Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

A frat house just off NJCU campus, October 4th, 2002

The party was winding down, music quieter as the din of talking and laughing dissipated. There was a movie on the TV, more for distraction than anyone’s desire to watch it. Kallum squinted at the screen, overbright in the dark room. It’s some French thing, he thought, looked interesting if the colors didn’t make his head spin. Probably one of Jack’s bullshit film assignments. Who even thought having a film degree meant anything against Hollywood nepotism? He blinked through the haze of smoke to see Jack himself slumped back on one of the peeling faux leather couches, staring at the TV, mouth slack. Probably not even watching. Jack had about as much skill in film analysis as the average cockroach. Kallum swayed over to Jack’s couch and flopped down in the empty cushion beside him. “Good party.”

Jack grunted in response. He wasn’t very fit, but made to look thinner by his height, and attractive if one didn’t look too hard. Kallum didn’t really care about that sort of thing, but he was pretty sure Jack—and just about every dude there—was straight as they came. Jack held out his hand rolled joint. He shot Kallum a bleary side eye.

Kallum shook his head. He was coming off the dozen drinks from earlier in the night and didn’t like mixing weed. “Thanks though. Got a headache.”

Jack dug around in his pocket and produced a small bottle, white, like the travel Ibuprofen. He popped the top and dumped two pills into his palm and held them out.

Kallum frowned at them, squinting. He hadn’t brought his glasses, preferring the way he looked without and too broke to afford contact lenses. The pills looked normal enough, white and round like Aspirin. He tossed them to the back of his throat and grabbed Jack’s half-drunk beer from the floor beside their feet, taking a long swing. Tepid. Gross.

But after a moment the sounds of the dwindling party grew softer and he felt comfy and fuzzy and his headache was gone, the throbbing moving down to between his legs. He shifted, trying to hide when he pressed the heel of his hand to the needy spot.

“You all right?” Jack’s eyes were suddenly very bright, the TV reflecting off their glassy surface and he leaned in. Attentive.

Kallum blushed. He didn’t want the party frat to find out he wasn’t a party guy. Or suddenly horny. Or really anything about him. At all. “Just overheated, I think. Lot of people.”

“Just stay here the night,” Jack muttered. “You can just walk across the street to work.”

Kallum shook his head. He didn’t have a clean uniform. Just the same one from that night and it had enough tomato soup stains to desperately need a wash.

Jack cast a glazed glance around the room. It was down to maybe a dozen. Half of them were his frat bros, smoking Camels out on the fire escape they called a balcony. The others some of the guys Jack picked up over the years—Tucker, an ex-marine, stupid as they came and dishonorably discharged, Kallum remembered hearing whispered. Though no one ever said why. And Hiram, the hulking line cook from the restaurant down the street, also out smoking. He was taking classes too, working toward his business degree. And Nic, the connected rich kid from the city who was really only there to sell his father’s high-end drugs to the frat boys.

It wasn’t a lot of people.

Jack huffed a laugh. “Need to get air? Space?”

Kallum shrugged. The couch was engulfing him, dragging him down into glorious, cushioned sleep.

“That fucking tub juice Tucker made was rough. I think Hiram got sick off it earlier,” Jack admitted, dragging a cheap velour throw blanket down of the back of the couch, draping it over Kallum. It was the red and black of their frat colors, with the Greek letters in the center, the soft fabric stained with old beer and an off-white splotch that Kallum was pretty sure was cum. “Seriously, dude, just crash here. You’ll be up early anyway and can shower before you go.” Jack was in his fourth year of college, on track to graduate in two years if he stuck to his two classes a semester schedule. He knew more about partying than film, more about partying than Kallum ever cared to know.

Despite the heat flushing his body, the blanket was soft. Comforting. And it hid the movement when he pressed a surreptitious palm to his packer, nudging it against his swollen clit. Maybe, when they were all asleep, he could jerk off. Must be the booze making him so horny. He rolled his head over so he could answer but got caught in the TV light gleaming off Jack’s bright eyes. They were huge in the dark, black irises overtaking the brown. His mouth was open, smiling, and his tongue, red from the tub juice, licked over his bottom lip.

A soft moan puffed from Kallum’s mouth, and he cleared his throat to hide the sound, cheeks hot from embarrassment. The last thing he needed was these guys to realize he was gay. Or that he had a bonus hole in his boxers instead of a dick. But Jack’s shoulder was broad and warm under his head and the couch and blanket a swaddling nest and really, his work was just down the street, wouldn’t be the first time he had to borrow an apron from Kasey, the movie was showing some red and black scene, something about a giant idiot from a circus, and Tucker was watching them suspiciously from across the room with his stupid staring eyes, standing next to Hiram who actually looked fine, and not sick at all, not even drunk, this was cozy, warm, and he was surrounded by his maybe-friends and…darkness.

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Jack watched consciousness fade from Kallum’s eyes, watched as they darkened, glazed, then fluttered closed. He waited until it was just a handful of them left, just the guys he trusted to be as fucked up as him. Kallum’s breath came shallow but even. Jack grinned and looked up at Tucker across the room. “Dude, check this out?”

Tucker sneered, tipping back his plastic fifth of Captain’s “Yeah, kid’s a lightweight.”

“No,” Jack insisted, shifting from the seat. Kallum slid into the vacated spot, slumping onto his side, face half pressed into the couch cushion where Jack’s ass had just been. “I gotta show you something.” He glanced at Kallum’s sleeping face then slowly lifted the blanket up from his legs, draping it slowly over Kallum’s chest, leaving his bottom half exposed. He undid the guy’s fly and gently tugged the jeans down a bit to show his grey boxer briefs. There was a bulge there, small and, as Jack had discovered the other week, fake.

“I’m not a fag, dude—” Tucker muttered. He rubbed a blunt hand through the blond high-and-tight he insisted on keeping, despite having been out of the service for over a year.

“I know, I know. Look.” Another gentle shift of fabric, and Jack slid the silicone packer out of the way. “He’s got a pussy.” Kallum muttered in his induced sleep as the cool air brushed over his stomach, then his crotch. Jack stilled, watching his face until he quieted.

Nic, hearing his favorite word, left the kitchen to stand over the drugged form, watching as Jack parted the dark blonde curls. He grinned, grabbing his hardening cock through his pants. “Holy shit. I thought you were joking when you said it on the phone.”

Tucker finally got curious enough to investigate and edged around the thrice-hand-me-down couches to get a better look. He bent over, expressionless, and probed a thick finger into the folds. “That’s why he’s so short I guess.”

“What’re you fucking doing?” Hiram hissed, returning inside from where he was smoking on the fire escape. The woodsy smell of tobacco clung to his long coat and dark beard. His gentle, round face crumpled into a frown when he looked down to see Tucker and Jack’s hands in the unconscious Kallum’s pants.  

“It’s a cute pussy,” Tucker protested, finally on board, not withdrawing his hand. “And wet.”

Hiram stared at the figure on the couch, half tucked in, half debauched, eyes dark and serious. “Dude, that’s rape,” He reminded them.

“I know,” Jack admitted, voice low. “Last Thursday at the frat party I walked in on him pissing, he didn’t notice me, too drunk probably, and I didn’t say anything, but I saw he had this fake dick and was pissing from a pussy. So called up Nic and had him bring me down some of the good stuff from the city. Guess his uncle has a good source.”

“Of fucking roofies?” Hiram asked, tone still disapproving. “And it’s a packer, he’s trans.”

“You knew?” Tucker accused with a frown.

“No, I’m just not a fucking idiot!” Hiram’s voice rose and Jack shot a concerned look at where Kallum was still passed out. “I don’t need a roofie to know what’s in my friend’s pants.”

“Nah, it’s not a roofie,” Nic elaborated, as if that was the issue, working his tanned hand over the column of his dick pressing against his chinos. “It’s something else. Makes ‘em hot for it, and all relaxed. Part muscle relaxer, part sedative, part Viagra, basically.”

“Viagra’s for guys,” Tucker muttered, still gracelessly poking at the exposed cunt.

Jack dipped his fingers in beside Tucker’s, sliding them through the slickness collecting between Kallum’s folds. “Well, like you said,” he pressed a single finger in deeper, biting his lip at the plushness, “he’s soaked.”

Tucker mirrored the movement, pushing his index finger in beside Jack’s. His mouth hung slack and he still had the stupid, glazed look in his eye. “It’s soft,” he remarked.

