It began with dark, disturbing dreams. Elliot couldn’t remember them upon waking, but he knew that they had been frightening, and that they had been sexual. He sat up in his bed, looking nervously around his small, cubicle-like room, as though someone could have entered through the locked door. But of course, there was no one.
Only seniors at the St. Joseph’s Boarding High School for Boys got singles to themselves, and Elliot was grateful for his age that morning as he reached down with trembling fingers to his painfully hard penis and began to stroke himself. He was distressed, and worried his lip between his teeth as his hand moved sharply up and down. When he came, he clenched his teeth and tasted the spiky blossoming of blood on his tongue from his split lip.
He sat for a few moments on the bed, his long, willowy limbs shaking, pale blond hair plastered to his forehead with sweat. Then he arose and began to ready himself for classes.
He saw no one else as he locked the door to his room behind him and slipped out into the hallway. For some reason he felt strange this morning. His body tingled oddly in unusual places. When he’d gotten dressed, he’d noticed small bruises right above his hipbones. He wasn’t sure how he’d gotten them overnight, but it left him unsettled.
He reached the dining commons, a large Gothic building that looked more like a church than a cafeteria, and waved to his friend Thomas who was approaching from the other direction.
“Hey,” said Thomas as he fell into step next to Elliot. “How’s it going? You get well-fucked last night?”
Elliot stopped in his tracks and stared agape at his friend. “I’m sorry,” he said, “what?”
Thomas blinked curiously at him. “I said did you sleep well last night?”
“Oh.” Elliot frowned and shook his head. Obviously he was still tired. “I’m sorry. I heard something weird there for a second. I had some kind of strange dreams. Guess I’m a little disoriented.”
Thomas nodded sagely and they went to eat breakfast.
It happened once more during the meal, but only briefly. Another friend, Anthony, who had met them there, had turned to Elliot and said, “So, who was up your ass last night?”
Elliot had stared for a moment, and opened his mouth to say that that wasn’t funny, but then his brain had taken a moment to filter the statement, and he’d realized that Anthony had actually asked him, “How late were you up last night?” Elliot wondered if he needed his hearing checked, or if he still had lingering traces of his dreams on his mind.
“No one,” he started to reply, but amended it quickly to, “not that late.”
The three friends parted at the door to the dining hall and went their separate ways; each had different classes in the mornings. As Elliot walked along the path towards the large brick building that held his first class of the day, government, he was suddenly hailed by a stranger.
“Excuse me!” said a middle-aged, slightly portly man as he jogged up to Elliot. “Excuse me, young man!” He came to a halt next to Elliot and took a few panting breaths, obviously a bit worn out even from the small effort he had made to catch the boy. Finally he straightened up and smiled. “Would you mind if I stuffed my cock in your asshole?” he asked.
Elliot stared at the man, real fear beginning to creep into him. Surely this wasn’t real. Surely the man had said something else. And sure enough, after a few seconds of nothing more than a frightened look on Elliot’s face, the man repeated, “Would you mind telling me where the main office is?”
“I-I’m sorry,” stammered Elliot, “I can’t! I have to get to class!” And he took off uneasily towards the social studies building at a much faster clip. Something was wrong with him. Something was seriously wrong.
It only grew worse once class began. Elliot sat at his desk in horror and listened as his teacher spouted the most foul, lewd material, and his classmates took notes as though nothing was out of the ordinary. Elliot glanced around him at the moving pencils everywhere and wondered desperately what everyone else was hearing, why no one else seemed shocked and offended by the teacher’s obscenities.
“Elliot!” said the teacher sharply, drawing the boy’s attention forward once more. His teacher, a tall, imposing man with a dark mustache, frowned. “Pay attention. Don’t make me come back there and fuck you hard over the edge of your desk.”
His classmates giggled, and Elliot looked around at them, honestly terrified. The teacher’s frown softened, and he peered at Elliot. “Are you alright?” he asked. “Do you need to have a man’s dick in your ass?”
Elliot stood jerkily, causing his chair to tip over and fall with a noisy clatter to the floor behind him. “I’m not feeling well!” he said, his voice high and squeaky. “I need to go to the nurse!”
The teacher nodded, looking concerned, and wrote out a note on a pad of paper from his desk. He signed the bottom and ripped off the sheet, handing it to Elliot. As Elliot walked out the door he called, “I hope you feel better! I expect you back here and ready to be brutally gang-raped tomorrow!”
Elliot nearly tripped over the doorjamb, and began to jog towards the campus health center. A few faces he recognized turned to look at him along the way, but he refused to stop for any of them, afraid of what they might say.
He burst into the health center, startling the nurse on duty. She looked expectantly at him as he handed over the note that his teacher had given him. “I think something’s wrong with my hearing!” Elliot gasped out.
