Aftermaths can be a Bitch.

Note : This story is completely fictional!

It all started on a warm Tuesday morning in late May. As the bell signaling first hour came to a sudden cease, the halls of Claudia High School found themselves both empty and silent. That was 60 seconds ago. The guidance office now found itself swarmed with unpromising actors and actresses who were busy reciting excuses of a most bullshit nature in response to their tardiness. As far as classrooms were concerned, teachers sat at their desk, impatiently waiting for the slow and unstable computer attendance programs to load up. Ms. Lewis cussed silently as her computer froze up just seconds after receiving a friendly little error which informed her that: “Class A, Hr 1, LEW.attnd. is either temporarily unavailable or has been removed by system admin.” Amanda Wilson, who sat nearby, would later tell her friends at lunch about how Ms. Lewis “was freaking out” over the attendance program that morning. What you had here was just one of 5,000 middle-class high schools throughout the U.S. all eagerly awaiting the last 2-3 weeks of school to end.

Out of the 1,800 students, there was no arguing that the most wide ranging emotions about high school ending came from the 470 members of the senior class. Be it the feeling of depression, excitement, freedom, hopelessness, joy, over-exaggerated mood swings, serenity, uncertainty, worry, perhaps even apathy; that lovely class of (insert year number here) felt them all. As Josh Williams sat in his senior british Literature class, he currently felt a wave of apathy – not for school ending, but rather for Jack Lynch. Although the large encyclopedia was open to a page containing biographical information and ever so tempting long speeches made by the dead former Prime Minister, Josh found such temptations easier to ignore with a copy of Isaac Asimov’s, “The Trilogy” spread open between the pages of the encyclopedia. Just as Josh was beginning to get comfortable, Mr. Anderson called him up to the front of the room. A few students turned their heads over to Josh, only to quickly lose interest and focus their attention back to whatever they were doing. Josh stood up from his seat and almost immediately noticed one thing: He was completely naked.

As Josh walked through the aisles of desk to the front of the room, he found himself feeling both deeply surreal and thankful that there was not a single pair of eyes staring up at him. Although Josh didn’t care for religion, and found the idea of some powerful being creating him and then supposedly hating him because his brain registered two guys doing each other as the biggest turn on ever to be complete blasphemy, for one single second, he found himself believing that the only possible reason for no one staring up at him had to be the work of some God. The thought disappeared almost as quickly as it had been conjured up. As Josh continued walking up to Mr. Anderson’s desk, he felt a swift breeze brush up against his bare buttocks, causing his face to turn entirely red.

Everything seemed to happen so quickly that Josh felt completely powerless. One moment Mr. Anderson was expressing his concerns about Josh’s score on his last test, and the next second, Alex O’Brien, major cutie and former captain of the soccer team who had graduated last year and had shown up at Josh’s 18th birthday party two month’s ago, was now gently stroking Josh’s penis, repeating over and over, “You’ve been a very bad boy.” Josh was on the verge of cumming when all of a sudden, the angry face of Allison Kerry appeared, pointing a gun at his head and angrily accusing him of trying to steal her boyfriend.

Josh woke up and thrust his head forward, his heart beating heavily in his chest and erection slowly receding. Josh took a frantic look around and realized with a heavy sense of relief that he was in his bedroom, brightly filled with hurtful and blinding light coming from his television set. Josh got up from bed and immediately headed out of his bedroom door and down the hall towards the downstairs bathroom.

As Josh finished washing the last bead of sweat from his face, he found himself looking at his reflection in the bathroom mirror with dismay. It wasn’t exactly the few newly formed pimples that bothered him; his mostly clear complexion and dark blue eyes almost entirely concealed this, but it was his body he was mostly distraught with. Josh was 5’8 and had a smoothly tanned and slender body, but that was about it. Josh had always desperately wished that his body was more toned, even just a few nicely muscled pair of abs would do. He didn’t want to look like some work out buff or anything remotely close to that, he just was sick of looking like someone you could easily push around like nothing. Josh had it planted in his brain that most gay guys out there would want to at least feel some sort of protection as you wrapped your arms around their waist and drew them closer to your body after an intimate night of love-making in the bed, not some flat stomached and skinny guy with nothing physically extraordinary to make up for it. Although he constantly told himself that the whole fear was unreasonable, it really did very little to make him feel better.

Josh continued studying himself in the mirror until he suddenly had a pressing urge that something was terribly wrong. Josh looked in the mirror and suddenly saw a new reflection taking his place. This reflection had a little darker and smoother tan than Josh did with a nicely toned and smooth stomach supported by broad and tanned shoulders. Josh’s sense of danger was only heightened as he noticed that the new reflection was wearing a pair of white briefs, exposing a perfectly flawless waist and tight ass. The waist had been the result of three years playing Baseball. Josh wasn’t sure how he came across the last fact, but his entire brain had gone into total overdrive now and was confidently telling itself that the baseball fact was true as gold. Suddenly, it clicked in his brain, and the only thing Josh felt was terrified. The reflection in the mirror was himself; of course it was. The reflection was Josh because he wasn’t in high school anymore; he had graduated four years ago in 2002.

