Scott loved a good mosh pit. It didn't matter what was troubling him, once the handsome high-school senior got into the flow of the pit - the thundering roar of the music, the gut-pounding beat of the drums and bass, and the feeling of bodies constantly colliding against his - he'd let everything go and just disappear into the moment. Scott didn't do drugs, he didn't even drink much, so the white-hot jolt of adrenaline & testosterone that surged through his body in the pit was the deepest, purest release he had.
Sometimes, when he was in the zone, wrestling gave him the same release. But wrestling was so much work - the constant harangues from his hard-assed coach, the neverending dieting and making weight, the long hours of training. But despite all the rigor, Scott was glad he wrestled - he had a winning record for all four of his high school seasons, and the sport had left him superbly conditioned, with a trim, muscular body - 5 ft., 9 inches, 135 lbs. of sinewy muscle, firm pecs, and washboard abs. Todd kept his fiery red hair shaved so he didn't have to muss with it when sweating or showering.
Tonight's show was a good one. The headliner was 311, outdoors under the hot Iowa sun at the local fairgrounds. They had concerts here all summer. 311 played sweet catchy reggae and hard pounding rock, and mixed it up just right so the pit would be swaying and skanking one minute, then explode into a fury of pummeling arms and bodies smashing into one another. Scott had been looking forward to this concert for weeks. In fact, he was in such a good mood that he even brought his kid brother, Tommy. God knew where he was, Scott hadn't seen him since the two of them walked through the ticket turnstile onto the fairgrounds. Tommy was only 15 but Scott wasn't worried, the kid could take care of himself.
Scott had come dressed for a hot summer day, in blue nylon shorts and a wifebeater. The flimsy cotton undershirt had disappeared long ago - it practically melted off in the sweat and grime of the pit. Scott preferred moshing barechested anyway, and he had an extra T-shirt back in the car. Suddenly, the music stopped. Scott looked up at the stage and saw the band sipping water and tuning. Time for a break. The crowd thinned out a bit, so everyone could get a little air. God, it was stifling in the heart of the pit. Scott realized he was covered in sweat and started to swab off his chest and abs. Just then, he became aware that he was being watched. Three big guys -- all 180 lbs. or more, he guessed, but in superb shape, like weightlifters or bodybuilders, with huge shoulders and massive pecs - were standing together a few yards away, giving him the once over. They too were shirtless and covered in sweat. Moreover, Scott noticed laminates dangling from their walletchains. That meant they were either with one of the bands or the road crew. Scott didn't want a confrontation, but they were definitely glowering at him, and he couldn't figure out why. He'd been shirtless at raves and dance clubs in the past and had gay guys give him a look; usually, a smile and a wave to let them know he wasn't interested was enough to divert their attention to another hottie. But this wasn't like that at all. These guys had something else on their mind.
The music started up again and Scott let the thought slide from his mind, throwing himself back into dancing. A few songs later, 311 shouted their thank you's and left the stage. The crowd thinned and Scott started to look for Tommy. He saw him running up, his brand-new 311 t-shirt and his shock of straight blonde hair soaked with sweat, and a big grin on his face. "Was that awesome or what?" the eager 15-year old asked. "Sure was," said Scott. "Let's get going or we'll be stuck in traffic for hours."
The two started heading for the exit nearest their parking lot. But as they approached the fringes of the campgrounds, near an area crowded with trucks and buses, someone in a black "STAFF" T-shirt waved them aside. "We got a little problem with crowd congestion, you can't get through that way," he said. "Go around back this way and you'll get right to the parking lot." He waved them onto a path that snaked its way through the trucks and buses.
The boys started walking and realized that they were heading away from the visitor's parking lot. Just as Scott was about to turn around and head back, one of the three big guys from the mosh pit appeared in front of him, seemingly out of nowhere. "My buddies and I have a little proposition for you," he said. Suddenly, the other two men stepped out from nowhere behind Scott and Tommy, blocking their retreat. "You see, every day on this tour, we check out the crowd and we look for a guy who looks like he's in pretty goodshape. Then we invite him back to our truck for a little athletic competition."
Scott couldn't believe the nerve of this jerk, but he also didn't know just how psycho these guys were. And he had Tommy to worry about to. So instead of starting anything, he tried to talk his way out of it. "Look, I'd really like to, but we gotta go, I have to get the car back by seven and "
One of the bruisers behind them quickly put his hands on Tommy's shoulders. His huge hands locked around the boy's throat. "We can do this the easy way or the hard way," he said menacingly. "You come with us or I break his neck. Very simple."
Scott gulped hard. These guys were nuts and they meant business. He had no choice. The first guy unlatched the back of a semi, one of several identical trucks on the lot, and swung open the back. He boosted first Scott, and then Tommy up into the steaming hot interior of the container. Then he swung himself up and in. The other two guys followed, the last one swinging shut and bolting the hatch.
The tractor trailer had been sitting out in the sun all day and it was stifling hot inside. Scott rubbed his burning eyes as he felt sweat begin to dribble down his chest. The interior of the truck was dimly lit by several small, battery-powered lamps. Some sort of thick woven mesh was strung up on the side panels, probably to prevent things from bumping into the hard steel walls.
"Welcome to our humble abode," said one of the goons. "I'm Gus. This is Ben and Ted. We'll have to leave in a couple of minutes to start loading out the gear, but we'll be alone here for a while yet. And just in case you're thinking of anything, this baby is totally sound- proofed. Kid Rock could play a set in here and you wouldn't hear a thing outside."
"All right, look, I don't know what kind of games you think you're playing, but let's just keep this between us, okay?" said Scott. "My brother's got nothing to do with this. What happened, I accidentally hit you in the pit and you want a piece of me?"
"Hey, you got us all wrong, kid," said Gus, smiling malevolently. "My friends and I are just looking for a little friendly competition. You ever do any gut-punching?"
Even though he could barely breath in the steamy hot trailer, Scott felt a cold shiver run down his spine. "What?" he asked.
The goon named Ben answered. "Gut punching. Just
what it sounds like. You punch me in the gut. Then I get to punch you in the
gut. First guy who can't go on loses. We play with each other all the time
but that gets boring so we like to get some new blood into the game when we
roll into a new town. And we'll even make it sporting. You only have to take
on one of us. You win and your brother here gets a bye. You both walk out
of here and that's the end of it.
"And if I lose?" asked Scott.
"Then you and baby brother have to stick around a while and let us, um, play a few games before we let you go. Then we toss you out of the trailer a few miles outside town. By the time you walk home, we're in the next city. And if you say anything and the cops show up, we'll have 20 other roadies swear we were playing cards with them the whole time, so it's your word against ours."