The nurse looked surprised, probably wondering why a simple hearing problem could make him so distressed, but she led him back into the office and sat him down at a table. She rummaged around in a closet for a few moments before drawing out a small square machine with a pair of headphones attached. She put the box on the table and handed him the headphones. “Raise your hand when you hear the tone,” she said.
Elliot spent the next few minutes listening to the soft, wordless beeps of the machine and raising his hand at the appropriate intervals, while the nurse marked things off on a clipboard. Finally, she gestured at him to take the headphones off. She shook her head at him.
“Your hearing seems just fine, young man,” she said. “Perfect, in fact. You do look a bit pale though. Maybe you just need a thick cock deep inside you for a while, hm?”
Elliot shook his head, practically in tears. “No!” he protested, “that’s not what you said! You said something else, I know it! But I don’t know what it is!” Elliot was beginning to become frantic, the level of his voice rising, when another door along the hallway opened and an older man, fit and handsome in an aging sort of way, poked his head out to see what was going on.
“Is everything alright?” he asked.
The nurse looked at him. “Something seems to be upsetting him,” she said. “Perhaps you should talk to him, Dr. Almin.”
Elliot recognized the name of the school counselor and psychiatrist, though he had never personally met the man. But if there were ever a time for it, it was now. He stood up and followed the older man’s polite gesture into his office.
At the doctor’s direction, he sat down on the office’s long couch, while the doctor himself went to sit behind his desk. “So,” he said, “what seems to be the problem?”
“I’m hearing things,” Elliot blurted. “Horrible things. People say things, and I know they’re saying something completely different, but what I hear them say is... is... it’s terrible.”
The doctor frowned and nodded, writing something down on a piece of paper on his desk. “I see,” he said. “And how long has this been happening?”
“Since I woke up this morning,” said Elliot. Another note went on the paper.
“I see,” the doctor repeated. “And what if I came over and just fucked you, right there on the couch? Rammed my dick inside you over and over? Wouldn’t you like that?”
Elliot clutched his head in his hands. “It’s happening again,” he said. “You didn’t say that! I know you didn’t!”
The doctor frowned and put his pen down, looking at Elliot with concern. “What’s wrong? I know you want a real man to pound your ass for hours and come inside you. I could get someone else and we could fuck you from both ends if you’d prefer. Would you like another cock to suck off while I do you?”
“Stop it!” Elliot yelled. “Please, just stop! Please, I’ll do anything, just make it stop!”
There was a sudden shift, a strange sensation in the air like disembodied pain. Elliot looked up, and something about the doctor seemed changed. He seemed multiplied, doubled, somehow, like there were two of him, but both were occupying the exact same space. He—they—looked over at Elliot. “What was that?”
“I’ll do anything!” Elliot repeated desperately. “Just please, please make it stop!”
“Accepted.” The doctor smiled and stood, only he didn’t stand. Elliot saw the doctor stand, saw him striding forward towards the couch, but at the same time he knew that the doctor had not left his seat, was still sitting behind the desk and looking curiously at Elliot.
He knew this without looking, because his gaze was transfixed on the doctor coming towards him, a suddenly malicious smile on his face. Elliot backed away, still on the couch, until he was pressed into the corner against the back and the armrest. But the doctor continued to come forward until he was standing right in front of Elliot.
He knelt down onto the couch next to Elliot, far closer than the boy would have liked, and reached a hand out, placing it on Elliot’s knee. “You must be mine,” he said, his voice suddenly strangely deeper than it had been. Elliot gasped as the hand slid down the inside of his denim-coated thigh and came to rest right on top of his crotch.
He flinched as the hand kneaded him firmly through his clothing. He wanted to run, but he could not seem to make his body move. He lay helplessly as the strong arms gripped him and suddenly flipped him over, laying him down on his stomach across the couch.
“Watch,” the deep voice commanded, and Elliot was unable to resist looking over his shoulder as the doctor reached up and placed his fingers under the waist of the boy’s pants, slipping the digits down into his boxers, and then suddenly yanked downwards, pulling the clothing down to Elliot’s knees.
His eyes widened in fear as the doctor snapped open the button on the waistband on his own pants and then unzipped himself slowly. With a dark grin at Elliot, their eyes locking together, he reached into his pants and drew out his throbbing member. Elliot whimpered at the mere sight of it.
He wanted desperately to turn away, to not look, but he was strangely helpless as the man’s hands returned to his buttocks, squeezing them firmly, playfully, rubbing them with large hands, until two thumbs slid down into the crack and came to rest at the edge of his anus. With definite, decisive movements they pulled him open, exposing his asshole to the open air. Elliot gazed over his shoulder, transfixed, as the doctor shifted forward, positioning himself, placing the tip of his penis head between the stretching thumbs.