Nic snorted. “You never fucked a cunt before, Tucker?”

“Fuck off,” Tucker growled.

Jack laughed. “You know Tuck’s never fucked anyone but his little sister. And probably whatever little Iraqi girl he raped that got him kicked out of the army.”

Tucker’s face mottled with fury. His little sister was fifteen now and it had only been once—twice if you counted the dry humping the year before—and maybe that was the reason he wasn’t going home over winter break and maybe it was the ten hour drive to Stacyville, Maine. Jack was just teasing, but Nic? Roofies or not, he didn’t like Nic. “It’s the fucking Marines,” he snarled at Nic with a glare, “and at least I’m not cut off from the family business cause I’m adopted,” he sneered back.

“You fucking—” Nic snarled until Jack interrupted.

“Shut up both of you. We’re all losers, that’s why we’re here. Let’s not waste a perfectly good pussy.” Jack snapped, standing up to undo his belt buckle. It was one of the seat belt ones, and undid with a click.

“I get his ass,” Hiram suddenly said. He was still standing there, trench coat now draped over the arm of the couch, and his black band tee heaved as he breathed heavily. His eyes were dark and wild as he worked his cock through the black denim of his jeans.

Jack groaned. “C’mon, your dick will ruin him, he’ll be way too loose if you go first.”

“What happened to ‘this is rape?’” Nic teased.

“It is fucking rape,” Hiram agreed, his face dead serious as he pulled the cock in question out, jerking it to full hardness. Jack was right, the thing was huge. It was a massive eleven incher, thick and heavy, bulging in the middle with a fat, pink head, ringed by the darker pink of his circumcision scar. It was the hottest cock Kallum had ever seen, except he wasn’t seeing it, wasn’t seeing anything, just drifting in the muffled warmth of the couch as his friends discussed how to rape him. “That’s my rule,” Hiram rasped, “I get to rape his asshole first or I’ll turn you all in to the dean.”

Jack finally gave a nod. “Deal. But I get his pussy.”

“C’mon,” Nic protested, scoffing as he glanced between Jack and the big line cook. “I brought the roofies.”

“I thought they weren’t roofies,” Hiram pointed out.

Jack ignored him, releasing his own dick from his loose boxers. They were worn and stained, pattered with the radioactive warning symbol. His dick was good sized, a long eight inches, uncut and proportional, like him, tall and thin and Catholic. He worked his foreskin back, sliding it forward and back over the head a few times as he stared at the unconscious man on his couch. “None of you would be here fucking him at all if I didn’t come up with the idea.”

They all murmured in assent then, gathering in a huddle around the prone, oblivious form. No one moved for a minute, as if none of them had thought through to this step. And maybe they hadn’t, caught up in the dreams of how they would get their plan to work, but, like a dog chasing a tire, totally unprepared when they finally succeeded. And, like chasing a car, with date-rape there was a point of no return, a line they all hovered on now. If they crossed that line they risked being crushed on the pavement.

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Jack made the first move. He was their self-appointed leader, after all. Kneeling on the couch, he lifted Kallum’s legs, pulling his pants and briefs off slowly, one leg at a time. The packer tumbled out, bouncing on the floor and Jack chuckled. Sliding his own pants and boxers halfway down his thighs, he knelt on the cushion, knees bracketing Kallum’s skinny ass. He draped Kallum’s right leg over his shoulder, letting the other one fall over the edge of the couch and dangle to the floor. “Tucker,” he ordered, “lock the door.”

Tucker did as he was told, disappearing down the hall.

Nic shot Jack a glance. “Doesn’t one of your guys have a key? Should we move him to a bed?”

Jack shrugged, lining his dick up with Kallum’s slick cunt. It was true, Jack’s frat brother, Tristan, had a key for the apartment in case of emergency—usually Jack sleeping in too late for some class. Despite being on track for some level of cum laude, Tristan had depraved tastes when it came to the bedroom. Jack had caught him fucking a passed out sorority chick the first week of the semester and knew he wouldn’t stop them. “If he shows up then we’ll let him take a turn. Now shut up and let me fuck.”

Keeping an eye on Kallum’s face in case the drugs weren’t strong enough, he slid into his pussy, hilting in a single, slow thrust. He let out a soft groan, holding himself deep for a moment before dragging back out. “Fuck this is good.”

When Tucker returned from locking up, Jack was pumping steadily in and out of Kallum, grunting with every thrust. Tucker shot a glance at the other guys, standing in a circle around the spectacle, dicks out, and finally undid his fly too. Both he and Nic were of a similar short five inches, but he grinned when he noted that, at least compared to Nic’s, his was fat. Nothing like Hiram’s beer can thick girth, but still.

The men watched Jack rape in quiet for a few moments, listening to the wet slurps of Kallum’s juices and their friend’s panting breath, each tugging their dicks steadily. What would Kallum do if he came to now, one hole filled and surrounded by the threat of another three cocks? Would he scream? Fight them? Cry?

“How long should he be out?” Tucker asked, looking at Jack, who looked over at Nic.

Nic shrugged. “A while. Like, probably another good hour or two. My uncle said most of the girls he used it on were out for half the night.”

Hiram grimaced at the comment, as if he wasn’t looming over a drugged-out victim himself, dick in hand. “You guys are sick.”

Tucker glanced at the clock on the stove in the kitchenette across the room. They’d already been playing with Kallum for over half an hour, and he’d been passed out for a while before that, while Jack waited for everyone else to leave. “That’s not very long.”

Jack chuckled, “C’mon Tuck, thought you liked it when they fought back.”

Tucker’s face turned that mottled angry red again, but he shuffled to the head of the couch and grabbed Kallum by the hair, angrily shoving his dick into the slack mouth. It was hot and wet, and he didn’t mind the scrape of teeth as he pulled back, leaving just his half-exposed cockhead on Kallum’s tongue. He shuddered, already leaking pre from his tip. The guys were right. He had only properly fucked twice, and neither time did he dare risk his dick in the mouth of an unwilling girl. Now he could slide in and out without fear of anything being bitten off and heat and the rough texture of Kallum’s tongue nearly pushed him over the edge then and there. “There you go,” he muttered, smearing his precome all over Kallum’s lips before pushing back inside, so deep his loose sac squished against Kallum’s chin, “That’s it, good girl.”

Jack rolled his eyes at Tucker’s misgendering but ignored it. They all knew the guy was weird. Now wasn’t the time to point fingers. Jack sped up his thrusts, gripping Kallum by the hips now to get better leverage on the too-soft couch. Each thrust jabbed his dick against Kallum’s cervix, making his walls clench down. “Fuck, he’s tight.”

“You think he’s a virgin?” Tucker asked, trying to match Jack’s rhythm, but failing, his dick flopping onto Kallum’s cheek.

Jack snorted. “Doubt it. Not bleeding at any rate. Don’t know many virgins in their twenties.”

Nic knelt down beside the couch, fumbling Kallum’s wallet from his back pocket and flipping it open. “Uh oh, he’s a naughty boy,” he sing-songed, holding up two IDs. One was obviously Kallum, the other a pretty close match, but it said he was from Wisconsin and twenty three. Nic peered closer at the real license and let out a groan of pleasure, biting his lip. “Dude, he’s fucking seventeen.”

Jack grunted in response. “Well, this is what you get for being an over achiever I guess.” He let out a breathless chuckle and began fucking harder, head bowed, shaggy hair falling over his face. “Graduate high school early and get your pussy gangraped in college.”

Tucker licked his lips, sliding as deep as he could into Kallum’s throat, and held himself there, balls mashed against Kallum’s face. “Yeah, take it deep little girl,” he muttered as the walls of Kallum’s throat flexed around him, drool dribbling from around Tucker’s dick. Kallum stirred a bit, groaning and frowning faintly as his air was cut off.

“Don’t fucking kill him man,” Hiram protested. He was still standing off to the side, watching the spectacle, one hand slowly stroking his cock. The other held Kallum’s packer that he had scooped off the floor, and he had the fake balls pressed to his face, huffing the musky scent of Kallum’s sweat and piss and arousal.

“Don’t wake him up,” Nic corrected, moving closer as if he might be able to fuck Kallum in the three seconds before he choked to death on Tucker’s dick. After a moment, though, Tucker pulled out and shot his load all over the unconscious, red face, his thick white come splattering across Kallum’s mouth and cheeks. He stood there, panting, squeezing the last bubbles of come from his tip for a moment before staggering to his feet and going to sit on the other couch to watch the rest.

