arse, then we can both enjoy it at the same time.”
“Yeah! That sounds like a great idea!”
“Then that’s what we’ll do. Okay, Rat, get your clothes on and get lost.”
David forced himself to put on the girls uniform, picked up his briefcase and put his head gingerly out of the door, but Osterley shoved him out into the yard and closed the door behind them.
“Just go,” he ordered. “If you’re lucky most of the kids who catch your usual bus will have gone by now. Of course, tomorrow morning it might be a bit different…”
He was right: there was nobody at the bus stop when David got there, and the other passengers didn’t spare him a second glance: obviously he was a convincing girl. He got off at his usual stop and made it home without meeting anyone he knew, but as soon as he opened the front door he found all three Devlin children waiting for him.
“Mark Sherwood called and told us to expect you,” Tim explained. “My, you do look sweet. The boys won’t be able to keep their hands off you. Okay, go and get on with your homework. You can keep those clothes on for now and get changed when it’s time for supper.”
So David trailed up the stairs to Joe’s room, thinking that tomorrow morning he’d be forced to travel, dressed as a girl, on the same bus as the Devlins and all their friends. He was starting to wish he had never been born…
The journey to school next day was every bit as bad as he had feared. When he first got up Molly had dressed him in his usual school uniform (minus his blazer which had been left in the music block the previous evening), but as soon as they were out of the house they hustled him into the bushes and forced him into the girls uniform, and Tim packed away his shirt and long trousers in his own school bag, so that David would be unable to get at it until he returned home.
The kids on the bus really tore into him, and the fact that there were some boys from KEV on the bus didn’t help his cause at all. When he got off the bus these kids marched him into the yard and kept him by the gate for ten minutes for everyone to look at, and when he finally broke free and fled to the music block he was mocked all the way.
The shorts and long socks were actually an improvement of sorts, though he was sure that as soon as Pope and his friends realised these were the same ones that Osterley had worn the previous term he could expect some serious attention from them. And of course before that he was going to have to go and visit their form room dressed as a girl.
Osterley escorted him there himself at the start of break, and then sat back to enjoy the show. As he had anticipated, first David was laughed at, and then thrown onto the teacher’s desk and molested, while he tried uselessly to fight them off. His skirt was removed, provoking shrieks of laughter (only Little Collins had seen David undressed until now).
“That’s why he’s dressed as a girl!” Pope commented. “It’s because he’s not a real boy at all. I bet those little bits are just a plastic disguise. Let’s see if we can pull them off.” And he tried, making David cry out in pain, while the rest of the form fell about laughing at him.
“Okay, so they’re pretty well stuck on,” conceded Pope. “But we can prove they’re not real: come on, BC, do what you did to Osterley. The Rat is supposed to be a fourth-year, so if these are real you’ll be able to make loads of that stuff come out.”
Little Collins grinned, took hold of David’s minuscule penis and tugged on it until it was stiff. Then he started to rub it properly. David cried blue murder, but the boys holding him down were more than up to the job and he was unable to break free.
Little Collins rubbed away at it while the second-formers crowded round, taunting him for his inability to produce anything, and when he couldn’t hold it back any longer and bucked helplessly in his orgasm the laughter just got louder.
“Told you they weren’t real,” said Pope. “That proves she’s a girl. And there’s only one way to deal with a girl who pretends to be a boy. Turn her over, you lot!”
David was flipped onto his stomach and pulled into a position where he was bent over the edge of the desk. Pope undid his trousers, lined up, looked irritated for a moment but then gratefully accepted the small jar of Vaseline that Osterley helpfully handed to him.
“I was going to do that myself a bit later,” Osterley told him, “but be my guest.”
David struggled and shouted, loudly enough for some of the boys in 2B’s room next door to hear and come to investigate, and quickly they sent word back and the room rapidly filled with boys from the other second forms. Meanwhile Pope anointed himself, lined up once more and pushed.
David yelled in pain as he was penetrated, but there was nothing he could do, and steadily Pope started to fuck him.
Osterley looked at the audience, noting some very different reactions. Most of the boys looked excited and were craning their necks to see more closely, many with their hands in their pockets rearranging something that would otherwise have been uncomfortable. A few weren’t watching at all and had their heads down over their desks, and a couple actually walked out. And the remainder looked worried, rather than excited, wondering if this was really the right thing to do, or if they were going to get into trouble just for being present, and one or two seemed on the verge of actually voicing a protest. But the majority seemed to be enjoying the show, and in the end the few dissenters decided to keep their views to themselves. After all, it was only the Rat, and heaven knew he deserved to be put in his place…
Pope finished off with a couple of big thrusts and a gasp, took a moment to recover, and then withdrew and wiped himself down with a tissue that Osterley had also thoughtfully brought with him.