Tommy squirmed and threw his arms against Ben's chest. "You fuckin' psycho, you put a hand on my brother and I'll fuckin' kill you!" he screamed.
"Shut up, Tommy," Scott barked. He realized this was only going to go one way, and he had to pray he could take one of these guys, and that they'd let it be a fair fight, so he could protect his brother.
"Which one of you guys is it going to be?" Scott asked. "My turn," said Ben, with a leering grin on his face. "Ready to get it on? Tell you what, seeing as how I have the weight advantage, you can even go first."
Ben walked to the center of the trailer and braced himself. "C'mon, kid, give me your best shot." The heavily muscled roadie had several inches and a good fifty pounds on Scott. Scott summoned up every bit of concentration, drew back his arm, and threw all he had into a swinging roundhouse right aimed squarely into Ben's solar plexus. His fist exploded with pain as he made contact with the giant's rock-hard abs. It was like punching a brick wall. Ben didn't even flinch.
"My turn," Ben said, smiling. "You can take him, Scott!" cheered Tommy from the side, where Ted was holding him to keep him from interfering. Scott braced himself and tightened his abs as hard as he could. Ben waited until he saw Scott was ready and then fired a punishing hook into his gut, just above the belly button.
"Ooof!!" Scott said, absorbing the blow and staggering back a step. Ben hadn't doubled him over but the blow left a stinging red welt on Scott's tummy. Scott doubled over and tried to look more hurt than he was, thinking he could catch Ben offguard. But Ben was wise to him and Scott's suckerpunch found Ben's gut steeled and ready.
The boys traded several more blows; with each one, Scott could feel his abs weakening, losing their tensile strength. Ben's fourth punch doubled Scott over, knocking all the wind out of him. Scott could barely straighten up to return fire, and his punch had no power behind it at all. Ben knew he had the game won, and cupped his massive hand under Scott's chin. He lifted slightly, putting Scott on his tiptoes, and walked the boy over to the side of trailer. Scott didn't have the strength to resist and prepared himself for the inevitable. With Scott's back braced against the wall of the truck, Ben cocked his arm, spit on his fist, and with a huge grin, sent a punch deep into Scott's solar plexus. Scott thought the brute's arm was going to go straight through his body. An electric bolt of pain exploded in Scott's mid-section, moved up to his chest, and into his throat. Scott gasped for air, rolled his eyes, and collapsed on the floor, semi-conscious.
Ben rolled Scott over with his foot to make sure the boy was still breathing. "He's okay, just knocked the wind out of him," he said, slapping his hands together. "Looks like I win."
The three turned their attention to Tommy. "Looks like you lose, little brother," said Ben. "So now we're gonna play some games. First game is called Unwrap The Twinkie."
Tommy stood transfixed, frozen with fear. "Nice 311 shirt, kid," said Ben. "New?"
"Y-y-y-yeah, just got it," said Tommy. "Too bad," said Ted, grabbing the collar and yanking it toward the floor. The cotton shirt stretched to its limit and then tore. Gus, Ben, and Ted each grabbed handfuls of shirt until the last shred was ripped from the boy's back, leaving him barechested.
Tommy wasn't quite as developed as his brother but he had a nice, firm torso, with surprisingly firm pecs and a flat, tight stomach. "How old are you, kid?" asked Ben. "Fuck you, asshole," Tommy defiantly spit back. "Ooh, the kid has balls," said Ted. "Let's see how tough he really is." Ted wrapped his massive hand around Tommy's mouth and used his thumb and forefinger to pinch the boy's nose, completely cutting off his air supply. Tommy's eyes widened in terror as he squirmed to free himself. Ted held his hand in place for nearly a minute before taking it away. Tommy gulped for air, terrified. "Now," Ted asked again, "how old are you?" "Fifteen," Tommy shot back. Ted looked at his cohorts. "That's a nice round number. Fifteen punches it is."
Ben grabbed Tommy's arms, pinning them behind the boy's back and tying them with a piece of rope, eaving his bare chest exposed to his two brutish friends. Ted cocked back his arm and punched Tommy squarely on his right nipple, punishing the boy's pec. Tommy grunted but said nothing, returning a steely stare into Gus's eyes. Gus returned the stare and slipped a quick uppercut into Tommy's gut, just below his ribcage. "Oooofff!" The air exploded from Tommy's lungs and he nearly doubled over, but Ben straightened him up.
Ted swung a roundhouse right, connecting with Tommy's ribs. Seeing the red blemish on Tommy's right pec, Gus aimed his next punch at Tommy's left nipple, connecting with a solid thud. Tommy grimaced for a second and then looked back up, continuing to stare at his opponents, refusing to back down.
"You're a cocky little fucker, aren't you?" asked Ted. "Don't worry, we've broken lots bigger boys than you." Ted let fly a vicious right cross squarely into Tommy's guts. The boy doubled over and groaned in pain, but quickly recovered and continued to taunt his attackers by looking them dead in the eye. Gus flew into a rage at the boy's hubris and threw an uppercut that connected neatly with the boy's chin. Tommy's neck snapped back with the impact and he slumped in Ben's arms. The punch had knocked him out.
Ben dropped the boy to the floor of the trailer. "Looks like the kid wins," he said, laughing at Gus' impotent rage. "He was gonna get 15 and he got off with only 6 hits. I ain't gonna let you hit the kid when he's out."
"That's all right," Gus said steamily, "we still have big brother to play with a while." Gus went over to Scott, who had been impotently watching his brother's torture from the floor of the trailer, unable to summon the strength to get up and stop it. Gus grabbed a bottle of water from a small box of supplies on the floor and sprayed Scott's face. As the boy slowly came to, Gus put his arms under Scott's armpits and dragged him into a standing position, then walked him over to the wall covered by the mesh. Using some strips of rawhide he had ready in his pockets, Gus spreadeagled Scott and bound his wrists to the mesh, then secured his ankles. The shirtless, sweating, bruised teen was now spread out and helpless, his baggy jean shorts hanging low on his hips, revealing two inches of white boxer shorts.
"Hey kid, ever see an atomic wedgie?" asked Ben, laughing. The brute grabbed the topped of Scott's boxers and started to heave with all his strength. Scott screamed in agony as the cotton cloth bunched up around his genitals, slowing tearing until it finally shredded. Without his boxers, Scott's jeans sagged even lower, revealing his eight-pack abs and several inches below his navel to just above his pubes.
"Whattya want to do with him?" asked Ted. "Those abs are a nice target but I'm all punched out."
"This'll do," said Gus, as he unfastened the buckle of his thick black leather belt and pulled it off.
