To the people who knew him-to the outside world-Michael Ryan was an affable, handsome man of twenty-six. More than one woman had called him beautiful. People were naturally attracted to him-found him easy to trust.

Hidden away, compartmentalized within his psyche, was a much different creature- a shrunken, misshapen, vile, creature of unspeakable evil. None who saw it lived long enough to report the sighting.

He was abused as a child, but others have been so abused without becoming like Michael. His father was a violent alcoholic and a sadistic disciplinarian who beat him and his mother. He berated Michael, calling him a sissy, queer, worthless. His father killed the only creature that Michael had ever loved-his dog-to punish him for masturbating, and then burned his penis with a cigarette to keep him from doing it again.

Michael had to mold his personality to suit his father’s whims. He became adapt at observing his father’s moods so that he could play the role that would best appease that mood-the role least likely to get him a beating.

After he graduated from college, this ability to read people-to be able to become what they wished-earned him the status of top salesman of his Seattle based company, and a six figure salary. With that salary he bought himself a house on five acres of land across the bay in Paulsbo.

While off work, Michael spent much of his time in the University District near the University of Washington. He found it easy to meet-to pick up-boys there. He tried to avoid local boys, preferring transients or runaways. He would befriend them-offer to let them stay at his house for the night. Few ever hesitated, or refused. None could see the evil which lurked beneath Michael’s pleasing facade. None ever left his house-alive.

Killing them was never enough. Michael had to possess them, to bend them completely to his will, to torture them-to reduce them to something less than human. His tortures were centered around the boys’ genitals, which were always severed in some manner, while they were conscious. He had a trophy room where he kept their severed penises in jars of formaldehyde, their skulls-stripped of flesh-on a shelf.

His house, secluded on the five acres, had a full basement. It was there he conducted his tortures. He had added sound-proofing to the basement so that he wouldn’t have to gag his victims. He needed to hear their screams-to listen to them beg for their lives.

When he brought boys home, he fed them dinner-spiked their drinks with sedatives. When they were unconscious, he carried them to the basement, fitted them with restraints-prepared them for torture.

If he had two boys, he usually prepared them for a game of “Jeopardy.” He loved to watch the game show on TV-proud that he could usually beat the contestants with the right answer. For the boys he brought home, the name, “Jeopardy,” had a double meaning.

One Friday night he met two boys, brothers, in the U District. Although he never bothered remembering their names afterwards-they were objects, not people to him-Michael never had to ask a boy his name twice on the night he met him.  The boys he met that night, in a coffee house were Jason and Justin. Jason, the younger one, was thirteen. His brother was fifteen. They had run away from home after having been caught smoking dope and threatened with a rehabilitation program. They had backpacks with them.  That's why Michael had chosen them, figuring they were runaways.

Sitting down at the table across from them, Michael said, "Hi, guys.  What's up?"

Justin answered.  He was the older and usually took charge.  Probably another queer, he thought.  It seemed like the only adults who were friendly to them wanted something-like to suck their cocks.  They were broke and hungry, though.  Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to have their cocks sucked.  The guy was good looking, and he seemed rich enough. "Not much," he said.  "Just hanging out."  The boys were drinking coffee.  It was all they could afford.

Michael ordered a mocha-with plenty of whipped cream on top-and a plate of brownies.  He saw the boys eye his mocha.  The younger of the two even licked his lips.  He pushed the brownies their way.  "Have some," he said.  "I can't eat all of these."  The boys didn't have to be asked twice.  "Hey, would you guys like a mocha?  It goes well with the brownies."

Both boys had their mouths stuffed with the brownies, so they just nodded.  When the waitress answered his beckoning hand, he said, "Bring each of the boys a mocha-with lots of whipped cream."

The boys sipped the mochas and continued to stuff their faces with brownies.  Where you guys from? asked Michael.

Justin hesitated.  Was the guy a cop?

Reading the question in his eyes, Michael said, "Don't worry.  I'm no cop.  I saw your backpacks.  I figured you weren't from around here.  Cops aren't going to bother you.  They've got bigger things than runaways to worry about."