Jack was rutting into Kallum’s limp body, leaning over him and balls smacking with the force of his thrusts. He let out a stream of muttered profanity in Kallum’s ear as he reached the peak. “Fuck, I’m so fucking close. Gonna fill your little tranny pussy with so much fucking come, gonna rape you until you can’t walk, you little fucking slut, yes,” he growled and slammed as deep as he could, cock pulsing as he shot ribbon after ribbon of come into Kallum’s pussy. He ground his hips down, grinning as come spurted out around his dick, then finally pulled back, panting, and slid from Kallum’s sticky mess. “Dude, that was so fucking good. You gotta try it.” He shifted to sit by Kallum’s head then, letting his wet dick trail a few inches from Kallum’s mouth.

Tucker started to rise but Nic shoved him back, “Fuck off creep, you already blew your load. Gotta wait for everyone else’s turn before you get seconds.” Nic climbed up onto the couch, shoving Kallum’s legs to his chest and jabbing his dick in quickly, cackling at the squelching sound from Jack’s come. He fucked like he talked, quickly, not well, jabbing little thrusts as his head rolled back, and when he came less than a minute later, he did it with a high, whistling moan. He sat there, limp dick dribbling on Jack’s couch, and slid his fingers into the mixture of come puddling from Kallum’s cunt, first two then three, fingering him with splashing, hard prods of his arm until Jack smacked his shoulder. “Don’t break him yet.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Nic muttered, pulling away. “Just wanna see how much he can take.”

“We will, if not tonight another time.”

Nic grinned and stumbled back. He had a couple bottles of the potent pills in the trunk of his car, and he wasn’t about to complain if Jack wanted to throw him another couple twenties for a few. He nudged Hiram with his elbow. “Go on, your turn.”

Hiram shook his head. “Not just yet. Let Tucker take his pussy first.”

Tucker was slouched on the other couch, dick still out, smearing come and juices all over his already stained boxers, but he didn’t need to be told twice. He rushed from the couch, jerking his dick quickly back to stiffness. He let out a long, low moan as he slid inside Kallum for a second time. As hot as fucking his unconscious mouth had been, nothing beat a tight pussy as far as he was concerned. And this time he wouldn’t even get all scratched up for his troubles. He fucked hard, thrusts smacking, but slow. Focused. He didn’t mind fucking into a twice-used hole, the other guys’ come was still warm and Kallum was tight enough to need far more than a few fucks to get loose. He stared down at the cunt swallowing his cock, grinning when Kallum shifted and let out a breathy sigh. “Little girl likes it when her hole is raped,” he muttered.

Jack chuckled, sliding his hands around each of Kallum’s wrists. Moaning and sighing meant he would wake soon, and they didn’t need him to come up swinging. “Dude, you only got a few more minutes before he wakes up,” Jack reminded them, glancing at the stove clock then back to where Hiram still stood huffing Kallum’s packer. “C’mon, Hiram, take your turn.”

Hiram nodded, still staring with his dark eyes at Tucker’s smaller cock disappearing into Kallum’s raped hole. Despite his continuous protests, his cock hung hard and heavy from his open fly. “I think I want him to be awake for it.”

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Kallum was enveloped in warmth, comforted by a rhythmic wet pressure somewhere on his crotch. He hummed in pleasure, rocking back into the sensation. It wasn’t unusual for him to wake up in someone’s bed after drinking, reintroducing himself only after a late morning fuck. He shifted again, grinding into whoever was humping him. Awareness came back to him in bursts. Everything was muddled and distant. He didn’t mind being fucked awake. Usually, though, that was after his fake ID got him into the gay bar across down, not a frat party. His limbs felt like they weighed a thousand pounds, his eyelids just as heavy. Something was stretching his pussy. He stilled, trying to force himself into alertness. He never used his cunt, ignoring its existence and the pinch of dysphoria that came along with it. Plus, most of the tops he met at Three-Two-One preferred the ass. His mouth felt like sandpaper and he licked his lips, tongue coming back slick with something covering his face. He knew that taste, thick, salty and bitter.

Someone came on his face.

Someone was fucking his pussy and there was come on his face.

He jerked then, adrenaline barely lifting the brain fog. His arms weren’t just heavy, someone was holding them down, and his legs were pressed down against his chest, weighing on his binder-crushed tits.

“Dude, I think he’s waking up.” The voice sounded far away, high above his head.

Someone else chuckled. “Right on time.” He knew that voice, that ridiculous New Yorker accent that Nic exaggerated in hopes that they’d think he was part of the mob.

Kallum blinked, something sparking and jingling over his face. The man inside him thrust faster, muttering, “yeah, spread your little rape hole, baby girl.” He recognized that voice too, the deep rural accent. Dog tags, that’s what was dangling overhead. Tucker. Tucker was fucking his pussy. His memory was mostly blank, the last thing he recalled was chatting with Hiram in the living room early in the night. He struggled again, but exhaustion turned his muscles to jelly and his head throbbed with every little movement. Right. The headache. He remembered that. Jack gave him aspirin and then he passed out. His heart skipped a beat. It wasn’t aspirin. Jack roofied me. Jack roofied me and now I have come on my mouth and Tucker’s raping my pussy.

Kallum stared up, glazed and dizzy, watching Tucker heave and rut, his hot whiskey breath panting across Kallum’s jazzed-on face. A dick hung near his mouth, slick and soft, already spent and when he looked up at its owner he caught Jack’s wicked grin.

Jack glanced down, tightening his hold on Kallum’s arms. “Hey pretty boy,” he murmured. Kallum twisted, but his movements were weak and all he got was Jack’s limp dick in his face. It stank of old sex, of musk. His musk. So whose come was on his face? Jacks? Nic was there too, he heard him and…he peered through Tucker’s arms, braced on either side of him as he thrust harder and harder. Hiram met his panicked gaze. He stood off to the side, eyes gentle and knowing. “Please,” Kallum whispered, begging the big line cook to do something, for the love of God, help. His throat was aching and raw and he realized it was probably from someone fucking it. Kallum’s cheeks were suddenly wet and a guttural sound crawled from his chest. A sob. He was crying. “Please stop,” he pleaded.

“Almost done,” Tucker grunted in his ear, jackhammering into his pussy. “Go on, take my cum little girl, take it all.” He slammed balls deep and let out three deep grunts. His dick twitched wetly inside Kallum’s cunt as he came and Kallum’s body shook, his weak hands pushing away, head spinning each time he shook it. Then Tucker pulled out and Kallum stared at his still dribbling cock. There was no condom. He tried to reach down to feel, but Jack gave his wrists a little shake.

“Don’t worry, Kallum, there’s just one guy left,” Jack reassured, with a dark laugh that belied his gentle words.

Kallum strained, looking down at his hole. It was swollen, his lips red and puffy, his t-dick standing at attention from all the stimulation, hood pulled back from its head. The movement forced globs of come from his hole, far more than just one man’s load. Oh no. No no. Oh fuck. He wasn’t on birth control, never really needed to be, and though his T stopped his cycle, he knew that was no guarantee.

“Flip him over,” Hiram ordered, and Jack lifted Kallum by the wrists, dragging him off the couch and forcing him to kneel on the hard industrial apartment carpet. Jack switched so one hand was holding both of Kallum’s wrists and he pressed the other between his shoulders, shoving him over the cushion, bent over, ass out. Then Jack’s rough fingers poked at his asshole.

“You know the rule,” Hiram snapped and even Kallum stilled at the hard tone “I rape his ass first.”

Kallum let out a whine, struggling against Jack’s hard grip. . A grunt, something heavy and warm shifted behind him. He craned his neck to glance back and wished he hadn’t. Hiram was kneeling behind him, jeans undone and cock in hand. It was massive, thick and meaty, and it only got larger the more he worked it.

He jolted when Hiram’s big hand swiped through the mess of come dripping from Kallum’s pussy, collecting a few fingerfuls before massaging it around Kallum’s fear-tight pucker.

“You think he’s cleaned out?” Nic asked, nose wrinkling.

Hiram nodded, hawking a thick glob of spit into his hand before working that, too, around Kallum’s pink hole. “He’s a fag.”

Nic snorted. “Said the guy about to rape his ass.”