“Who’s next?” said Pope, and there was a scrum around the desk. He selected the boy nearest the front, and David’s torment continued.
By the time Osterley called a halt – the bell was due to go in five minutes, and he had to get David changed again before that – the Rat had been fucked four times, and seemed incapable of movement, just lying slumped across the desk crying. Osterley and Pope pulled him to his feet and put his skirt back on, and then Osterley half supported and half carried him back to the music block.
“Get changed,” he said, but David just curled up on the floor, sobbing.
Osterley felt contempt: he’d taken a lot worse than this himself, of course: at least the Rat hadn’t been whipped as well as fucked.
“The bell’s going to go in about one minute,” Osterley pointed out. “If you don’t get changed you’re going to be late for your next lesson. Or you can go dressed like that, for all I care. But you’d better go, because if not we’ll have to report you to Blackman, and then you’ll get expelled.”
“I don’t care,” sobbed David.
“You will when you’ve had a few minutes to recover. Believe me, I know. Look, as this is your first day I’ll let you down easy: the list I drew up for you says you have to go to 2A at lunch time, but I’ll postpone that till tomorrow. Just come here at lunch time instead. But if you don’t start getting changed now I’ll change my mind again.”
David dragged himself to his feet and managed to get the blouse undone, shrugging it off. Slowly he put his own shirt back on, fumbling the buttons, and then his tie, and then Osterley handed him his shorts… and the bell rang.
“Hurry up,” said Osterley, and David managed to get the zip done up. He sat down and pulled the socks on, rammed his feet into his shoes, grabbed his blazer and allowed Osterley to shove him out of the door, his laces trailing. He beat the teacher to the next lesson by about five seconds.
By lunch time he had recovered a bit, but the thought of going through this every day for the next four weeks was absolutely unbearable, and as soon as he reached the music block he started to plead with Osterley to let him off.
“Let you off? Did you let me off at all? No, you just kept making things worse and worse for me, until you had me whipped and raped in public by half the junior school. Why shouldn’t I make sure you get at least that, and preferably get you done over by the other half as well?”
“Because I’m sorry,” whispered David.
“You wouldn’t be if you weren’t in this mess now. Remember what you were like at the end of last term? ‘I’m going to make next term hell on earth for you, you ignorant peasant!’ That’s what you told me before you found out Garrett wouldn’t be here to back you up, isn’t it?”
David couldn’t think of anything to say: as far as he could remember that was exactly what he had said.
“Okay,” he admitted, finally, “It’s true, I did say that. And if Garrett had still been here this term, I’d have done it, too. But... I had no idea what it felt like to you.”
“Don’t lie! You saw me, naked and crying after Pope’s mob had finished with me, and you couldn’t have cared less. I felt so bad I wanted to kill myself after that second time, and if Bertie hadn’t been there I probably would have done.”
Little Collins, who was the only other person in the room, smiled at him. “I’m really glad you didn’t,” he said.
“Me too, now. But at the time… So frankly, Rat, I can’t think of any reason why I should let you off. And if you end up feeling like I did, I don’t think anyone in this school would lift a finger to stop you throwing yourself under a bus. In fact, most of them would probably volunteer to push you.”
David thought Fielding might try to stop him, but he couldn’t think of anyone else who might. He hung his head again.
“But,” Osterley went on,” I’m feeling generous, and of course I do know how bad you felt at the end of break, because I’ve been there, too. So if you beg me to, I’ll let you stay here this lunch time instead of going to visit 2A, and I might relax your timetable a bit so that you only have one break a day with the juniors instead of both of them. But you’re going to have to beg really, really convincingly.”
David hated the thought of having to abase himself in front of Osterley, but he knew there was really no other choice: if he had to face being molested and raped every single break for the next four weeks, he was sure it would drive him insane. So, trying to hide the hatred he felt, he dropped to his knees.
“Please, Osterley,” he begged, “don’t make me go to the juniors’ form-rooms every break. I’m really sorry about what happened to you last term…”
“No, you’re not, you bloody liar,” interrupted Little Collins. “I was watching you, leaning on the wall and smirking while the boys were torturing him.”
“Well… okay, that’s true. But I really didn’t know what it felt like until today. If I had known, I wouldn’t have done it…”
“Yes, you would,” interrupted Little Collins again, glaring at him. “In fact, you’d probably have thought it wasn’t bad enough. I can tell from the look in your eyes.”
“I wouldn’t!” cried David, desperately. “Don’t listen to him, Osterley!”
“I’d far sooner listen to him than to you,” said Osterley. “But I tell you what: kiss my arse and I’ll believe you.”
“No! God, Osterley, you can’t make me do that – it’s vile!”
