Ryan was on the ground, dishevelled and breathing hard as he was held down by plenty of eager, sweaty hands that gripped at his arms and wrists. Others knelt on his legs. He grimaced as he came to terms with what a fucking stupid idiot he’d been! The last time they’d caught and wedged him, it had stung for hours! Luke was going to owe him big time after this—saving his sorry ass because of a piece of dick hardware, though Ryan had to admit, he had been a bit rash rushing the three of them like that.
He'd been holding his own as Todd and the others had tried to get a wedge on him, but in the end there had been too many of them. They’d had to struggle hard to hold him down but they’d managed and he hadn't been able to twist free. He’d taken a breather. He had time, sure that there’d still be plenty of ways to wriggle out of this and avoid a Wedgie of Doom, though—not surprisingly after what he’d dealt out—Todd was looking pretty determined.
No surprise there!
Then, with plenty of others arriving to lend a hand, Ryan had accepted his fate and gritted his teeth—all that was left was for them to just get it over and done with, and he’d grunted in discomfort as Todd had heaved his boxers up his back.
Shit…Todd would get payback before the day was done!
Still, at least this would be quick and he knew Todd wouldn't hang around.
At first, when the call for a Hang had come, he just hadn’t been able to compute it. It made no sense—why would anyone do that to him? He’d recognized Mitchell's voice and had downplayed the threat from the motherfucker. From the look on Todd's face, Ryan could see he wasn't interested in taking any advice from the asshole, either, so he’d brushed it off and gone back to preparing himself to receive a solid wedging.
But then it wouldn’t go away, and the clamour for a Hang escalated, building around him as he lay trapped, helpless to do anything about it. And, finally, Landon had pushed Todd out of the way and had somehow managed to take over.
At that point, Ryan began to get seriously worried.
* * *
Ryan's eyes flicked up into the faces of those bearing over the top of him who were panting with breathless exhilaration. Even with Landon trying to barge in, Ryan was relieved to see little enthusiasm in most at the prospect of turning this into a Hang. Even Ethan seemed sceptical.
Come on guys…leave it be. Just let me up and let's get out of here.
However, before he could turn thought into word, Matt and JJ pushed into the group. They were both heavyset and determined, and Ryan grunted as they kneeled on his chest and strengthened the grips on his arms. Others followed their lead and began pressing down to get better control of him. Landon’s forearm pressed painfully across the back of Ryan’s neck, and Ryan grunted in discomfort.
“Get the hell off me, you idiots! Don’t be stupid!”
“What do you think, guys? Should we let him go?” Landon goaded.
Ryan twisted his head enough to see Landon leering over him, grinning at the jeering replies that flew around. Let him go? Shit—Ryan could see easily enough in Landon’s gleam that there’d be better odds on Wingy losing weight!
Rattled, he started thinking fast. He had friends. They were his best hope. Todd was right there—and Luke, of course. This would get quashed pretty quick.
“Stop arsing around, Scott, and get his fucking pants off!” Mitchell barked from where he was hiding in the crowd, and his advice was met with another flood of taunting calls.
Landon studied Ryan and snickered. “Sorry bud—looks like it’s gonna be your turn for the Pleasure Trip, after all!”
Ryan swallowed. OH MY GOD! What the FUCK were Todd and Luke waiting for?
But before he had much time to put his thoughts together and fight back, his captors abruptly began to drag him across the floor to make space.
"FUCKING HELL, TODD! SHIT! You can't let them!" His white shirt rode up his back as he scraped across the rough surface. Stunned that it appeared they really intended to pull this off, he screeched back towards Todd in dismay. "When did I ever do anything like it to you?"
Todd seemed uncertain, but Ethan was pumped up now. Hauling on one of his legs, the glint in Ethan’s eye and the fresh blood on the end of his nose didn’t leave much to the imagination. To further seal his fate, as Ryan glared frantically back in Todd’s direction he could see a satisfied grin cross Kieran’s face. Standing next to Todd, Kieran shrugged and folded his arms.
"You know how it goes, homie. If you give, you get! Just chill and enjoy the ride—we all wanna see what you got this time!”
"Sorry, bud…" It was like a kick in the gut as a small, knowing smile broke out onto Todd's face. He called across to Ryan as they continued to drag him further away. "Just take it like a man."
If there was a moment when Ryan felt the rug being pulled from under him, it was then. His stomach lurched.He could hardly believe his ears, shocked at his friend’s blatant treachery.
Oh Christ…the motherfuckers were blowing him off!
More frantically his head spun from left to right, but he could see nothing past the leering grins of the pack who were swarming over him.
Where the fuck was Luke? Had he made a run for it?
He twisted and kicked as they hauled him bodily nearer to the sinks, and Landon quickly appeared at his side.
"Sorry Ry—you know I hate to do this to you.” Breathless and eager, the bastard couldn’t hide the elation from his voice. “What can I say? Like Todd says, bud, just take it like a man!” A nasty grin was plastered across his face and he moved fast, pulling at the belt buckle, pushing ahead with no one jumping in to stop him.
Ryan got his voice back.
"FUCK off! Don't you DARE!' He was done with sounding reasonable, and bellowed his resentment at the additional flurry of hands that were already trying to pull at his pants and get the zip down.
"Let go of me, you FUCKING PRICKS!" He tried to force his hands down to where he could grab onto his clothing, but Matt and JJ were more than strong enough to hold them away. His heart rate was climbing fast as Landon worked his buckle, opening it and ripping off the belt and tossing it to one side. Even to himself Ryan sounded panicky.
"Yeah, yeah…we've heard it all before.” Landon refused to be baited, and moments later, the scrimmage of hands—many belonging to guys Ryan hardly knew—had his zip down and his pants wrenched part-way off his backside. It was happening too quickly and he had no time to think, let alone do anything to stop it.
“And for God’s sake, stop worrying about your prick,” JJ chided as he and Matt pulled Ryan’s arms further out of the way so that Ryan couldn’t do a thing to end the ruthless stripping. “We both know we’ll get to that, and you’re gonna get plenty of chance to show it off and what it can do!"
Laughter flowed from the eager melee that surrounded him. Everyone knew what that meant as enthusiastic hands worked to wrestle his clothing down.
They kept going, and Ryan’s shoes soon came off. Frantic now, he looked elsewhere for support, a furious pleading entering his tone. “Ethan! Fucking hell…come on…don’t…”
Ethan pressed down on Ryan's knees to stop him kicking. He was red-faced from exertion and didn’t show any sign of letting up.
“Don’t what?” Ethan smirked. He had revenge in his eyes and a breathless excitement in his voice as he reached up to help the rest of them begin to wrench down Ryan's black school pants. "Just count it as an early birthday pres—"
“Just get his fucking pants off!” interrupted an excitable voice as more tousled-haired heads crouched over Ryan, eager to hurry things along.
"Then hold his legs still, asshole!" someone else screeched. Their voices were filled with the giddy intoxication of guys just grasping that Christmas had come early. Ryan twisted in their grips, his alarm increasing with every passing moment. As he felt his pants being manhandled down onto his legs, his pleading turned to outrage.
Fucking hell…they were actually going to do it!
"Get the FUCK off me, you PRICKS!" he shouted, though his voice sounded dry. Many of his tormentors were from his own class, and their hands were all over him as he bucked and fought the assault. Bodies pressed close, hot and heavy and constantly moving as they grappled to restrain him. An arm covered his face and he lost sight for a moment.
Smothered by a jacket, he swore as they abruptly dragged his pants down to his feet, and he then felt the cold floor on the back of his legs. With his wrists held tightly, there was nothing he could do to stop them; he could only rage as the stripping continued.
With a panting flourish, Landon finally peeled off his pants, and when Ryan next was able to force his head up, all he could see was bare legs. Appreciative cat whistles erupted as he’d finally been brought down to his boxer briefs.
Landon pushed up Ryan’s ruffled shirt, paused, and then laughed. “Whoa, Ry! Nice shorts!”
Oh fucking shit…
Landon began playing provocatively with the waistband, reading the imprint. "EUROBOY? Sexy, but not very patriotic, bud!"
Glaring impotently, Ryan remained tight-lipped, silenced by the revealing of his underwear. EUROBOY were a style he liked, but he would never openly choose to wear them on a day they were bound for an outing to the locker rooms.
Landon wasn’t finished taking the piss, and his face cracked into a grin. "And fuck, does Summers know you're wearing his slinky jocks?"
Ryan ground his teeth.And where the hell was Luke? He swore, not even able to think about that just now.
"Let go, you BASTARDS!" Outrage returned as he heaved on his arms again.
Close to his head, Matt was snickering with amusement. Now that they’d managed to get Ryan’s pants off him, they were taking a quick breather.
