(C) 1993 Mark E. Dassad. May be reproduced and redistributed un-edited and un-altered in electronic format for NON-PROFIT ONLY with this notice intact. The author reserves the right to sell paper copies at huge profit to the disconnected. Any other use constitutes fraud, and you'll be hunted down like a dawg and violated if you violate this. Okay you can fix typos, but only if you send me corrections. +++++++ It's not about violence, it's not about sex. +++++++ +++++++++++++++ It's about violent sex. +++++++++++++++ LATRINE DUTY Staring at his feet, morosely swabbing the floor at the far wall of the of the latrine trying not to breathe through his nose the sickly sweet stench of industrial strength disinfectant clings roughly to the back of his throat. His rectum finally recovered from the reaming it took his first night in camp he moves sluggishly having lain sleepless for the past three nights; each day in the mess-hall his attackers have promised a return visit, but they have yet to make good on that promise. Too tired to react quickly he sees a foot snake out, tip the metal mop-bucket over. Filthy soapy water sloshes over his feet soaking into his sneakers running through the slick wood floorboards; the overwhelming smell of pine disinfectant rising up from his feet makes him gag. A pair of hands grab him roughly by the front of his t-shirt, slam him backwards against the wooden wall with a dull thud. He moves instinctively to raise the mop handle in defense, but the hands of the boy towering over him grab the mop wrench it from his hands tossing it casually aside, smiling, slamming him effortlessly back into the wall. "Randy says you give _excellent_ head." Smiling. His stomach is in his mouth, he feels the bile rise, looks wildly past the boy trapping him in the far end of the latrine. He sees Randy, another boy he recognizes as one of the baseball jocks, leaning against the row of sinks near the door, smirking. He twitches nervously, his eyes drawn to the noticable bulge in Randy's jeans. "Colin!" he yelps the name of their counselor but the boy in front of him closes in, grinning down into his face. "Counselor ain't here, pussy. It's quiet hour. Probably trying to score with the nurse." Large hands grab the tops of his shoulders, push him relentlessly to his knees. "Blow me, faggot." He screws his eyes shut, kneeling in the filthy soapy water spilled from the bucket, his arms at his side, his lips pressed tightly shut he hears the unmistakable sound of a zipper. A smack across the side of his head sends him reeling, he raises his hands to protect his head, is kneed in the stomach. Clutching at his gut blows rain down on him from all directions until he feels a hand in his hair. He reaches up to clutch at the hand, trying not to shriek at the pain, his eyes still squeezed tightly shut desperately avoiding the sight of the penis he knows is dangling in front of his face." "Blow me you goddamn faggot, unless you wanna take it up your ass instead?" His mind careens at the mere mention of sodomy, tears roll down the sides of his face. He whimpers, opens his eyes to the sight of a hard fat penis oozing pre-cum, cannot bear to voluntarily take this strange boy's penis in his mouth, cannot bear to actively suck on it... He sees a hand reach out to grab at his shoulder and lift him to his feet; terrified of another butt-fucking he opens his mouth and lunges forward onto the cock before him. He licks clumsily, gagging as the boy grabs his hair and thrusts into his face he hears the boy moaning appreciatively, feels a bulging cock head pressing against the back of his throat. He doesn't know what to do with his hands, instinct makes him press them against his attacker's legs as he feels the cock thrust down into his throat harder and more insistently blocking his air passage he cannot breathe panicking now struggling instinctively. A familiar sickening slimy wetness spreads at the back of his throat, the bludgeoning penis is withdrawn from his face, the major volume of sperm sprayed into his hair, some in his face he flinches, hears laughter, feels a thick gob of warm wet jism sliding down his cheek. "Fuckin' hose the pansy down goddamn!" Randy. He is coughing, doubled over spitting semen onto the latrine floor, wiping it from his face, only vaguely aware that the first boy has pulled up his pants and moved back to the look-out position, replaced by Randy's baseball pal. He kneels up, sees the boy standing over him dick in hand waiting expectantly for his blow-job. "Well, asshole?" Unable to envision an escape from the afternoon's ordeal he lurches forward sucking the boy's penis into his mouth he pulls back, sliding his mouth along the length rolling his tongue around the head, slowly, instinctively, somehow dimly aware that if he actively sucks the boy he has more control, won't be strangled, he bobs his head up and down along the rubbery flesh this boy's penis is shorter and thinner than the first boy's he uses his hands to squeeze the boy's balls hoping it will make him come sooner, get it over with faster. His instincts are good; after only a few long minutes of attention, the penis in his mouth is squirting semen the boy is moaning and clutching at his cum-spattered hair humping into his face, he feels the softening penis sliding wetly against the roof of his mouth, hears Randy and the other boy offering encouragement from where they stand guard to their friend lost in the throes of ecstasy. The penis is withdrawn from his mouth, more semen coughed up, spit onto the floor, offered up at the feet of his second attacker. "Man you gotta learn to swallow, your mother