“I’m not making you do anything. It’s entirely your choice: if you’re happy to go on visiting the juniors every break, you don’t have to go near my arse. But if you’d prefer to come here at lunch times instead… well, you know what to do.” And Osterley undid his belt, pulled his trousers and pants down, turned round and bent over.
Again, there was really no choice, though David felt sure he’d puke if he did this. But that would still be far better than what had happened to him at break, so he shuffled forwards on his knees and planted a quick kiss on Osterley’s left buttock.
“Not like that!” said Little Collins. “Right on his hole. Go on, Ian, spread your legs for him.”
Osterley grinned and removed his trousers and pants completely, and then spread his legs as far as he could and bent over again.
“Oh, God, no,” begged David in horror, staring at Osterley’s anus.
“Get on with it,” said Osterley. “You’ve got five seconds: five, four, three…”
Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, David ducked his head and planted the swiftest of possible pecks on Osterley’s anus.
“Not good enough,” declared Little Collins. “You have to do it properly: keep your head still for at least five seconds.”
This took huge reserves of will-power, but somehow David forced himself to hold his lips against Osterley’s entrance for five seconds.
“Better,” conceded Little Collins, “but still not enough. You have to lick it.”
“Fuck off!” declared David, moving back. “I’ve kissed it like you told me to. That’s enough.”
“Okay,” said Osterley, surprising Little Collins, who had been about to argue the point. “Then we’ll try something else. Get your clothes off and then bend over the table, like you did when we whipped you yesterday.”
David looked around, put he could see no signs of a cane, so he cautiously obeyed.
“Good. Now you can suck Bertie’s cock while I fuck you.”
“No, I can’t! Shit, Osterley, I’m not going…”
“SHUT UP!” shouted Osterley. “I’m sick of hearing about what you’re not going to do. Get this into your head, Rat: you’re going to do exactly what I tell you, okay? If you don’t, you’ll be expelled – and from what Sherwood was telling me yesterday, he could fix it so that you still had to do whatever we tell you even after you’ve been kicked out of school. Next time you argue with me or Bertie you’ll get caned and then dragged round the junior forms stark naked! For God’s sake, we’re giving you a chance here, can’t you see that? There’s only two of us here, not about forty, like there were at break! So just do as you’re damned well told, or you’ll spend every minute of your free time being gang-fucked by Pope and his mates. Now open your legs for me.”
Trembling with suppressed but helpless rage, David forced himself to obey, and Osterley carefully pushed his penis inside him. Once it was fully inside he ordered David to start sucking Little Collins, and the younger boy gleefully stripped naked and presented his little penis for David to suck. And for the next ten minutes he was forced to pleasure them both at once.
Osterley came first, and his thrusts as he climaxed hurt David enough that he had to open his mouth and cry out, but as soon as Osterley had finished he ordered David to get back to work, and he was forced to keep sucking until Little Collins had also experienced an exquisite orgasm.
“Is that it? Can I get dressed now?” asked David as Little Collins stepped away.
“Yes, I suppose…” said Osterley, but Little Collins interrupted him.
“Not until you’ve licked Ian’s arse,” he said, firmly. “I want to see that you’re ready to be properly obedient from now on.”
David bit back a protest and looked to Osterley, hoping for an over-rule, but all he got was a grin and a shrug. And then Osterley turned and bent down again, and David somehow forced himself to lick the length of Osterley’s crack. His stomach lurched as he did it and he almost puked, grabbing the waste bin and struggling to control his stomach, and in the end he won the battle, just.
“That’s better,” said Little Collins. “And now you can get dressed.”
David thought he’d never hated anyone – not even the bloody Devlins – as much as he hated Little Collins at that moment. He threw on his clothes and ran off.
“That’s the one,” said Jordan, pointing Stephens out to Baker.
“What, the one with black hair?”
“Well… he is quite nice-looking, isn’t he? And you’re right, he looks younger than fifth-year age. And you’re sure about him not wanting to boss me about?”
“Certain. Look, let’s go and say hello now, then you can see what you think close up.”
He led Baker across to where Stephens was standing.
“This is Nigel Stephens,” he said. “Nigel, this is… “
“John,” supplied Baker. “I’m John Baker.”
“Oh. Crumbs, Jordan, I didn’t know you were going to… well, okay. Hello, John. So…. What has Jordan told you?”
“That you might be looking for a friend,” said Baker.
“Right. Well, yes, I suppose that’s right,” said Stephens, who seemed completely flustered. “I’m sorry… I didn’t even know if Jordan was serious when he said he thought there might be someone… anyway… so…”
“So I think I’d like that,” said Baker, who had already seen enough to know that Jordan’s description of ‘timid’ was spot-on. “If you think I’m not too ugly, of course…”
“God, no! I think you’re really… you know, good-looking,” said Stephens, lowering his voice and looking around nervously in case anyone was listening. Nobody was.