"Ease up, bud,” Matt said, getting his breath. “No need to get your knickers in a twist!"
"Matt's right, Ry.” JJ said, adjusting his grip on Ryan’s wrist and laughing, meanly. “I think Scott's gonna do that for you!"
Ryan glare was withering. Motherfuckers! He’d known Matt Young a long time. How could the bastard piss on him like this? And JJ? That fuck was never going to cut him any slack. The floor felt cold on his legs, but the pause was suddenly over, giving Ryan no further time to think or act, and certainly no opportunity for anyone else to rescue him.
"Are you two up for lifting him?" Landon gestured to Leroy and Jason who were currently using all their weight to help keep Ryan in place. Both the big African-American football jocks looked up, and grinned.
"Fuck, yeah!" Leroy's tone was high-spirited and Jason’s face split with an eager flash of white teeth. Letting go of Ryan, they got themselves ready a couple of meters away and knelt in place, waiting to receive him. Replacing them, impatient hands gripped Ryan's bare legs and he kicked out for all he was worth.
"Don't you FUCKING DARE!" he screeched as the many guys clustered around him worked to cement their hold. He twisted like a berserker, trying to foil their intentions to get him off the floor, until a pair of hard-muscled arms—he didn’t know whose, maybe a senior—snaked around his chest and lifted him with ease.
“Fucking-A! That’s more like it!” someone squealed. It was suddenly a lot easier for those just having to hold his legs and keep his arms held away from his body, and they got him moving.
"YOU BASTARDS!" Ryan hollered for all he was worth, and twisted and wrenched like a possessed madman as he stared past his red boxer trunks towards the backs of the pair waiting for him. He was shocked it had actually gone this far; he was definitely scared now, as he had every right to be. He knew well enough that for them to get his legs onto those shoulders was a point of no return.
But they were in control, and he was powerless to stop them. The room around him swiftly became even more animated, and with squeals of triumph, he was heaved over to where Jason and Leroy were crouched in place.
"We're nearly there, bud!” Landon grunted. “Just a bit more...are you two ready?"
Leroy twisted his head. “Hell, yeah—get it on, honky!”
Holding one of Ryan’s legs and surrounded by an atmosphere of giddy jubilation, Landon urged them forward, giving instructions as they guided Ryan closer.
“GET THE FUCK OFF ME!” Ryan struggled with renewed desperation against the iron lock wrapped around his chest, and tried to kick his legs to get them loose. But there were far too many holding him that were eager to get him where he didn't want to go. And nobody seemed to be listening or care a shit what he thought, anyway!
"Okay...we got him....up a bit...." Breathless, Landon was gleeful as they got him close. "A bit wider...hold his legs tight when he's—"
Ryan bellowed at them as they separated his legs. "Don't you FUCKING—!"
“Come on, bud, you might as well stop struggling!” Matt grunted, riding over the top of Ryan’s cry. He was panting from the exertion as he fought to hold Ryan’s right arm tight, and he sounded determined. “You know you’re fucking well going on there, so stop fucking around and let’s get on with it!”
From then it only took a few moments. They held Ryan’s legs apart and slid him into position, mating him with flagrant ease to the sturdy human frame, and jockeying him into place on it until the backs of his knees were snugly latched over a pair of outside shoulders. Then it was over as he felt Jason and Leroy clamp down on his bare legs with what he knew would be a permanent iron grip. That done, the arms around his chest let go, and he fell back with his shoulders and upper back dropping onto the tiles as his burning-red-colored boxers hung a foot off the floor. Just JJ and Matt remained to lock his wrists.
OH CHRIST! His heart yammered from exertion and panicky apprehension, appalled that they'd actually succeeded in hitching him into position.
Landon paused, both to take a breath and probably wanting to savour the moment—and maybe sensing that now they'd taken it far enough along that there would be no chance of any last minute reprieve.
"Just the shirt now, bud," Landon snickered. "I mean, we don't want him making a mess over it, do we guys?"
Stunned into silence at last, Ryan’s eyes flicked around for help. Anything. Anyone.
With exaggerated care, Landon slowly and neatly began to roll Ryan's school shirt up his torso until it was tucked in a tight wad under his armpits. Satisfied, he said, “Okay, let’s get him up! You guys ready?”
Leroy and Jason didn’t even bother answering. It had gone so fast—less than a minute since Ryan was dragged across the floor—that he was unable to organize his thoughts.
Then it was too late.
“FUUUCKK…NO…!” He swore in dismay as the two African-Americans surged up onto their feet. Locked over their shoulders, his head bounced painfully over the hard floor, and then he was sprung into the air, rising up at last into the full view of those gathered for the spectacle. He was greeted by hollers of approval.
"YOU SHITS!” He bellowed in anger as the Hang was performed, leaving him swinging off the thick shoulders of the tall football players.
Matt and JJ kept a firm lock on his wrists and yanked him down to straighten him. However, because they had hurried, it was badly coordinated. He saw his chance, wrenching hard at the arms that tried to pull him straight.
If he could only get them to drop him.
If they did, he knew there would be no way it would go any further—his fists would make sure of it! Heaving desperately, he ignored the strain on his stomach as he raised himself up the football player’s backs, pulling Matt and JJ with him. He was so close and he felt Matt losing his grip.
“Come on, Ry!” Out of the crowd, Luke’s voice lifted above the rest.
It sounded encouraging, but it completely distracted Ryan from what he was trying to do.
Luke was here? Still?
Pouncing on his confusion, Leroy steadied them and Matt snatched back Ryan’s wrist and once again locked it down. Ryan blinked as though coming out of a daze. Everything was upside down, though that was the least of what was wrong as he glared into the mass of bodies jostling for position in front of him.
He still tried to hold out against them, refusing to be pulled straight, heaving again to break the wristlocks. They did a cross-over. Reversing positions, Matt and JJ crossed his stretched arms over beyond his head—left arm pulled to the right and vice-versa. Not everyone got that, and it wasn't long before he found out why they said it hurt like fire! They heaved so hard he couldn’t hold his position.
"FUCK!!" Breathing heavily, he grunted in pain as he got wrenched down. He stayed there, breathing heavily.
He glared into a space full of people, many of whom he knew really well, others hardly at all. Everything was all the wrong way round—not just physically, but disconnected from what any normal day should be. This seemed a million miles from the easy-going normality of the school cafeteria where he and Luke had just eaten. Many of those friends who'd shared the table with them were scattered around the room. Near the door, he could even see the impassive scrutiny of Toby Skerrit.
His initial shock didn't last, and soon he was overwhelmingly angry to the point where the emotion rode roughshod over everything else.
How the hell had this happened? How could he have ended up in a fucking Hang?
Recollections of others who’d been bushwhacked over the last year flicked through his head. Kieran, Joe, Dan Hilson. If anyone, it should have been Wingy hanging upside-down that afternoon. Not him!
How the hell had he let it happen?
Center-front from where he was swinging, he could see an upside-down Jacko Jackson unable to keep the cheeky smirk from his face. The kid had been at the cinema with them the other day for Christ’s sake, and here he was, sneering with the rest of them and just as expectant. Like him, the eyes of most seemed glued to Ryan’s hipster briefs, more than ready to see the Hang taken to the next stage.
He tried to put out of his mind that thing that they were so juiced up for.
And Luke? Fucking Luke Summers! He couldn’t see him, but he’d heard Luke call out and knew he was close.
What the hell was THAT about?
It was a disgrace, and fucking his fault that Ryan was here in the first place! So why the hell wasn’t Luke doing something about it? That stoked Ryan’s anger, and he knew that when this was over....
When this was over?
He swallowed, reminded again of the hellish intentions that loomed as unconcealed as his boxers—a stretch, the split and some ruthless wedging. And after that he knew exactly what they were going to try to do. He'd happily enjoyed seeing it play out on many others, previously. Then, it was a just a bunch of fun. Now, they'd all decided it was his turn, and far too late, he realized how fucking crap it was to be the one hanging upside-down.
To keep the trepidation at bay, he picked a spot on the ceiling and stared at it, focusing on the idea that despite the evidence, not everyone could be made to shoot. He made a pact with the small blemish in the paintwork above him, convinced there was absolutely NO WAY he would give them what they were all craving.
They’d get nothing from him—he wouldn't even fucking speak!
Landon appeared in his field of view.
"Hey there, Ry!" After all the struggling, Landon looked flushed, but his face was full of his own self-importance. Behind him were a sea of buoyant faces, and Ryan felt a current of satisfaction claim the room as they studied their prize.
"I bet you didn't expect to be here today?" Landon grinned.