Kallum shuddered at the words, at his certain fate. Hiram took his time, circling his asshole carefully, pressing against it harder each time, slicking him up with spit and the spend the other men had raped into his pussy. He slid his middle finger into Kallum’s cunt, then pushed it slowly, so slowly, into his ass. He was tight, and the friction burned, but Hiram drew back, spreading Kallum’s cheeks to lap his broad, hot tongue over Kallum’s hole a few times before sliding his finger back in. Kallum knew this feeling, liked it, under different circumstances, and to his shame, his hole opened easily. Hiram huffed a soft laugh and added his index finger. Kallum’s walls twitched and tightened and he gave another soft whine. His body was heated, sweating under the layers of his binder and sweatshirt, shoved up his ribs, even as his naked bottom half grew clammy with fear. He was good at it, Hiram, good at prepping, good at raping, but Kallum had seen what he would be forced to take, and he’d need far more than just a finger or two of stretching.

“Let him go.” Hiram ordered.

“But—” Jack frowned.

“He won’t fight,” Hiram promised, looking down at Kallum’s trembling form. There was something certain in his dark gaze. “Will you, boy?”

Kallum stared back at him, wide eye and jerked his head no. There was no way to fight, his limbs weak and shaking, his hole raped raw, four against one. This wasn’t the first time he was raped, wasn’t even the second. He could survive this. And then straight to the clinic for Plan B. Behind him, Hiram tucked his three largest fingers together and shoved those in, pausing and re-lubing when Kallum yelped from the friction. He was attentive, reading Kallum’s body language easily, and if this weren’t rape, if he weren’t drugged and sobbing, Kallum thought Hiram would make a good lover, a good partner. At least Hiram was focused on his ass and not threatening to knock him up. He might not have had a choice to endure their cruelty, but at least Hiram treated him like a boy, not whatever fucked up fantasy Tucker had been going on about. At least he’s raping me like a man.

He turned his head, tucking his freed arms underneath, and watched the big man work. He was built like a guy who loved food as much as the gym, huge arms flexing as he manhandled his victim, and thick, fat pecks and belly bulging from his shirt, hiding the first inch or two of his massive cock. It was hot, Kallum had to admit. Hiram was hot. If these guys had asked to gang fuck, instead of drugging him, would he have said yes? It’s not like he was fighting now, though no one held him down anymore, not like he did more than whimper when he woke to Tucker coming in his pussy.

Hiram twisted his fingers, working them past the second knuckle, and Kallum moaned. “Good boy,” Hiram murmured, pushing even deeper, until his knuckles caught on Kallum’s rim. “You ready for me?”

It wasn’t a real question, it didn’t matter what Kallum answered, or if he answered at all, but he nodded anyway, splaying his legs wider and pushing his ass out in invitation.

Hiram slid two fingers in, one from each hand, and pulled Kallum’s hole open, spiting a thick wad of spit inside, holding him wide as he collected another, and spat that inside too. One hand retreated, grabbing his cock and sliding it along Kallum’s slick pussy lips, wetting it with the other men’s come before settling his fist of a head against Kallum’s winking hole. “Hold still,” he growled. “You hold still and let me rape your tight little ass and maybe I’ll even make you feel good.”

Kallum trembled, but did as he was ordered, bearing down a bit to ease the stretch. He knew what was coming, though he’d never taken a cock this size. Maybe it would hurt like the first time, when his neighbor raped his thirteen-year-old ass. Maybe he’d tear. Maybe he’d bleed. Hiram could have taken another hour to prep him properly and it still wouldn’t be enough.

Then, Hiram pushed. Kallum’s rim strained, then popped over the flared head, sucking it deep before closing a fraction around the slightly narrower shaft. He shook and cried out, voice cracking from the sudden stretch. Hiram was patient. Gentle fingers massaged the angry red hole where it stretched around his girth, lubing it and coaxing it to loosen further, never quite letting up his slow, steady pushing. He forced another inch in and flexed his cock as a reward. “There you go, good boy.”

“Holy fuck,” Jack muttered, reminding Kallum that they weren’t alone. He glanced back to see where their audience was and saw Nic and Tucker on opposite ends of the other couch. Jack was perched on the arm of the couch Kallum was currently sprawled over. They watched Hiram with something close to reverence, as if being taught some sacred rite. It was true, Hiram had far more experience than any of them, perhaps than all of them combined. He was a good decade older than Jack and Nic, somewhere in his mid-thirties, and working in the restaurant business meant he’d been around the block several times. Jack gave an appreciative grunt when the big man forced Kallum to take another inch of his fat length. Even through the pounding in his ears, Kallum heard fapping from the other couch and he could see that Jack, too, absently tugged at his dick. It was still soft, but the light in Jack’s eyes told Kallum his night was far from over.

“We’re not done with you yet.” Hiram confirmed, inching deeper with every word, “You might have taken a couple loads in that neglected bonus hole of yours, but I’ve only just started and I’m going to take my time raping your ass open, and after I fill your guts, I’ll give you back to these guys and let them fight over your pussy again.”

“Please, no more.” Panic shot up Kallum’s spine and he squirmed away from the dick spearing his ass. Hiram’s hand came down hard on his ass cheeks in two succinct smacks. He yelped, eyes wide and watering, but stilled, shaking, ass pulsing around Hiram’s absurdly thick shaft. “You’re breaking me, please,” Kallum sobbed. The cushion under his face was wet with tears and come, musky where he’d been raped on it before. Would they take him in the same order as before? Here on this couch?

“Oh, baby, there’s so much more cock for you to take. I’m not even halfway inside you.” Hiram murmured. He kneaded Kallum’s ass where he’d slapped him, then stroked up to grab his hips for leverage. Even kneeling, he was nearly too tall for Kallum’s bent over, spread form, but he used gravity to his advantage, sinking down, down into the boy’s straining guts.

His ass was agony, stretched too far, too fast. So much more cock, Kallum’s breath hiccupped, his mind repeating the phrase as his ass strained. More cock, more cock, more cock.  Just another inch before he would be forced onto to the thickest part of Hiram’s dick. “Please,” Kallum begged, “please, it hurts.”

“I know baby,” Hiram whispered. “Rape hurts.” Hiram pressed one large hand to the back of Kallum’s head, shoving his face into the couch.

There came that spike through him at the word “rape.” Ever since Kallum was first taken by force, the word sent a spark flashing through his body, like a wave of adrenaline, probably telling him to flee. Except, Kallum was broken. Kallum liked adrenaline, liked the flash of fear. Chased it. And now, with a hot, fat man with the largest cock he’s even seen forcing his ass open, that electric zap burned from fear into something dark and desperate.

“Alright, here’s the rest,” Hiram warned. And Kallum’s world exploded in searing pain. His ass was on fire, his rim fluttering and clenching uselessly and someone was screaming, and it was him, he realized as his throat burned too, and Hiram’s balls were crushed against his pussy as the man pressed himself to the hilt with a deep groan. The other guys whooped and clapped, dicks properly hard at the sight of Kallum pinned and assraped on the filthy couch. It was the fullest Kallum had ever been, his hole blown wide, the cock nestled deep in his guts, so deep Kalum swore it poked his heaving, gasping lungs.

And then Hiram began to thrust. He fucked slow and merciless, long throbbing strokes, pulling nearly all the way out, holding just his fat head inside Kallum’s twitching asshole, before driving back inside, past that second inner barrier where he flexed his cock a few times before beginning the torture all over again. I can’t do this, Kallum thought to himself over and over and over and apparently out loud, since Hiram gave a soft, low hum and stroked a big hand down the small of Kallum’s back. “You can do this, sweet boy. You already are.”

The pain pulsed through his ass, filling him with heat, and his cunt began to drip, as if it could help ease the chaffing in his other hole. His mouth hung open, drooling all over the come stained cushion. The stretch was obscene, this whole night was obscene, and Kallum couldn’t think about it anymore, couldn’t think about anything beyond Hiram’s next glorious thrust. He couldn’t wait for the stretch, couldn’t wait to be filled so deeply, to have this beast of a man raping his asshole raw. He trembled under Hiram’s gentle hands as they stroked up his back, over his shoulders and back down and Kallum couldn’t help but moan. Maybe he’d die. There were worse ways to go. He bore down to open his hole wider.

Hiram laughed softly, nudging even deeper. “You take me so well,” he praised, sliding his hands up under Kallum’s chest, pulling him up by the throat until his back arched against Hiram’s soft belly. Then, big arms wrapped around Kallum’s shoulders, one meaty hand cupping his throat, Hiram fucked faster, driving up into Kallum’s battered hole, heavy balls slapping up, plat-plat-plat against his desperate, leaking pussy.