"Let's hear you count, boy," spit out Gus. "Count to ten for me." Gus whipped back the belt and let it fly against Scott's chest. An angry red welt exploded across his upper torso, crisscrossing his nipples. Scott screamed, then sucked air trying to regain his breath. "Count, dammit, or you'll get 20!" yelled Gus. "One!" said Scott. Gus swung the belt again, this time hitting Scott's side. Another welt decorated the webbing of ribs and muscles. "Two," murmured Scott, barely able to get the word out. Gus whipped the belt again, this time aiming the leather strap across Scott's tightly-defined eight-pack. "Three." The fourth, fifth, and sixth blows all crisscrossed Scott's chest, leaving a patchwork of angry red streaks.
"Stop it, you'll kill him!" screamed Tommy, climbing up from the floor. "He's had enough."
"How about you, little man?" asked Ted. "You man enough to take his last four? Tell you what, we'll make it two -- provided you take them like a man and don't make a peep. You scream like your sissy brother here, and you both get ten more. Deal?"
Tommy looked at Scott's limp body sagging against the wall and knew his brother couldn't take any more punishment. "Okay," he said. "Two more."
Ted broke into a wide grin and fished through the box of supplies on the floor, pulling out a reel of clothesline. He fastened one end around Tommy's wrists, and then worked the other over a hook suspended in the ceiling of the truck. Ted pulled on the rope until Tommy's arms were pulled high over his head and the boy was almost pulled off his feet, teetering on tiptoe, then secured the other end. Tommy's sweat-drenched torso was stretched tight, every muscle in his body gleaming.
Ted grabbed the belt from Gus. "My turn," he said, and positioned himself next to the suspended boy. Gus swung his arm back as far as he could and brought it around, whipping Tommy squarely across the back. Tommy's body convulsed but the boy bit his lip and managed to take the blow without making a sound. "You're gonna feel this next one, boy," Ted said, already looking forward to the additional ten lashes he'd get to mete out. He walked around to the other side of Tommy and turned the belt around in his hand, so the buckle end would fly through the air and hit Tommy's body. This time he brought the belt screaming across the boy's chest. Tommy thought his chest was going to explode, the pain was so great. But he bit his tongue and miraculously took the blow without uttering a sound.
"Okay, that's enough," said Ben. "This is getting out of hand. Cut the kid down and stash him in the back of the truck. We've gotta start loading up." Both boys were moved to the far back of the trailer, tied, and gagged, and the three roadies disappeared. They returned a few minutes later and began the chore of loading up the truck with amps, lights, drums, and guitars. When they were finished, the moved to the cab and the truck headed out to the next city. A few miles out of town, now under the cover of night, they pulled over and let Scott and Tommy out - shirtless, covered in sweat and grimy filth from the floor of the truck, and covered with welts and bruises. "You boys did good," Ben said. "Maybe we'll see you when we come back this way again."
Tommy and Scott watched the truck drive off into the distance, and then began the long walk home. "Thanks, little brother, you really bailed me out," Scott said. Tommy looked down at the nasty welt crossing his chest, and then at his brother's bruises, cuts, and scrapes. "Forget about it," he said. "Let's talk about how we're gonna get even."
And all the way home, that's all they discussed.
SECOND PART: Revenge!
Several weeks had passed since Tommy and Scott had
been brutalized by the three rogue roadies, Gus, Ben, and Ted at the local
fairgrounds. Tommy and Scott's bruises had healed but not the emotional aftermath
of their beatings: Tommy was still full of shame and humiliation, remembering
how he had allowed his little brother to take a whipping to save himself further
punishment. But for Tommy, who had just turned 16, the only feeling was anger
- he ached to get back at those three goons and give them a taste of their
One night, while surfing the Internet, Tommy couldn't believe his eyes: The three roadies' tour was doubling back and would soon be at a fairgrounds just a few miles away. This was their chance for revenge and Tommy feverishly started putting together a plan.
Tommy was a straight A student and much brighter than his older, hunkier brother, who was the official jock of the family. Tommy quickly put together a plan and talked his big brother into going ahead with it. First, they'd need some bait, and for that, they were going to need Scott's friend Steve. Steve was a championship wrestler and swimmer. At first glance, he looked like your average high school jock - average height, average build, nice smile, wire rim glasses.
But Steve had a secret weapon, the most awesome set of abs in the state. He worked them fanatically, doing 1,000 stomach-crunches every night, along with regular weightlifting and strength training. Steve's perfect six pack looked like he had two tightly coiled steel bands running down the length of his belly. Tommy knew that once Gus, Ben, and Ted got a look at Steve, they'd want him in their torture chamber.
For the next part of the plan, Tommy called his best friend, Derek. Derek's dad was the local chief of police in their small, affluent suburban town. Although the police force was small, it was very well funded, and Derek's dad had a small arsenal of hi-tech police gear stored in a special locker in his home. Derek had long ago discovered where his dad hid the key, and he and his friends had broken into the locker and played around with some of the gear in the past.
Tommy got Derek to put together a nice stockpile of equipment for their plan: First, Derek took three Tasers, small devices that looked like remote controls but which gave off powerful electric shocks. A Taser could stop a small elephant in its tracks; Tommy was sure they'd bring down Gus, Ben, and Ted long enough for his friends to subdue them. Derek also took a couple of walkie-talkies, several pairs of handcuffs, and four police clubs - nasty black rods with steel-reinforced centers.
Tommy's plan was simple. They'd go to the concert and make sure that the three roadies got a good look at Steve. Then, at the end of the concert, they'd conceal themselves and follow along behind as Steve as he walked toward the exit. If the three thugs repeated the same pattern, they'd lure Steve away from the crowd traffic and over to their equipment trailer, where they'd lure him inside and then proceed to sadistically beat his abs and whip him for their pleasure.
Only this time, Tommy, Scott, and Derek would be right behind, and just before Steve entered the trailer, the three teens would use the Tasers to subdue their prey, hustle them into the trailer, handcuff their hands and ankles, and then beat the crap out of them with the billy clubs. At least,that was the plan. Tommy was sure it would work.
The day of the concert arrived and the four teens arrived at the fairgrounds. They managed to smuggle all their special gear past the ticket-takers in a knapsack stuffed with t-shirts and a few magazines. "Okay," Tommy told the others, "spread out and find the roadies. Steve, you're with me. Derek, you go with Scott. Scott, it's really important that they don't see you and me or they might know something is up." "Gotcha," said Scott. "Okay," said Tommy. "As soon as you see them, call the rest of us on the walkie talkie, okay?"
The four teens split up and each worked a different area of the huge moshpit area in front of the stage. The opening bands had played and no sign of the three bullying roadies. Tommy was starting to worry that they had left the tour or wouldn't show, but then his walkie-talkie crackled with Scott's voice.