“Good, because I reckon you look pretty good, too. So, Jordan says there’s a place where you meet at the weekends sometimes. Could I come along this Saturday?”
“Wow! I mean, yes, of course... thanks! That’d be really good!”
“Great! I’ll see you there, then.” And Baker walked off.
“Crumbs, Jordan, you might have warned me,” said Stephens, once he had gone.
“Why? I wanted him to see you like you really are, not when you’re trying to act special. Anyway, what do you think? Will he do?”
“Flipping heck, yes! He’s really nice-looking – and those eyes are amazing! And… you really think he’ll want to do… you know, sex stuff, with me?”
“I’m sure he will.”
“Great! Thanks, Jordan…”
“Don’t forget I’m going to be allowed to watch sometimes,” Jordan reminded him. “So, how did the exam go?”
“Better than I expected, actually. If the second paper isn’t any harder, I reckon I’ll pass…”
After school David returned to the music block and put the female uniform on again, but as soon as he stepped outside he was ambushed by Sherwood and Julian Stagg.
“Bad news, Rat,” Sherwood told him. “Tim’s decided that Tuesday evening is going to be your night for tidying up their proper house. He said you have to come back with me now.”
“But… oh, Christ, Sherwood, you can’t make me come to your filthy estate dressed like this!”
“Want to bet?” And Sherwood grabbed one arm, and Stagg grabbed the other, and they marched him out of school. He struggled a bit, but Stagg’s older brother was waiting for them outside the school gate, and when he’d finished laughing he grabbed David’s arm and dug his thumb into the elbow, which was exquisitely painful.
“Now, you’re just going to walk along with us quietly,” Michael Stagg told him, “because if you don’t, I’ll see to it that you come to lessons tomorrow dressed exactly how you are now.”
“The teachers won’t allow it.”
“I think they will: you’re not very popular at King Edward, Villiers-Gore, and if we tell the teachers what you’re really like you’ll be even less popular than you are now. And if they see you dressed like that, I’m sure the reason for it would come out, too. I mean, most of us wouldn’t care if you got expelled, but Tim here tells me that you’ve got some sort of agreement with Blackman: if you take your punishment like a man, you don’t get expelled. So, come along with us and don’t make a fuss, or maybe Tim will decide you’ve broken that agreement.”
The thought of being forced to actually go to lessons dressed like this was even worse than the idea of walking through the peasants’ council estate in these clothes: at least most of the people who saw him in the estate wouldn’t know who he was, and would probably just take him for a girl. If his own classmates saw him like this they would crucify him. So he stopped struggling and walked alongside Michael Stagg while Sherwood and Julian Stagg walked ahead of them.
“People are going to think you’ve got a bird at last,” said Julian over his shoulder to his brother.
“Get lost! I’ve got better taste than that! Although… I don’t know, maybe with a little light make-up, and if you grew your hair a little, you’d make quite a decent girl, Villiers-Gore.”
“If I was a girl I certainly wouldn’t want to go out with a freckly ginger git like you,” responded David. “And you’re too skinny. I’d want to go out with a boy with some muscle.”
“Hey, you’re got even less muscle than me,” pointed out Michael, who wasn’t really one of the sportier boys in the class: he’d turned fifteen just before Easter, but he was still a bit undersized and weedy. He was still four or five inches taller than David, however. “You know damned well I could murder you in a fight.”
“And what would that prove? I know I’m no good at fighting. I prefer to use my brain.”
“And look where it’s got you, Daisy,” said Michael. “Plus, judging from the marks you got on last Friday’s maths homework, I’d say your brain’s no better than your muscles.”
It was hard to argue with that: five out of twenty isn’t exactly Mensa standard. David just kept quiet and stared at the pavement in front of him. But calling him ‘Daisy’ was enough to get Michael Stagg’s name added to David’s mental list of people who would need sorting out once he emerged from his present mess. It was already a very long list…
They reached the Devlins’ house, where Tim and Joe were waiting for them.
“Molly’s gone to visit Bella - she only lives round the corner,” Joe told him, “so that leaves me in charge of your clothes. And I seem to remember that we made a rule for you about clothes last Friday. Can you remember what it was?”
“Yes, but… well… can’t we wait a couple of minutes?” asked David, looking unhappily at Michael – so far nobody in his own form had seen him naked, and he really wanted to keep it that way.
“Certainly not,” replied Joe. “A rule’s a rule. Now get undressed, or we’ll all duff you up on Friday.”
Reluctantly David removed the female uniform, trying to keep his back to Michael, though he was fairly sure he wouldn’t be able to get away with that for very long.