Kallum let out another thready moan and pushed back, shoving himself down on Hiram’s dick. Pleasure sparked through him when one of Hiram’s hands dropped to his exposed cunt, dipping into his wetness before swirling his slick finger around the hard, swollen head of Kallum’s t-dick. Another slick circle and then he gripped the tiny thing between his thumb and forefinger, jerking the boy off as he writhed and humped in his arms. Kallum rocked back, matching the rhythm of Hiram’s jerking hand, cunt dripping over the man’s sac each time he took him balls-deep.

“I’m barely fucking you, baby. That’s all you.” And it was true. Kallum was the one shoving his ass back, forcing himself onto Hiram’s cock again and again. He sobbed at the stretch, tear-blotched face turned so he could stare at the three guys watching his unmaking. They’d fuck him after, maybe in his ass, maybe in his pussy and he couldn’t wait. All he wanted was to taste their come, to feel them shoot inside him. He bounced faster, panting and squeaking as he met each of Hiram’s thrusts. “Good boy, that’s it, rape yourself on my cock,” Hiram murmured against Kallum’s ear. His hand tightened on Kallum’s throat, fingers working faster on his boy-clit until, with a ragged scream, Kallum squirted, asshole clenching down on Hiram’s cock as he creamed. Hiram fucked him through the orgasm, whispering what a tight hole he was, what a good boy, such a good rapeslut as he twitched and jerked in the big man’s grip.

His ears rang, face red as Hiram’s fingers tightened on his throat and he slumped back, limp, drool dripping from his slack mouth. Hiram groaned, shoving Kallum down on his cock until with a growl, he spurted, hot, thick come into Kallum’s ass, filling him until he could hold no more and it gushed from his stretched out rim. Hiram let him fall forward, back onto the couch cushion before he gave a last, long, slow thrust deep into the come-slick guts. The he finally withdrew, cockhead sliding free with a wet pop, and chuckled at Kallum’s red hole twitching as it tried in vain to close. He gave Kallum’s ass cheek a last smack. Kallum jerked and come squirted from his asshole, and the men laughed at his pathetic whimper.

Hiram rose, stepping back, still breathing hard, and fished his pack of Camels from his trench coat pocket before dropping onto the couch beside Kallum’s slumped form. His Zippo sparked and he took a draw, exhaling the tobacco smoke into Kallum’s dazed face. “Alright boys,” he said after a moment, “your turn again.”

Chapter Text

“Which do you want?” Nic asked, nearly vibrating with excitement as he stared at Kallum’s come-filled holes. The three men moved closer, circling like vultures where he still lay bent over the couch cushion, discussing the pros and cons. Kallum barely listened, just staring up at the big man smoking next to him. He swallowed hard, and Hiram looked down thoughtfully, before rising and disappearing into another part of the apartment. Kallum shivered, suddenly chilled with no one touching or filling him. He should get up. He should force himself to his feet, grab his jeans and run. He should text himself the details so they didn’t get lost in a fugue over the next few days and go straight to the police or clinic for a rape kit as proof.

Then Hiram returned and all thought of escape left his mind. The line cook sat back down beside him, one big leg propped up as he turned to face Kallum. He had a water bottle in his hand and held it out.

Kallum just stared. Was it laced? Did it matter at this point? Hiram showed him the sealed plastic top and cracked it open before offering it again. Kallum shifted up on his elbows, wincing at the ache throbbing through both his holes now. Wordlessly, Hiram pressed the mouth of the bottle to Kallum’s lips, tipping it gently as he took a sip. Thirst suddenly ripped through him and he chugged, throat bobbing, eyes still fixed on the big man holding the bottle. There were three men discussing his holes, prodding at them, but Kallum didn’t care. His world was only Hiram, slaking his thirst. One shaking hand rose to wrap Hiram’s where he held the bottle, but he took it away when there was still a third left. When Kallum whined, he stroked a hand down the boy’s cheek.

“Not too much, you’ll get a stomachache.” He flashed a smile and capped the bottle, setting it down by his feet and sitting back. “Have the rest when you’ve come again.”

Kallum turned, but a hand on his asscheek stopped him.

It was Jack again. He flashed a smile, toothy and cold. “On your knees.”

Kallum shuffled around, tucking his bare ass against Hiram’s left Doc Martin. He lifted his face up to Jack, mouth open, tongue lolling.

Jack let out an appreciative groan. “You broke him in good, Hiram.”

Behind Kallum, Hiram chuckled, taking a long draw of his cig. “He broke himself.”

“Get me hard,” Jack ordered. His cock was already halfway there, twitching and fat, but Kallum did as he was told, taking it into his mouth and sucking slowly. He drew it as deep as he could, then pulled back, tongue swirling around the tip, flicking up the slit in his head, then sucking the whole thing down again. He kept up this rhythm, head bobbing rhythmically as Jack sighed and groaned above him, suckling at Jack’s foreskin before it rolled back entirely, then flicking his tongue at the underside of his sensitive head. A bead of precome bubbled from the slit and he sucked that down too with a soft moan. Jack’s hand came up, gripping Kallum by the hair, and began to fuck his face in quick thrusts, jabbing all the way to the back of his throat. Kallum coughed and retched and gagged, but didn’t try to get away, just swallowed and swallowed, eyes watering and mouth spluttering. Jack drove to the hilt and held Kallum’s face against his pubes for a moment, staring into his eyes with a dark, unreadable expression. Another deep thrust and he finally let Kallum up to breathe.

Kallum gasped and coughed but looked up at Jack expectantly.

“Fuck,” Jack gasped, dropping onto the cushion at the opposite side of the couch from Hiram. He tugged off his shirt and tossed it into some dark corner before patting his thighs. “Get up.” Kallum stumbled to his feet, half dragging himself over, hesitating a moment until Jack elaborated, “Face me. I want to see you come when you rape yourself.”

Kallum settled in Jack’s lap, one shaking arm popping himself against the back of the couch as he angled his hole just right.

“Go on. Put me inside your pussy.”

Jack’s cock was wet in his hand, slick with his spit, and Kallum guided it to his messy front hole, wetting the tip with a few swipes through his lips. Then he dropped onto it, hilting in one thrust and driving the tip against his cervix. Jack grunted, grabbing Kallum by the hips to set the pace, but otherwise it was all Kallum. His thighs burned as he bounced, up and down and up and down, slamming Jack’s dick as deep as he could with every thrust, whimpering as it battered his core. His other arm dropped to bracket Jack’s shoulders and he shifted his knees wider, riding him faster and faster. Slick, squelching sounds filled the room as Kallum succumbed to the feeling, eyes unfocused and glazed, fixed on the heavy gold cross hanging from Jack’s neck.

He was too focused to notice Nic touching his fluttering asshole until two fingers suddenly shoved last-knuckle deep past his rim. He yelped, rising to escape the feeling of being filled in both holes, but Jack grabbed him, shoving him down on his lap and holding him still as Nic scissored and twisted his fingers. Come dribbled and squished from his ass as he was worked and he whined as Jack flexed his cock inside his cunt. “Please,” he whispered, though he wasn’t sure what, exactly, he begged for.

“Go on, Nic,” Hiram instructed. “I prepped him good enough.”

“Open your legs,” Nic asked, but when Kallum tried, he felt Jack’s knees spread wider, and he realized Nic had been talking to the other man raping him. Nic slotted himself in behind Kallum and between Jack’s sprawled legs, rubbing his cockhead up and down the ass before him. Jack’s hands stroked down Kallum’s hips and around to grab his ass cheeks, squeezing them before spreading them apart. Nic smacked his dick against the come-filled pucker, as if he was knocking.

“I won’t get shit on my dick?” he asked the room.

Hiram scoffed, rolling his eyes. “I didn’t and you sure as hell ain’t gonna fuck him as good,” he assured, taking another drag from his cigarette.

Nic muttered something nasty that even Kallum couldn’t hear, and shoved his dick angrily inside. It wasn’t the stretch of Hiram, even with Jack’s cock already inside him, but Kallum still groaned at the warm cock filling him, the two warm cocks filling him. He tried to give a bounce again, but Jack grabbed him by the throat, holding him in place so they could set the pace. Nic settled into a rhythm of hard, quick thrusts, Jack gliding slowly in and out and Kallum thought he might just pass out again from the overstimulation. His dazed gaze settled on Hiram watching from the other end of the couch. His massive cock was still out, resting wetly on his black pants. He grinned at Kallum when the boy whimpered.