"Piss off, you bastard!" Ryan glared and spoke in soft, angry tones, unable to keep his mouth shut as he made his threat clear. "If you value your teeth, you do NOT want to do this!"
"I take that as a no, then?” Landon sighed theatrically and took a few moments to remove his own jacket. "Unfortunately, I hate to rain on your parade, pal, but you'll find we really do want to do this!" He brightened as he checked his watch. "Come on, don’t be mad. We’re not really gonna hurt you are we? Anyway, you had to know that you had this coming.”
“You got it, Scott!” Mitchell screeched from the crowd. “You bet he’ll be cumming, soon enough!”
“First time for everything, Ry,” JJ sniggered, joining the callous laughter. “We just wanna see if you’ve got what it takes to make it to the end!”
“JJ’s right,” Landon continued with a knowing smirk. “It won’t take long, and you never know, bud, you might even enjoy it! You’ll even have time to go get some lunch afterwards…well…if you’re still hungry…”
"So what’s he gonna order?" a lewd voice called out from the crowd. “Spunk sandwiches?”
Adding to the outbreak of mean laughter, another quipped. “What about jizz and chips?”
Landon grinned. "That’s quite good, Danny! Does he get extra mayo with that?”
The room dissolved at Ryan’s expense, but he kept his mouth closed in gritty silence. It wasn’t even funny! He glared at them to cover his unease as it seemed Landon was ready to get down to business. There must have been some signal that he didn’t see, but he grunted as the first pull came.
He’d seen others racked. He knew what they would do, but he clamped his teeth together, determined not to make a sound. His legs were levered further over the shoulders that carried them as Leroy and Jason bent down and then shuffled him to take up the slack. Against the solid locks that Matt and JJ had on his arms, his captors surged up again, pulling at the muscles in his frame.
The first few were nothing, and it fired up his belief that he would be above it all.
Pathetic bastards! They'd fail and then he'd break some heads.
But he found out that they were only just getting started. Against the solid weight of the two bearing his shoulders to the ground, the next pull was jarring on his upper back and shoulders. His stomach muscles bunched with the tension.
The shock of it was a wake up call.
His arms were really beginning to ache with the twisting strain of the cross-over. He knew all he was doing was just inviting more—and worse—but still stared stolidly outward, refusing to give them any satisfaction. Leroy and Jason levered him even higher, but he kept it together for a third, fourth and fifth.
Landon was amiable as he oversaw the treatment. "We can keep this up all day if you want Ry!" He looked at his watch and shrugged. "We've got plenty of time. But you know we can stop if you want..."
Ryan groaned silently. It didn't sound like the fuck was going to be willing let it go with a few uncomfortable stretches. He was waiting for some begging! Ryan wanted to deny him, but he was wavering. His arms had started to burn and he knew he wouldn’t be able to resist that much more. For the sixth time, they bent down to lever him even higher on their shoulders, and then pulled hard.
SHIT! His teeth remained staunchly gritted, but that had hurt!
"Fucking Christ!" He swore at last, the curse slipping from between his lips before he could stop it. With his arms twisted as they were, it felt like they were being pulled from their sockets!
"Okay...enough already!" He knew even then that he couldn’t take another, and gave up.
Either Landon hadn't heard, or he chose to ignore him, and they gathered again. Even before it came, his mind was begging. He'd had more than enough! He squeezed his eyes closed as his spine felt the awful jarring torment.
“STOP!” The anger in his voice was being replaced by desperation as the pain pulled at his shoulders. “Just fucking STOP, okay!”
But Landon shook his head. "Sorry bud, I can’t hear you—it’s a bit noisy in here. You’ll have to do better!”
It looked like Landon was about to make them do another, and Ryan could feel JJ tightening his grip in preparation, grinning in anticipation. Matt, however, seemed more human.
“No more, Scott—I think that’s enough.”
Landon sneered. “Oh, come on guys, he—”
"Okay, Scott, you’ve had your fun.” Todd kicked in at last, too. “Enough!”
Ryan surged with relief. It even sounded like Todd was ready to bring an end to the whole thing. And about time! Thank God—fucking reason had prevailed at last.
"If you're too much of a pussy, Todd,” Landon retorted. “You know where the door is!"
Ryan stared into the crowd. Come on... But there was no reply from Todd, though Landon didn’t push it any further, either, and the tension was released from Ryan’s arms and back. And, from the smirk on his face, Matt seemed quite happy to let what was planned run its course as well. A sick dread began to take Ryan as he watched the last line of defence step back, leaving him—quite literally—to hang, and he shut his eyes. His muscles burned. He was angry with his own weakness, but God, that pull had hurt!
Maybe it was a good thing? Aching muscles were the least of his problems. They could stretch and wedge and do whatever… the discomfort of it just made him confidant that that would be all they’d get from him.
“Hey there, squirt!”
Ryan opened his eyes to find Landon crouching down right in front of him to talk. The bastard had the gall to smile as if he cared. Ryan just scowled—angry words would only add to the satisfaction the motherfucker would be enjoying for Ryan’s recent begging. Ryan jerked his head to one side as Landon had the cheek to ruffle his short-cropped hair.
“Cum on Ry, it'll be quicker if we don't hang about!" Emphasising the words, Landon chuckled at his own pathetic humor. He continued to crouch in front of Ryan, studying him as the anticipation mounted around them, and he reached up to touch Ryan’s boxers, playing with the band as a sign of things to come.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Ryan hissed as Landon provocatively rested his hand across the front. He knew every eye would now be locked onto the fiery dark red of his boxer briefs. The EUROBOY brand were an amazing fit—low rise and quite short in the leg. They were not too loose and snugged him just right and he enjoyed wearing them. Now, especially hanging as he was, he was uncomfortably aware that the bulge of his package was well defined through the soft cotton.
He tried to ignore it.
“Don’t piss yourself, bud. All in good time!” Landon laughed easily and flicked his head to encompass those filling the room. “They all want to know what you’ve got in there.”
“Fuck off!” Ryan grimaced as Landon patted him gently. Now he was at their mercy, it looked like Landon was going to take his time, and sounds of snickering skittered around the restroom.
He tried to blank them all. Everyone but him seemed so happy to be there. They’d racked him and, like most, he’d been forced to beg. To them it turned him into a mere mortal; he’d been a toy that could be played with—and they were probably looking forward to a few games.
Landon stood and moved into position behind him. Looking upwards Ryan could see him peering down from between his legs. He may have sounded amusing to everyone else—chummy even—but close up, his eyes were disturbingly cold and cruel as he delivered a ‘friendly’ smack on the backside.
Ryan knew what came next. The fucking sock! He’d seen one wrapped around enough dicks to know what would happen. He waited for one to be pulled off his foot, but Landon seemed to have other things in mind as he paused to scan the room.
A voice shouted over the developing buzz. “Come on Landon, get the fuck on w—“
Heads turned, and Ryan immediately recognized its owner, and he groaned silently. What the hell was Kieran McElroy up to? From his inverted position, he watched as Kier pushed his way out of the crush to come to join them. He lifted a powerful-looking rechargeable shaver from his pocket.
“Christ, Kier!” Matt burst out laughing. “Where the hell did you get that!”
Kieran shrugged. “Dunno—it just kinda fell into my pocket!”
Ryan twisted up his head and his eyes widened. "Oh shit, NO...!" He pulled harder at the restraining hands as he realized what they had in store for him.
"Hey there, Ry!" Kieran waved what he was carrying, a knowing smirk in his face. "I think you know what this is for..."
Ryan gritted his teeth and knew exactly what Kieran had in mind. And after what Ryan had done to him, he knew he probably wasn’t going to get any breaks.
“I dunno, Kier, it seems a bit radical!” Landon sniggered, adding his own drama as he addressed the congregation. “So, who thinks we should buzz him a few notches first?”
There were a few looks of patent disbelief, but they didn't last long and were replaced with squeals of laughter and overwhelming enthusiasm as the gathering realized that a guy was about to be cut down.
Ryan felt hands on his boxers and he jerked his head up towards Kieran again.
“FUCKING HELL—come on, Kier. Not here! Do you have to?” Maybe he should have been more worried about what came after, but he loathed the prospect of losing his pubes.
The answer came abruptly, as his boxers were pulled right up to his knees. Immediately there were whistles of appreciation from around the room—everyone liked to see the moment a guy got put on show.
“Oh…fuck…” Ryan swore and his face and neck burned. While he guessed that it was going to happen sooner or later, he’d been distracted by what Kier was holding and hadn’t been prepared to be exposed. His shaft was soft, thick, and hung limply, and he knew every eye had to be on it. It was one thing to be in the buff under the showerheads, washing down alongside guys he knew, but done like this—stripped naked in public and put on display…was…indescribably humiliating!
