“Did you hear?” said Mikey, voice full of excitement. “Bryce Allen is coming to visit the school today!”
Mr. Allen was a superstar, as far as Mikey was concerned. There was no bigger celebrity in the entire town of Middledale. He was a genius, they said, and one of the richest men in the entire country. Mikey wasn’t entirely certain what it was he did; something really complicated with computers. But the fact of the matter was that no one would have ever even heard of Middledale if it weren’t for him.
Mikey’s friend Connor seemed much less impressed. He sat across from Mikey in the cafeteria, poking at the food on his red school lunch tray without enthusiasm. It was mac and cheese day, which was normally Connor’s favorite. Mikey frowned at him. “Aren’t you excited? What if we get to see him? Or talk to him!”
Connor shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m not sure we should be getting so excited.”
Mikey looked at him curiously, and Connor leaned in across the table so they could whisper. “Dan says that he’s actually a terrible person, and that everyone’s scared of him when he comes to the school.”
This made Mikey frown. Dan was Connor’s brother, and he was three years older than them. Since the two boys were only in sixth grade and had just entered Middledale Junior High for the first time, they relied on Dan’s experience and wisdom for everything they needed to know about the school. He was fifteen, so he knew a lot.
Still, could that be true? Mr. Allen had always seemed like a hero. Everyone in town talked about him with the utmost respect. Could he really be that bad?
A sudden hush fell over the cafeteria. The boys looked up. There in the doorway, flanked by a large man in an intimidating black suit, was Bryce Allen himself. Mikey recognized him from his pictures. He had fancy swept-back hair, dirty-blond, and small stylish glasses, and carried himself with a confidence that would have made him stand out even if he hadn’t had a bodyguard right behind him.
One of the secretaries from the main office stood behind him on the other side, next to the bodyguard, and looked like she was hanging off his every word. Mikey watched as Mr. Allen’s gaze swept over the cafeteria, an easy-going smile on his face. He leaned over to whisper something to his bodyguard and then, to Mikey’s surprise, started coming towards them.
He quickly bent back down over his lunch, trying not to look like he’d been staring. Eventually, they came to a stop right behind Connor, and Mr. Allen rested a hand companionably on the boy’s shoulder.
“Well well, are you Connor by any chance?” he asked. “I think I know your older brother Dan. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
Connor shot a panicked look at Mikey before turning back to Bryce Allen and trying to smile. “Oh, uh, yeah? Yeah, I’m Connor.”
“You know,” said Mr. Allen, his voice thick and syrupy, “I’d love to have a private chat with you. Get to know you a little bit, hear how your brother’s doing, that kind of thing. What do you say?” Mikey looked up. Mr. Allen made eye contact with him and winked conspiratorially.
“Oh,” Connor waffled, “well, see, lunch is almost over and I have class right after, so I don’t know-”
“I can write you a note so you can be late to class,” said the secretary woman. Mikey saw the fingers of Mr. Allen’s hand tighten on Connor’s shoulder like claws.
“See?” he said cheerfully. “It’s settled, then. Come along.”
Mr. Allen practically yanked Connor up out of his seat. He kept the hand around the boy’s shoulders as they walked back towards the cafeteria entrance. Connor had time to look back over his shoulder once at Mikey before he was unceremoniously led out the doors. The murmurs of conversation slowly returned to the cafeteria, and within moments it was like nothing had happened.
Mikey stared in shock at the spot where his friend had been. Had that really just happened? Was Connor going to be okay?
He worried about it for the last five minutes of lunch, and then most of Reading class, which Connor was supposed to be in. As everyone sat reading silently at their desks, Mikey kept glancing at the door, wondering when his friend was coming back. It wasn’t until ten minutes before the end of class that he finally shuffled in, head down, and handed a note to the teacher. He slouched his way over to the desk next to Mikey and slumped down into it, not even bothering to take out his book.
“Are you okay?” Mikey asked him in a hissed whisper. When Connor looked up at him, it looked like he had been crying. He shook his head, although whether that was meant to be an answer to the question or just an indication that he didn’t want to talk, Mikey wasn’t sure.
