I was in for it now. The Assholes had chased me into a blind alley and there was no way I hell that I could get around them, and even if I did I was out of breath and could never hope to outrun them. “Is this the way you big, tough seniors fight?” I challenged, hoping that I might talk my way out of the situation. “Four on one, kind of chickenshit, isn’t it?”

One of the Assholes, Luke someone, looked at the others and split. Good. Now only three six-foot one hundred and seventy pound high school seniors faced me, a five and a half foot tall freshman who wouldn’t go over a hundred twenty pounds soaking wet. The hell of it was it was all my fault to start with. I’ve always had a problem with my mouth, and when one of them suggested that I get my wimpy, freshman ass out of the lunch line to let an upperclassman have cuts, I politely told him to ‘Bite me, Buttfuck.’ I didn’t realize at the time that he was one of the Assholes, an unorganized group of seniors that had a reputation of not taking any shit off of freshmen. He took offense to my suggestion and told me that we’d be seeing each other after school. I saw him and his buddies first and ran, but they chased me down and now I was fucked.

There wouldn’t be any cavalry riding to the rescue. The alleyway in which I was cornered was dead-ended and the whole block had been vacated and was scheduled for demolition. No one was supposed to be here, and anyone who remained wouldn’t be the type of person inclined to get involved in a teenage grudge match. I had already tried the old door that was the only apparent means of escape, but it was barred or locked from the inside. I could have surrendered but they probably still would have hammered me, so I decided to go down fighting and took aim on the crotch of the guy in the center, hoping I could put him out of action with a swift kick in the balls and then maybe somehow elude the other two.

They all took a step forward just as I heard the clatter of the old door being unbarred and forced open. They made a lunge for me and I jumped towards the open door, thankful that someone had became aware of my plight, and landed right into the open arms of Luke. The Asshole had gone into the building and opened the door, allowing his buddies to summarily hustle me out of the alley and into the room.

I never even got a blow in before they had me pinned down on an old mattress in the corner of the room. I steeled myself for the beating that would surely come, wondering how much they would hurt me. The unwritten ‘code of cool’ that everyone went by dictated that I not be injured or severely scarred to the extent that a doctor, and subsequently the police, be involved, but just about any manner of pain could be inflicted at will.

My punishment was soon incoming: I was forced face down on the mattress, my nose inches from a brown-ringed stain that I didn’t even want to know the origin of, and while two of the Assholes pinned down my arms the other two yanked off first my shoes, then my jeans, and finally my skivvies. I was getting pantsed! I had braced myself for a beating, but now it looked like all I’d have to do was make my way home bare-assed, then figure out where they’d hid my clothes. I would have preferred a fat lip, or black eye, or something that would show that I’d put up a fight: Pantsing was usually just done to fat kids or dinky-dicks who were even more afraid of being seen naked than they were of taking a beating.

My relief suddenly turned to dismay as my legs were forced apart and a hand grabbed hold of my balls. “You cocksuckers!” My shout was muffled by the mattress, but whoever it was that had me where it counts obviously heard me, because the pressure on my balls suddenly increased, causing me to cry out in pain. This wasn’t fair! It was perfectly acceptable for a guy to take a shot at a companion’s crotch, and it was considered cool as hell to deliver a righteous bust to an unsuspecting victim, but touching another guy’s naked balls or cock was something that only queers did.

“On your knees, Shithead!” The command came from Mike, the Asshole that I had insulted, and was reinforced by a sudden hard squeeze on my balls. I had no choice but to comply, seeing as how I was being hoisted into that position anyway. “You got a hell of a problem with your mouth, Shithead,” Mike informed me, “and were going to fix it for you. Luke, you’re first.”

I addition to being a mouthy little shit I was also quite naïve, and still didn’t have a clue about what was about to happen until Luke suddenly pulled down his pants and skivvies. “I don’t know, man,” Luke said hesitantly. “I mean, it don’t seem right with a guy, you know?”

