“So—” Ted struggles to speak through the lump in his throat. “So what happened to him?”
“Word got around pretty fast. Next morning, down at breakfast, all the other pledges were celebrating making it into Omega. Those guys treated Stevie boy like dirt. Like he was some kind of leper. Nobody’d sit next to him. Everybody laughing behind his back. Huevos rancheros for breakfast—guys were smearing egg yolk on their faces and nudging each other, all of ’em having a good laugh at the cocksucker.”
Larry leans back in his chair, cocks his head. Traces his fingertip over the bulge running down his pants leg, from the base to the crown. Across the table, Ted is in a state of constant agitation, his eyes wide open, his tongue flicking against his lips.
“Of course, that’s just the beginning of the story. Just the start of the shit we put little Stevie boy through. You heard enough, Teddy boy, or you wanna hear more? Maybe if you ask me real nice…”
Ted knows the formula. He recites it without hesitation. “Yes, sir. Please. I want to hear the rest.”
Larry nods and smirks. “Yeah, I figured you would…” He leans forward across the table, bringing his face close to Ted’s.
“After that night—after we found out what a good cocksucker he was and busted his cherry—the Gods put out word that Stevie boy was fair game for all the upperclassmen. Figured it was about time we had a steady cocksucker on the premises. But only the Gods were allowed to use his ass.”
“He let you—”
“Wasn’t exactly like we had to ask his permission. We had that picture to keep him in line. That picture of Stevie boy with my dick down his throat.”
Larry leans back. “Me and Gary and the rest of the Gods made some special rules for Stevie boy. Like a curfew on Saturday nights. Had to be in by ten o’clock. In his room. Naked. Down on his knees. That way all the guys who didn’t score on a date had a guaranteed place to drop a load. Some Saturday nights, around two in the morning, I’d see ’em lined up ten-deep in the hall outside his room, all waiting their turn to plow some fratboy dick down Stevie’s throat. Yeah, Saturday night was suck night. Feeding time for the fraternity fuckhole.”
Ted’s head is spinning. His dick is throbbing in his pants. “Maybe—you think maybe—he liked it? Maybe he wanted it?”
Larry curls his upper lip and gives him a look as if he had crawled out from under a rock. “Liked it? Shit. You wouldn’t ask if you’d been there. If you’d seen him eating alone down in the dining hall every night. If you’d heard him crying himself to sleep in his room at night. You think he liked being the fraternity fuckhole? Stevie boy hated it. Hated every minute of it.
“Hated me most of all. After all, I was the one that slipped the cattle prod up his ass that night. The one that cracked his cherry, split his ass wide open for all the Gods to fuck. Hated me especially, ’cause I had the biggest dick in the house. You should’ve heard him squeal and carry on every time I’d slip my cunt-buster up his tight little chute. Liked it? Shit, you’d
have
to be queer to ask a question like that.
“No, Stevie boy wanted out. About a month after Hell Week I was nosing around in his room, found a letter on his desk. Addressed to his daddy back home in Beaumont—begging the old man to let him quit Omega. Nothing too specific, of course. Just a bunch of crap about how we all picked on him, how he didn’t fit in. Stuck that letter in my pocket, and the next morning at breakfast I called him up to the front of the hall. Made him read it out loud in front of everybody. The guys laughed their heads off. Stevie boy started stuttering and crying, saying he was sorry, saying he wouldn’t send it.
“But that’s not what I had in mind. I
made
him send it. Stood over him while he licked the stamp and stuck it in the mailbox. Then took him back to my room and gave him a taste of what happens to squealers in Omega House. Stevie boy could hardly walk for a couple of days after that.”
“So then—his father let him quit the house?”
Larry shakes his head. “You don’t understand a damn thing, do you? Oh, his old man wrote back all right. Like I knew he would. I got my hands on that letter before Stevie boy had a chance. It was just what I expected.
“I called him up that night at dinner and waved it under his nose. Made him do another recitation for us. Know what his daddy called him? A sissy. Said no son of his was gonna drop out of Omega. Told him to brace up—his exact words. ‘Your letter has shamed me to the core, son. Brace up! Try to act like a man, not a sissy. Obey the orders of your upperclassmen, and show respect to the Gods!’