“Hey, Tim,” said Sherwood, “you’ll never believe what Osterley showed us yesterday! Come on, Rat, give them a demonstration.”
“No! Hey, come on, Sherwood, you had your fun with me last week. Can’t you just leave me alone now?”
“God, no, this feels far too good. I bet you’d want to share something as good as this with your friends, if you actually had any. Now go and kneel in front of that armchair.”
Feeling sick, David dropped to his knees in front of the chair, while Sherwood removed his shorts and pants and came and sat in front of him.
“Please?” he begged.
“Get on with it,” said Sherwood, enjoying himself. “After all, I need the odd nice feeling now and again to make up for the fact that I live in a sewer.”
There were David’s own words coming back to bite him yet again, and he realised that there was no way out of this. He lowered his head over Sherwood’s groin and took the quivering erection into his mouth, to a chorus of disgusted exclamations from his audience.
“Look, I fucking hate this!” he cried, rounding on them. “So you can stop all those comments: I’m doing this because I have to, that’s all.”
“Get on with it, then,” said Sherwood, grabbing his head and pulling him back into position.
The others watched in fascination while David sucked Sherwood off, enjoying the look on David’s face when Sherwood finally let him stop after his climax.
“I’m telling you, that’s the most incredible feeling ever,” said Sherwood, standing up and pulling his pants back on. “You won’t believe how good it feels!”
“I’ve got to try that!” said Joe, throwing his clothes off. “Come on, Gerbil, do it to me – and it had better be good, or you’ll get whipped. I’ll get Roger to do it – he’s pretty strong.”
Helplessly David complied, bringing Joe to an incredible orgasm.
“Bloody hell, that’s almost as good as fucking him,” said Joe, pushing David away.
”What, you’ve actually fucked him?” asked Michael Stagg, in disbelief.
“You bet. It’s magic. Why, do you want a go?”
“Well… not right now,” said Michael, who thought he might try it in private, but not while all these people were here, especially if they’d all done it before. He was sure that with his complete lack of experience he’d mess it up somehow. Besides, he wasn’t sure about getting shit on his knob, which he thought would be pretty disgusting.
“Okay, then make him suck it instead,” insisted Joe. “That’s pretty amazing, too.”
“Well… okay, then.” After all, Michael thought, the little bastard’s been looking down his nose at me all year. So he removed his trousers and pants.
“Wow,” said Joe. “Your hair’s the same colour! I didn’t know you could have red hair round your cock – I thought it would be darker.”
“Well, it isn’t,” said Michael, who was fed up with comments about his hair – after all, he thought, I didn’t choose to have bright red hair… and at least (he added mentally, glancing down at David’s pathetic little genitals) I’ve got some hair...
David looked at the other boy’s genitals with distaste: somehow the thin ginger pubes made it look even worse. It wasn’t all that big, probably no more than than five inches, and it was still pale, and the balls weren’t particularly big, either. But he was certain there’d be spunk, and probably a lot more than Osterley had managed.
“Come on, Stagg, please don’t make me do this,” he begged, and Stagg actually hesitated. But before he could speak Joe butted in.
“Suck it, Gerbil,” he ordered. “Now – unless you want us to start whipping you while you do it. The riding crop’s just upstairs…”
With a stifled sob David forced himself to take the horrible thing into his mouth, licking at it as he sucked and squeezing hard – he just wanted this to be over and done with.
“Wow!” was Michael’s reaction. “That feels… really weird. It’s nice, though.”
“It gets nicer,” Joe told him, and it did: it wasn’t long before Michael was frantically trying to hold back his orgasm, and then he couldn’t hold it back any longer. And it was as bad as David had feared: three or four jets of spunk shot into his mouth. He tried to control his rising gorge for as long as he could, but it got too much. He rolled away and vomited onto the floor, fortunately missing the rug and hitting the wooden floor instead.
“Oh, now you’re in trouble,” said Tim. “Get into the kitchen and find something to clean that up with.”
David staggered off towards the kitchen, while Michael got his breath back and found his underwear.
“What was that like?” his brother asked.
“That was bloody unbelievable,” Michael told him. “Bloody hell, Jules, you’ve got to try that.”
“I don’t know if he’ll be able to do that to anyone else,” said Tim. “Or not right away, anyway. I mean, I don’t want him puking all over my balls.”
“Me neither,” said Julian Stagg. “Maybe I should wait until next time. Or… hey, Mikey, are you still going to that party in Gloucester on Saturday?”
“And you haven’t got anyone to go with yet, have you?”
“Well, no, you know I haven’t. It doesn’t matter, I can always go on my own.”
“Yes, but didn’t you say your mate’s always going on about the fact that you can’t get a girlfriend?”