“Shit, Luke,” Mike answered. “Are you getting chicken on us? Hell, he’ll probably like it so much he’ll ask for seconds.”

“What if he rats on us?” Luke protested. “Won’t we go to jail or something?”

“Trust me, he ain’t gonna be telling anyone,” Mike assured him.

“Suck it!” Luke commanded, shuffling forward to place his fat, stubby cock inches from my face. I couldn’t move. We had all used terms like ‘bite me’, and ‘cocksucker’, after all they were part of our teenage lingo back then, but the idea of actually doing something like that had never even occurred to me. It was absolutely unthinkable, and there was no way in hell that I would do it.

“You heard him, Cocksucker,” Mike said. “Open wide. You know what happens if he feels so much as one little tooth?” He gave my balls another pull and moved his other hand around to show me the knife. “Yep. Nut City.” I felt the edge of the blade touch the tender skin of my nut sack about the same time Luke took hold of my ears. I willed my self to respond just to ease the pain in my balls, but I couldn’t bring myself to open my mouth. His cock was now at half-mast and it smelled like he hadn’t bathed since the last time he jacked off. Like most guys back then he was circumcised, and several small curly hairs were adhered to his cockhead by the residue from his last orgasm.

“Last chance, Shithead,” Mike announced, tightening his grip and increasing the pressure with the knife. “Lick it or lose’em.”

I opened my mouth to cry out in pain and suddenly Luke’s cock was in me, completely filling my mouth. My nose was buried in the forest of thick hair that covered his crotch, thighs, and belly, and my chin was right up against his balls. The pressure on my nuts eased and Luke began to rock back and forth while at the same time manipulating my head to complement his moves, and I instantly felt his cock grow hard and push down my throat. “Come on, suck,” he commanded, but I couldn’t for the life of me comply.

He withdrew almost all of the way, and the gloom of the room was suddenly engulfed in a flash of light. I shifted my eyes to see Gordon, another of the Assholes, lower his camera. Luke made a few more clumsy thrusts, stiffened, and the warm saltiness of his ejaculation suddenly filled my mouth. He buried himself in me, shooting a second and third spurt deep into my throat. I recoiled from him, choking.

“Swallow it, Shithead,” Mike commanded, tightening his grip, but I couldn’t and most of it spilled out of my mouth and down the front my shirt.

Gordon was next, followed by Ralph. An observant person could tell you which of the three was biggest, hardest, or shot the biggest wad, and also could possibly comment on their various techniques as well as the nuances in the taste of their sperm. I remember little of it. It could have lasted an hour or it may have only been ten minutes. I was aware of the camera flashing twice more, however, and I can tell you one thing with absolute certainty: I didn’t suck. They used my mouth in a most vile, despicable manner, and I had no choice but to swallow some of their seed, but I didn’t suck.

I finally felt the pressure on my scrotum ease and was then aware that Mike was standing in front of me, slowly stroking his cock. I obediently opened my mouth to accept him, but instead of stepping forward he opened a little square package and unrolled the contents onto his erection. I had heard about rubbers by then, and had seen the vending machines that sold them, but had never seen one. He went behind me and I again felt his hand clamp onto my balls, this time from the front, and as he forced me down onto the mattress I distinctly felt his cock slide down the small of my back and in between my ass cheeks. He released his grip on my balls, and then suddenly slammed his fist into them. I automatically convulsed and had just started to scream when he entered me in one swift jab.

To this day I have never known such pain. It felt like my whole ass had been split wide open with a red-hot poker. I felt the stubble of his beard on my neck, and heard him whisper in my ear. “Hey bitch, who’s the buttfuck now?”

Ralph showed me the pictures as my four tormenters pulled up their pants. He had one of the new, at the time, Polaroid instant cameras. “One peep from you and these will be all over the school.” He warned. He even left me one for a keepsake.