"I'm over at the right side of the stage and all three of them are here," Scott said. "Okay, get out of there and I'll send Steve over," Tommy said.
"I guess it's show time," said Steve, pulling his t-shirt over his head to reveal his beautifully muscled torso.
"Now don't be too obvious," said Tommy. "Just kind of mosh around and make sure they get a good look at you." "Okay," said Steve, and ran off into the pit.
Scott and Derek came over to Tommy. "You sure they didn't see you?" asked Tommy. "Yeah, pretty sure," said Scott. "I was pretty careful."
"Okay, let's go find a spot to wait," Tommy said.
The three found a protected knoll just above the stage where they could lay in the grass and watch the moshpit. Ben, Ted, and Gus were in the thick of it, their huge bare torsos glistening in the sun. The three looked to be in even better shape than before, their shoulders bulging with muscle and their big beefy arms swinging wildly in the pit, raining blows on unsuspecting moshers. The three had clearly spotted Steve. Tommy and the others watched at the three bruisers passed signals back and forth and snickered into each other's ears while watching the muscular teen dance.
Finally, the band finished its encore and left the stage. Steve, as had been arranged, hung back a moment to give the others time to get into position, and then started to walk toward the parking lot.
Scott, Tommy, and Derek crouched in the grass a discrete distance behind Steve and watched as he snaked his way out of the fairgrounds. Sure enough, Ben popped up in front of him and announced a "detour," heading him off on a path that wound around the main thoroughfare. Steve fought off the urge to look behind him and make sure his friends were there; he was sure they wouldn't let him down, and the teen, still shirtless and sweating from the pit, walked up the deserted path.
Tommy was slithering on his belly with the others through the tall grass alongside the path, waiting for the right moment. Sure enough, Steve arrived at the trailer area and was confronted by Gus and Ted. Now was the time to jump up and surprise them with the Tasers!
Tommy turned around to signal Scott and Derek, but was horrified by what he saw. Derek was sprawled flat on his back, apparently unconscious, and Scott flailed helplessly in the arms of Ben, who was applying a sleeper hold with one huge hand over Scott's mouth. Tommy reached for his Taser and was about to pounce on Ben to save his brother, when a staggering blow caught him in the nape of the neck from behind and sent him flying. Tommy's Taser went flying off into the grass and Tommy fell flat on his stomach, the wind almost completely knocked out of him. He spun his head around to see the massive figure of Ted towering over him, chuckling with a sick, evil grin on his face. "Well, well, look what we have here," Ted said. "It's the little blond boy we roughed up a while back and his pussy brother, here to rescue their friend. Sorry to spoil your plans, little man."
With that, Ted reached down and rudely grabbed Tommy by the shoulder, yanking him to his feet and hustling him towards the trailer. Gus and Steve were nowhere to be seen; Tommy assumed they were already in the trailer.
Ted pushed Tommy into the trailer, while Ben half pushed, half carried the semi-conscious Scott, who was reeling from the effects of the sleeper hold. They left Derek sprawled out on the grass, still out of it.
Ted pushed Tommy into the trailer. Ben followed with Scott and then slammed shut the door and bolted it. Tommy's eyes slowly adjusted to the dim interior of the trailer. The stifling heat and humidity and the stench of human sweat instantly brought back memories of their first encounter here; but while those sensations were familiar, the trailer looked quite different.
"We had a little uh incident, you might say, in the town after yours," said Ted. "Somebody got a little out of control and things got out of hand. So we had to do a little remodeling. How do you like the new digs?"
The rear of the trailer had been fitted with a cage, with a narrow swinging door. "We store the more valuable equipment in there when we're traveling so we can lock it down," said Ted, pointing toward the cell. "But it works real good for holding little pukes like you too. And that's not the only addition."
Tommy turned to the side of the trailer, where Gus was busy manhandling Steve. Two steel plates had been welded to the wall, about six feet up and a yard apart. Each of the plates was fitted with long Velcro bands.
Gus wrapped each of Steve's wrists in the bands, leaving him helplessly spreadeagled against the wall. Similar bands were fitted around his ankles.
Ted threw Scott and Tommy into the cage and bolted the door. "You can watch from there and think about what we're going to do to you later. Right now we're going to have some fun with abs boy here."
Steve stared defiantly from his bound position. "You want to work my abs, go head. I've gone one on one with bigger guys than you in gutpunching contests. I dare you to break me," he spit at the three thugs.
"Those are nice abs," said Ben, as he gingerly removed Steve's glasses and put them into his pocket. "Yeah, it would probably take us a while to break you with gut punches. But luckily, I found this on big brother over there."
Ben held up Scott's Taser. "I hear these things hurt like a sonofabitch," Ben said, clicking the "on" switch. The Taser erupted with a bolt of blue electric current running between the two electrodes at its end. An ominous hum filled the trailer.
Steve's eyes widened with horror. "Hey, wait, you can't use that, that's not fair!"
"Fair?" asked Ben mockingly. "Weren't you little boys going to use these on us? Let's see how the damn thing works."
Ben jabbed the Taser directly into Steve's belly button. The boy let out a blood curdling scream and his body thrashed uncontrollably against the wall of the trailer. Ben withdrew the Taser and smiled. "Yeah, this thing works good. Let's see what it does to those abs of yours." This time, Ben clicked the Taser on and raked it up and down the length of Steve's impressive six-pack. Again, the boy screamed as his body convulsed reflexively.
After a few seconds, Ben withdrew the fiendish torture weapon and looked at his victim. Steve was slumped in his bonds, panting for breath, tears running down his eyes. A black stain spread at his crotch; Steve had wet himself in his agony.
"P-p-p-please, no more," Steve begged. "Oh, c'mon, one more," Ben said, smiling, and again jammed the armed Taser directly into Steve's mid-section. The boy yelled again as his body thrashed in agony.
Ben withdrew the Taser and looked at Steve, who was sobbing quietly. "Now, let's see how those abs of yours are doing," Ben said, and applied a claw hold to Steve's beet-red abdominal area. Steve screamed with pain as his burned, battered abs reacted to Ben's vicious twist.
"Okay, Gus, your turn," Ben said, stepping back. "Gus said he couldn't wait to work those abs of yours, kiddo. Now let's see what you're made of."
Gus stepped up to Steve, flattened his fist, and drove a hard right directly into Steve's abs. Steve tried to flex his battered stomach muscles and defend against the punch, but his bruised muscles wouldn't respond, and Gus' punch drove straight into his mid-section.
