The Exam ~ Part 3
By Ponyboy G
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If you haven't had a chance to read Parts 1 ~ 4, please do. If you must have a
dose of Part 5 right away...here's the back-story:
Mike Kinsey and his best buddy David are soon-to-be college jocks going to their
first physical with a new Doctor. The parents of these rich punks have had it
with their bad attitudes and legendary abuse of girls. Dr. Blume and his staff
have treated boys of this caliber before, and have the right medicine to cure
both kids of whatever ails them. Permanently.
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All the usual rules apply here. If you are under 18, then you should be seeing a
babysitter. If you live in an area that forbids this material, then you should
be seeing a congressman. If your wife doesn't care for these stories, then you
should be seeing a therapist.
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They called her "Speed" because she couldn't run fast. Kids lacked imagination,
and her nickname proved that point. Her real name was Teresa and while she was
no beauty queen, she did have a certain quiet quality. Her natural shyness and
lack of athletic skills proved to be her downfall at the hands of David and
Mike.
A party at the host home of the school's foreign exchange student had wound down
before it even began and the boys had gone only to look for pussy and pills.
There was a lack of both that night. The Doctor had cleaned out the medicine
chests prior to the kids showing up and all of the hot girls had passed on the
idea of spending the evening with Moo Shoo Sally and Pork-ettes. David had
given Mikey the signal to leave when he spotted Teresa in a corner sitting alone
and nursing a warm beer. Her fifth.
"She's cherry," Mike said to his best bud, eyeing the quiet chick that they had
never spoken to, although having shared 12 years of education. "Whose turn?"
David asked, knowing full well that it was his. "You're on, Honcho," Mike
replied, slapping David's round ass, just as he had 1000 times on the fields and
courts. It was time for another Oscar-winning performance from the muscular
jock.
"The Routine" had been rehearsed and launched successfully over and over. The
chicks always went for the usually arrogant muscle punks, appearing to be lonely
and needing a shoulder to cry on. They would swagger toward their prey, making
sure that their teenage hardons were protruding obscenely, as if they didn't
know how well defined they were. Without a jock on, David's young meat laid
against his left thigh, with his balls hanging down his right pantleg. His
foreskin was the only thing that kept the always swollen cockhead from being
grotesquely outlined.
One of them would stand in front of the unsuspecting girl, with their dicks
level with their faces. Then with every bit of false sincerity they could
muster, would proceed to explain how they needed someone to talk to. No one
understood them, they would explain. If only someone would care enough to listen
to them and not just want their bodies. David would usually lift his shirt at
this point and flex, displaying a tight tan crunch-pack and the small brown
nipple of one firm pectoral. Not just think of them as male animals, for stud,
followed by a quick tap of their nads for effect.
It never failed. Getting them in the car was tedious part. Surprising them was
the best part. Half way to the flats, while David drove with his arm around
whoever the unlucky girl was, Mike would spring up out of the back seat. Then,
the boys would become monsters.
Over the past 3 years, Mike and David had perfected the routine. No matter which
boy made the approach, or which excuse they used; once they were near the flats,
the girl belonged to them for as long as they wanted. David was simply brutal.
He liked tearing their clothes, rubbing their make-up into their faces, biting
tits and ripping out pubes. Mike had more finesse, and took his sweet time. He
liked fucking with their heads, degrading them and slowly breaking all spirit
and will. When he finished with the girls, they honestly believed they deserved
to be raped. And beaten. And tortured. And sodomized.
Their terrorist actions weren't only limited to the dumb cunts of the female
persuasion.
Several times since they had become juniors, the 2 dudes would drink a 5th of
Jose Gold and "hit the bricks," as they called it. The "bricks" were actually
the quaint streets in the old-town district, lined with bakeries, studios, and
salons. And fag bars. Fag bars loaded with lonely homos just looking to touch
and maybe kiss a hung shirtless, jock boy.