As soon as the bell rang for the next class, Mikey hurried to pull Connor into an unused stairway where they could talk privately. His heart was pounding with worry. “Are you okay?” he asked again as soon as they were alone. “What happened?”
Connor sniffled. “I don’t want to talk about it,” he muttered.
“Did he hurt you?” Mikey pressed.
“He-” Connor looked up and met his eyes, and his resolve seemed to break. His confession came spilling out of him like water. He told Mikey how Mr. Allen had taken him to one of the isolated self-study cubicles, and closed the door behind them, leaving the secretary and his bodyguard outside. He told Mikey how Mr. Allen had proceeded to undress him, all the while telling him how lucky he was and how grateful he should be, before covering his fingers in some kind of lube and casually sticking them up Connor’s ass. He’d fingered the boy until Connor was crying with embarrassment, and then leaned him over the desk and proceeded to fuck him with a sort of amused disinterest. Connor described how it had hurt to feel the slick member slide up inside him, how Mr. Allen hadn’t stopped for what felt like ages, thrusting into him over and over and over again until he’d finally come in Connor’s ass and then sent him back to class.
Mikey was aghast. “You have to tell someone! He can’t do that! You have to tell a teacher!”
Connor shook his head. “No, I- no. I don’t want to tell anyone. The people outside obviously knew what he was doing, and they didn’t stop him. Who says anyone else would? No. I just want to forget about it. Pretend it didn’t happen.”
“But you have to!” Mikey insisted. “We’re always learning about people who did protests and stuff in social studies. You’re supposed to stand up and say when something’s wrong!”
“Just drop it,” said Connor, and pushed past Mikey back into the hall. As he left Mikey noticed there was a slight wet spot at the base of his pants. It just made him angrier.
He couldn’t stop thinking about it for the rest of the day. The thought of what happened to Connor and who knew how many other kids burned inside him. Bryce Allen could not be allowed to get away with this.
He was still fuming when he got home; if anything he was even angrier than he had been before. His father clearly noticed as Mikey flung his backpack savagely into the corner of the entryway and practically threw his shoes at the rack.
“Hey, little man,” said his dad. “Everything okay?”
“No!” said Mikey. “Bryce Allen is a rapist! He rapes kids!”
His dad went still and silent. Then, a moment later, he knelt down next to Mikey and put his hands on his shoulders, trying to get Mikey to look him in the eye. He only did that whenever he had something Serious to say.
“You can’t just say things like that,” his dad said quietly. “That’s a very serious accusation, and Bryce Allen is a very important man. Half the people in town work for him, and the other half owe their jobs to the business his company brings in. You shouldn’t go around shouting about something like that. You could get in trouble.”
“But it’s true!” Mikey protested. “If I don’t say something, then nothing’s gonna happen to him! He deserves to go to jail!”
His dad bit his lip, his expression conflicted. “It’s not okay to say,” he repeated. “That sort of thing is very hard to prove, and usually when people make accusations like that they just end up ruining their own lives. Okay? I don’t want to see you get hurt.”
Mikey pushed his dad’s hands off his shoulders and ran upstairs, too upset to keep talking to him. If he wouldn’t help, then Mikey would just have to do something on his own. He raced up to his bedroom and slammed the door, throwing himself onto his bed. After a moment’s thought he took out his smartphone and started researching. The first number he called was the police station.
“I’d like to report a crime,” he said as soon as it connected.
“Just a moment,” said a voice on the other end, then, “alright, please state your case.”
“Bryce Allen came to my school today and raped a friend of mine!” Mikey hissed, hoping his dad wasn’t outside listening.
There was a pause on the other end of the line. Then, “Is this a prank? How old are you?”
“I’m twelve,” said Mikey, “and I know because I go to the same school! You have to listen to me!”
Another pause. “Listen, kid, we can’t take reports from children.” The voice did not sound particularly impressed by Mikey’s accusation. “Tell your story to an adult and have them call us, if it really happened.” And then there was a click as they hung up.
Frustrated, Mikey continued his search. He found the number for the local news station on their website and dialed.
“Middle County TV, how can I help you?” came a bored voice on the other end.