He didn’t stay looking at what most others were for long, and his attention flicked back to what Kieran was carrying.
"Do I have to?" Kieran repeated, grinning as he held up the trimmer and began flicking the switch to test it. It buzzed with the same eager anticipation as everyone else. “Hell, yes—I think so, homie. Don’t you?”
“Looks like you already did some of the heavy lifting!” Kieran sniggered, making Ryan squirm for what he guessed he was about to lose as Kieran brushed his fingers through the hallowed turf of Ryan’s neatly trimmed hairs. “Still, I think we've got us some time for a bit of close pruning!”
Whether Ryan agreed or not was irrelevant. All he could do was watch helplessly as Kieran snapped the guard to its lowest setting.
"Oh you BASTARD…FUCKING HELL...!" Ryan lurched, but it was no good. The energetic razor buzzed into life, and was pushed against his groin. The rechargeable trimmer—and where it came from, Ryan didn't know...probably from the locker of someone who liked to keep facial hair down—seemed efficient enough. Turned at an angle, Kieran marched it across Ryan’s bush like a shovel.
It was ruthless!
“You fuck!” Hungrily, the trimmer ate up Ryan’s dark pubes, and he grimaced as the curls floated down his stomach and across his face. Kieran showed absolutely no mercy as the length of the guards left Ryan with nothing much more than a quarter-centimeter of awkward bristles. He didn't have that much body hair—just over his dick, armpits and lower legs—but Kieran made sure all those places got some attention as, amidst howls of laughter, he drove the trimmer relentlessly.
By the time it was finished, the trimmer—which looked like it had seen a few years—was beginning to struggle. Coming at a point where the excitable chatter had abated, Jacko's voice called out.
"It's running out of juice!"
Ryan's eyes flicked outwards to where just a few feet away, Jacko’s face was alive with humor. Like everyone else, he seemed delighted to be watching Ryan get cut down.
"Juice?” Kieran's face appeared from between Ryan’s legs, and he winked as he brazenly gave Ryan's stubbled groin a rub. He lifted up Ryan’s shaft between two fingers. "I wouldn't worry about that, kiddo. I think we'll soon find he's got plenty of juice left in the bottle!"
The room cracked up, but at the crude humor, Ryan could see Jacko's eyes widen. On the school tennis courts, Ryan had become something of a mentor to the cheeky-faced lad, taking the kid under his wing to help coach his technique and improve his gameplay. Now the room erupted at the idea that Jacko’s mentor might well be coaching him in a different technique!
God, could it really come to that?
They all seemed to think so, and he scowled at the faces leering at him...all alive with expectation of what they all knew was to come.
Not fucking likely…not if he could tear himself loose!
In fact, as they’d made room for Kier to buzz his legs, Ryan could feel a relaxing in the grip that Jason had clamped over his shins. It was almost loose enough that a sudden twist might just be enough to pull it free. They might end up in a heap, but he’d have a fighting chance to—
"Oh—just one more thing…" Kieran snickered. Back in Ryan’s field of vision again, he apparently hadn't finished as he ran the tips of his fingers around the stubble where Ryan's bush used to be. He shook his head and made an announcement.
"I dunno, guys. It still feels a bit rough to me!" He smirked and drew something out of his pocket.
Ryan’s eyes went wide. “Oh FUCKING HELL… Don’t you d—”
“Dare?” Kieran waved the disposable razor for the benefit of those watching. “What do you think, guys? Should we get him a bit more more…umm…smooth…?”
“Oh my God!” Squealing from the row behind Jacko, Wingy was open mouthed. “No! Really…?”
"Oh you fucking son of a bitch!” Ryan groaned at the implications of what was in Kieran’s hand.
“Christ, Kier!” Someone whooped with laughter from out of sight back in the room. “You’re actually gonna fucking shave him?!”
"Fucking-A we are!" Ethan crowed, appearing at Kieran's side. He lifted one of the soap dispensers and squirted, and Ryan swore at the sudden application of cold watery soap. Ryan twisted dismay as Kieran showed no hesitation in massaging the soapy liquid all over him, taking in both his slightly wrinkled shaft and his nuts, spreading it widely.
Kieran was never one for being reluctant for when it came to getting the job done, and, rules or not, he didn’t balk at grasping Ryan’s shaft.
“The thing is, homie,” Kieran said, chatting amiably as he stretched Ryan’s shaft firmly up towards Ryan knees, “if you give you get. Call this payback!”
Ryan swore as the blade came into contact an inch up his shaft. Shit…there went any hope of getting off easily!
"I wouldn't move if I was you, Ry," Ethan sniggered.
Holding Ryan taut to stretch the skin, Kieran firmly drew the triple-bladed head straight through the thick soap, sweeping all the way up to Ryan’s belly button. A wide furrow of bare skin appeared, and the room went ape-shit!
And there was not a thing Ryan could do about it!
“I gotta warn you, though, Ry,” Kieran snickered as he uncovered another long trench of flesh. “It fucking itches in a few days!”
Kieran was ruthless. Constantly apply fresh soapy water, once he’d shaved everything in one direction, he reversed and scraped back the other way. Then he went side to side. He took it all off, even going down onto Ryan’s upper legs to get them smooth, too. He even risked scraping the blades over Ryan’s nuts. At the same time, Ethan seemed to be in possession of a second razor, and took it on himself to shave the hair from Ryan’s lower legs. Between them they ensured Ryan became totally smooth from the waist down.
All around them guys were splitting their sides while Ryan bore the whole humiliating transformation with gritted teeth, desperately regretting every square inch of hair he’d similarly helped scrape from Kieran not many months previously. It took only a few minutes to complete, although, like Kier, Ryan knew he would bear the humiliation of it for weeks.
The impact was shocking—far worse than a short-lived body stretch—as he was regressed by the blades to the appearance of a middle-school kid with a rather chubby dick! Nothing remained from his belly button to his ankles—not even a 5 o’clock shadow—leaving his pink, freshly shaven skin the center of total ridicule.
"There …now that looks a whole lot better, homie!” Kieran snickered. After having achieved a complete defoliation where it counted, he used paper towels to rub away the excess soap and dry Ryan off.
“Fucking hell, I think he’s got it bad for you, Kier!” Ethan snorted, pointing at a dick that was no longer soft.
With the soap and with Kieran’s constant manipulation as he’d shaved him, Ryan hadn’t been able to help it. Maybe Kier hadn’t done it deliberately, but that didn’t change the outcome, and Ryan had filled out—a soft slug that had been aroused into a determined semi. He could feel it and see it, and everyone else could, too!
Kieran poked at it.
“Look on the bright side, homie…at least if you get a blow job, the chick’s not gonna be picking hairs from her teeth!” He grinned out into faces that looked back with expectant glee. "Okay guys, just remember—be nice afterwards. It's not his fault he's about to spunk over the floor!"
"PISS OFF, YOU SHITHEAD!" Too silent for too long, Ryan’s uncomfortable anger swelled. "It's not going to fucking happen!"
Kieran’s eyes narrowed, and he laughed—a little more meanly this time. “Really? Like Ethan said—it looks like you don’t even need a sock on there, bud!”
Ethan snickered. "I think the last time he looked like this was when we benched him in back in Freeman’s class!”
‘Did he pop one up, then, too?” demanded one of the middle-school kids who was standing near the front. He was grinning in delight as he found his voice.
“I don’t know how the hell you got in here, kiddo,” Landon cackled, leering that direction, “but you’ve got some fucking nerve. Stick around…today he’s gonna show you where jizz comes from! You might even learn something!”
“Sick fucks!” Ryan growled as his dick rapidly deflated. To cover his embarrassment, he spat a threat. “And if you think I’m ever going to forget this, you’re so fucking wrong!”
Who needed friends like this?
"Oh, oh…fighting talk there, homie!” Kieran looked across the heads towards the far corner. "What do you think, Joe?”
Ryan could just see the face of the Asian chess fanatic, who grimaced and colored as he realized he'd been put on the spot. Joe’s dark eyes flashed uncomfortably, maybe wondering ‘what he thought about what’ as he got a few friendly slaps on the back from those round about him.
“Let’s put it this way,” Kieran continued, encouraging a reply. “On a scale of one to ten, how long d'ya think our boy’s gonna last?"
Joe grinned at last and called back in his irregular accent. "I think I give him a three!"
"Three?" Kieran shook his head and even lifted Ryan’s still soft dick in display. "Jeez, you’re tough! I was gonna give him at least a five. What about going to get one of your chess clocks? We could time him to see if he sets a record!"
"No way!" Joe seemed to be enjoying himself now, and had a knowing gleam in his eye. "When you're shaved, I heard it goes a lot faster! By the time I get back here, he's going to be all done!"