“How is he still tight?” Nic asked, settling into a rhythm of quick, hard thrusts.

“That’s what happens when you make someone come, Nic,” Hiram explained, giving Kallum a conspiratorial wink.

“Fuck you,” Nic snapped, taking his anger out on Kallum’s throbbing asshole. Maybe that was Hiram’s goal, though, piss the other guys off enough to make them rougher, to make them abuse Kallum’s body even more. It worked. Nic slammed into him, fingers bruising his hips where he held him down.

“Oh, fuck,” Nic muttered suddenly. “I’m gonna—fuck—gonna come.” His thrusts sped up, cock jabbing into Kallum’s raw ass, balls slapping against Jack’s below with wet little smacks. He let out a single, hard shout and slammed as deep as he could, cock pulsing. “Yeah take that you fucking whore,” Nic snarled as he unloaded.

Kallum shuddered, sandwiched between the two men as come filled his ass a second time. The hot fluid burned Kallum’s raw, delicate flesh, even with Hiram’s still slicking his hole. Jack still fucked into him with the same languid thrusts, hand loose around his throat, almost as if he didn’t notice Nic’s theatrics at all, only changing his angle when the other man withdrew. Kallum’s rim twitched, Nic’s thin batter dribbling out all over Jack’s nuts with a long wet fart.

Nic made a sound of disgust, holding his dick away from him with one hand as he gathered his chinos and coat. “Gonna wash my shit-dick,” he muttered, stumbling down the hall toward the bathroom.

“Fucking coward,” Hiram remarked.

Jack glanced over Kallum’s shaking shoulder to where Tucker jacked himself, waiting for his turn, jerking a beckoning nod. The ex-Marine hurried over, hovering just behind Kallum, staring at his choice of holes. “His pussy is raped loose, there’s plenty of room in here,” Jack invited.

Kallum whimpered, shaking his head quickly, face flushed with embarrassment. How could he be loose already? He’d only ever taken half a dozen cocks in that hole, only two before this long, terrible night. Tucker took his time, notching his dick against Kallum’s pussy, just as a threat for the moment, and tugged Kallum’s sweatshirt and tee off, leaving him naked except for his binder. He palmed the boy’s crushed flat tits through the stiff fabric, pinching the tiny nubs of his nipples a few times until they hardened.

Kallum stared at Hiram with pleading eyes. “Please, please no.”

“Go ahead,” Hiram encouraged, “there’s plenty of come to lube him up.”

Kallum whined at the betrayal but was too weak to do more than wriggle uselessly as Jack’s grip tightened on his throat again. Tucker needed no further urging. He aimed his cock at the stretched back of Kallum’s cunt, head sliding off a few times before he gained purchase and finally nudged inside. Kallum’s eyes widened, pupils pinpricked in his panic, breath coming fast and shallow, then with a grunt, Tucker shoved balls deep alongside Jack. Kallum shrieked, cunt forced wide over the two throbbing cocks. Tucker started to thrust. It was easier to sync their rhythm when raping the same hole, especially with the wet glide of three loads of come, plus Kallum’s own, coaxed out by Hiram.

Tucker’s clumsy fingers found the zippered side of the binder and slid the zipper open, tossing the garment away as Kallum slumped between them. He chuckled, grabbing Kallum’s tiny limp tits and kneading them. T had made them shrink, reduced to nothing more than sore nipples and a small lump of breast tissue beneath, and they flopped with Jack and Tucker’s hard, alternating thrusts. Jack didn’t seem to care about the tits, eyes lidded and unfocused as he fucked, but Tucker couldn’t keep his hands off of them. He tugged Kallum’s nipples, pulling them out as far as he could, and farther still as the boy wept and whined.

“You like that?” Tucker muttered in Kallum’s ear, pinching cruelly when Kallum shook his head, continuing to babble filth. “Yeah, that’s what you need, someone to remind you you’re just a girl, that you’re just a set of holes to be raped.” He went on, hardly making any sense outside of his obvious need to pretend Kallum was a girl. And Kallum let him. Kallum just bounced and swayed as his cunt was raped open and his chest twisted and tortured. He was distantly aware of the couch shifting, of Tucker and Jack’s thrusts syncing up to pull out and force inside him at the same time. Then a gentle, warm hand cupped his cheek, turning his head to the side.

“Here baby, something to keep your mouth busy,” Hiram murmured, standing on the other side of the couch’s arm, holding his thick shaft in one hand as he guided Kallum’s chin with the other. “Open wide.” Kallum’s jaw dropped open, drooling, and Hiram settled his heavy balls on the boy’s tongue. “Suck.”

Kallum obeyed, drawing first one hairy nut into his mouth then the other, running his tongue up the seam in the center then sucking again, back and forth until Hiram’s balls were drawn tight and dripping. The hair scraped his tongue as he lapped at the wrinkled skin, tasting Hiram’s sweat and come, and the musk from his own asshole.

“That’s it, good boy,” Hiram praised, dark eyes boring into Kallum’s bloodshot ones as he sank both his nuts into Kallum’s straining jaw. Kallum swallowed them both, suckling and desperate as he was bounced on two dicks. Maybe they were right. Maybe this is what he was made for, to be raped and filled and tormented. He let out a ragged moan around the balls in his mouth. It was nice to be useful. One of Hiram’s hands rested on his head, more reassurance than force, the other loosely holding his nearly spent smoke. Kallum’s bleary eyes settled on the cig’s cherry. Had he lit a new one? Or had this episode of his ordeal truly only lasted a Camel’s length?

Hiram followed Kallum’s gaze, one delicate black eyebrow arching. He let him suck each ball a few more times then drew back, sac plopping from Kallum’s mouth. Tucker was still tugging on his tiny tits, and Hiram grabbed one from him, dragging it out by the nipple thoughtfully. Then he gripped the flesh in one fist and pressed his lit cigarette to the hard, red nipple. Kallum came hard, screaming as his flesh sizzled. Kallum’s cunt clenched around the two cocks forced inside its stretched walls, clear come spraying from beneath his tiny twitching t-dick. His eyes rolled back and he fainted from the pain, slumping against Tucker’s heaving chest. The man’s nails dug red crescents into the one unburnt tit as he rutted into the unconscious boy. Jack gave a final, hard thrust, watching Kallum’s burnt nipple bounce, and shot his load in Kallum’s pussy. The sensation of Jack’s come spurting out, of his cock throbbing against his, of Kallum’s pussy fluttering with a forced orgasm, pushed Tucker over the edge too. They held Kallum’s limp body down, groaning as he was raped full of come for the eighth time that night.

Chapter Text

When Kallum came to the second time, he was chilled, air brushed over his sweat-damp naked skin. It was almost soothing, after the claustrophobic heat of the party and the sweat of the men fucking him. This time he recalled everything at once, eyes flying wide open as he scrambled up. Or, tried to. He was sprawled on Jack’s apartment floor, belly down and arms limp at his sides. Fluid still oozed from his aching holes and his nipple stung as his weight ground it into the rough carpet. He was alone, finally, it seemed. The apartment was dark, and the couch in his eyeline was empty. Then he heard the flick of a Zippo and flinched.

“So, you are awake,” Hiram remarked from somewhere behind him.

Kallum looked back, too weak and sore to properly lift his head. “Jack and…” he tried to ask, the words emerging in a rasp.

“The rest of them called it a night, finally. It’s jus me an you.” Hiram’s voice was low and deep, full of threat.

Kallum shuddered, a new shiver running down his spine. He rolled onto his side, curling in on himself slightly, one hand cupping the singed, blackened tip of his right tit. “What are you going to do to me?” He whispered. That he was still at the mercy of this man was obvious in the way Hiram watched him, seated at the end of the rape couch as he had been before, as if he never moved, never forced Kallum to suck his balls, never forced him to come from the agony of a cigarette to the nipple. Hiram’s legs were spread, cock hanging fat between his thick hairy thighs. He wasn’t naked, jeans and briefs dropped around his splayed knees, boots still laced. His tee shirt was discarded and his belly bounced when he chuckled darkly at Kallum’s wide eyes.