“I have a big news story that I’d like to tell you about,” said Mikey. “It’s about Bryce Allen! He’s not who everyone says he is! He’s been raping kids!”
Once again there was a long, unimpressed pause on the other end of the phone. Mikey held his breath. Then there was a muffled sound, like someone covering their phone as they talked to someone else.
Finally the voice returned. It was flat, almost angry. “Don’t call here again,” it demanded, and the line went dead.
Mikey clutched his phone, practically in tears. Why would no one listen? Maybe Connor was right. He wanted to scream at the thought. People had to know what was going on! He had to tell them! Someone had to listen to him!
He spent the evening feeling angry and helpless, barely talking to his dad at dinner. He couldn’t even concentrate on his homework, because every time he tried to focus he would think about Conner and just start fuming all over again.
Finally, frustrated, Mikey whipped out his phone one more time and took to Twitter. Surely someone out there would listen, would believe him.
“Bryce Allen is a phony who rapes little kids!” he typed, and hit send. Then he turned off his phone and went to bed.
The next morning, when Mikey turned his phone back on, he saw two things.
The first was that Twitter had removed his message, supposedly for “terms of service violations.” The second was that, before the message had been removed, Mikey had received over fifteen thousand notifications.
Uh-oh.
His dad didn’t say anything at breakfast, so Mikey hoped that maybe he hadn’t seen the tweet. It had already been taken down, after all. Maybe he could just pretend it had never happened, try to find a better way to get Bryce Allen in trouble for what he’d done. The police had said they’d hear him out if he could get an adult to believe him. All he had to do was find one person who would listen.
The bus ride to school was uneventful, and by the end of second period Mikey was finally starting to relax. Maybe it would just blow over after all.
But his hopes were dashed when a voice came on the announcement system just at the beginning of third period. “Will Michael Campion please report to the principal’s office?”
Mikey slid nervously out of his seat and hurried down the halls. Maybe this was a good thing, he tried to convince himself. After all, this way the principal would be forced to talk to him about what had happened, right? They wouldn’t let this continue if they knew what was going on under their own roof.
His hopes sank as he saw who was waiting in the office. Bryce Allen stood there with the same bodyguard as yesterday, talking quietly with the principal. When Mikey finally reached them, they both leveled cold stares at him.
“This way,” said the principal, holding a door open.
The room they entered was some sort of conference room that was part of the main office area. There wasn’t much in it except for a single long wooden table in the center, surrounded by chairs on all sides. The walls were a dull blue-gray, like a business suit.
Nearly a dozen men were already seated around the table. Mikey recognized the vice principal and his classmate’s dad who had chaperoned for a field trip once. Otherwise, he wasn’t sure who any of them were. They varied in age, with the youngest being the fresh-faced vice-principal, and several of the men around the table having graying hair. The one thing they had in common was the serious, stony expressions on their faces.
Bryce Allen took a seat at the head of the conference table, with his bodyguard standing behind his shoulder. The principal finished ushering Mikey into the room and closed the door behind them, marching Mikey up to the front of the room to stand beside the man’s chair.
“Well gentlemen,” Mr. Allen began. “I trust you know why we’ve called this emergency meeting of the school board. It seems one of your students doesn’t understand how to behave in polite society.”
“We’re so sorry Mr. Allen,” the principal began, wringing his hands. He sounded genuinely distressed. “I promise, we do teach our students better behavior than this. I can’t think how he could have-”
Mr. Allen held up a hand to silence him. The principal shut up immediately. Everyone else at the table shifted nervously.
“This will not be easy for my PR team to clean up,” said Bryce Allen severely. “What I would like to know is what consequences the boy will face.”
“Oh, whatever you would like Mr. Allen,” said the principal, practically sweating. “Should we expel him? If you want, we can-”
“That won’t be necessary,” said Mr. Allen. “Let’s start with physical punishment before we move on to next steps, shall we? Come here, boy.”
Mikey was startled when the principal pushed him forward. Before he could even protest, the enormous bodyguard behind Bryce Allen had picked him up and swiftly yanked down his pants and underwear to his ankles. With a bored nonchalance, he then laid Mikey face-down over Mr. Allen’s lap, his bare buttocks exposed.