"Why do you think we're runaways?" asked Justin.

"Well, you've got backpacks, you look about fifteen or sixteen, schools in session, and you're both hungry.  How long's it been since you've eaten?"

The guy sure had them pegged.  Except for some sandwiches they'd found in a dumpster behind a deli, they hadn't eaten for two days.  He didn't seem like a cop.  Hell, if he was, did it really matter?  Both boys were about ready to go home.  It'd be better than sleeping in doorways, eating out of dumpsters, and being hustled by queers.  "It's been a while," he answered.

Jason nodded his agreement.  "Think we could have some more brownies?"  He'd just swallowed the last one from the plate.

"You guys need a place to stay?  You can come to my house?  Hell, I'll even fix you dinner.  I'm a hell of a cook."  Then, in sotto voice, he added, "I've got some good weed, too."

From the look on the younger boy's face, Michael knew he wanted to come, but there was hesitation on the older boy's face.  "Hey, I know what you're thinking, but you're wrong.  I'm no queer.  I don't want your bods. It wasn't that many years ago that I was a kid.  I even ran away once myself.  My old man was a bastard."

Justin nodded.  He thought his old man was a bastard, too.  "I'm Justin," he said.  "This is my little brother, Jason."

"I'm not your little brother, asshole.  I'm your younger brother."

Holding out his hand, Michael said, "I'm Michael.  Glad to meet you."  He shook hands with both of the boys.  "Hey, let's split.  We'll go to my house.  I'll fix us some dinner, then you can kick back and watch TV.  I even have Playboy channel, if you like such things, and both a Playstation II and X-box, and you can each have your own bed.  Better than sleeping in some doorway or under some bridge."

Jason was convinced.  Nudging his brother, he implored him with his eyes.  Let's do it, they said.

Not yet convinced-still a little suspicious-Justin said, "Why would you do this for us?"

"I told you.  I was a kid once and a runaway, too.  I know what it's like.  I wish there'd been someone around to help me out."

"Sure, I guess," said Justin.  What's the most that could happen?  What if the guy was a queer and wanted to suck their cocks?  Justin had his sucked before.  Actually, it'd felt pretty good.  It'd be worth it to sleep in a bed, have a good meal-watch a little TV.  Just as long as the guy didn't expect them to suck his cock.  There was no way he was going to do that.  At least there was two of them, and the guy wasn't big, not really much bigger than he was.  He thought he and Jason could take him-if they had to.

Michael walked them out to his car, a Lexus.  Jason climbed into the back seat and Justin sat in the front.  Michael switched on the radio and pointed to a rack beside it.  "There's some cd's.  See if there's anything you like."

There was.  Michael had a full collection of the hot cd's teenagers liked.  "This is a cool car." said Jason from the back seat.

"It's OK," answered Michael.

"You must be rich," said Jason.

"Got my share, I guess," said Michael.

They drove to the ferry terminal.  "What are we doing here?" asked Justin.

"I live over by Bremerton," said Michael.  "We have to take the ferry."

"That was OK with Jason.  He'd never been on a ferry.

Michael's house, in the country, was isolated.  Most houses were set on at least five acres, some on more.  His was almost a hundred yards down a driveway from the road. He took the boys into the den, which was separated from the kitchen by a breakfast bar.  In the den, he had a large screen high definition TV, the Playstation II and X-Box, each hooked up to a TV of their own.  There was a plush leather couch and recliners in the den.  "This is cool," said Jason, heading for the X-Box.  From the stack of games beside it, he pulled out 'Halo.'  "You must have about every game there is," he said.  And, Michael did.  He bought every new game, as soon as it was released.  Jason plugged in the game and began playing, asking Justin if he wanted to play.

Justin had other interests.  Picking up the remote for the HDTV, he asked Michael, "What channel's the Playboy channel?"  When Michael told him, he tuned the TV to that station and sat back on the couch, his hand over his cock, which was rapidly becoming hard.  On the screen, a naked woman and man were getting it on-really getting it on.  Although fifteen, Justin was still a virgin.  The only sex he'd had with anyone was when that queer had sucked his cock, and he'd let him do that for the money-for twenty bucks.