Elliot whimpered as the penis pressed teasingly against him, pushing against him in a few teasing thrusts that never parted the tight ring of muscle. Then suddenly he cried out as what had seemed to be another teasing motion continued forward and the doctor’s thick penis slid into him, opening him up and stretching him, scraping dryly against his insides. It seemed to continue forever, the member delving deeper and deeper inside him as he watched, impossibly deep, until at last the doctor was seated completely inside him, and Elliot felt more filled than he had ever thought possible.
Elliot took a few deep, gulping breaths, then clenched his teeth; he knew it didn’t end here. Sure enough, within moments the doctor began to thrust, pulling out of him nearly completely before slamming his entire length home once more. Elliot’s gasping cries of pain became rhythmic as the deep, harsh penetrations continued. The doctor paused just long enough after withdrawing that Elliot’s channel began to relax and close up again before he would drive himself into the boy’s anus once more.
For a moment Elliot felt the hold on his gaze break, and a chance glance revealed the doctor still seated at his desk, a concerned look on his face. “Elliot?” he asked. “Are you alright?”
But Elliot couldn’t answer, because the hissed, “Watch,” was repeated, more forcefully this time, and his attention was once again drawn back to the penetration of his body. The man fucking him had seated himself once more balls-deep inside Elliot and this time, instead of drawing out completely, he began a series of shorter, shallow thrusts.
These thrusts were just as forceful, if not more so, but much shorter and faster. Elliot was rocked rhythmically against the couch as the man’s penis slammed repeatedly into his anus. He could hear the clock on the wall ticking away the seconds, or perhaps merely ticking the same second over and over, and with each tick, the thick cock thrust sharply, painfully into him. He began to whimper in time with the ticking seconds as well, the sound escaping his throat involuntarily.
Elliot lost track of time, unable to gather together the handfuls of seconds by which to measure his pain. It seemed like hours that the man on the couch fucked him, alternating between periods of quick, sharp thrusts and the slower, deeper ones. He knew the end was near when the thrusts began to speed up, when the seconds could no longer keep up with the frantic pounding into his anus. So he was unsurprised when a few moments later, he felt a hot, thick liquid pour into him, filling him like a cup to the brim.
Suddenly, as he was watching, there was a strange shift in the hands that rested on his hips, fingers in the exact position of the bruises he had woken up with. For a moment he saw that they were not hands, but almost... talons, made of ebony, smooth and dark. Where the sunlight in the room touched them, wisps of darkness curled off their surface and disappeared into the air like smoke.
Elliot did not have time to ponder this however, as he was overtaken by a more distracting sensation. The man’s orgasm had not stopped; the liquid continued to flow into him, filling him up, overflowing, and Elliot felt it raging inside him, trying to escape, pushing at his skin, dripping out of every orifice. He felt it leaking out of his anus around the phallus still pressed inside him, felt it dripping as tears down his face. He opened his mouth to scream and it dripped from there as well, and Elliot saw as it stained his hands that it was black, obsidian black like the man’s fingers, and everywhere it touched him it spread, consuming him.
Elliot looked back at the doctor, and the man seemed to grow somehow without getting larger, as though he were becoming more dense. He darkened, the light in the room seeming to flee from him, taking the room away with it, leaving only a steadily blacker figure on a background that was swiftly changing to a deep, bloody red.
The figure solidified, solid black like darkness incarnate, with yellow slits for eyes and spikes protruding from its joints. It smiled at him, a look more frightening than anything Elliot had so far experienced. Suddenly Elliot’s gaze was completely free and he looked around to see a dull, red, endless void of a landscape, where the same bloody hue of the sky faded into the ground, leaving no line of horizon for the eyes to settle on. A flash of bright yellow lightning rent the air, illuminating their surroundings.
Hundreds of cages gathered around them like spectators, sharply illuminated by the lightning before fading once again into dim shadow. Elliot saw within them boys of every description, their faces full of pain or despair or, most frightening of all, acceptance.
Behind him, the demon pulled himself out of Elliot’s now naked body.
“Welcome,” said his deep, gravelly voice, “to my harem.”
Dr. Almin looked in astonishment at the couch in his office where the boy he had been treating, after an insane fit of writhing and crying out, had suddenly disappeared. He stood, unsure of what to do—it had all happened so fast. The boy had looked suddenly terrified and backed against the corner of the couch, then had begun writhing and screaming. Then, seconds later, he had vanished.
Dr. Almin looked down at the sheet he had been filling out on his patient, the top form in a pile of standard forms. He hadn’t even gotten the boy’s name.
A knock sounded suddenly at the door. Dr. Almin looked up to see the nurse poking her head into the room.
“Sir?” she said. “Your 11-o’clock is here.”
Dr. Almin blinked at her, then looked over at the couch. Hadn’t he just been doing something? No, of course not. This was his first appointment of the day. He nodded. “Send him in,” he said.
He reached down absent-mindedly and tore the top page from his formbook; he had been scribbling on it to help him think. He crumpled it in one hand and dropped it into the wastebasket.