I stayed on the mattress sobbing like a baby for a long time after they left. Mike had used my skivvies to wipe my shit and blood from his cock, and the front of my shirt was streaked with their semen, so I went home wearing only my shoes and jeans and locked myself in my bedroom.

My ass still hurt the next morning but the bleeding had stopped, and although I complained about not feeling well my mother insisted that I go to school. Mike said nothing about what had happened, and the other three Assholes wouldn’t even look at me. It was just business as usual for them.

They had hurt me both physically and mentally. My ass eventually healed up and within a couple of weeks I was able to shit normally. I still haven’t completely recovered mentally. I dated all through high school and while I had a lot of fun and managed to get laid occasionally, I always felt apprehensive when anyone, girls included, touched me. It was even worse in the Army. Hand-to-hand combat training just about freaked me out, as did our first aid classes, and every time I got into the shower I imagined that some big hairy-assed ape was going to rape me. I would recoil from even the slightest touch on my naked body like it was an electric shock. Most of the other guys probably thought I was weird as hell.

The four Assholes graduated the next spring, and I moved to Spokane that winter and never saw three of them again.

Ralph and his main squeeze tried to beat a train to a crossing and lost. I heard later that they found part of his cock in her mouth.

Gordon went to work in the woods setting chokers for a gyppo logger, one of the most dangerous jobs there is, and like so many other young, inexperienced, and possibly hung-over chokersetters he got killed by a rolling log.

Luke was drafted and sent to Viet Nam and came home in a body bag. Later on I visited each of their graves and blessed each one with a long and satisfying piss.

Mike, their ringleader and the instigator of my humiliation, graduated from Washington State about the time I got out of the Army. It was his misfortune that he was the only one of the four Assholes still living, as he would now also have to accept punishment for his three buddies.

I was just a scrawny little fourteen-year-old kid the last time I had seen Mike naked. His body had been a mass of hair and his cock looked huge when he stood before me it and felt larger yet as it was shoved up my ass. He didn’t look so impressive now, trussed up like a hog on the floor of the abandoned silo. He was little on the heavy side and his ample belly protruded, blocking his view of his genitals. He wasn’t anticipating getting a blowjob or fucking a boy in the ass, and consequently his cock was now completely flaccid, and even though it was extremely warm in the old grain silo his balls were tucked up tight against his groin, possibly in response to a quite justifiable fear. I was now hung better than he and was just about as hairy, and would continue to be so for a very long time. Any masculine traits that he now possessed would be gone when the residual testosterone finally flushed out of his body.

He had assumed at first that his kidnapping was all about money, and that he would be freed as soon as a ransom had been paid. He was apparently wealthy and used to bullying people, and he wasted no time in informing me that he’d get a hold of some guys he knew out in the woods and turn me into a soprano if a single hair on his head was harmed. He hadn’t really started to show any fear until I hogtied him and cut away his clothing. I wore a mask and loose, bagging clothing, and spoke only in guttural whispers when around him, and he didn’t have a clue who I was or what I was going to do to him.

I’d been planning my revenge for over six years, and now it was payback time. Right after their assault I wanted to get Dad’s deer rifle, shoot all of them in the balls, then take a shovel handle and shove up each one’s ass. It would be logical for me to want to force them to blow me or take me up their asses, but that kind of stuff was out of the question for a guy like me.

The real problem was that they had stolen my dignity and severely damaged my ego. I still put on a good front, but there were way too many times, even in high school, that my dick went soft just when things were getting good. It got worse as I grew older, and even thinking about what they did to me is enough to make me impotent. In essence, they deprived me of the most precious thing that I possessed, and now Mike would be deprived of the most precious thing he possessed. I could only castrate him once so I would have to make sure he hurt as much as if it had been done four times. I learned that he had gotten married a year ago but still hadn’t knocked up his wife, so I decided to cut him little slack and forgive the punishment of one of his companions, which meant that now I’d only castrate him three times. It was indeed his lucky day.

My first act of retribution would effectively castrate him; the rest would finalize the deal and cause him additional pain.