David remembered waiting outside some "Cheers" style homo-hangout one evening in
April last year. He was wearing basketball shorts, no shirt, a jock and
sneakers. He tied his jersey around his head and slowly dribbled his ball, then
faking his awesome hook; he would smile at the faggots walking by. Shooting them
the killer boyish grin and rubbing his moist pecs, he would lay on the dumb jock
rap, "'sup bro?" he would direct at one guy. Inevitably his target would break
from their friends and walk close to the sweating, blond boy.
David always chose young men, usually in their 20s with smallish builds. "More
like real pussy," he would declare. Mike preferred well built, fudge packers,
who would put up a fight at first. The church going, Mensa member liked seeing
the gym rat bodies groveling for mercy at his feet, naked and scared. Again, he
would play with their heads, while David only wanted to beat them. Brutally. If,
perhaps, enough tequila were passed, maybe he would rape their faggot pussies.
Repeatedly and more brutally. "After all," he would shout to Mike "that's what
these faggots want. RIGHT FAGGOT?"
On a recent night, Mike's choice of an Italian college freshman was a
no-brainer. The kid had walked past the high school jock with the ball 3 times
while Mike stood across the street from "Marios," a real cocksucking palace.
Tommy Beltran had never been in a gay bar and was excited about his first time,
but he had walked around the block few times to get up the courage. He was THE
star of the local university's gymnastics team and his body displayed all the
signs of it. Although he was only 5'8", his chest was a massive 44 inches of
smooth young meat, with rounded shoulders, squared off pecs and tight 6-pack
leading down to his 29-inch waist. The young man was an Adonis. His legs and
lats were so muscular that he had trouble finding clothes to fit, so he usually
just had on the wife-beater and baggy Levi's, as he did tonight.
Tommy spotted Mikey standing in the shadows, shirtless, his pecs lightly covered
in a soft dark fuzz, while his hair flopped over his forehead and covered one
eye. The word "BIKE" was clearly visible above the waistband of his shorts and
his fingers kept lowering the front until the mesh pouch revealed the base of
his Greek cock and small dark bush. He steadied himself against the wall,
signaling to Tommy to cross the street. When the boy made his move to walk over,
Mike met him halfway.
There was no room for "Routines" on "bricks" nights. No sob stories or shoulders
needed to cry upon. This was purely sexual and Mike knew how to get the men hot.
"Looking for cock, bitch?" he said quietly to Tommy who shivered at the word
'bitch'. He was so taken aback by this macho punk, that he could barely answer
and just nodded.
"Good girl." Mike shot back, quietly. "Let's go bitch," he would add, leading
his unsuspecting victim toward the car, with a firm hand on his neck. In this
case he was pushing Tommy along, too quickly and too roughly. The concerned
college kid tried to stall this kid who reeked of booze.
"Maybe we should go get a coffee, huh?" Tommy offered, smiling. This was just
too easy, he thought. Now he was feeling awkward. Almost ...well...scared?
"Nah, you're all I need," he answered back. His lines were weak, but it didn't
matter anymore, as they were within 15 feet of the car. The safety zone. This
homo was going for ride, whether she wanted to or not. Mike continued, "you play
any sports, bitch?" Tommy was starting to not like his tone and use of the word
bitch; after all he was a boy!
"I am the lead on my gymnastics squad at C. U." he answered, proudly.
"I don't know which is more pathetic, your choice of schools or girly
sports...HAHAHAH," he lost it momentarily, but never moved his hand from Tommy's
neck. David heard all of their conversation from between cars parked 4-spaces
ahead. He was already smiling, but losing his patience. "Get him in the fuckin
car Mikey," he thought.
Tommy was embarrassed at being teased so openly and began looking for his out,
while Mike rooted through his keys. "Hey man, how old are you anyway," Tommy
asked, hoping that Mike was underage. "Old enough to own this," he responded and
moved Tommy's hand to his growing cock, thick and brown already shooting past 7
inches and beginning to drip some junk into the jockstrap. Tommy moaned and
rubbed the young meat, hoping to maybe suck it in some alley rather than go for
a car ride, so he could quickly get back to the safety of the main streets. "You
moan like a girl, bitch," Mike commented.