All done? To most, this exchange between two veterans of the Hang was priceless, but Ryan wasn’t one of them.
"Maybe Joe's right, homie?" Kieran pulled a face and leered knowingly. "Either way, it's a hell of a journey, and we're all gonna find out soon enough!"
"Come on now, girls!" Ending the interlude, Landon pushed Kieran out of the way, and stepped back up to the plate, clearly keen to get back into the limelight. "With all his pubes gone, the poor guy's going to be getting chilly. Why don't we start a little friction to warm him up?"
Ryan felt a sock being pulled of his foot, and around him there was what felt like a communal licking of the lips.
"Fucking stop RIGHT THERE!" Ryan twisted and heaved as Landon made a great show of looping the sock into a ligature around him. Ryan knew what the sock would do, but his outburst was overshadowed by a chorus of delight as Landon drew the ends until Ryan felt the pressure begin to increase. He couldn't help but grunt as the constriction became increasingly tight and the banding pushed out his freshly shaven nuts.
“Feeling nice and snug?” JJ snickered, hanging tight onto Ryan’s arm as Ryan pulled at them again.
“FUCK OFF!” Ryan tried not to let the tight feeling get to him.
Landon seemed satisfied with the banding, and secured it. His eyes glinted. "Time to see what you've got, Ry...you know what happens next!" With that, he pulled Ryan's boxers back into place, snapping the waistband into place over the top of his shaft.
“Bastards!” Ryan hissed, but he knew he was in trouble.
Trying to ignore the effect of the cuff, he tracked Jacko’s gaze again. Those eyes flicked down from where they'd clearly been locked and they made eye contact. Jacko looked unsettled and broke the contact quickly. It made Ryan feel guilty, even though none of what was happening was his fault in the slightest. He could already feel the effect of the cuff and could feel his dick beginning to swell, and was rattled. It was so damn tight...
By the time I get back here, he's going to be all done—
He knew that Kieran and Joe were right. Almost everyone juiced. And if he did, too, how the fuck would anyone be able to take him seriously again? Unexpectedly, something scraped the base his sockless foot. It was startling, and he squeaked and jerked up and down.
Landon's ruthless leer peered down. "Shit, Ry! I didn't know you were that ticklish!" He was clearly enjoying himself; ringmaster of an act that he probably hoped would be hard to beat— one that would go down in the annals of school history as the day they'd galvanized Ryan Alexis to spurt.
Ryan felt the jolting scrape again and swore as he pulled violently at his bonds. They had no idea how ticklish he actually was. Then his boxers began to move and the torturous advance began, pushing and pulling the material around his groin to try to get him aroused. Around the front, the waistband rode repeatedly over his sweet spot. On his backside, the material began to work its way into his backside.
Not if I can fucking help it!
He raged at them silently as his jaunty underwear began to be pulled up into his crack, and he squeezed his butt cheeks together to resist the invasion. It did nothing more than to invite the inevitable split. Landon coughed and raised a hand and immediately the crowd hushed for him.
“Guys…give me a bit of space can you? You’re crowding me!” He smirked cheekily and the two African Americans took the cue and began to slowly move away from each other—the impact of the side steps inducing the split. Ryan gritted his teeth as they began to slowly separate him like some obscene upside-down Russian gymnast glued to the parallel bars. There was absolutely nothing he could do as they drew him apart…wider and wider, until…
"SHIT!" He grunted in discomfort, and around him, faces creased at their sport.
Again, Landon heaved down on the tortured underwear. With his legs pulled wider, Ryan found it difficult to deny them, and the tight wedge slipped a little deeper into his crack. At the front, the black waistband clamped down tighter, beginning to persecute him.
"I'm sure we can do a bit better than that guys!" Landon appeared like some modern day Sampson as the stood between the two African-Americans. With a hand on each, he physically drove them apart.
"Bloody fucking HELL!" It was a hellish ordeal! Not only did it rack up a shooting pain in his groin, but also his backside opened up a whole lot more. The back panel of his boxers were rolled into a thong and forced even deeper inside his backside.
"FUCK!" He swore again as explosions of anger returned to bolster his sense of worth in response to the obscene treatment.
Landon gasped. “Ryan Alexis! I’m shocked! Such fucking naughty language—and there are kids present, too. I'm gonna have to spank your arse!” With that he gave Ryan a smack across his open cheeks.
And then another.
"WHAT THE FUCK! Piss off, you pervert!” Nobody had EVER been spanked in a Hang before. How FUCKING DARE he!
The multitude went ape-shit at the comedy as Ryan yelped at the demeaning attack on his backside. Even Jacko was creased up as Landon smacked Ryan again.
Ryan howled with impotent rage, but the high-pitched voice didn’t sound like his own, and it just made everyone roar the louder! It seemed that Landon sensed the approval he was getting and he hit Ryan again, harder this time.
“Dear, dear, young man…” came Landon’s matronly tones, “those are naughty words again!” His face was alive with his own cleverness. “You’re going to need a bit more discipline!”
With Ryan's dark red boxers twisted tight and wedged into his crack like a sumo wrestler, Landon had unrestricted access to his backside, and hit him full on. Hard and brutal.
And then again.
For Ryan, seething with anger up to that point, everything changed.
He shouted with a beating that struck right at the very heart of his being, dragging him back in time in a way that had nothing to do with the physical alterations the razors had brought.
THWACK! Landon hit him again, and Ryan yowled with a pain that threatened to consume him on every level. The images flashed through his head, and he could hear the words as they came back to life from the deepest of black pits.
You will respect me, son! Is that clear?
He’d been at an age when he’d had enough years to learn to hate his father, yet too few to know how, and when, to retreat. Whatever happened, Ryan was always at fault. Nothing was ever good enough. Yet setting himself against his father in a clash of wills was always a battle that ended up across the man’s knee.
A hand at first, it had soon progressed to a belt—always with his pants and underwear down to maximize the humiliation. And when he was too old for the knee, he would have to lean across the top of his parent’s bed while his father beat the crap out of him.
You WILL RESPECT me, son! Are we CLEAR about that?
Each beating ended the same way. His father would stand him up on his two feet and demand, ‘Are we good now?’
Good? What the hell was good about any of it? He was given a choice. If he glared and showed the slightest hint of rebellion, it would start all over again.
You WILL respect me, son! ARE WE CLEAR?
Finally, usually in tears and unable to take any more, he would hang his head and nod. ‘We’re good.’ His will would collapse and his father would look satisfied.
‘You know it’s only because I love you…” the bastard would say, and Ryan would have to try not to shrink in fear, anger and disgust at the pseudo-hug his father would then give him alongside meaningless words of love that were only another means of control and domination.
Landon hit Ryan again and Ryan cried in pain.
Maybe those observing the treatment could sense the depth of his distress because there was an immediate marked cooling in the mood as it seemed that there were those who were beginning to doubt what Landon was doing. Perhaps Landon sensed it, too, and he quickly withdrew his hand, no doubt wanting to get the audience back on his side. In the hiatus, Ryan felt something scrape his foot again. He jumped and squeaked. He felt his other sock being pulled, and fingers assaulted the balls of both his feet.
All at once, he was writhing. Fingers—he didn’t know whose—reached around from behind him and dug into his ribs. He shrieked, though the underlying tones of it were completely different from the cries forced from him. It was still cruel, but in a different kind of way.
He dissolved into screaming laughter, jerking around in his bonds like some upside-down, demented marionette. And as quickly as it had abated, the side-splitting laughter that surrounded him, re-awoke.
Probably it was Leroy and Jason who were going unmercifully at his feet, because, under the cover of hilarity, Landon spanked Ryan’s backside again.
He squeaked and howled, and in the middle of it, Landon began forcing him to split again. Ryan had lost control of any muscles to resist them, and pain erupted as they opened him wide. Unhindered, and pulling hard on Ryan’s underwear, Landon forced it deep into his backside.
Still it wouldn’t stop. Full on and debilitating, his backside was a mass of fire. The fingers at his waist, now pushed up to his armpits and continued to keep him from getting under control. He was convulsing and shrieking as every single person watching shrieked, too. His father jeered from the souls of every one of them.
He could hardly breathe.
"LUKE!" He begged, though he was unable to turn the words into meaningful sounds. The tears running from his eyes might have been confused with mirth, but they weren’t that. "MAKE THEM STOP!"
Frantically, he swung his head, searching for help. Todd was wiping his eyes, unable to stop roaring. Jacko was almost bent double. Everybody was howling.
In his pain, Ryan almost became too fearful to look further, but before he could close his eyes, a face came into view, peering around somebody’s head.