"How about steaks, boys," said Michael from the kitchen, "with baked potatoes and peas?"  When the boys said that would be good, he asked, "Want a beer-or some weed-or both?"

"Both," answered the boys.

It was good weed, both boys agreed, the best they'd ever had.  After only a few tokes, they were getting a good buzz on.  They'd each take a toke, then a swallow of beer, while the other was taking his toke.  Before long, each was giggling.  "Where's that food?"  Jason shouted between his giggles, "I'm starved."

Justin had decided, thinking about Michael, Hey, this guy's cool.  I don't guess he wants anything from us.  He's just a nice guy.  At least, HE felt good.  With the buzz from the beer and the grass, he felt REALLY good.

Jason was too high to play 'Halo' any longer.  He sat on the couch watching the Playboy channel with Justin, more amused by the action on the screen than aroused; but, then, by this time, everything amused Jason.  Justin was amused-and aroused.  He unzipped his pants and took out his cock.  "Look at that," he said to his brother.  "This sucker is hard."  It bobbed up and down on its own.  Michael, cooking in the kitchen, couldn't see him, but, by this time, Justin didn't care.  The beer and grass had stripped away his inhibitions.  He wished someone WOULD give him a blow job, like the girl was doing to the guy on the TV set.  He began pumping his cock.

"Hey, Michael," Jason said, laughing, "Justin's beating off.  He's gonna shoot all over your couch."  He collapsed, bent over, laughing so hard he could barely breathe.

"That's OK," said Michael, from the kitchen.  "It's leather.  It'll clean up."  He'd expected as much.  The grass was spiked with PCP.  In a moment, he added, "Food's ready, guys.  Grab a stool at the bar."

"Just a minute, I'm busy."  Justin, busily jacking off, was about to come.  "Oh, shit-oh, shit," he said as the spunk began to shoot from his cock.  About half of it spurted onto his shirt-the rest onto the couch.

"He did it," Jason interspersed between his laughter.  "He shot all over your couch."

"Fuck, that felt good."  It had.  Justin had never had a climax that felt so good.  Shit, it must be the grass, he thought.  Damn, it was good grass.  "Hey, Michael, are you gay?  Now, he hoped he was.  He wanted a blow job, and Michael was kinda cute.  Justin knew he, himself, wasn't gay, but, if you were going to get your dick sucked by a fag, it wouldn't hurt that the fag was cute.  "You wanta suck my cock?"

"Not right, now, Justin.  Maybe later.  It's time to eat.  Come sit at the bar."

Justin suddenly remembered how hungry he was.  He'd forgotten up until now, but, reminded of it, he was suddenly starved.  He tried to pull up his pants-to button them, but he'd lost the ability to coordinate the use of his fingers.  They didn't want to work together.  Hell, what'd he need pants for, anyway.  Naked was better.  Using his feet, he pushed off one shoe, then the other, and pushed his pants and underwear over his feet.  His cock was still at least half hard.  Jason was pointing at him, laughing so hard his face was red.  "What's so funny, you wuss?"  He grabbed Jason around the neck and began giving him an Indian burn on his scalp.

"Ow-quit," said Jason.  "That hurts."

"Then take off your pants, too.  If I'm gonna be naked, you are, too."

"Naw, I don wanna."

"Take em off, asshole," said, Justin, rubbing Jason's scalp harder with his knuckles.

"OK-OK.  Just quit, will ya?"

"Take em off, and I'll quit."

Jason began unbuttoning his pants.  He succeeded, only because they were easier to unbutton than to button.  His coordination wasn't much better than Justin's.  When they were undone, Justin grabbed them, along with Jason's underwear, and pulled them down past his knees.  They gathered around Jason's ankles.  Resigned to being naked-at least from the waist down-Jason kicked off his shoes, his pants, and his underwear.  His cock was hard, with moisture leaking from the end.  It had turned him on to watch Justin jerk off.  "OK-now let's eat," said Justin as he led his younger brother by the hand to the bar.  He wasn't sure which he wanted more, another climax or food, but about that time, Michael put their plates on the bar.  Once he smelled the steaks, his stomach rumbled and food became his all consuming need.  That he was sitting at the bar, naked from the waist down, in a stranger's house, didn't matter.  All that mattered was the buzz he felt, and the steak on his plate.