Tommy had had enough of this. He tried to move aside Mike who now had him pinned
between his own half-naked body and the car door. "Look man, I think I'll take a
rain check, okay bud?" he offered, flexing his lats trying to look bigger than
he was. The senior ball player had 4 inches on him and about 30 pounds, and
David had him beat by a mile. The safety zone, never failed, Never.
"A WHAT? A FUCKING RAINCHECK? IS THAT WHAT YOU SAID, HOMO? HAHAHAHHA!!!" his
scream was barely above a whisper directly into Tommy's ear. Yet, it was the
most horrifying sound he had ever heard.
"Look bud, just move so I can pass and I'll get out of your way okay...I'll take
off and wont bug you anymore. Okay ..... bud... please?" Tommy's voice began to
crack on the word 'please.' Why was this boy staring directly through him, as
if he wasn't there? "Look bud, I have a MAC card and I got $80 in cash...see?"
Tommy reached into his jeans and pulled out crisp 20s, that his grandmother had
given him for 'a night on the town.'
"Oh, you want me to take this money and let you go, faggot?" the words tore
through Tommy. He had heard about bashings, men having their wallets taken and
maybe slapped around a little. Okay. He would be okay. He would be just fine.
"Yea man, you can have it, I don't need it." He lied, but managed to still smile
at Mike.
"Ohyou think I neeeeed it?" Mike slurred back at him, "huh?"
"No, bro, I didn't mean anything like that...hey what are you...?" Tommy stopped
in shock. Mike tore up all of his money into bits and tossed it into the air
watching it snow onto Tommy's head. The last of his money, gone. But this was
his break, as Mike watched the money pour from the sky, he lost his footing and
fell against the car door. Tommy took his only free second to squeeze out from
between Mike and the door and head across the street, "Hey mister...stop!" He
shouted to the guy walking towards him.
"What's the problem?" the dude asked. Tommy placed a hand on the guys broad
shoulder, noticing that he was as blond as that basher had been brunette. "You
gotta help me man, this punk over there was trying to kidnap me and tore up my
money...I want to call the cops," Tommy was now completely relieved.
"Umm...what punk...over where?" the guy asked Tommy, "there is no one over
there." Tommy turned to see the car door open but the basher was gone. "Okay I
guess he ran off, thanks man."
"Should we go look in the car for this invisible guy?" the blond guy asked.
Tommy looked at the jersey tied around the dude's head....was it? Nah. Yea...was
it the same team as the shirt tucked into the back of Mike's shorts. Nah. Yea?
This guy even smelled like the basher. "Oh God, no way...please..." he mumbled.
"Ummm...never mind man, " I am gonna go over to the bar and call the cops, but
thanks dude." Tommy stammered, suddenly realizing what had happened. David
locked onto Tommy's hand and wouldn't let him budge. He was about to say
something, when hands crept up his back and cupped his head. A quiet menacing
voice whispered into his ear, "ready for that CAR RIDE BITCH!" Mike was pissed
off at this little homo and he let his voice raise. Mike smacked the back of
Tommy's head, laughing. His neatly combed dark hair flopped around and now
looked sloppy. Mike grabbed his muscular neck and guided him into the back seat,
sitting next to the terrified man.
Tommy was too horrified to even yell. Maybe if he played nice with these guys,
they would rob him and just leave him alone. For all of his muscle and bulk, the
gymnast had never been in a fight, and had no idea how to defend himself. The
diameter of his thighs made running away almost impossible. Basically, he had
"lifted" his way into being defenseless. There was nothing he could do to these
punks, and he felt the tears well up in his eyes. Maybe they will still just let
me go? Maybe.
After all, today was Tommy Beltran's birthday.
"The Flats" were simply a clearing in the middle of a wooded area, 40 miles
outside of town. They were also the raping grounds for the 2 boys. Their secret
life was played out here, over 2 dozen times and they had never been caught,
prosecuted, tried or convicted. This little maze of trees, wells, and metal
debris had become a land away from civilization, where screams went unheard, and
the pleas for mercy went unheeded.