“Yes, he does, but it’s only because I haven’t tried. You know that, Jules – so what are you going on about?”
“Well… why don’t you take Villiers-Gore as your girlfriend? If we can find someone who’s got a sister your age, so we can borrow some clothes, I reckon nobody would ever guess he isn’t really a girl, especially if we can teach him to put a bit of make-up on and change his hairstyle a bit.”
“Sod off, Jules! I’m not taking a boy dressed as a girl to a party – they’d all die laughing when they found out.”
“No, hang on, I reckon that’s a great idea!” said Tim, enthusiastically. “I’ve seen him with make-up on, and I swear you’d never know he’s really a boy. Nobody would find out: you’d score some points over this mate of yours, and Gerbil would have to act like a girl for hours. He’ll hate it! It’s a brilliant plan!”
“Then we’ll make him do it. Make him come round to our place to meet you, and then he can do that thing for me before you go,” said Julian.
David came back and somehow managed to clean up the mess on the floor without throwing up again, but only by holding his breath. He wondered why everyone was giggling, but assumed they were just laughing at him on principle. But when he came back after disposing of the evidence he found out just how wrong he was.
“No!” was his immediate reaction. “I’m not fucking doing it, and that’s final! I don’t care how much you beat me, I’m not going out in public dressed like a girl!”
“You already do that,” Tim pointed out.
“Yes, but that’s only for a few minutes, and most people just ignore me. It’d be totally different at a party: there’d be loads of people staring at me, and someone would be sure to see through me inside five minutes – and then… no, Devlin, I’m not doing it, and that’s the end of it!”
“I don’t think it is,” said Tim. “Either you do this, or we’ll lock you in the attic throughout the weekend. You’ll get nothing to eat or drink, and we’d cut the light off, too.”
“And I could make sure Osterley has you whipped naked in the middle of the yard,” added Sherwood. “Every day.”
“But… shit, you can’t! I mean, you have to play fair… I’m doing all the bad stuff, but you just can’t make me pretend to be a girl in front of loads of people I don’t know.”
“Actually, that’s why it would work,” said Michael. “This friend whose party I’m going to used to go to my primary school, but his family moved to Gloucester three years ago, so I don’t really know any of his new friends very well. There won’t be anyone else from KEV there, so there’s no danger of anyone recognising you.”
“That’s settled, then,” said Tim. “How are you getting there, Michael?”
“On the bus, I think.”
“Okay, we’ll bring him over here on Saturday afternoon, and you can come and collect him from here. Molly’s friend Rosie has a sister about the right age, so with a bit of luck we might be able to find some suitable clothes. And maybe she can come and help with the make-up, too….”
“Shut up, Gerbil, it’s happening. And now you’d better get on with cleaning the kitchen, hadn’t you? We haven’t got all night.”
David was stripped and beaten in 2A’s room on the Wednesday, but at least nobody raped him. On the Thursday 1A made him clean their blackboard and sweep their floor, but nothing more. He’d been terrified that Downing and Lithgow would make him suck in front of the whole form, but they didn’t, though both they and the rest of Osterley’s little band made him do it for them in the privacy of the music practice room on the Wednesday, and on the Thursday Osterley fucked him while he was forced to suck Little Collins again, though this time it was worse because of the four first-year boys jeering at him throughout.
The other plus point was that nobody in his own form had yet found out about the lack of pockets in his shorts, so although they mocked him tirelessly, at least nobody actually molested him.
On the Friday at break he was sent to clean 1B’s room, but again Sherwood and McMillan just took a back seat and let their form-mates tease, taunt and generally take the piss out of him. And at lunch Osterley fucked him again, though this time while he was sucking McMillan. He hated every second, but he was conscious that it could be a whole lot worse. And then Friday evening came round, and he had to go to cubs, and after that things were a whole lot worse.
The entire six went back to the Devlins’ house, as they had the previous week, and it was obvious that Joe had told all the others about being sucked off, because everyone wanted to try it – at least, they all wanted to try being sucked until Joe told them about fucking, and then they all wanted to try that, too.
“We’ll draw up a list,” said Joe. “Those who fuck him this week get sucked next week, okay? Now, I’ll take Mike and George, and Roger and Flip can go with Benny, and Benny and I will toss for it. Winner’s team get to fuck him this week, loser’s team next week. So, who’s got a coin?”
Benedict produced a ten pence piece and flicked it into the air, and Joe called ‘Tails!’ as it spun. Benedict caught the coin and displayed it on the back of his hand, and indeed it was tails.