Michael placed a frosted glass rimmed with salt next to their plates.  "What's that?" asked Jason.

"It's a margarita," said Michael.  "Have you ever had one?"

Neither boy had, but by this time, they would have tried anything.  These margaritas were made with tequila and margarita mix, but they also had an additional ingredient, a strong sedative-probably stronger than either boy needed-they were already pretty much out of it. It wasn't long before Jason slid from his stool, collapsing onto the floor beside it.  Justin looked at him, began to laugh, but fell face first into his peas.  Michael looked at them and smiled-the first meaningful smile since he'd met the boys.  All the others-and there had been plenty-had been part of his act.

He lifted Justin's face out of the peas, allowing him to fall backward onto the floor.  It was carpeted, so he wasn't hurt, but it wouldn't have mattered to Michael if he had been, just as long as he wasn't killed.  For that, Michael had other plans.  Grabbing Jason's wrists, he pulled his arms over his head and dragged him onto the den's floor.  There he stripped off the rest of his clothes.  The boy was well into puberty.  He had a thick bush and curly hair on his balls, but none on his chest or between his bush and his navel. The hair under his arms was short, apparently just having begun to grow.  His cock, smaller than his brother's, was no longer hard.

Michael dragged Justin over and placed him next to his brother, stripping off his clothes as well.  Justin had more hair under his arms, but none on his chest, either.  That his cock was bigger than his brother's was evident, even though both were soft.  His balls were bigger, too.  After rolling the boys over onto their stomachs, he stripped off his clothes, standing naked over the boys, rubbing his cock as he looked at their smooth butts.  Which would he fuck first?  He liked the younger one-mostly because he was younger, therefore, probably more innocent, less experienced.  He doubted Jason had ever done anything other than beat off.  Michel liked for them to be young and innocent.  He wanted to be their first-and last-sexual experience, even if they were unconscious and would never remember the experience.  He would.  That's all that mattered-that, and that he'd leave his come in their asses-a little something to remember him by.  Of course, that's not how they'd remember him.  Other than a sore ass, they'd probably never know they'd been fucked; besides they would be concerned about other things-things much more serious than having a cock up their asses.  Still, it turned Michael on to know that they'd die with his spunk up their asses.

Jason's youth won out.  After rubbing some lotion on his cock-for his benefit, not Jason's-he spread Jason's butt cheeks and inserted his cock into the boy's hole.  Jason never even groaned.  He was so deeply unconscious he never felt a thing.

Michel exhibited little emotions when he came.  This was just preliminary.  Later, he would be turned on.  Later, he would have a real climax.  Only later, would he really feel alive.  After finishing with Jason, he mechanically fucked Justin, not because he needed or wanted it, but to leave his come in the boy's ass.  That's what was important, not that he was fucking the kid.  After he was through, he took them downstairs-to the Jeopardy room in the basement. First he took Jason.

In the Jeopardy room were two plastic chairs.  He strapped Jason in the first and went back for Justin, who was bigger, almost as big as he was.  He had to carry Justin in a fireman's carry, over his shoulders.  After strapping Justin in a seat identical to the one in which he'd strapped Jason, he returned upstairs to watch TV.  The boys wouldn't awake for hours, and he wanted them fully awake before he started.