"Oooofff!" Steve spat, as all the wind was knocked out of him. Gus countered with a hard left to the same spot. Steve's body jerked spasmodically in reaction. Gus followed with two roundhouse punches to Steve's pecs, which straightened the battered teen up and flattened him against the wall. Then Gus threw an uppercut straight into Steve's solar plexus. Bright lights exploded in Steve's eyes and the room spun around as his lungs desperately tried to suck in oxygen.
Steve was leaning back against the wall now, almost unable to stand on his own, his arms sagging in the restraints. He was nearly out of it. Ben splashed a bottle of water into his face and then looked the teen dead in the eye. "Now I am going to ask you a question and I am only going to ask you once. Who dreamed up this little revenge caper? Who was the wiseguy who was going to get us?
Although Steve's eyes were half shut and his mind was rocky, he had the presence of mind not to give away his friend. "We all came up with the idea together," he said.
Ben spat on the floor disgustedly. "Pull down his pants," he said to Gus. Gus yanked Steve's denim shorts down to his ankles, revealing a pair of Calvin Klein boxer briefs and Steve's admirable package.
Ben held up the Taser. "Now, you know what this feels like. I am going to count to three and then Gus is going to pull down your shorts and I am going to shove this thing right into your cock and balls until your face turns blue unless you tell me what I want to hear. Now, who came up with the plan? 1 . 2 .
"Okay, okay, it was Tommy," Steve said. "I'm sorry Tommy, I just can't take anymore "
"That's okay, Steve," Tommy shouted from the cage. "I got you into this."
Gus undid Steve's bonds and threw his limp body to an empty spot on the floor. Then Gus and his two cohorts turned to face Tommy and Scott.
THIRD PART: Roadies' Revenge
Steve, battered and brutalized by the three rogue roadies,
admitted that 16-year old Tommy was the mastermind behind their revenge plot.
With Steve out of the way, the roadies' attention turned to Tommy and his
18 year old brother Scott, who were cowering in a makeshift cell in the roadie's
"We are going to fuck you up really good for this, you little puke," Gus snarled at Tommy. "But first we're gonna make sure your big brother has a ringside seat."
Gus opened the cage and threw Tommy into Ben's arms. Ben threw a bearhug around Tommy so the teen couldn't move. Gus grabbed Scott and pulled him out of the cage, then slammed the cage door shut and locked it.
"We're gonna leave you right here so you can watch what happens to your little brother," Gus snarled. "Lucky you brought these handcuffs, they'll come in handy." Gus spreadeagled Scott against the bars of the cage and handcuffed his wrists and ankles. "You fuckin' piece of shit, you let me out of here and I'll kill you!" Scott screamed, his face red with rage.
"Shut the pussy up," snarled Ben. Gus smiled and with his two huge paws, grabbed the thick material at the collar of Scott's t-shirt. Gus' muscles strained as he tugged the stubborn cotton material until he heard a satisfying rip. Then he shredded Scott's shirt off his body, wrapped the torn material around in his hand, and gagged Scott with it. Scott struggled but could only make muffled sounds through the thick cotton gag.
Ben looked over Scott's half-naked body, spreadeagled against the metal cell. "Gee, I forgot what nice abs this dude has," Ben said appreciatively before thrusting a fist straight into Scott's gut. The sucker punch connected solidly and Scott tried to double over, but only succeeded in flailing against the metal police handcuffs, which cut into his wrists. Scott looked up pleadingly, unable to speak, at Ben's sadistic grin, as the heavily-muscled sadist shot another hard rabbit punch directly into Scott's belly. Scott's eyes bulged and he was afraid that he was going to throw up and choke in his gag, but his churning insides subsided and Ben turned his attention to Tommy.
Tommy couldn't believe his plan had boomeranged so completely, leaving himself and his brother in such peril. "This is the kid we couldn't make scream last time, isn't it?" asked Ben. "He took a pretty good whipping, as I recall."
"Yeah, well, we won't be quite so gentle this time," Gus said angrily, as he grabbed Tommy by the shoulders and pushed him against the wall with the wrist restraints.
"Wait a minute, I remember this part" said Tommy sarcastically. Then the plucky teen crossed his arms and grabbed the bottom of his t-shirt, pulling it up and over his head. Tommy tossed the shirt onto the floor and stood staring at his captors defiantly.
Gus, Ben, and Ted were impressed by what they saw. Tommy was going through a growth spurt and the teen was all torso - a long, lanky physique with small, round pecs and a smooth, flat stomach. Although he wasn't nearly as ripped as Scott or Steve, the outline of Tommy's abs were visible and made a pleasing six pack. At least three inches of smooth mounded muscle stretched beneath Tommy's belly button to the top of his low-hanging shorts.
Gus fastened Tommy's hands in the Velcro bindings. Small tufts of light blond hair glistened in the teen's armpits as a trickle of sweat ran from his breastbone down the length of his chest. Tommy's ankles were fastened as well. The three roadies paused to admire their handiwork.
"Yeah, you guys are so tough, tying up little boys and beating them up. How does it feel to be such fucking perverts?" Tommy spat at the men.
Ben swung a roundhouse right, solidly connecting with Tommy's chin. The teen's head snapped back with the impact. Tommy, staggered, shook off the blow and spit out a wad of blood. His lower lip started to swell.
"Hey, not in the face!" cried Ted. "It's not supposed to show, remember? Jesus Christ."
"The little shit had that coming," said Ben. "I needed to wipe that smirk off his face."
"Well," said Gus, "what do you want to do to him first?
"I don't care as long as it hurts," Ben said. "This time he's gonna squeal like a pig."
"Any juice left in that Taser thing? That seemed to work pretty good," offered Ted.
"I have a better idea," said Ben, smirking. "That Taser wasn't the only thing I found on big brother when I jumped him. He also had this." Ben held up one of the police billy clubs that the boys had brought with them on their mission.
"Oooh, that oughta hurt real good," said Ted, licking his chops in anticipation. "Probably hurt even more than this." With that, Ted swung both his fists banging into either side of Tommy's chest, connecting solidly with his ribs. "Oooomph," Tommy sputtered, as his body recoiled from the unexpected shock.
"Not bad," said Ben. "But he still isn't squealing. Let's see how he likes this." Ben brought the billy club down hard, flat square against Tommy's stomach, just above his belly button. Tommy's body jackknifed from the impact.
Ben swung the club again in his right fist , this time connecting with Tommy's right pec. Then Ben brought the club down in the other direction, hitting Tommy's left pec.
Ted took the club from Ben. "That looks like fun," he said eagerly. Ted swung the club against Tommy's left side, solidly connecting with the boy's striated lats. Tommy's body stiffened with pain, and the boy thought he heard one of his ribs crack.