“Unlucky, Benny,” said Joe. “Mind you, getting sucked is pretty brilliant, too. Now, let’s work out what order we’re going in…”
David, who had been standing off to one side, naked, with his hands on his head (that had been Roger’s idea, to make sure he couldn’t try to hide his genitals with his hands), listened to this and felt sick: he was going to be forced to do it with all six of them. At least it seemed unlikely that there’d be anything to come out in his mouth, but the idea of being sexually abused by a bunch of little kids aged eight to ten made him feel almost suicidal. But, as usual, there was nothing he could do about it.
There was a leather footstool in front of the sofa, and the boys put this in front of one of the armchairs so that he could lie across it to be fucked while sucking on whoever was in the chair. Joe had worked out that they should do this in order of size, although since he, George and Mike were all about the same size they had to get a tape measure out to see who was going to go first. Mike turned out to be just over a quarter of an inch shorter than Joe and George, who were about the same length, though Joe claimed top spot on the grounds that his balls were a bit bigger than George’s.
“But I’m younger, so when I’m your age, I’ll be bigger,” protested George.
“But you’re not now. Anyhow, this means you get your go before me.”
“Oh. Okay, then.”
David tried to close the whole situation out of his mind, but he couldn’t: Joe forced him to look at Mike’s penis as the Vaseline was applied to it, knowing how it would make him feel, which was both inadequate by comparison to this nine-year-old, and scared of what it was going to feel like: Mike’s cock was so hard it was almost vertical, and although it was only three and a half inches long, it looked fat enough to hurt. He spread himself, tried to force himself to relax and braced himself as he felt the tip of the younger boy’s foreskin touch his anus.
Mike shoved, and in it went, and David cried out because it did hurt: Mike just rammed it in without attempting to stop on the way.
“Shut up, you baby,” said Roger, scornfully. “Go on, Flip, give the baby a dummy to suck on.”
Philip sat on the chair, presenting his erection. David hadn’t seen one quite like this, because it curved to the left, but he still managed to get it into his mouth, and then the two boys worked on him together, Mike rocking back and forwards and Flip pulling his head against him.
“Remind me to bring the videocam next week,” said Roger.
“Wow, have you really got one?” asked Joe. “That would be brilliant!”
“It’s my dad’s, but I’m sure I can borrow it. This would look really, really funny on tape, wouldn’t it?”
“Bloody hell, yes! Don’t forget it next week, Rog – and… can you bring it to camp at half term?”
“Don’t know about that,” said Roger. “Dad might not want to risk it… but I can ask him, anyway.”
“Brilliant!” said Joe, again, and David felt, if possible, even sicker: the thought that this disgusting stuff might be filmed for boys to watch and laugh about over and over again made him feel, not for the first time, like jumping off a cliff.
Eventually Mike and Flip finished, and George took over from Mike while Roger took Flip’s place. Roger’s was quite small, thin, pale, and his foreskin slid down automatically as it stiffened up, making him look strange. David thought his might actually be smaller than Flip’s, but he decided that mentioning this would probably get him beaten up.
George, on the other hand, was definitely bigger than Mike; and proud of himself, flaunting it in front of David’s face as Joe put the Vaseline on him. He got it in first time, but then he was far too enthusiastic, trying to ram it in hard with every stroke, with the result that it came right out almost every time. Eventually Joe persuaded him to calm it a little, and then he got into a rhythm that was merely uncomfortable to David, who was in any case being seriously distracted by the way Roger was wrenching at his hair to pull him against him. By the time the big boy finally reached orgasm David was convinced his hair was coming out in clumps.
“Whoopee, this is fun!” was George’s verdict as he bounced against David’s bum. “And I think I’m going to pee up his arse!”
“You’re not, but try to hold it back anyway,” advised Joe, and the small boy did that, squealing and yelping as he finally had his first orgasm.
“Oh, blimey… wow!” he said, withdrawing. “That sort of tickled… it’s really nice, though, isn’t it?”
“It certainly is,” said Joe. “My turn… Benny, wait a minute until I’m in, then you can show him.”
Joe had done this before, of course, and so he was able to get it in fairly easily, and he took it more gently than the others, too, for which David was grateful.
“Okay, Benny – take everything off, slowly: give him one of your special stripteases,” said Joe, holding almost still.
The sixer gave a huge, toothy smile and slowly began to get undressed, waving each piece of clothing about in a parody of a striptease as he did it. David found it sick, but somehow fascinating, and when the boy’s shorts came off the bulge in his pants told its own story. Benedict came and stood right in front of him, pretending to take his pants off two or three times, but always stopping before more than the area at the base of his penis was visible. And then he turned round, slipped the pants right off with his back to David, and turned to face him once more.
David gave an audible gasp: this was as big as any he had seen at school, except for Garrett’s. It was at least as large as those belonging to the fourth-year boys Larkin and Pattison, though this one had absolutely no hair. It was big and hard, sticking up at an angle of about sixty degrees, and the foreskin was slightly open at the tip, so that he could see part of the boy’s pee-slit. The balls were quite big, too.