says my jizz is _tasty_!" He is still kneeling and spitting, hearing the laughter echo about the small building as Randy approaches. He looks into the face hovering over him, his eyes black with hatred. Randy smiles. "You know you love it." He kneels, not moving, still glaring. "Get up." He stands uncertainly, wobbling slightly, his jeans are soaked, his sneakers grey and soggy, cum is still matted in his hair his face is red from crying and choking. Randy moves forward and grabs him around the neck with one arm, pulling him toward the nearest stall; it gives some privacy for what passes for toilet facilities: an enclosed platform with an oval hole cut in it poised over a pit in the ground, the fetid odor of shit and piss covered with campfire ashes and Lysol wafting up from within. He struggles furiously as he realizes his bunk-mate's intentions, scuffling and slipping on the slimy wooden floor he is not much smaller than Randy but he is not at all athleticly inclined, and the larger of Randy's friends, the first boy, the one with the big dick, joins the fray; together they manage to drag him into the stall; they've bent him double and stuffed his head down through the seat-hole, he is staring down into the dark vile pit of human waste puking up lunch and choking on bile as he feels a meaty fist dig into his side. Pain explodes on impact, radiates outward, hands are tearing at his jeans, reaching around to pull at his belt, there is almost no gap between the time his jeans and underwear are yanked down around his thighs and a penis -- he assumes it is Randy's -- is thrust through his asshole and up into his rectum. The stench is overwhelming, he is vomiting helplessly, nausea competing with the terrible burning pain as his bunk-mate's young cock glides roughly in and out of his ass hands clutch his shoulders for support hips slam brutally against his buttocks as the cock between his cheeks is driven deep into his depths he alternates barfing and screaming the sounds of his distress lost, muffled in the foul fetid pit underneath the building in which he is being violated. He feels a warm wet burst deep in his rectum, distant grunts of pleasure filter down to his ears as thick strong hands around his neck tell him his ordeal is not completed even as he feels the cock that he assumes belongs to Randy slip from his bowels. "Faggot's pretty good at this." He hears excited laughter from Randy's jock friend, has no time to wonder at the friend's ability to get it up again as he feels the fat helmet of a well-developed dick tear open his ass-muscle he shrieks and struggles violently the already abused walls of his rectum stretched impossibly wide in an effort to accomodate the intruder. A fist smashes into his his side again and for a brief moment he believes he will pass out from the pain as the raping bludgeon is pulled from his ass and brutally repenetrates. Every ounce of muscle in his body tenses with the effort of screaming and twisting as his arms clutch wildly at the walls of the stall, his rectum is turned nearly inside out as he feels strong hands gripping his shoulders, strong hips slamming into him, a fat penis stretching him open, his buttocks flattening on impact he feels his rapist's testicles slap against his own each time the monstrous cock is rammed more deeply into him. He is not lucky enough to faint; his mind clears slowly and he is still gagging from the stench enveloping his head; animal-like moans of pleasure fill the small wooden stall as his sphincter is stretched wider than he can bear he begins to wail in a steady keening rhythm as the cock filling his ass pounds in and out, in and out, over and over and over and over again in a steady brutal rhythm his groin slams again and again and again into the edge of the wooden platform he is trapped in an eternity bubble, time stands still, he is being raped forever. The eternity bubble bursts; the boy buried in his ass stands immobile for a long, agonizing moment; he feels the body clutched against him, the cock invading him, tense, thrust brutally. Once, twice, three times. He feels a wet warm spurt of cum deep in his ass punctuate each thrust, and he feels his sphincter spasm uncontrollably, winking relief as the fat dick is finally pulled from his ass with a wet popping sound. He kneels back, sobbing, pulling his head from the crap hole, gulping in the relative freshness of the air around him feeling semen wet and slimy deep inside his rectum slowly leaking from his tortured ass-muscle. He feels a hand grab the back of his head, pulling at his hair so his face is pointing upward. "You the camp slut this Summer, huh Spaz?" He squeezes his eyes shut against leering face of Randy's friend. "Colin's on the path." His head is dropped, sounds of pants hastily pulled up, a zipper worked, a belt being buckled. Sneakers pound quickly down the wooden steps of the latrine, he is alone. Early afternoon sun is streaming into through the window, shining off the spilled water. He hears footsteps again and hastily pulls the stall door shut. "Hey Spaz, you in there?" Colin, their counselor. Angry. "on the can..." He calls out timidly. "Finish up goddammit it's time for swimming." He waits, hoping Colin will leave, not notice the mess. "What the fuck's with the water all over the floor??" Fearful silence. "I tripped." Disgusted snort. "Guess you earned your nickname." A longer silence. "Well finish up. You got latrine duty again tomorrow for fucking up today." Listening to the footsteps retreat he collapses, sobbing silently, praying that Colin will hang around the bunks during quiet hour tomorrow, knowing he won't.