Crowing at his pain and shame. Luke.
It was the moment that Ryan broke.
Breaking someone’s spirit is an inexact science. Some people are broken accidentally, some by careful management, some even by brute force. Pain is a factor, both physical and emotional and, though humiliation might not be the same as a broken spirit, it can lead to it.
Anger, and the desire for revenge are the usual healthy responses coming from an individual who suffers some humiliation. But, if the circumstances are right and the sense of being crushed is deep enough, then humiliation can give way to personal shame and defeat.
For Ryan Alexis, at that singular moment, his sense of shame multiplied. With the disgrace inflicted on him, he foundered at the loss of support and backup of those he thought he could trust. With the belief that all his friends wanted to see him degraded, his confidence wavered and then shattered.
He broke. And he fled.
Appallingly frightened by the room that had just closed in on him, he shut his eyes to try to block it all out—escaping with the false hope that if he couldn’t see them, they wouldn’t be able to see him. In the blackness, his father chased him, and his screechings became gasp, loud and tormented, and they lasted long after the tickling and swats had finally stopped.
“Oh my God, Ry…” Landon was still roaring with laughter as he stepped back to wipe tears from his eyes. “I think Todd just wet himself!” He hadn’t noticed that he was the only one in the room who was still laughing, a room that had grown unusually quiet.
Ryan hung loosely in their grip, trying to get his breath. He was exhausted, the fight drained from him, but as he tried to get his head back to the present, an incredulous bark ricocheted around the room.
"HOLY SHIT, Alexis. Is that the best you can get?!"
It burst out moments after he had got himself together enough to realize the truth of what they had seen. His underwear had been slowly tightened and pulled away at the front. By now his shaft was been completely exposed. Landon peered between Ryan's legs.
"Christ, Ry! Does that thing actually do anything?" The surprise in his face was genuine, and the contempt in his tone said it all.
Ryan knew why Landon and now some others were mocking, and flushed. The banding sock along with the intense pinch of his boxers had done its job, leaving him almost painfully hard, and a network of angry veins laced a swollen shaft which had the appearance of a stubby banana, curving tightly out of a hairless root. It evidenced what he already knew—he wasn’t a grower. In a world where size mattered, he was as big as he would get, and even though the loss of pubic hair gave the extra appearance of length, his erection was nowhere near enough for them.
And it wasn't just Landon who scorned in disbelief. From every face that Ryan could see, came smirks of derision. He hadn't the courage to look anywhere near where Luke had been standing.
“Anyone got a ruler?” Landon goaded. “I reckon four and a half inches at best!”
"It might be a bit more if you could straighten it out!" someone shrieked.
"Hey…Gillespie!" A voice Ryan couldn't quite put a name to, called out. "Looks like you've got something to aspire to!"
"Hey…asshole…" This time, Ryan recognised the voice of Danny Gillespie, who retorted without hesitation. "I used it last night to shaft your sister!"
Ryan was disturbed by the exchange. He knew Danny Gillespie quite well—the kid was in Simon's class. Did that mean that Simon was out there, too?
"Mother of Mary!" It was Mitchell this time. "My fucking bulldog sprouts a bigger dick than that!"
“So tell us, jerkoff,” Todd immediately shot back in Mitchell's direction. “Did that pooch bite yours off while it was sucking you off, or were you born with that weenie?” Todd's tone as he nailed Mitchell may have sounded more supportive of Ryan, but Todd himself was still grinning.
"Fuck you, Quince!" There was knowing laughter as Mitchell found himself the one with the short straw. Despite it, Ryan couldn’t manage anything more than to somehow attempt to gather his tattered self-belief.
"Fuck you …" he muttered, but it came out as a thin, defeated hiss.
Fuck all of you!
“Come on, bud, we haven’t got all day!” Landon grinned, suddenly all business like again. "Assuming that that thing can actually shoot, it's time to show us what you've got!"
Landon picked up the band of Ryan’s boxers, pulling some slack out of what was seriously wedged, positioning the words that were emblazoned on the waistband right onto the sweet spot behind the head of Ryan’s dick. Over the top of his increasingly sensitive head, the EUROBOY band worked to seduce him. With the right kind of material and the right application of pressure, it was just a matter of time.
In no apparent hurry, Landon continued to draw the waistband of Ryan’s boxers relentlessly over his short shaft, slipping it back and forth across his sweet spot. Ryan twisted and pulled, but Matt and JJ held him firmly, their faces silently crowing, ‘You’re not going anywhere, Alexis. Not till you’re done!
The move heralded the onset of the endgame, though just then, Ryan couldn't generate enough fight to care about what would happen if he was unable to control himself. The longer it continued, the more powerless he became. In the battle of wills, his confidence told him that he’d already lost.
Yes, we're good....
In front of him, the upside-down world of the front row seemed monopolized by younger, smaller guys—a couple even seemed to be kids who’d sneaked in from the lower years, using their size to squeeze through to the front for the best view. It was all he could see now; them and a few heads peering from behind.
Several of those at the front had their hands in their pockets, and they were close enough that Ryan could spot the subtle signs of hands pulling at underwear, trying to get comfortable. Jacko was among them, squeezed in just in front of Wingford. Jacko’s jacket was long, and was drawn together at the front, yet out of sight of those on either side of the younger teen, Ryan could see movement there, too.
It was an accepted quirk of the ritual that was being played out—if you needed to…adjust…yourself, nobody would mind. In the communal memory of that day, all of that would be eradicated. All they would recall would be Ryan’s humiliation—that and the spurts of jizz they confidently expected him to unload.
It was hard to be angry with the younger kids who were secretly jerking off. He’d been there, too, and had ended up doing exactly the same a couple of times when he was their age when at his first Hangs. Ryan’s mood was so dark, however, his defeat so complete, it was difficult to give them even a moment’s thought. He just felt thoroughly degraded, and to be used like that…for somebody else’s gratification, seemed right and proper. It was easy just to blank it out.
As though he had breathed the dentist’s nitrous oxide, his world had become fuzzy, detached, and he began drifting into a place where he could escape the horrendous inevitability of it all.
Maybe he was about to faint and escape into unconsciousness?
It almost felt like it, though he knew he would never be so lucky. He’d hung for so long, his head had filled with blood and buzzed as Landon and those around him kept up an endless stream of provoking chatter. Even that began to blur at the edges, leaving just his purple, swollen helmet and the teasing waistband that rubbed incessantly over it.
“Come on, Scott.” Mitchell’s hidden voice broke out from somewhere deep inside the waiting crowd. “Get on with it. You can see he’s fucking ready!”
“For Christ’s sake!” agreed another, their tone impatient. “I've got stuff to do! Just get him spermed!”
Other voices rose too, all baying for the same outcome.
Bastards, Ryan thought, unable to rouse himself enough at first to utter it. His biceps strained and he got his voice back. ‘It’s fucking NEVER going to happen!”
Matt and JJ were hardly troubled by Ryan’s attempts to escape, and JJ needled him. “How’s it feeling? Ready to spunk yet, ‘cos—”
"Never going to happen?” Landon interrupted. “If you say so, pal, but you’re fucking leaking, so let’s see!”
Ryan’s jerked his head up to see that Landon was right. Immediately several hands got hold of his red trunks, to loosen them and slip them onto the top of his legs. By now, inflamed and rippled with livid veins, the stumpy curve was smearing pre-cum onto his belly—though if Ryan had cared about such things, he might have even been satisfied to see it had forced another quarter of an inch out of him.
Landon’s mouth creased into a sneer and he grunted, “I mean, how the fuck do you even get hold of this thing?”
Kieran had already broken past the no-touch barrier some time ago, but Landon still hesitated in taking Ryan in his hand. Nearby, Ethan was poised with the bottle of soapy solution which he applied liberally until it dripped down Ryan’s stomach.
‘STOP!’ Ryan screamed as the soap dripped on him, but the word was only in his head. He tensed as Landon finally wrapped his hand in place and the mean grin broadened as the room seemed to give him the green light. Quickly, Landon settled into his task.
Ryan grimaced and swore, though weakly. It must only have been ten minutes, but it seemed like a lifetime since he'd committed to the belief that he would never capitulate. Now, as the sensations started to grow as Landon continued to jerk him, his confidence slipped. Trying to ignore the growing pressure, he closed his eyes to block them all out, determined—if nothing else—to refuse them the satisfaction of his voice as they taunted him.
To distract himself, he looked away, only to find himself seeing what he wished he hadn’t. Maybe it had only started by a need to adjust his pants, but shielded by the drop of Jacko's slightly too-large jacket, there was a flash of boxers past a toffee-brown hand that had slipped down a zip and pushed inside. A hand that was clearly moving.