The three men continued to take turns swacking the club against different parts of Tommy's torso. Angry blue bruises and ugly red welts soon peppered the teen's lean physique, which was now covered in a fine cascade of sweat.
Still, despite the relentless punishment, Tommy had not uttered a sound. By this point, the boy was almost out of it. His head was swimming and he could barely focus his eyes.
Gus threw a bucket of water on the boy, reviving him somewhat. "You're gonna beg for mercy one way or another," Gus said angrily. "Now beg!" Gus drove a fist deeply into Tommy's belly button. The boy's body heaved with the impact. "Beg!" shouted Gus, and drove a left hook deeply into the boy's defenseless abs. "Beg!" he screamed, and threw an uppercut into Tommy's solar plexus. "Beg, you little bastard!" and threw a vicious left jab into Tommy's gut.
Tommy was gasping for breath, unable to fill his lungs because of the relentless pounding. "All right, all right," he gasped. "I give, I give."
"Not enough," snarled Ben. "Beg!" And Ben started to throw combination left-rights into Tommy's mid-section, peppering the boy's abs with stiff jabs.
The blows lifted Tommy up onto his tiptoes, his body flattened against the wall, with nowhere to go to escape the ceaseless pounding. Each punch drove more and more breath out of Tommy's tortured lungs. Tommy started to see bright white sparkles in front of his eyes and the room began to spin. He knew that if this didn't stop, his heart was going to explode. "Stop!" Tommy screamed. "Please stop! I'm sorry!!!" he squealed at the top of his lungs. I beg! I beg!! Stop! Stop! Stop!"
Ben stopped his attack and watched as Tommy's body slumped down, semi-conscious, his arms suspended by the shackles as if he were being crucified. The boy's body was covered in welts and bruises, and he was desperately gasping for air.
"You gotta hand it to the little guy, he really hung in there," Gus said admiringly. "I didn't think you were going to break him. In fact, I was almost ready to stop you before you killed the kid."
"Yeah, he's a tough little punk, all right," Ben said. "Seems like after all this, he deserves a little reward." Ben turned his head toward the rear of the trailer, where the shackled and gagged Scott was sobbing like a baby, humiliated and horrified at his little brother's punishment. "Get that crybaby over here," Ben said, gesturing towards Scott. "We'll end this with a bang."
Gus and Ted uncuffed Scott and maneuvered him across the trailer, while Ben gave Tommy a few sips of bottled water and revived the battered teen as best he could. Finally, Tommy was alert and able to stand on his own again. "Can we go now?" he gasped. "You got what you wanted."
"Not just yet," leered Ben. "After all that, the guys and I want to see what kind of man you really are."
"You!" Ben snapped, pointing at Scott. "Pull his shorts down."
"What?" said Scott, horrified. "What are you, fucking perverts?"
"We're not perverts, we're sadists," chuckled Ben. "And do what I say or we'll fire up that Taser thing again and see how you like it against your nuts."
Scott sheepishly went over to Tommy, unfastened the button and fly on his shorts, and pulled them down to his ankles. "The underwear too," snapped Ben.
Scott looked up at Tommy, as if seeking direction. Tommy, knowing there was no choice and not wanting to endure any more beatings, nodded his head.
Scott pulled Tommy's boxers down to his ankles, revealing a flaccid 4 inch cock topped by a thatch of blonde pubic hair. "Ever seen your little brother naked?" asked Ben contemptuously. "He's got a bigger pair of balls than you'll ever have." Ben and the other two goons laughed. "Now jack him off."
"What?" snapped Scott. "Jack him off," said Ben "Juice him. Make him cum. Masturbate him to climax. Do I have to spell it out, you moron? We want to see the little man have an orgasm. It's the least he deserves after what we put him through. And we want you to do it. Now milk the bull and get on with it, or do I need to get the Taser?"
Scott couldn't believe this final humiliation. He couldn't even look at Tommy. Whimpering silently, he reached up and cupped Tommy's penis and gently started stroking it. Tommy's body was so bathed in sweat that Scott didn't need any lube. Tommy stoically shut his eyes and tried to blank out what was happening, but a 16 year old's body knows no rules and soon his cock started stiffening in response to Scott's gentle stroking. Within a few minutes, Tommy had a full 7-inch hard-on and Scott stepped up his stroking to a vigorous pumping action. He pumped Tommy's ramrod stiff cock for nearly five minutes until Tommy's body jerked and a spurt of jism flew from the tip of his cock into Scott's face.
Scott wiped the cum from his eyes and Tommy expelled a sigh of relief, as the three roadies burst into applause.
"We're gonna dump the three of you out once we get on the road," said Gus, "but I gotta tell you, we'll be through this town again in the fall. And if you wanna try this again, we'll be looking forward to seeing you."
Just then, someone started pounding on the outside of the trailer. "Open up, police!" shouted a voice through a bullhorn.
Fourth Part : Midnight
Derek's eyes slowly opened and he found himself laying flat on the grass, the bright summer sun beating down on his face. Suddenly he remembered the huge brawny arms that had snaked around his neck and his shoulders, pinching off the blood supply to his brain and putting him out. "Tommy! Scott!" Derek yelled, looking for his friends. With horror, Derek realized that his friends' revenge scheme must have gone terribly wrong and they were probably inside the trailer up ahead, enduring horrible punishment at the hands of the three rogue roadies they had been stalking.
Derek pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and started calling his dad, the police chief. But then Derek remembered the Tasers, handcuffs, and other police equipment which he and his friends had stolen and realized that his dad would kill him if he heard the whole story. Still, he had to do something, so he called his brother Quinn.
Quinn was several years older than Derek and his friends. After high school, he had joined the Marines, and had come home a few months ago with a rock-hard body and a mean-looking buzzcut. He graduated from the state policy academy with honors and had recently joined his father's small police department. Quinn would know what to do.
Derek got Quinn on the phone at home, and the older brother rushed out to the fairgrounds. It was his day off so he was out of uniform, and he didn't carry his gun off duty, but he still thought of himself as a cop answering a call for help.
Quinn found Derek, who pointed out the trailer and quickly filled his brother in on the details. Quinn marched up to the trailer, pounded on the door, and shouted, "Open up, police!"
A few seconds later, the door to the trailer flew open and Ben stuck out his head. "Who are you?" he asked. "You don't look like the cops."
Quinn held up his badge angrily. "You're in big trouble, mister," he said. "Suspicion of kidnapping, assault, god knows what else. I'm looking for three boys and I want them out here now!"