Suddenly, Josh felt a piercing slap that broke him out of the dream entirely. He couldn’t pinpoint where the slap had struck him, but some far away voice seemed to claim that it was his “nice and tight ass.” Josh desperately tried to pull himself out of his sleep and open his eyes, but he soon realized attempting this was futile. Suddenly, he felt something collapse against his body, and now his eyes fluttered open. Josh tried to glance around the room, but his entire head was both pulsing rapidly and spinning around like mad. Josh barely made out that he was in a bedroom with one lamp that produced a dim light in the room. Josh was about to fall back asleep before his eye caught glimpse of some shape that seemed to vaguely resemble a cell phone on the bed. He wasn’t sure why, but his mind was so violently screaming at him to take the item that Josh actually forced himself to open his eyes again and grabbed the cell phone, clutching it in his right hand. That was when everything went black.

About 6 hours later, Josh opened his eyes and cringed at the bright sunlight which washed over the entire room. As soon as Josh tried to move, he noticed two things and cried out in pain. His butt cheeks were both on fire and his asshole felt like it was bleeding and protested at his movement with such intensity that Josh had to bite his lips to keep from screaming. It was right then that Josh noticed a scent. His nose was able to register what it was before his brain did, but once realization swept over him, Josh became immensely worried. He realized that the smell was dried up jizz, and he also had the powerful feeling it wasn’t his. Well, “A powerful feeling” was an understatement. He knew the dried cum wasn’t his just as well as he knew there was no way in hell he had suddenly developed some sort of chronic ass pain in the middle of the night.

Once Josh was finally able to sit up, he began contemplating to himself about what the hell happened last night. After a few minutes, it all came back to him. He had been invited to Dan Mayer’s college grad party. Although he didn’t remember much more, he pieced together that he must have taken a drink, and whatever was in that drink had been filled with something far heavier than alcohol, and judging from the fact that he was almost positive he was ra-ped, he had a feeling that whoever gave him the drink intentionally had done so.

Suddenly, Josh remembered the thing he’d grabbed from the bed last night. He unclenched his right hand, and sure enough, just as his original suspicions had suspected, he was staring at a cell phone. As Josh searched through the cell phone’s text messages and phone book in an attempt to find out who’s this was, he ran into a less than pleasant video recording.

Scott Jenkins, that’s who it had been, that little bastard Scott Jenkins. Josh watched in horror, disbelief, and growing rage as Scott took off his belt and lifted up Josh’s legs so they were above his head in a summersault like position. Josh watched as Scott recorded himself holding up both legs with one arm and then using the belt to slam against both buttocks in a haphazard fashion. Josh then watched as Scott apparently threw the belt and then began alternating between dry humping Josh and giving his ass sharp, open-palm slaps. Josh no longer had any clue what he might have drunk, or what might have been used on him, but he was now completely sure that whatever it was, there was no way it was even close to legal. By the time Josh saw Scott flip him over and climb on top of him, mashing his butt against his face over and over to the point that he actually heard a fucking fart being ripped; Josh threw the phone against the wall as hard as he could in total and complete revulsion. Right before the cell phone’s cover literally ripped off and the batteries flew out of the phone and scattered noisily on the floor, Josh heard an obscured, “Oh yeah, you like that don’t you bitch? You like my ass being smothered around your –“.

Josh sat on the bed, thinking. He thought and thought for what might have been 15 minutes before he finally sat up from the bed to fetch his clothes. As Josh looked around the room, he was amused to realize that it must have belonged to Dan Mayers because of all the volleyball trophies. Josh saw a pile of his clothes thrown against the wall at the back of the room and wasn’t entirely surprised to find that his white briefs were missing. He walked over to the far side of the room and found himself opening the top drawer of a dresser without really thinking. Josh took a pair of tight jockeys and began dressing himself. Had Josh not felt on the verge of angry tears, he probably would have jacked off right then and there, thinking about how Dan’s smooth and athletic body had graced the jockeys he was wearing. As Josh finished dressing and was about to head out, his eyes caught a glimpse of a clock on the dresser which displayed 6 : 0 8 in bright red letters. Josh thought to himself that most of the party’s guests had either gone home or were downstairs wasted.

Josh opened the bedroom door and made his way down the steps to the first floor. Scott Jenkins was a fucktard, all right, and Josh swore to himself that before this week was through, Scott was going to so broken he might as well just shrivel up and die.

As it would turn out, before Josh would even get to doing much of anything, he would spend the next 9 hours in his apartment drying up tears and feeling like complete shit.