“We had quite a laugh out of that one. Had quite a gang-bang with Stevie boy that night, me and Gary and the other Gods. Even brought out the cattle prod again. ‘Daddy says open wide and suck my big dick…Daddy says bend over and spread those cheeks so this upperclassman can screw you like a two-bit whore—Daddy says grab your ankles and
brace
yourself, cocksucker, ’cause you’re about to get a shock.’”
Larry laughs out loud.
“Stevie boy didn’t give us much trouble after that, no matter how rough we got with him. No matter how miserable we made him—and we worked damned hard to make made his life a living hell. A couple of times he got desperate, even threatened to go to the dean. But of course all we had to do was wave that picture under his nose. That always kept him in line. Kept him in his place—down on his knees, or bent over grabbing his ankles with his naked butt in the air.”
Larry slides down in his chair. He narrows his eyes and squeezes the bulge running down the leg of his jeans. “I guess he finally did get to where he liked sucking cock. At least you’d think so, the way his eyes glazed over and his jaw went slack when I’d walk in his room in the middle of the night, with my dick already half-hard and hanging out the fly of my underwear. The way his stiff little weenie would spring up from his shaved crotch every time I’d make him choke on my meat. The way he’d get down on his hands and knees and crawl across the floor for it, with his tongue hanging out and his stiff little nub slapping up against his belly.
“But he never did get used to taking my big dick up his ass. Those nights when I’d call him into my room, make him sit and twirl on it till noon the next day. Have to slap his face to make him stop blubbering and begging to get off. Yeah, Stevie boy’s hole was always tight, no matter how many times I cored him out.
“Must’ve hurt like hell. ’Course I wouldn’t know. I’ve never had anything up my ass—well, that’s not quite true. I used to like spending a couple of hours on a Sunday afternoon with Stevie boy’s tongue wiggling around up my chute while I beat off. With his nose pressed into my balls and his mouth clamped onto my hole, eating me out. That boy sucked ass even better than he sucked cock.”
Ted’s eyes travel back and forth. From Steve’s face, smiling and innocent in his graduation photo, to Larry’s smirking at him from across the table. Down the length of Larry’s torso, down his hard, sculpted pecs and washboard stomach to the obscene mound at the crotch of his jeans—and then to the picture of Steve staring in shock at the camera, his throat bulging with Larry’s cock. The face of a pledge who’s been ridden to hell and back. The face of an unwilling cocksucker who’s just swallowed a load from the biggest dick in Omega.
“So—so what finally happened to him?”
Larry knits his eyebrows and gives him a long, dark stare. “Seems to me you haven’t been doing what I told you to, cocksucker. Seems to me you haven’t been calling me
sir.
”
Ted doesn’t resist. Saying the words makes his mouth water, makes his cock throb in his pants and his asshole twitch. “Sir. Please. Tell me what finally happened to him. Tell me what happened to the fraternity fuckhole…”
Larry flashes a thin smile and nods. “Well, about midterm we got a letter from the dean. Seems Stevie boy’s grades were dragging the whole house down. His grade point average was shit. Guess he didn’t have much time to concentrate on his courses. Guess it’s not easy taking notes in class when you’re sitting in a hard wooden chair with a big plug stuffed up your ass, and your ass is already blistered from getting whipped that morning, and sore inside from getting dicked by four or five guys the night before. And you know the same thing is gonna happen when you get home that night. And the night after…
“So I made a personal phone call to Steve’s daddy down in Beaumont to explain the situation. Told him I realized that he was one of our biggest sponsors, that all his boys had been Omega—but something just had to be done about Stevie boy. Mr. Big Shot was pretty upset. Pretty damned riled. Gave me his Omega word of honor that he’d see to it himself that the boy was straightened out. Must have given little Stevie a big dose of hell over Christmas vacation; sucker came back for spring term shakier than ever. And from there on it was all downhill. By the end of the year he was pulling straight F’s. Didn’t go out much—no girlfriend, no drinking buddies. Spent all his time in his room. Which was all right. That way we always knew where to find him when we needed a nice tight hole to unload in.
“I’m not sure exactly what happened at the end of term. All I know is that Stevie had some kind of big falling out with his daddy—probably ’cause he refused to come back to Omega in the fall. And how could he ever tell the old man why? His daddy cut him off without a cent.”