The brothers, when they awoke, were groggy.  Their heads hurt.  They couldn't move.  Their wrists and forearms were strapped to the arms of the strange plastic chairs in which they were seated side by side.  There was a button beneath each of their right index fingers.  The room was brightly lit. They were both naked. Neither of them remembered being naked upstairs in the den.  Most of what had happened after smoking the weed was a blur. When each boy attempted to move, he felt a sharp pain in his balls which replaced the dull ache he was already feeling there.  Looking down, they saw that their balls descended through a hole in the plastic bottom of the seats.  A sliding panel had been closed upon the base of their scrotums so that it left a small hole in which the scrotum was tightly pinned. The sharp edges of the plastic dug into the top of their tender sacks. It wasn’t so tight that the blood to their ball was cut off, but it was painful. Their balls hung down into a compartment below the seat. The compartment appeared to be about ten inches deep. The compartments to each boy’s seats was attached to its own chute which ended at the front wall. Plastic panels divided each chute into ten compartments. At the front wall was a metal panel.  A lap belt, across their hips, held them firmly in their seats.

"What the fuck?" said Justin.

"What's going on?" said Jason, frightened and beginning to cry.

That fucking fag-that Michael guy-had done this, thought Justin.  What the fuck was his game?  Justin was scared, too.  Hell, he'd suck the guy's cock, if that's what it took to get out of this mess.  He didn't know the significance of these plastic chairs, but he didn't like it a bit.  He began to scream.  Jason joined him.

Upstairs, over the TV, Michael heard their screams.  They gave him an erection.  Now, it would begin.  Now, he would once again feel alive.

The boys were screaming when Michael walked into the room. He was naked. He had an erection. With a doubled up belt-with the belt buckle-he struck them, hitting them on the face, chest, and arms.

“Shut up you worthless piece of shit,” he screamed to each as he struck him.

Once they had learned that each outburst earned more blows, the boys were reduced to whimpering-crying softly.

“That’s better,” said Michael

“But...what?” Justin started to ask.

Michael struck him across the face with the belt buckle, gashing his cheek-barely missing his eye.

“Shut the fuck up, you miserable worm. I’m doing the talking.”

Justin shut his mouth.

“We’re going to play a game,” began Michael. “Have you ever watched “Jeopardy” on TV?”

The brothers didn’t know whether to answer or not. They had been hit every time they opened their mouths.

“Answer me, God Damnit,” Michael said, as he lashed out at Jason.

“I know of it, but I never watch it,” replied Justin.

“I’ve never watched it,” said Jason.

“I’ll explain the rules, but you’d better listen close, because I’m not going to fucking repeat them.”

“I’ll give you an answer. If you know the question, press the button under your finger. If you’re first, it’ll light up this light-pointing to a light on each side of the room by each boys chair, locking out the other contestant’s light. Then you have to give me the question for the answer I've given you-in form of a question. If you give the wrong question, or don’t pose it in the form of a question, the other contestant gets to answer. If neither of you can answer, you both lose the round. For each round you lose, I’ll remove one of the dividers in the chute, starting at the front wall.”

The boys weren’t sure what that meant-what removing a divider would accomplish.

“We’ll start with an easy question,” said Michael. “The answer is the capitol of Texas.”

Justin buzzed in first. “Austin,” he said.

“Wrong...that wasn’t in form of a question.”

Jason’s light lit. “What is...Austin?” he said.

“Right,” said Michael. “He loses,” he said, pointing to Justin.

He walked to the divider at the front wall on Justin’s chute. When he removed it, a huge rat-fully as large as a cat-ran into the first chamber of the chute. It wasn’t a white rat, but a big, black, vicious looking creature. It squeaked repeatedly, as if in eager anticipation of what was to come.

Each boy thought of his balls hanging into the chamber below the seat and each tried to rise up in his chair, but was restrained by the belt-the plastic around his sack.

Michael reveled in the look of horror on their faces. The more frightened they became, the harder his cock became.

“He’s very hungry,” Michael said. “His last meal was another boy’s balls. He wants-can’t wait-to get at yours.

Both boys screamed.

Michael hit them until they quit. “It’s time for another question.”

Neither boy knew the answer.

Michael first pulled up the divider on Jason’s chute, letting his rat into the first compartment. It looked equally vicious-equally hungry. When he pulled up the divider on Justin’s chute, the rat leaped into the second chamber.

Justin nervously pushed his button before Michael finished the next question, so he was unable to even guess what the answer would be.