Ben squinted at Quinn's badge. "Well, first, you're out of uniform. Secondly, you're out of your jurisdiction - you're not a cop in this town, you're just another asshole with a bad haircut," he laughed. "But if you want to come inside, come in."
Quinn and Derek stepped up into the trailer. In the dim light and dank heat, it looked like some medieval torture chamber out of an old horror movie. Manacles hung from the walls. Ripped and discarded clothing was all over the floor. The heavily muscled Ben, Gus, and Ted, all bare-chested, were smeared with sweat, pumped with testosterone and adrenaline, standing with clenched fists. Tommy, Steve, and Scott were slumped on the floor, shirtless, covered with sweat and bruises, locked into the cage at the rear wall of the trailer.
"What the fuck!" shouted Quinn. "Are you guys all right?"
Tommy looked up. "Yeah, we're okay, they just worked us over."
"They had it coming," said Ben. "They showed up here armed to the teeth with all sorts of illegal weapons. I don't know what kind of shit they had in mind but we were just defending ourselves." He smirked.
"Is any of that true?" asked Quinn.
"True enough," said Tommy.
"You want to call the cops, fine," said Ben. "You arrest us, and we'll press charges against them too, and we can iron it all out at the station."
"Fine," said Quinn. "Just let me get them out of here and we'll call it even, you sick fucks."
"Now just a second there," Ben said. "Who said we were done with them?" "I did," said Quinn. "Now get out of my way and let me get them out of here."
Ben laughed sadistically. "You ready to take the three of us on all by yourself? You know, the band is playing here two nights so we don't have to load out tonight. We have all night to stay in here and rock and roll. Tell you what, you look like you're put together pretty good, we'll make you a little deal. You take any one of us on, bare knuckles, right here. You beat any one of us fair and square, and all you guys can leave and we won't bother anybody else in this county ever again."
"And if you win?" Quinn asked.
"Then you and your little friend" - pointing to Derek - "get to be our guests for a couple of hours."
"Fuck you, asshole," said Quinn. "There's no way I'm letting you touch my brother. Haven't you already fucked up these other kids enough? Look at them, you beat the shit out of them."
Ted chuckled. "Let's just say we're insatiable," he said. "Too bad you're too big a chicken-livered pussy to put up your dukes and settle this like a man."
"C'mon, Quinn, you can take any of these guys with one hand," said Derek. "I'm not afraid. Go for it."
Quinn froze for a second, not sure what to make of this bizarre situation. He was well-trained in martial arts and was sure he could take any of these guys, but the idea of Derek winding up in the hands of these sadists made him leery. He was just about to turn and walk out of the trailer to call for backup when Ben spun him around by the shoulder and threw a solid right hook into his gut.
Quinn's rock-solid abs took the punch easily. Quinn spun around reflexively and threw a quick combination at Ben's head. Ben jumped back and dodged the punches. "Okay, it's on!" he said excitedly. "Let's see what'cha got, boy!"
Quinn pulled his shirt up and over his head, tossing it into the corner. He squared his fists and sized up his opponent. Ben outweighed him by at least 50 lbs. His shoulders were as wide as a gorillas, with huge, firm pecs tapering off into a solid, heavily muscled waistline. Quinn had next to no body fat, with firm, hard pecs bleeding into chiseled washboard abs.
Quinn figured he'd have the advantage of speed, but there wasn't much room in the cramped trailer to move around, which gave the advantage back to Ben. Quinn knew that he couldn't stand toe to toe and slug it out or Ben would overpower him.
Suddenly, Ben feinted a powerful overhead jab toward Quinn's temple. Quinn bobbed and twisted, avoiding the blow, but leaving his mid-section open. With surprising swiftness, Ben moved in and hammered a serious of combination jabs into Quinn's ribs. Quinn backed off, favoring his throbbing side, and tried to throw on a bearhug to slow Ben down. But Ben anticipated his move and deftly grabbed Quinn's wrist, twisting his arm agonizingly behind him and shoving Quinn forcefully into the wall of the trailer. Quinn's face smashed against the trailer wall, and as he twisted around and tried to clear his head, Ben moved in and started pounding Quinn's abs with devastating lefts and rights.
Quinn desperately tried to catch his breath but Ben wouldn't relent, continuing his throttling assault. The hammer-like blows to his solar plexus drove all the air from his lungs instantly. Quinn's arms dropped helplessly to his sides as Ben continued to pound his gut. Derek gasped with horror as he saw the look in Quinn's eyes that told him the fight had been lost. "C'mon, Quinn, get him, get off the wall."
But it was too late. Ben backed off, smiling. Quinn looked into Ben's unflinching eyes, unable to even lift his arms to protect himself. "Nighty night, pig," said Ben, smiling, and threw an uppercut that started at his knees and connected solidly with Quinn's jaw. Quinn spun to the floor as the lights went out. For good measure, Ben leaned down, grabbed Quinn by the hair, and roughly slammed his head into the steel floor of the trailer. "Lights out, big boy," he said chuckling.
Quinn moaned in a semi-conscious stupor, vaguely aware of what was happening to him. He half-felt rough hands pull off his Nikes and peel the socks off his feet. Then someone was turning him over and fumbling with the buttons and fly of his jeans; he felt the rough denim fabric being dragged down the length of his legs and off his body. When he rolled back onto his stomach and felt his cock connect with the clammy floor of the trailer, he realized that his boxers were gone too. At that point, Quinn passed in and out of awareness for the next several hours
When Quinn finally regained full consciousness and
his head stopped swimming, he found himself spreadeagled to the wall of the
trailer. Pain wracked every part of his hard, naked body. His skull felt like
it was about to explode from the concussion that had kept him in a daze, floating
in and out of consciousness. Quinn knew he had taken a beating but had no
memory of the punishment being inflicted on him. Apparently the roadies had
worked him over relentlessly for hours while he was semi-conscious.
Quinn looked down at his body to inspect the damage. His perfectly chiseled 8-pack abs were beet-red and throbbing, the result of an hour of non-stop gutpunching. When he looked below his aching stomach, he saw that his genitals were completely hairless; the roadies had shaved him from armpits to crotch. Ugly red welts crisscrossed his chest, thighs, buttocks, and upper arms where someone had thrashed him repeatedly with a belt or whip. His nipples were red and enlarged, and one was slightly bleeding; Quinn guessed that he had been wearing tit-clamps for at least part of his ordeal.
Then Quinn realized his thighs were coated with a sticky residue and when he looked straight down, he saw puddles of cum on the floor. Later, he learned that the roadies had taken turns and juiced him a total of six times over the course of his beating, the last forced orgasm inducing screams of agony.