With no idea he was being observed as he kept perfect pace with the slow, rhythmic movements of Landon’s grip, Jacko was clearly masturbating.
Ryan tried to ignore it. This was not what he wanted. Even so, he couldn’t tear his eyes away completely, and unknown to the boy, stared up towards Jacko’s face. Ryan had always hoped that, sometime in his life, there would be a guy who might want to share some deeply intimate with him; someone special.
But not like this.
The background noise returned to an incomprehensible buzz as he studied the kid becoming increasingly flushed as Jacko began to pick up the pace of his own secret masturbation. Through the open zip, his hand was pushed under the light grey of his underwear, and his mouth opened to facilitate an increased rate of breathing. Mimicking Landon, he was building up speed, becoming flushed with it as if driven so hard, he was losing the ability to care if others around him noticed what he was doing. Ryan could see he was getting close.
Then, quite abruptly, Jacko’s face froze, and only his mouth moved, twisting into a tightly controlled clenching grimace as his own private climax struck. Still glued to Ryan’s groin, Jacko’s eyes took on a glazed, unfocused appearance as his whole frame seemed to shudder in time with each of his hidden contractions. Ryan had no doubt he was jizzing inside his boxers.
After he’d ejaculated, Jacko stood motionless for long moments, frozen in an aftermath of release. He slumped and his eyes closed as his breathing slowed, becoming shallower, and he quietly slipped his hand out from between his zip. Then, a sense of apprehension seemed to exert itself, and his eyes opened and flicked to left and right, showing relief that he appeared to have been unobserved.
Then, that same face looked down and caught Ryan looking directly at him. The younger teen seemed completely horrified at being found out, and his toffee-brown face flushed with the complexities of guilt and shame.
Unable to bear it, Ryan silently cried for him. It was all there. He'd seen all of Jacko's secrets laid bare in that single glance. Coming from a face and a place that could so easily have been his own, he ached for a guy who he knew would only look forward to years of secrets—playing the game, and trying to appear normal.
The terrible destructive guilt of it leaked from Jacko. Much more than just a bit of simple relief, the truth was there to read. That the powerful compulsion of Ryan's uncontrolled arousal had been the complete center of Jacko’s focus…and the kid had been undone by it. The terrified look on his stricken face spoke volumes. 'Oh God...someone knows! Someone has worked out that I'm into guys...that I'm a fucking gay!'
Ryan bore the shame with him, carrying, with everything else, the blame for the agony of fear that being outed was going to bring. Of course, Jacko had no idea he was in safe hands, but that did nothing more than extend Ryan's own self-loathing, knowing he could never tell the lad it was okay, or convince him he was just a normal human who happened to be gay.
Because in the world they lived in, it wasn’tokay.
Jacko broke the eye contact and stared at the floor. He began to back away, slipping to the second row. Nobody else cared about the young up-and-coming tennis player, and they folded around him as he disappeared from sight. Ryan hoped to God the kid wouldn't do anything stupid…
“…SHIT! Look at that! He’s leaking like a freaking tap now!!”
Ryan lurched and twisted his head up, dragged right back into the immediacy of his situation by Ethan’s sneering bark. FUCK! What had he been thinking? He'd been drifting and watching, and now he shuddered as he realized how much he'd let it slip.
Landon pounced on it. “Get the sock off him, someone…I don’t think he fucking needs it now!” Quickly hands pulled at the synching twists and let Ryan loose. Twisting and reversing his grip, Landon hardly let up as more soap kept Ryan slick.
Ryan immediately spiked.
“Ohhhh…” His legs clenched over the shoulders that held him, and the sudden tightening in his stomach muscles pulled his shoulder away from the floor. Ryan couldn’t help digging his fingers into the forearms of Matt and JJ as they gripped them tightly, and he groaned, “…fuck.”
The keyed-up undertone of Ryan’s expletive was different to any previous outburst, and Matt’s eyes lit up. “Fucking A—here we go!” Matt wasn’t alone. Around about them, hungry grins were plastered on every face as they all spotted the moment that Ryan Alexis was turned.
“Get some more fucking soap on him!” JJ squealed. He licked his lips and his tone was inflamed, joining dozens who broke out of their patient simmer to become fired up with delight.
More lubricant flowed, and Landon looked totally assured as he continued to speed up, setting up a twisting pumping action. “You are so fucking going to blow, bud!”
“Nnnnngg….” Feverish, Ryan stared at the hand that persecuted him. “You bastard…” Any determination not to make any noise, fell by the wayside. “...ahhhh….FUCK!”
“Hey bud...it looks like you’re on a short fuse!” Grinning with unsympathetic relish, Matt relayed his findings. “Sorry guys, it doesn’t look like he's gonna make it past a two!”
"Fucking hell, you've got him!"
Who it was, Ryan had no idea. He just knew that the guy was right. Since the moment he’d been dragged across the tiles it had been like a slow climb up the steep part of a fairground Big Dipper; the first carriage of a train grinding relentlessly to the top. At last he’d reached the peak and his stomach muscles clenched as he pulled against the grips on his arms and tensed. He would last less than two dozen or so strokes, but each of those felt like a lifetime as he had regained enough of himself to battle the inevitable as the train passed the top and gathered speed down the far side.
“Fucking stop…please don’t…” He roiled against the powerful sensations, and the muscles in his abdomen clenched, levering his whole frame upwards. His tongue loosened further. “Ohhhh…God…..."
"Keep jerking him…he's fucking gonna jizz!...”.
Voices came from all sides and he didn’t even know or care who they belonged to as they piled over each other and became a background clutter of pressure.
“…come on Ry, let it come! You know you want to…!”
“Fight it, bud!” The tone lowered, but its timbre was still such that Ryan could still hear every word. “You know I’m right—if he fights it, it’s gonna build to be fucking awesome when he creams!”
“…come on Alexis—don’t let it get to you….hang on…you know you can beat it!...”
“Fuck…SCOTT…unngggg …NO…!” Unable to restrain his desperation, Ryan was incapable of keeping the distressed tones out of his voice.
“…holy fuck, he’s gonna cum…Oh my God, look at that…”
Ryan’s face must have been bright red with exertion as he twisted and bucked in Landon’s grip, but Landon had the tiger by the tale and wasn't about to let go!
"Nnnngg...no...no…Christ....stop…STOP!" An expectant hiatus fell, and he found himself to be the only one making any sound, but now that he’d let his tongue loose, he couldn't stop. His tortured mind fixated on the single thought that EVERYTHING depended on not ejaculating and he gave up any control over speech and sound. Was he any different from Kieran or Joe or a dozen others?
He lurched and tried to twist upwards again. His arms bulged as he tried to force a hand to tear at Landon as Landon’s grip shifted. Rhythmic and deep, one hand locked itself under his dickhead, driving up into it like fire, and the other stretched his hard, curving shaft.
All at once, Ryan knew he was going to unload. Somehow Landon had discovered the secret to creating a response that only Ryan had had the keys to up until then. Now someone else was completely in control.
“Ahh…ahh..unnh…unngg…ahhh…” He was becoming a staccato of cries, matched by spasming jerks.
"You’ve got him!"
"Motherfucker! Oh YEAH—he really IS gonna blow!"
Applying pressure back on his arms and shoulders, Matt and JJ forced Ryan down, and held him firmly. He squeezed shut his eyes, batting his head from side to side.
"Ahhhfuuucckkk..." He swore and jerked and writhed and heaved as Landon further speeded up the coercion, closing him to the point where he was about to cum. His head screamed ‘NO!’, as his body got ready to be emptied.
"OH FUCK! You bastard…" Every movement threatened to be the last as Landon’s grip became increasingly tight around him, grinding hard under his head and he jerked over the back of the shoulders like a tortured marionette.
His unrestrained cries were met with pin drop silence.
If he fights it, it makes it better! Instinctively he knew this was going to be true. He had held out too long already.
“Come on, bud…” In Ryan’s ear, Matt goaded him, his tone heavy with raunchy sex. “Push yourself deep into that chick! She wants it so bad!”
"Unh…FUUUCK...NO!" The hand that drove him could have been Landon's, it could have been his own...fuck it could been anyone's. It really didn't matter anymore.
JJ took up the torment from the other side. “Oh fuck…Ry…she’s gonna cum!” He began groaning in a heavily sexualised tone. “Uuhhh....uhhhh… NNNGG..NNNGGG…YES!”
“Oh…” He grunted, almost a cough of surprise. It was almost a relief that it was about over. “Oooohhhhh….” The grunt became a long, drawn out moan as, with it, his shoulders lifted away from the floor as he tensed.