He flicked the Zippo in his hands, lighting it, closing it, lighting it, closing it and Kallum watched the flame dance. What part of him would be destroyed next? What depravity would be forced upon him. His cunt grew wet, t-dick pulsing as it swelled again. Hiram stood then, tugging his pants up, fastening just the button to keep them from falling, and took a knee beside the shivering pile that was Kallum. Without a word, Hiram scooped the boy into his arms, carrying him from the living room and down the hall to the apartment bathroom.

He deposited him on the bathmat, turned the shower on, and stood with one hand in the water, staring down at Kallum, shivering on the floor. Once it was hot, he lifted Kallum again and set him on the floor of the shower. Then, as steam filled the room, Hiram undressed the rest of the way. Kallum watched as he stripped, watched the muscles bunch under the thick fat, watched his ass and belly jiggle as he tugged his socks off. He left everything in a tidy pile by the door and stepped into the shower. He worked quietly, soaping up a loofah and kneeling to wash Kallum’s back and shoulders. It was bright, even with the shower curtain, and Kallum’s world shifted. His body ached, his holes stung, but he was warm and a big man was washing him gently, and if it weren’t for the weakness that still dragged at his limbs and the distant, insistent throb from the drug still making him needy, he’d think this was a normal hook-up. The loofah scrubbed over his lower back and belly, then up to his tiny tits, working around one, then gently scraping over the burned nipple. Hiram’s thumb stroked over the lines of horizontal scarring on the slight swell at the bottom of Kallum’s tits where he’d cut himself over the years.

Hiram was sudsing the loofah again when a soft knock tapped on the door. “You in here?” Jack asked groggily.

“Yeah, just in the shower. Come in if you need to piss.”

Jack nudged the door open and stood, blinking against the vanity light as steam swirled through the air. He was a mess, hair at every angle and sleep wrinkles crisscrossing his face. “Thought you might still be here,” he murmured, stumbling into the room.

“Shut the door, will you, you’re letting the warm out.”

Jack sighed and nudged the door shut with his toe. He shuffled to the toilet, taking his dick out of his boxers and aiming for the toilet.

“Wait,” Hiram suddenly murmured, sliding the curtain open again. “Piss here instead.”

Jack glanced over and Hiram grabbed Kallum by the shoulder, pushing him to his knees in the tub basin. The shower water pounded on his sore back, hot and comforting. He didn’t care anymore about defilment, about any of this, just to be useful again, to be needed. So he tilted his head back and held out his tongue.

Jack’s sleepy face twisted in a cruel smile and he pressed his limp dick into Kallum’s mouth, rasping, “Don’t spill a drop.” His cockhead was salty, reeking of cunt and come, but then bitter heat splashed across Kallum’s tongue and he tasted nothing but Jack’s whiskey piss splashing into his offered mouth. He spluttered, but relaxed his throat, gulping down swallow after swallow. Between his legs, his battered t-dick throbbed.

“Clean me off,” Jack commanded, when the flow slowed to a trickle, then stopped. Behind him, Hiram guided Kallum’s mouth back onto Jack’s dick with a firm hand at the back of his head. A few licks and long suck was all it took for Jack to grunt and shoot another thin stream of come down Kallum’s throat. He grunted, and stumbled back, tucking his dick away. “Alright, night.” He mumbled, stumbling from the room.

Kallum stayed kneeling, swaying, the taste of piss and bitter cum lingering on his tongue. The Hiram’s hand on the back of his head stroked through his soaked hair. “Alright baby. I know I gotta clean the evidence out of you,” He murmured, “But watching you take his piss got me hard again so I’m gonna rape one more load into your perfect ass first.” Hiram stroked his face softly. “I think I’m due my turn, now.” He knotted his fingers in Kallum’s soaked hair and pulled him to his feet, giving a gentle shove to turn him around. “Bend over. Hands on the shower bar.” He ran a hand down Kallum’s back, forcing it into an arch, then smacked his ass. “Spread them.”

Kallum whimpered and shifted his stance wider, displaying his raped out holes. Hiram sank two fingers into his ass, twisting and curling, scissoring wider as he spread the come around inside. Then his cockhead nudged against the aching rim. His dick slid in easily this time, driving the entire first half inside in one slick thrust. The thick middle still strained Kallum’s hole until a second, firm nudge and Hiram hilted in Kallum’s hole. He moaned against Kallum’s shoulder. “God your ass is perfect.” He ground his hips against Kallum’s spread cheeks, fucking him in rolling thrusts. Kallum’s legs nearly gave out, hanging on Hiram’s dick and the shower bar as he was raped. The movements were almost gentle, though, until Hiram’s hand dropped down to rub the straining pink flesh clinging to his cock each time he pulled out. He massaged it, working a finger in alongside his fat shaft as Kallum gasped, staring unseeing at the pattern in the tiles. As stretched as his ass was, this new intrusion made him whimper. Another finger inched inside, and a third. Kallum trembled and whined, bearing down as if he could somehow open his ass enough for this not to burn. The pressure was immense, his tiny dick bouncing with each thrust, and his bladder ached as it was pounded from within. Four of Hiram’s fingers worked in overtop of his cock, stroking himself more than Kallum.

“Please, I—” Kallum clenched, “I gotta go.”

“Tell me, use your words, baby.”

Kallum’s cheeks were flushed, a chill sweeping across his skin with the need to relieve himself, guts cramping when every thrust jabbed into his bladder. “Please can I piss?” the words rushed out in a whine and Hiram chuckled, thrusting harder.

“Not yet, it’s nice and tight in here.” Hiram slid his thumb in last, the peak of his knuckle snagging on Kallum’s rim with the first two tries, until his hole gave out and the man slid his entire hand in around his cock. Kallum sobbed, pressed limply against the cold tile, and Hiram reached his other hand around, rough fingers working at the hard thumb of Kallum’s t-dick, yanking its hood back to pinch the angry exposed head. Kallum cried out, breath still stinking of piss, as he squirmed, pinned between the pressure of the massive cock and hand obliterating his ass and the cruel fingers torturing his t-dick.

“That’s it, come on my cock,” Hiram urged, driving deeper and deeper. His jacked his cock off inside the destroyed hole, letting out a growl when the tissue spasmed and squeezed. Then searing come filled Kallum’s raw, pummeled ass, squelching around the cock and Hiram’s fist. Hiram pinched Kallum’s boy-clit between his sharp nails and forced another orgasm from his victim. Kallum’s mouth fell open in a long, silent scream, eyes unfocused, as pleasure exploded through his body. His full bladder gave out in a spray of piss, the relief alone orgasmic in itself. Hiram held himself deep, still stroking the last drops of come inside Kallum’s hole, before finally withdrawing with a sickening squelch. He reached the hand back in, scooping the filth and come from Kallum’s ass with gentle stroking fingers. All Kallum could do was stand there, watching the globs of come splat onto the tub and slide down the shower drain. Some were pink with blood. Next came the soap, sudsy and stinging, until he was clean.

“I’m not a cunt man, but I ought to clean that out too,” Hiram remarked, turning Kallum around to lean back on the tiles now. The big man ran his thick fingers over Kallum’s tiny angry cock, then kneeled, sucking the tender thing into his mouth, trailing his tongue down to lap at the loads still leaking from Kallum’s front hole. Hiram’s mouth was hot and his tongue gentle and Kallum relaxed against his face, sighing and gasping as the man worked his cunt. He blinked back to reality when Hiram shifted and stepped out, fishing something from his pants in the corner before returning.

Kallum’s cheeks flushed pink. Hiram held his packer. It was meant to look like a mostly realistic limp dick, and he was proportional for a guy his size, but when Hiram held it next to his fat cock, it was hard not to feel emasculated. Hiram chuckled at Kallum’s blush and Gave the packer another sniff. It was hollow, built to pee through while standing, though if Kallum was as drunk the other week as Jack said, it was no wonder he hadn’t tried standing to pee. Hiram licked his lips. By now Kallum probably wished he had tried anyway, leaking be damned, instead of risking being caught with a pussy.