Mikey cried out as Mr. Allen began to spank him without hesitation. The blows were sharp and merciless, and by the time he was three slaps in Mikey’s rear end was already sore and stinging. Mr. Allen showed no signs of slowing, however, continuing to smack his naked cheeks while everyone else in the room looked on impassively. Each one rang out, loud and fleshy, into the silence.
Finally, when tears of pain were starting to prick in the corner of Mikey’s eyes, Mr. Allen lowered his hand. “That will do to start with,” he said, sounding satisfied. “Behave like a child, get punished like a child. I hope you understand why that little name-calling you did online was inappropriate.”
“It wasn’t name-calling!” Mikey protested. “It’s the truth! You- you’re a bad person! You should be arrested!”
Mr. Allen made a tsk-ing noise and shook his head. “I see you haven’t learned your lesson then. You want to make this a more adult matter? Fine.”
Mr. Allen snapped his fingers, and the bodyguard stepped forward, passing something to him. Mikey couldn’t quite crane his head over his shoulder far enough to see what it was. He heard a small snapping sound, followed by a wet squelch. He tried desperately to wriggle around and see what was happening, but Mr. Allen now had one hand firmly on the back of his neck.
“A bad attitude like yours calls for more serious consequences,” he said. “You brought this on yourself.”
It was then that Mikey felt the first slick finger probe at the rim of his anus, light and seeking. He went momentarily still in shock and horror, then started to writhe harder, trying to get away.
He heard Bryce Allen sigh. “Hold him down,” came the man’s voice.
To his horror, both the principal and vice-principal of the school stepped forward. Together the two of them yanked him up onto the conference table with his rear end facing Mr. Allen. They said nothing, but each one of them held down one of his arms and shoulders. Mikey could do little but squirm helplessly under their grip as Mr. Allen slid his chair a little closer in behind him.
The fingers returned, this time with greater intent. Mikey gasped as the slicked digits wriggled their way inside him like slimy worms, parting his anus and slipping up into him with little trouble. He couldn’t tell if there were two or three inside him; they felt enormous as they cleaved him and casually explored his insides.
“You can’t do this!” Mikey yelled. “You can’t! It’s wrong! You’ll- I’ll figure out some way to make you pay for this! You watch! You won’t get away with it!”
Once again, Mr. Allen sighed. “This boy needs to watch his mouth. I’m sure there are better things he could be doing with it than running it like that. If one of you would, please?”
He gestured at the principal. For a moment the man looked confused, and then he startled, eyes widening. “Oh, of course!” he said. The tone of his voice was strange, like he was being strangled.
Mikey wondered if they were going to gag him, but instead the principal took a step back from the table and unzipped his fly. He quickly pulled his penis out from where it was already tenting the front of his slacks, exposing it to the open air. Then he stepped back up to the table and pulled Mikey towards him, turning him, until the boy’s face was mashed up against the principal’s dick.
“Now now,” said Mr. Allen, “open wide, boy.”
Mikey shook his head, clenching his teeth, even as Mr. Allen began to wrench his fingers in and out of Mikey’s hole, driving into him with punishing force.
Mr. Allen snorted. “I see how it is. Well then.”
The fingers suddenly disappeared, withdrawn all at once from Mikey’s anus, leaving it bereft and twitching. Mikey breathed a sigh of relief and felt himself relax slightly.
Until Mr. Allen’s entire fist suddenly plunged into his ass, fingers, wrist, forearm and all. Mikey opened his mouth to scream in shock, but the moment his lips parted the principal jammed his cock between them, impaling Mikey’s face onto his phallus. Mikey choked and gasped around the sudden rod of flesh rammed down his throat.
Spitted between the two penetrations, the cock in his mouth and the fist up his ass, there was little Mikey could do. He was forced to lie still on the table as he was thrust into from both ends, filled over and over by the flesh of his assailants. The hand in his ass in particular felt like a living thing, massaging his insides and stroking them, filling him up with writhing flesh.