When Michael told Jason, “He was the president during the Civil War?” Jason was correct with, “Who was Lincoln?”

The next divider on Justin’s chute was removed. The rat jumped forward into the third chamber. There were seven left, including the one under Justin’s seat.

Justin was very careful not to press the button before he heard the question. His finger just beat Jason’s. He answered the question correctly. Jason’s rat leapt into the second chamber, squeaking impatiently.

Justin was normally protective of his younger brother, but not with the rat coming closer and closer to his balls.  At that moment, he hated his brother.  If the little son of a bitch cared about him, he'd let the rat eat his balls.  His rat, the one in his chute, pawed at the plastic panel, squeaking, trying to force his way through.  That it was a male, Justin could see.  Balls, huge for the size of the rat, hung down between it's rear legs.  Seeing those balls made Justin think about the vulnerability of his.

Justin beat Jason on the next two questions. On the third question, he forgot to pose the answer as a question. His rat, and Jason’s were each in the fourth chamber of their chutes.

Jason was almost to the point of gibbering. Justin wasn’t much better. They each lost the next two rounds. The rats, in each chute, were in the sixth chamber. Four more-they would be at the boy’s balls. The rats knew they were getting close. Their squeaks increased in intensity.

Justin knew the answer to the next question, but forgot to pose it as a question. Jason took advantage of his mistake. Three chambers separated the rat from Justin’s balls.

The brothers, so preoccupied with the rats couldn’t concentrate on the questions. They both lost the next two rounds. Justin’s rat was in the chamber next to the one his balls were in. It clawed at the divisor, lifting it slightly in the slot, trying to squeeze its head underneath it. Justin squirmed, attempting to rise in his seat. If it hadn’t been for the belt, he would have come out of the seat, even if it meant leaving his balls in the chamber below. The seat was drenched in his urine.

Justin pressed the button too soon, but Jason couldn’t answer the question either. Michael first lifted the panel on Jason’s chute, letting the rat into the chamber next to the one containing his balls. When he walked over to the other chute, Justin was screaming, but his words were unintelligible.

When he lifted the divider, the rat leapt for Justin’s dangling balls, burying his teeth in the skin at the bottom of his sack. Clutching the skin with his front paws, he began chewing. Justin’s screams had become inhuman shrieks. Jason’s matched his in timbre and volume.

The rat chewed off the bottom of Justin’s scrotum. It grabbed the first testicle to drop free with its paws, pulling it down-began biting through the cords. Blood streamed over the rat’s head and body as it chewed though the blood vessels. When it chewed through the rest of the cords, the ball dropped to floor of the chamber-rolled across the floor. The rat scurried after it, sat there, holding it with his paws as he rapidly devoured it. Justin’s other nut hung from his torn sack.

Justin and Jason were both shrieking. There was no evidence of sanity in either of them. Jason couldn’t tear his eyes from the rat as it chewed on Justin’s nut. 

The rat, having finished the first nut, went back for the second. Again, the rat grabbed it, pulled it down-bit through the cords so it could eat the nut on the floor. When the rat finished the ball, it started on the remainder of the sack. Both Jason and Michael watched-Jason in horror-Michael smiling in fascination, pumping his cock as he watched.  Screaming when he came, Michael collapsed onto the floor, almost fainting from the intensity of his orgasm.  It was worth the kid's life for this feeling.  It was worth a hundred kids lives for such a feeling.

Although the rat was finished with the sack, it kept eating, poking its head through the hole as best it could. It ate through the base of Justin’s cock. Urine dribbled out through the severed urethra. Blood poured over the rat’s body. Eventually there was a hollow where Justin’s balls-the base of his cock had been. The rat couldn’t reach any more flesh.

Michael stared intently at Justin’s face, at the eyes rolled back in his head, as the blood streamed from Justin’s crotch-as the life drained from his body.

Although he had seen it many times before, he was surprised by the amount of blood that poured from Justin’s crotch. Justin’s breathing became ragged, then stopped. His eyes were fixed-staring. Michael walked over to Jason’s chute-lifted the panel-let the rat into the last chamber-began pumping his cock again.