“Of course, next week Benny gets to fuck you,” commented Joe. “I bet you’re looking forward to that. Go on, then Gerbil, give him a nice suck.”
He certainly wasn’t looking forward to that: being fucked by Tim and Osterley had been painful enough, and this monstrosity was well over an inch longer than Osterley’s, and thicker, too. Taking a deep breath his slipped the end into his mouth.
“That tickles!” giggled the sixer.
“Do it properly for him, or else,” said Joe, giving an extra hard thrust for emphasis.
David got on with it. At least Benedict made no attempt to drive it deep into his throat, like Tim had done: he seemed content to just sit on the edge of the armchair with his legs wide apart and let David do all the work. This meant that David didn’t have to take the whole thing into his mouth, and by taking hold of the massive organ near the base he was able to make sure it didn’t go too far in.
Benedict sat and giggled at him for a while, and then seemed to get more serious.
“Now it feels a bit different,” he reported. “Is it meant to feel like that?”
“Probably,” said Joe. “Gerbil, stop sucking and just lick it for a minute: I’m nearly there, and once I’ve finished I can make sure you do it properly for Benny.”
He thrust a few more times and then cried out, gripping David’s hips and pulling them hard against him, and a few seconds later he withdrew, wiped himself with a couple of tissues, and pulled his pants back on.
“Now you can finish Benny off,” said Joe, doing up his shorts. “And he’d better enjoy it if you don’t want to be whipped bloody.”
David started sliding the huge penis into and out of his mouth again, licking at it and squeezing it with his hand as well as his lips, trying to make this finish. But the ten-year-old seemed able to hold out against his best efforts, though he was wriggling about and gasping by now.
Finally, having almost resigned himself to this going on all night, David forced the naked boy over the edge, and Benedict cried out, bucking up underneath him again and again. At last it was over and he stopped moving, and David slowly slipped it out of his mouth.
It looked huge: the foreskin was completely retracted now, and the head was glistening with saliva (and David was pretty sure that saliva was all there was – at least he hadn’t tasted anything else). Benedict stared at himself.
“Wow, it really looks big like that, doesn’t it?” he said, before trying to get his foreskin back up. It didn’t want to go, but eventually he forced it back into its usual state.
“So, what did that feel like?” Joe asked him.
“Well… gosh… I don’t think I can describe it, really. It was like wanting to pee, but different…”
“And was it nice?”
“Oh, wow, yes! Thank you, Gerbil: that felt really funny, but it was really good, too. I really liked it.”
“You don’t have to say thank you to him,” said Roger. “He’s our slave: he has to do whatever we tell him.''
“I know,” said Benny, looking round for his pants. “But I still think I should say thank you, because it was the best feeling I’ve ever had… he did it really well, whatever it was. Except now I want to go for a pee. Back in a minute.”
“Me, too,” said Joe, and followed him out of the room.
David got up, put the footstool back where it belonged, and went and stood in the corner with his hands on his head, as Roger had ordered him to do earlier. It looked as if he might get away without being beaten tonight, and he didn’t want to mess up now.
Benny came back, still naked, and started collecting his clothes from the corners of the room, where they had ended up during his striptease. He got dressed, and then said he had to go, and the others checked their watches and found that he was right: this was a bit longer than they usually stayed after cubs. By the time Joe came back from the toilet David was alone in the room.
“Okay, Gerbil, you can get dressed,” Joe told him. “I suppose you did pretty well tonight. Of course, next week we’ll all get to watch Benny give you one, and that’s going to be really funny…”
David didn’t think so, but right then next Friday seemed a long way off: first he’d have to survive another week of being buggered by Osterley and forced to suck the first-formers – and five more breaks in the junior form-rooms (and it would be Pope’s form’s turn again before the end of the week, too) – and before any of that he had to try to masquerade as a girl at Stagg’s bloody party. He didn’t believe in God, but right then he was praying for the world to end before another sun rose…
Alas, the prayers of the wicked are seldom answered, and I fear another dawn will bring more unpleasant vistas – like whether the Rat really will be able to pass for a girl through an entire party, and, before another week has passed, whether he'll be able to accommodate Benedict without splitting in two. And, of course, we'll also have to find out whether Jordan's plans for Stephens and Baker work out or not...
Is anyone out there feeling sorry for the Rat yet? Reckon he's learned his lesson? Or do you think he's nowhere near that stage yet? Write to email@example.com and tell me!
Copyright 2009: all rights reserved. Please do not reprint, repost or otherwise reproduce this or any part of it anywhere without my written permission.