“Gonna wash you out,” he explained. Nudging Kallum’s legs wider, Hiram pressed the packer, dick-tip first, into Kallum’s cunt. The silicone was soft, and it took some twisting, but finally he pushed it all the way in, the balls resting against Kallum’s taint and the opening facing out. As much as Kallum didn’t care for his pussy being fucked, the fullnesss felt comforting now. Hiram met Kallum’s glazed gaze. “I know what this is,” he murmured. “It’s a packer. Specifically one that’s meant to piss through.” He pressed his fingers into the hollow core, working it even deeper. He could feel the mix of come leaking in through the piss slit from Kallum’s cunt. The corner of his mouth quirked up. Then he stood and grabbed his dick, still heavy and huge despite being softer now, and rested the head on the edge of the packer’s funnel. He bit his lower lip and released with a sigh. The sound of pissing echoed through the room as Hiram’s urine flooded into Kallum’s packer-filled cunt. Kallum whimpered, staring up, pleading, at the big man pissing inside him. When he was done, he flicked it off, only to sink his fingers into the messy puddle collected in Kallum’s hole. He fucked the pissy packer deeper, sloshing it around a few times, then finally yanked it out in a flood of come and urine.

Hiram knelt and pulled the boy’s knees apart to suck him again. His tongue lapped at his piss-soaked folds, slurping the mess from his loose cunt. He finger fucked him now, tucking another finger in, curling it against that spot behind the root of Kallum’s tiny dick, as much to torture him as to scoop him clean. His fingers clawed and stroked, pulling the thick globs of semen out and sucking Kallum’s hole clean. He gave the boy-clit a long, slow suck, tongue curling under its hood then flicking across its angry head as Kallum shuddered against him. Then, fingers working and mouth sucking, Hiram drove Kallum over the cliff of another orgasm, chuckling as he sprayed weakly, a last glob of come sliding out onto Hiram’s tongue.

He straightened then, soaping up the loofah again and washing Kallum clean before washing himself, watching the boy fading in and out of consciousness on the shower floor. When they were both clean, and the shower beginning to run cold, Hiram turned off the water and dressed. When Kallum finally came to, he was cold and wet, neck cricked from where he’d slumped down in the shower. His clothes were folded neatly on the vanity, and a clean towel waited as well. He stumbled from the shower and dressed. He couldn’t bring himself to look in the mirror, not even to fix his hair. His hands shook as he tucked his packer inside his briefs. He’d have to get a new one, expensive as they were. There was no way he’d be able to look at this one now, without feeling Hiram’s hot piss flooding his cunt. Then, barely taking the time to check that no one was in the hall, Kallum fled Jack’s apartment.

Chapter Text

“Hey,” Hiram called from the parking lot.

Kallum stumbled back, catching himself on the door. It was not quite dawn, the sky blue except a sliver of light over the treetops. Hiram was parked in the handicap spot just outside Jack’s apartment entrance. It was a Jeep, beat up, belching exhaust into the cold air.

“Need a ride?”

Kallum stared at him, swaying against the door. He was in no condition to drive himself, that was sure. But accepting a ride from his rapist? He could walk, probably. It’d be slow, but he could cut through the park between here and La Belle, taking breaks on the benches along the path. But the park was darker than the streets, and he’d heard stories about what happened if you went there too late. Or early. His mind filled with the image of him collapsed along the trail, body being used by all the cocks in the nearby homeless camp. His abused clit could barely throb at the thought. So, wordlessly, he climbed into the passenger seat.

Hiram watched as he eased his sore ass onto the cracked vinyl, pressing his palm against his crotch through his pants. “Hey,” he repeated, softer, reaching over to cup Kallum’s face. “You good?”

Kallum nodded, looking out the window so he didn’t have to meet Hiram’s gaze. “Can you take me to the drug store?”

Hiram huffed a laugh, jerking the Jeep into reverse, peering over his shoulder, big hand resting near Kallum’s shoulder. “Sure. The one on Maple?”

Kallum shrugged. “Yeah.”

Hiram pulled out onto the deserted street, hanging a left, then a right, and cruising down High Street. “I’m clean,” Hiram reassured after a few moments in silence. “But I guess I don’t know about the rest of those freaks.”

“It’s for the morning after pill.” Kallum admitted, swallowing with a wince, throat still sore from all the fucking. “I’ll go to the clinic for a test later, when they’re open. But I’m not on birth control. Most people just fuck my ass.”

Hiram hummed. “I don’t blame them, your ass is fucking perfect. But I guess that was the whole reason Jack was into you. The pussy I mean.”

Kallum flinched. He’d tried to keep it a secret, but it could have been anything that gave him away, he supposed. He hoped leaving his hometown might mean he could pass better, without he baggage. Figures, the first group of guy friends he made discovered the truth after only a few months and raped him the first chance they got.

He pulled into the clinic without another word, parking by the front door. When Kallum reached for the door handle, Hiram locked it, staring at him. “You gonna tell them those guys raped you?” he asked.

“You did too,” Kallum pointed out.

“Did I?” Hiram glanced over, a wicked quirk to his lips. “How many times did you come?”

Kallum flushed and turned to stare out at the quiet suburban wasteland. The glass was cold on his forehead where he pressed it into the window, fogging with his breath. Hard fingers gripped his thigh above his knee.

“How many?”

“I ah—” he did know, though, had kept a tally carved on the walls of his brain like a man imprisoned. “Four,” he admitted.

“How many times were because of me?”

Kallum may have been stretched around Jack and Nic’s dicks, but it was Hiram’s cig on his nipple, Hiram’s fingers tugging his t-dick, and Hiram’s mouth sucking on his pussy. “All of them.”

“So what will you tell them in there?” Hiram prompted.

“Nothing.” Kallum shivered.

“Good boy,” Hiram praised, patting the thigh. “You’re way too hot for those losers, you know.”

Kallum didn’t know what to do with that, or the heat spreading through his groin at the compliment. He just waited for the lock to click open again, then hoped out. It took a minute to convince the pharmacist he, a boy, needed the morning after pill. But, after outing himself to two different people, he managed to get the goods. When he emerged he was surprised to see the Jeep still there, waiting for him in the lot. He hesitated, then hurried to the passenger side when Hiram jerked his head in a beckon.

The big man watched as Kallum popped the pill from its packet and downed it dry. When he’d finished gulping, he asked, “Where to now? Jack said you had to go to work?”

“Yeah, breakfast shift starts at seven. I should probably find some clean clothes.” His sweatshirt stank of cigarettes and cheap booze, and come was dried along the waistband.

Wordless, Hiram pulled out onto the main drag, neither speaking as he glided through a number of lights and pulled into the Walmart super center. “Should be opening up, I’ll be right back.” He left the Jeep running, keys in it, trusting Kallum not to run, not to steal the car and go straight to the police. He didn’t.

Hiram returned a moment later, plastic bag dangling from one hand as he texted with the other. He didn’t look up when he hopped back in, the Jeep shifting with his weight. He dropped the bag on Kallum’s lap and finished texting, thick thumb tapping quickly. The Razr dinged and he read it, tapped a short response, then his flipped it closed and glanced over. Kallum was peering into the plastic bag. Black chinos and a plain white collar shirt.

“How’d you know my size? And the uniform?”

“I saw the tag on your pants when Jack stripped you.” He chuckled, giving his dick a slow stroke over his pants again, as if just the memory was enough to get him hard. “As for the uniform, you work at La Belle, right?”

Kallum nodded.

“Well I worked there for a couple months a few years back. 98, I think? 99 maybe. And I’m buddies with the manager there, Carl.”

Kallum looked down. Hiram was an adult, working in 98, when Kallum was just thirteen. Heat throbbed through him again. “Are—are you working today?” he asked.

Hiram shook his head. “Got Mondays and Tuesdays off.” He crossed his big arms over his barrel chest, fixing Kallum with a dark stare. “I could drop you off at work, new clothes and all. Or,” he dragged the word out. “Like I said, I know Carl. I could tell him you’re sick, tell him you need the day off, and I’ll take you back to my place. Get you warmed up, throw on some old horror movies.”

Kallum’s heart thundered in his chest, both his holes already fluttering in anticipation. Was that who Hiram was texting? Already making his excuses? Maybe he knew, before Kallum even did, that Kallum would agree. Maybe he was right. He glanced at his watch. Quarter to six. There was no way he’d get himself together in an hour, no way he could work the tables limping with his ass blown out. And maybe Hiram knew that too. Kallum glanced at the big man sidelong, imagining his cock stretching his ass again as old, gory B movies played in the background. “You gonna rape me again?” he asked.

Hiram’s grin widened and he turned right, away from La Belle and into the shitty part of the city. “If you still want to pretend you don’t like it, sure. I’ll rape you until you can’t remember why you ever said no.”