The principal was still thrusting into his face when the fist was finally withdrawn from Mikey’s ass. He didn’t get much of a reprieve, however, as it was swiftly replaced by what he could only assume was Mr. Allen’s penis. It scarcely felt smaller than his hand had, sliding smoothly into his well-prepared hole like a glove.
Mikey turned his head to the side as much as he could around the cock in his mouth, trying to look out at the group of men watching his humiliation, hoping to appeal to one of them for help. But the gazes around him were hungry, predatory. A few had stood up, and Mikey could clearly see that they were all hard.
Mikey squeezed his eyes shut, wanting it to be over. But the men fucking him showed no signs of stopping. Eventually the principal came, flooding Mikey’s mouth with the taste of semen. Mikey choked, and while he was gasping for breath, the principal’s now limp dick was swiftly replaced by another as one of the men from the school board stepped up to take his place. Before Mikey even fully grasped what was happening, another thick cock was sliding down his throat.
The same happened behind him. Mikey felt Mr. Allen’s balls come to rest against his ass, pulsing and clenching as he emptied his seed as deep as he could into Mikey’s body. As soon as he had recovered enough to pull out, the vice principal took his place and shoved his own cock unceremoniously up Mikey’s anus.
As the men continued to ravish Mikey’s body, Mr. Allen came around the side of the table and sat in one of the vacated chairs, face to face with Mikey. (Or as face to face as they could be around the cock stuffed into Mikey’s mouth.) He leaned back in his chair with a pleased look on his face. “You know,” he said casually, “you really should consider yourself lucky. I could sue you and your father for defamation. With the lawyers I can afford? Your family would be destitute. It’s good for you that you’re young enough for the press to just write you off as a malicious child who doesn’t really understand what he’s saying.”
Mikey wanted to protest, to yell at him some more, but there was little he could do in his humiliating position. “I don’t think you really understand the degree to which I own this town,” Bryce Allen continued smugly. “I control the livelihoods of everyone here. One word and anyone’s world can come crumbling down around them. I can do whatever I want, because no one can touch me, do you understand? Least of all a child like you.”
The bell rang for the next period, and still the men continued to fuck him. Everyone in the room took a turn in at least one of his holes, and many tried both—some even multiple times. Hours later, Mikey’s ass was squelching and frothing with cum. His face dripped with it and his stomach roiled from the amount he’d been forced to swallow. He was exhausted, and yet the cocks seemed to just keep thrusting and thrusting, each new man invigorated by the performance of the previous one.
He missed the entire day of school. The men chose to take a break for lunch, during which time Mikey was left alone with the bodyguard. This was almost worse: the bodyguard was an enormous brute of a man and fucked him harder than any of the others had. His thrusts rammed home like a jackhammer, and he pulled Mikey’s hair as he did, yanking him backwards and bowing his spine painfully, slamming Mikey down onto the thick, meaty spike of his cock with hands that left bruises on his hips. It was almost a relief when the other men returned and continued their molestations. Almost.
“How’s it going?” Mr. Allen asked cheerfully as the men walked back into the room after their break. “Have you kept his hole nice and loosened up for us?”
Finally, just before the last bell of the day, the last two men penetrating him finished off, blowing their final loads into and onto his body before withdrawing regretfully. The bodyguard pulled Mikey’s pants back up—they’d never come completely off—and set him back on his feet.
“Now,” said Bryce Allen, comfortably seated and relaxed as though they hadn’t just spend the last several hours raping the boy, “to complete the payment for your insolence, I expect a full, public apology. You will write and send a tweet tonight explaining how very sorry you are, how the previous tweet was just a prank and you never meant to cause anyone any harm. How you are so, so sorry if you hurt my reputation, that actually I’m a fine person and you were just jealous that someone else at the school got to talk to me and you didn’t. Got it?”
Mikey kept his jaw clenched shut, refusing to answer. His legs felt shaky; it took all his concentration not to fall over in front of the man.
Mr. Allen seemed to notice, and smirked. “Good. Run along now. And enjoy that bus ride home. I hope every little bump on the road that slams against that cute little ass of yours reminds you of what you learned here today.”