All of this passed through Quinn's mind in a second as he tried to gather his wits. He tried pulling his arms free, but the velcro bonds around his wrists were too thick to snap and he only succeeded in thrashing his battered body against the steel wall of the trailer. His head snapped back and he suddenly remembered his little brother Derek!
As Quinn's head cleared and his eyes adjusted to the dimly lit interior, he could see that Scott and Steve were both spreadeagled and handcuffed to the bars of the cage at the end of the trailer, also looking as if they had been through hell. Their naked bodies showed the same signs of abuse - reddened abs, whip marks, bruises and welts decorated their magnificent physiques.
The three roadies were standing clustered together in the center of the trailer, yelling and whooping it up, but Quinn couldn't see what was happening behind them. Gus and Ted finally shifted a bit and Quinn could see what they were cheering on - Tommy and Quinn's brother Derek were wrestling on the floor of the trailer, both nude, their tautly-muscled 16-year old bodies covered with streaks of grime and blood.
"What the fuck is going on??!" Quinn yelled. The three roadies turned around to look at their prisoner.
"Hey, look who's up?" said Gus. "You've been in la-la land for hours. We finally got tired of beating the crap out of you, so we got the little brothers into the action. We got a little wrasslin' match going on here." Gus paused to grin evilly. "These two little jerkoffs are trying to jerk one another off. It's one of our specialties - a first one to cum loses match. And whoever loses gets to watch his big bro' take another beating. Haw haw."
Derek and Tommy flopped around the floor of the trailer, slipping and sliding out of headlocks and scissorholds, each trying to grab and stroke the other's hard-on whenever possible. The two boys both wrestled on their high school team, but the regulation holds they had been taught at school were next to useless in this sort of competition. Their bodies were so drenched with sweat that it was like trying to wrestle in an oil pit, making it impossible to clamp on and sustain a hold. They were both relying on street-fighting more than guile, landing elbows and punches whenever possible to soften up their opponent and take the advantage.
The two boys parted and, each on his knees, sized each other up for another tussle. Tommy was taking deep, urgent breaths, totally winded. Derek, who hadn't been through as much, was a little fresher. Tommy lunged at Derek's chest, but Derek managed to slide to the side and quickly coil his body around, locking Tommy's head into a tight scissorhold with his legs, pinning Tommy's left arm under his body at the same time. While Tommy flailed helplessly with his right arm, Derek delivered three hard rabbit-punches to Tommy's stretched abs, forcing the lad to stop squirming. As Derek's leg scissors continued to cut off the flow of blood and oxygen to Tommy's head, Derek reached over and grabbed Tommy's flopping half-erect cock and started stroking it as fast as he could. Tommy's entire body stiffened as the teen tried to fight off the approaching orgasm, but two minutes later, he spurted his second juicing of the night, losing the match. Derek released the scissorhold and collapsed on top of his friend's body, both boys completely winded and exhausted from their fight.
"The winner and new champion!" shouted Gus triumphantly, as all three roadies shook with laughter. "Now what are we gonna do to the loser?"
"Please," begged Tommy, "Scott's had enough. Don't hurt him anymore. We're sorry for everything, we never should have crossed you. We fucked up and you caught us and we paid for it. But can't we just leave now?"
At this point, Derek straightened up on his haunches, wiping grime and sweat from his smooth muscled chest and abs. Ted noticed with interest that Derek's 6-inch boner was still semi-erect.
"Tell ya what we'll do, kid," Ted said to Tommy. "We won't fuck up your big bro anymore but you gotta do something for us. See, I'm looking at your friend there, and you got your rocks off twice tonight, but he's still got blue balls. So I think to end this, we really need to get him off."
Tommy, already beyond the point of humiliation and resistance, nodded compliantly. "What do you want me to do? Jerk him off?"
"Nope. Not good enough. We need a better show than that to end this party."
Tommy grimaced. "You want me to suck him off?" The thought of Derek's penis in his mouth made Tommy gag, but at this point, he was willing to do anything to end this nightmare.
Ted's mood turned dark and he barked, "Look, you little shit, you tried to fuck with us. You got your little toy stun guns and your handcuffs and your jackshit little friends, and you thought you were going to come here and fuck us up good. So I think the only fitting punishment is for YOU to get fucked. Up the ass. By your little friend here." Gus grinned sardonically. "He's got a pretty small cock anyway," he said. "It probably won't hurt all that much."
"No way!" shouted Derek. "I'm no friggin' homo."
"You'll do it and you'll like it, or we'll just start beating the shit out of your brother again, fuckhead," snarled Ted. "Tell you what, I'll even give you a condom so you don't catch any diseases."
Laughing, Ted pulled a Trojan from his wallet, tore open the tinfoil pouch, and tossed the condom to Derek. "You do know how to use one of those, don't you?" he asked sarcastically.
Derek just made a face and rolled the condom onto his semi-erect cock, then stroked himself a few times until he was hard. "Tommy, I don't think we have a choice, we're gonna have to do this if we want to get out of here," he said.
Tommy nodded his head and got up on all fours. Derek hunched behind Tommy doggy-style and gently prodded the boy's virgin butthole with the tip of his cock. Tommy nodded that he was ready and Derek slowly inserted his shaft into the boy's rectum, then slowly started pumping it in and out. "Get it all the way in there or it don't count" growled Gus, laughing at the sight of the two straight teens being forced to copulate in front of him. This was the ultimate power trip and the three roadies were enjoying it enormously. Gus pulled out a Polaroid camera and started snapping flash photos of the action.
Derek pushed a little harder and thrust his cock as far as it would go up Tommy's ass. Tommy squeezed his eyes shut and grunted with the pain. "Just try to relax and it won't hurt as much," Derek said, gently massaging Tommy's buttocks. Tommy nodded and relaxed his sphincter muscles, allowing Derek to gently pump his cock in and out to a slow steady rhythm. They continued for several minutes, then Derek said, "that's it, I'm gonna cum." He slid his cock out of Tommy's butt, pulled off the condom, and stroked his fully-erect shaft three or four times, until it erupted with a spurt of jism.
Gus, Ted, and Ben broke into mock applause. "Great show, kid. Best we ever had," Gus said. He unlocked Scott and Steve's handcuffs as Ted released Quinn from his bonds. "It's 3 a.m., there won't be anyone around," said Ted. "So leave now before we change our minds. We'll keep your little toys for evidence in case you decide to try and make trouble. Although I don't think you're gonna want all your little high school buddies to hear what you guys did in here anyway."
"Don't worry," said Quinn. "No one's going to hear about this."
Quinn put his arm around Derek, and Scott threw his arms around Tommy. No one said a word, they just silently hugged. Then Steve joined them and the five naked youths walked out of the trailer and off to their cars.