“Ahhhh...UHHHNN…NNNNNGGG..." His expression screwed into a contorted grimace as, in the last moments, everything else went black.
“…Christ…fucking A…here he comes…”
All at once, he unleashed, and the howl that he forced out was uncontrolled. After waiting so long, his whole body was transported into an explosive ecstasy as Landon brought him to the end of the Pleasure Trip with a final series of jerks that forced out the first long, white splashing thread that arched over his head and onto the tiles in front of them. A roar went up around them; whistles and bellows of approval as he convulsed over the shoulders that held him fast.
“Uh.. ...UUUNNNGG…" Immediately, he shot again, continuing to heave, groaning with each contraction. His body froze into a catatonic arch with little hope of stopping the milking of jizz.
“…oh FUCKING HELL, look at that…”
“Ahhhrgrgg...Uhhhh…Unnngg." A third followed the first two. Squealing and out of control, he continued thrusting blindly into the fist that compelled him.
Landon was ruthless. As each gout cannoned like an uncontainable pressure hose, each spurt forcing outbursts of painful pleasure from Ryan’s lips, he kept jerking Ryan's hard, curved inches. Ryan shook and spasmed with every aftershock until there was nothing left, and still Landon showed no sign of letting up. It became an agony of overstimulation and he thrashed and screeched while they held him fast and bellows of delight flew around the room.
Landon finally let go and his words fell over themselves. “HOLY SHIT! Did you see that? Fucking AWESOME!”
“IT FUCKING WENT ON MY JACKET!” JJ screeched.
Panting and drained, Ryan flopped back against the human frame that displayed him, and kept his eyes closed as his chest hammered.
Shrieks of delight were erupting out around him, and Ryan gradually opened his eyes to be greeted by faces that were bright with elation, all revelling in the intensity of the way he'd just been milked dry. The kids on the front row were pointing to the floor where his jizz was spattered in white streaks.
Exhausted, he made no attempt to do anything but hang in slack defeat as the yammering in his chest slowed.
Now that his climax had drawn out, all that was left was a crushing humiliation and the last dribbles of soap and semen that had spilt onto his chest. He closed his eyes trying to black out the memory of his shouts, the heaving, and the burning pleasure as he’d been emptied.
Above him, his still-engorged dick remained an obscene memorial to his undoing, and past that, the red of a pair of boxers were still at his knees. Out of a baby-smooth groin, his dick pointed hard and accusing in the direction of where he’d spurted. Despite his firmest intentions, it had been so easy from them to get him to the end. One minute he’d been assing around having fun, the next he was creaming for them.
Making no attempt to cover him up, Landon jeered, loud and jubilant. "I gotta give it to you Ry." He was alive with the aura of his own power. "That was TOTALLY…FUCKING…. MAGNIFICENT!"
They let go of his arms, but Ryan continued to hang there slackly. He had nothing left to give. Then they dropped him, and he hit the floor and groaned. He put his hands over his still-erect penis and hung his head.
Laughing and juiced-up by what they’d pulled off, they gathered their stuff and left him sitting on the floor. As he pulled his boxers up his legs and onto his backside, he kept his head down. Slowly, people began to leave, some coming over first to smack him on the back with spirited humor in their grinning tones. He kept his head lowered until there seemed to be no more voices and the swinging bang of the door had finally come to a stop.
He looked up. Two people were left, and silently they seemed to be waiting. Todd had recovered his pants and stepped closer to lay them down next to Ryan. He looked awkward and didn't speak. Luke brought the belt, shoes and socks. Stepping back a pace, they watched quietly.
Feeling the multiple pains of his treatment, Ryan stood tenderly. Turning away from those he had thought were his friends, he adjusted his underwear, flinching as he glanced at the impact of the humiliating defoliation.
At least he was soft.
He covered up and kept his back to them, hoping they would get the message and just leave him alone as he painstakingly unrolled his shirt and then gingerly stepped into his school pants.
“Sorry, Ry." A tentative voice came from behind. "I didn’t really plan any of that, bud…you have to know that...”
Ryan’s eyes flicked up briefly into the mirror as he drew up his pants and did the zip. Todd sounded as awkward as he looked. Bending with difficulty to put on a sock, Ryan shook his head and stayed silent, trying to blank the inner turmoil. Todd waited, watching, but had nothing further to add.
The door crashed open, and some kid put his head in. All three of them turned to see who it was. Seeing nobody there but the three of them, the kid sniggered and left, letting the door swish behind him.
“Anyway…I…” Todd didn’t finish, and finally shrugged. Backing away, he, too, left the room.
Ryan remained tender, feeling as much crippled by the shame of his display as by the stabbing pains in his bum and thighs where they’d forced him to do a split. In fact, he hurt everywhere. He caught a glimpse of himself again in the multiple mirrors and grimaced, and began to tuck himself in to look less of a mess.
Ryan’s eyes flicked into the mirror. Luke was still there. Silently he stared at him and then looked away and leaned over the sink, waiting.
“WHAT?” Ryan growled, flicking up his eyes again.
"I…are you okay?"
Was he OK? No…not really.
Ryan suddenly felt more fragile than he could remember. How easy it would be to give in to the need to cry. There were questions he wanted to ask Luke: Why did you stay to watch, and why didn’t you stop them? Yet he knew that if he voiced them right then, he’d be unable to stop breaking down.
Silently, he buckled up his pants and finished straightening his shirt before starting to put on his shoes.
“Do you need any—”
"I'm fine…" But he wasn't fine and his voice sounded broken, too.
Just leave me alone.
"That was really…brutal," Luke muttered, still hanging in the background.
That was one way of describing it. Maybe Luke thought he was helping, but Ryan didn’t want to talk right now. Not to him. Not to anyone.
He picked up his jacket that was still lying, untouched, near one of the sinks.
Ryan flared in anger, whipping his head around to face Luke. “What the FUCK do you actually want?”
Luke flinched and dropped his head.
I fucking thought so.
The anger passed quickly, and Ryan’s voice became dry and raspy as he stared at a point on the floor. “Just fucking leave me alone.”
More would become tears and he couldn’t bear the thought of more weakness. Carefully slipping on the jacket, he picked up his backpack that had been resting on the floor, forgotten until then. Keeping the pain to himself, he slipped away with it through the door.
Walking slowly along a crowded school corridor, the scoop of the Hang was front page news. Fingers pointed, and laughter and derision seemed to be all around him. Many ran by him, laughing and mocking, and several pushed too close in a deliberate attempt to provoke. The noise and many bright faces were like physical blows, and Ryan kept his burning face down, not wanting to see anybody. Finally, he slipped unobserved into one of the smaller restrooms. It was empty, and he locked himself into one of the stalls and sat quietly on the seat, hugging his arms to his chest, nursing the pain of overstrained tendons.
Quite a few came in and out as he sat there alone. Nobody seemed to be looking for him, but plenty mentioned his name with relish. The Hang was on everyone's lips and they were pretty explicit about it. Those who'd been present unpackaged the gory details for those who were kicking themselves for missing it. They sniggered about the spanking and tickling, about his undersized wiener that had been shaved bare, and about those sexy dark-red boxers that got so totally wedged in his backside that it was completely fucking obscene!
And the finale?
One kid was avid, describing it as, “a fucking awesome noisy splooge, that had only just missed me!”
Hanging his head, he flushed at the memory of his uncontrolled spurting that had everyone so animated.
He was such a fucking loser.
On one occasion, someone pulled at the door looking for a stall to use, and he stared at the lock, fearful of discovery. As the minutes passed, he shook his head to dislodge the cloying discomfort.
Come on. Get a grip. Move on. Show some respect for yourself.
A few times he stood—an attempt to try to get back on the horse. Every time, he sat back down, lacking the self-confidence that usually came so naturally.
Others had gone through the same he knew. It wasn't even the 'noisy splooge' that stopped him. He tried to tell himself that he didn't even care what people thought about the size of his dick, though the looks of derision on their faces had hurt deeply. He was even afraid to go out into the corridor, and couldn't see how he could lift up his head again at their school. Not after this.
But there was more. Memories that undermined him.
All the things he carried—an abusive father, an alcoholic mother, secrets and loneliness—they tore at any attempt to gather himself. In his head his father hit him, and he failed to do anything more than drop back down onto the seat, the pain in his frame competing with the feelings of worthlessness.
You will obey me... are we clear?
He fought to stop his feelings overwhelming him, but it was too much, and he buried his head in his arms and started crying.
Time finally ran out, and he eventually had no choice but to move. He tried to sort out his outer appearance, tucking in his shirt properly, straightening his tie and washing his face, putting off the moment when he would have to come out into the light.
The corridors had all but emptied as he passed through them, and he was the last to arrive at their first class of the afternoon.