20 miles toward The Flats, Mike was in heaven and David was pissed at his best
friend. He hated when Mikey got drunk on "bricks nights" because he tended to
get sloppy and loud.
"TAKE OFF YOUR SHIRT FAGGOT!!!" Mike screamed directly into the captive's ear,
"RIGHT NOW...FASTER!" Tommy croaked out a single cry and quietly pleaded,
"please don't do this to me, please, you're scaring me..." his shirt was off,
exposing the 21 year olds perfectly smooth physique. "GIVE ME THE SHIRT
FAGGOT... WHAT'S YOUR NAME, TELL ME...RIGHT NOW?"
Tommy gulped deeply, humiliated. "My name is Tommy Beltran, please let me out, I
can walk home and you can keep my shirt."
"YOUR NAME IS FAGGOT, UNTIL I SAY OTHERWISE," Mike continued shouting at his
cocksucker. Just another way to break him down. "Hey FAGGOT, say 'Mr. Music,
please play' come on say it now real loud." Mike directed him, slurring again.
"Huh...what do you want me to say?" Tommy was confused. What was this crazy
drunk talking about? Mike rolled up his shirt and tossed it out the window, "how
stupid are you FAGGOT?"
"Mr. Music, please play..." Tommy said. This was another of Mike's favorite
parts. David slid the CD in and the back seat came alive with sound. Mike
thought that music sounded like a child's record album, with the tune having a
carnival tempo and instruments reminiscent of a...oh fuck no...a birthday party.
"Gray skies are gonna clear up." the singer began and Mike finished the lyric,
"put on a happy FACE!"
PUNCH!!!
The fast jab came at him like a comet and he couldn't defend his face, Tommy now
slumped into the seat, moaning as he held his left eye, which was trickling
blood and beginning to swell. Mike pulled the young man upright and kept singing
as Tommy cried and tried to protect his head.
"...and cheer up...put on a happy FACE!!!"
PUNCH!!!
The uppercut took Tommy by surprise and he bit on his lower lip cutting into the
beautiful red skin and forcing blood out, chipping his front upper teeth against
his bottoms. CRACK!!!
"Give me your shoes or I keep singing FAGGOT," Mike demanded. "Oh please, oh
God, why are you doing this to me?" Tommy was delirious with pain as he unlaced
his new boots and handed them to Mike.
"I am doing it cuz I can and you faggots got no choice," he put each boot on a
hand and waited for the music to pick up again.
Tommy begged, "I need a doctor, I think...please let me out here, I can walk,"
his words garbled together as his tongue and lips became more swollen. His tears
flowed freely now as his dignity faded, to Mike's pleasure. Mike did a
Chaplin-esque dance with the shoes on his hands and hummed until the song got to
his favorite part.
"hmm...hmm...hmm... MASK OF TRAGEDY!!!"
PUNCH!!! Both boots caught Tommy in different spots, with one hitting him from
behind and the other coming head-on attacking his delicate Roman nose. The car
swerved violently into The Flats, tossing Tommy to the floor, his blood spraying
onto his chest and his moans filling the car. David simply turned up the CD
player to drown out their 8th male victim.
90 minutes later, naked Tommy Beltran was dragging 2 rusty hubcaps from his
balls, with another chain-locked around his neck, like a winner in the Faggot
Olympics. The music had switched to "Take Me Out to the Ball Game" and while
Tommy crawled up to suck on Mike's dripping hardon, David beat him on the ass
and thighs with an aluminum bat.
His thick hair had been chopped off with a Swiss army knife, and his eyebrows
plucked with the pliers. David had continued to beat him while he was forced to
pull out his own pubic hair, leaving his body now entirely smooth. The words and
phrases that covered his once-handsome muscle body were done with indelible ink
and designed to humiliate him for months.