“So what happened to him?”
Larry shrugs.
“You mean you never saw him again?”
“Not for a long time. Not until just a couple of months ago. A Saturday night, me and Gary cruising up and down the Drag in Gary’s Jag, about two in the morning—we stopped in at some fast food joint, Taco Hell or Jock in the Crotch, one of those places. And there was Stevie boy, working behind the counter. Only white boy in the place. Dressed up in some silly peon outfit, shirt with big red stripes that didn’t fit him and a little paper hat. Turned white as a fish’s belly when he saw us walk in the door. Started shaking so bad he could hardly take our order. Kept getting flustered and messing it up. Spilled our change all over the counter. Never once looked me in the eye.
“Place was deserted. Just a skeleton crew behind the counter, no customers besides me and Gary. We sat down at a table up front where we could keep an eye on him. You’d have thought we were sticking pins in a voodoo doll, the way he kept tripping around back there, bumping into things and knocking shit over. We could hear the night manager back in the kitchen yelling at him, asking him what the fuck was going on.
“Then Gary and I started talking real loud, dropping words like ‘cocksucker’ and ‘faggot.’ Stevie boy’s face turned as red as those stripes on the stupid shirt he was wearing. Then I called him over. Called him by name. He looked up, then tried to look away, but I kept staring him straight in the eye. Called him again. The night manager told him to get off his ass and see what we wanted. Stevie boy walked out from behind the counter, shaking like a leaf.
“We had him shuffling back and forth for about ten minutes, fetching us stuff—a little extra salt, some ketchup—‘hey Stevie boy, we need some ice water here’—seeing how far we could push him. He always was a real obedient little cocksucker. Then I called him over one last time.” Larry cocks his eyebrow, smiling at the memory. “You wanna know what I made little Stevie boy do?”
Horrified, excited, Ted doesn’t trust himself to speak. He just nods his head.
Larry leans forward, speaking slowly, relishing every word. “I told Stevie boy to go back to the john—get his ass in the men’s room and wait for us there. Told him to take off that stupid peon outfit, strip off all his clothes and get down on his knees stark naked by the urinal. Throw back his head, close his eyes and prop his mouth wide open. ’Cause Gary and I were gonna be in there in about two minutes to feed him our loads, and I expected to see him naked with his mouth ready to suck and his little peanut sticking up to show us how glad he was to see us.”
Larry leans back, shaking his head. “I didn’t think he’d do it. I really didn’t. Not after all the shit we’d put him through. But then I reached down and gave my dick a squeeze and looked him in the eye, and his face blushed darker than ever and got this crazy, helpless, hungry look on it—just the kind of look you’ve got on your face right now, cocksucker. And he turned around and headed straight for the toilet.”
“You fucked him—right there—”
Larry smiles his crooked smile and slowly shakes his head. “Nope. Gary and I waited two minutes, then walked up to the counter. Called the night manager over. Big black motherfucker. Told him he better have a look in the men’s room, ’cause some kind of weirdo pervert was hanging around in there. Motherfucker walked straight to the john and slammed the door behind him. We waited till we heard him start yelling bloody murder—heard a sound like a slap and Stevie squealing—then went out and hopped in the Jag, peeled out of the parking lot, and took a cruise down the Drag at ninety miles an hour. Laughing all the way.”
Larry chuckles and folds his hands behind his head, stretching his arms and shoulders. “And I imagine that’s the last we’ll ever see of Stevie boy in this town.”
Ted shudders and bites his lip, not trusting himself to speak.
Unable to look Larry in the eye, he looks again at the photos on the table. Staring at the two images of Steve, before and after. What he was, and what Larry made him into.
Ted can feel the power of Larry’s presence, like the rush of a drug ensnaring him, the same power Steve must have felt—the breathtaking beauty of his perfect body and his perfect, chiseled face, like a stake in the heart, like a rebuke to all the mediocre bodies and faces that populate an imperfect world. The arrogant glint in his eyes, crushing everything that comes before them, unsoftened by the least hint of pity or remorse. And his cock. Larry’s big cock. The cock of a rapist, the cock of a punisher. A cock made to take pleasure, not to give it. Hidden from sight, but dominating everything that happens in the room.