His eyes grew wide in fear as I released the ratchet on the cable-pull hoist, extended the cable, and threw the end across an overhead pipe, but he didn’t start to plead and beg until I grabbed him by his balls. I thought about brandishing the knife that I’d eventually use on him, but settled instead for just giving his balls a hard squeeze before looping a short piece of stout cord around the neck of his scrotum, an act that caused a dribble of yellow piss to escape from his insignificant cock. I tied a loop in the other end of the cord, placed it over the hook on the end of the cable, and took a couple of pumps on the ratchet handle to remove the slack from the line, then paused to tie a gag around his mouth. I had never hung a guy by his balls and didn’t really know what all to expect, but loud noises tend to bother me.

It took two more strokes on the handle before he finished emptying his bladder, and soon after that his muffled pleadings had given way to subdued screaming as first his legs, then his ass, and finally his whole body was suspended by his scrotum and the tissues connecting his balls to his body. I waited until his balls were almost to his knees before I reversed the ratchet. I have no idea how long he could remain that way before something gave way, and I seriously thought about walking away and leaving him there. By that time he was effectively castrated but I still wasn’t done with him.

I lowered him until his shoulders and heels barely touched the concrete floor, and then stopped. His screams had died away by now, and I had to check to make sure that he was still conscious. I left him that way for a few minutes before producing a couple of old red bricks. Even though I was nowhere near his balls, his eyes grew wide as I spread them apart a few inches and smacked them smartly together. I walked up to him, took careful aim, spread my hands wide, and as he went into a series of violent contortions I brought them together as hard as I could, two inches from his nuts. I couldn’t help but laugh as he reacted to the noise of the bricks slamming together.

The next time was the real McCoy, and although I didn’t use all of my strength, I still nailed him hard enough to compress his captive nuts to the point that they slipped through the noose, dropping him into the puddle of his own piss. I let him lie there for a few minutes while I waited for my heartbeat to return to normal and for him to regain consciousness.

His balls, or more properly I guess, what was left of them, were a mess. I reached down and grabbed them but there was no substance to them, just a mushy mess containing what felt like a few small lumps of firmness. His scrotum was rapidly swelling, no doubt due to the obvious rupture from the hanging as well as the damage from the brick job.

I waited a few minutes before dousing him with cold water, and as soon as he woke up I stretched a short piece of latex tubing around his scrotum to act as a tourniquet for the final act. Today’s microsurgery techniques may have been able to save his manhood, but none of that was available in 1974, and even so I wasn’t going to leave anything to chance. A long slow slice with the rather dull butcher knife that I had selected guaranteed that his term as a functional male had ended.

I let him that way; huddled on the floor in pain sobbing like a baby and impotent, similar to the way he had left me so many years ago. I wasn’t worried about him; he wasn’t bleeding, and his car, in which he had been abducted, was parked outside. Even if he didn’t feel up to driving himself to a hospital someone would see the car the next morning and investigate. I carefully policed the area for any trace of evidence that I may have left, and then took off across the fields on foot to the abandoned airstrip where I had left the Piper Cherokee that I had ‘borrowed’ for the night. I needed to get it back home and in its hangar before the owner missed it.

The newspaper ran a story a few days later indicating that an unidentified man had been assaulted in an unidentified manner in a remote location in rural Adams County. Police were withholding further details. I wasn’t worried. Mike never saw my face nor heard my voice, and I had covered my tracks very well and had an airtight alibi for the time of the attack.

I had kept the picture that he had given me so many years ago. It had been taken from the front, near the moment of his orgasm, and it showed him riding me from behind. My face, although contorted by pain, was instantly recognizable. His face, tensed in firm concentration, was also recognizable, as was the old mattress and the interior of the old building. I took a razor knife and very carefully removed my entire face from the picture, and although it was obvious what is happening only two living people know the identity of the kid getting fucked in the ass. I mailed him the picture a year later.