The word FAGGOT had been written in black laundry marker across his forehead,
with the phrase "kick here =>" written up his left thigh and the arrow pointed
at his swollen purple sack. His nipples were colored in with red marker and the
words "BITE THIS" was written around each one. His cockhead had been colored in
blue with the word "CLIT" spelled out down the shaft. As a final humiliation,
Mike had printed "$3 FUCK HOLE" in 14-inch letters across his strong gymnasts
back, another arrow drawing the eye directly down to his round ass.
They forced him to jack his uncut dong in front of them, while they videotaped
him for their own protection. "Say it like I told you to, pussy," David
instructed as Mike took a nap, naked, under a tree.
Tommy cried as he pumped his cock, realizing that it was the smallest of the lot
and therefore the least useful to anyone or anything. His little hardon had made
him the bottom, the bitch, the cunt. "Stop stalling and say it, you dumb faggot,
or I get the bat again...you want to go to the ballgame homo?"
"NO...NO...I'll say it," Tommy was beginning to lose it. He was in incredible
pain, with cracked ribs, missing teeth and his eyes deeply blackened. His nuts
were tied up and dragging 40 pounds each, with a coarse rope biting into the
base of his cock. He looked down to beat his dork, but remembered it was just a
clit...he was a true pussy now...and he began to speak into the camera...
"Hey Dad, its me Tommy, BUT MY NEW NAME IS FAGGOT! I am at this awesome party in
the woods. Me and my friends were fucking and then fighting, its a club for
homos Dad. You see, I am a proud cocksucker, always have been! Does it shock you
that your only son is a slop sucking cumwhore? I been dreaming of suckin your
daddy dong for years...I LIVE FOR CUM...I AM A PROUD DICK SUCKING, CUM WHORE! I
want to drink cum everyday...EVEN YOURS DAD...I WANT TO LICK YOUR BALLS AND
DRINK YOUR SPOOGE EVERY MORNING. I'll do it for you Dad, and I'll do it better
than mom can."
"Hey Mom, look at this...I got a clit too, just like yours but bigger! You see,
now I am the #1 pussy hole in the house. If you wont pay for school anymore, I
don't care because I can make money suckin dick and taking dirty cock up my
cunt...can you read my prices? I am glad to tell you this now. I WANT YOU TO
KNOW THAT I WILL BE SUCKING DICK DAILY EVEN IF YOU FORCE ME OUT OF COLLEGE AND I
AM A HOMELESS WHORE. AS LONG AS I HAVE DICK SHOEVED IN MY HOLES, I'LL BE OKAY.
OHHH MOMMY I AM GONNA CUM...WATCH CLOSE, I'M MILKING, MY CLIT...DOES YOUR CLIT
DO THAT MOMMY? OHHHHFUCKKKKKMEEEE....LOOK AT THE CUM LEAKING OUT OF MY BIG
PURPLE CLIT..."
"I made a video for Grandpa too, and one for Janet and the kids, so they know
that their Uncle Tommy is a horny cumsucker! And that I will fuck both of their
kids up the ass, if they ever let me near them again! I WANT THE WORLD TO
KNOW...& IF YOU DON'T LIKE IT...FUCK YOU TOO!"
David cut the camera off, "good pussy, are you ever going to tell anyone?"
"No Sir..." the broken man mumbled. No one would believe him anyway, and if he
ever told the authorities, they had pictures of him masturbating, smiling, and
proclaiming his sexuality. He could never go home then, either, and he didn't
want that at all. He just wanted to get back to the dorm, to some safety. He
vowed to himself that he would never go to a gay bar again...ever.
David went to wake up Mike and play the last game of the night, and always the
most fun for him, but not fun for the chick or homo who got stuck being on the
other end...David began laughing at how ridiculous it was. He had watched all of
their party pals running behind the car with the ropes tied to their milkers or
their sacks...and man it was funny! Even better was watching the car chase them,
as they dragged hubcaps or tires behind their abused and swollen titties and
scrotums.
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Teresa was simply the latest in a long line of victims stringing from a
hitchhiking 14-year-old punk in upstate New York to some homeless chick in
Vermont. No one had ever told...but now Teresa had told. And she would continue
telling until the boys got punished for hurting her.
To be continued...
