Kyle From High School

by Jeremy Jenkins

  I scrunched up my face, but still, I felt my cock pulse in my pants. “You’re sick.”

  “Don’t yuck someone else’s yum,” he said with a simpering smile. “Some people like it. Some people don’t get it. This gathering isn’t in existence to cater to people like you. It’s here to cater to people like us who want to do… this kind of extracurricular in a safe, trusting environment.”

  I looked at him through the bars, trying to reconcile who Simon was, exactly. It was like looking through a pair of those old 3D glasses, where in one eye, everything was blue and the other eye showed everything red. But the image was blurred, and my mind couldn’t quite fit one shape on top of the other and make everything line up.

  “Who are you?” I asked.

  Simon pushed his glasses up to the bridge of his nose. “Just Simon. You know who I am. But you don’t know who I really am. And from the looks of it, it doesn’t like you know who you really are, either.”

  His gaze dropped to my crotch.

  Instinctually, I wanted to cover my crotch with my hands; hide my growing arousal.

  But he’d seen. A smirk spread across his face.

  Then the music stopped and his smile disappeared. “I missed the ceremony because I took the time to educate you. Know that I made a sacrifice for you, Phil.”

  I wanted to say something to him like, Oh, give me a break, to throw a stone through this mirage of him. To try to intimidate him; to fall back into the roles of bully and nerd.

  But there was something lurking there in the look on his face—something he liked. He had the power, and he knew it.

  Was he… was he getting off on it?

  “Anyway,” he said, slicking back his dark hair, “I have to rejoin the others. We’ll be back for you… in a bit.”

  I gripped the vertical bars on the cell window. “How long is a bit?”

  He simply smiled, then walked away.

  I knew he wanted me to yell after him; demand answers, so I determinedly stayed quiet. I would not give him that power.

  Instead, I walked to the far end of the stall, leaned against the cold stone wall, and sank to the ground. I heard the thick, heavy sound of a door latching down the hall.

  Alone.

  Guess we were playing the waiting game…

  Though this was fucked up—everything about this was so fucked up—I couldn’t deny that there was some small grain of excitement in all of this. I was afraid, sure, but it wasn’t real fear.

  And as I sat there and pondered, working hard to untangle my thoughts and sort out my plotting, I couldn’t stop a single truth from rising to the surface in my mind like a buoy thrusting itself out of the surface of a lake:

  I trusted what Simon said.

  “They’re good people, you know,” Benny said from the stall next door.

  I jumped. I’d forgotten he was even there.

  “Saved my ass a hun-derd times,” he said, then let out a loud, echoing belch.

  “Well, you can say they’re good people all you want,” I said. “Doesn’t change the fact that we’re locked up like the fucking Count of Monte Cristo in here. And that they… they raped that guy all those years ago—”

  “Didn’t you listen to him, sonny?” Benny said. “They didn’t rape him.”

  “I know what I saw,” I said, keeping my eyes fixed on a point int he concrete floor a few steps away.

  “No, you don’t,” he said. “They’re good people—”

  “And they’ve got you brainwashed and shit,” I sneered. “You’re locked in a fucking cell, and you’re telling me that you want to be here?”

  “‘Course,” he said, followed by a burp. “If they didn’t lock me up… I’d prob’ly be out drivin’, and I know I’m too far gone to do that without endangerin’ the lives of some other people. But I’d do it anyway.”

  “Why?” I asked, suddenly furious.

  “I’m an alco’lic,” he said, the words clustering together in a swarm. “And the worst part about being an alco’lic is that you can predict what yer gonna do, but you can’t stop it.”

  My inner manipulator shifted in his Captain Kirk chair, swirling his glass of whiskey in the shadows of my mind.

  “Anyway…” Benny continued, “These folks here—whenever they find my ass tearin’ around town late like this, they take me and put me in here. It’s fer the good of everybody. I don’t trust me. But I trust them.”

  Again, I felt that fucked up buoy of trust burst through the surface of my thoughts. Why did I trust these people? I knew in my heart of hearts that Simon would be back for me, just as he said. I knew he wouldn’t leave me in here to rot. And I knew that Kyle was in here somewhere, safe. But one thing gnawed at me; didn’t fit in with the picture I painted in my mind…

  “But they raped a guy. I saw it,” I said, gritting my teeth.

  And just like that, all those old feelings boiled to the surface. The feeling of being a kid and seeing something you weren’t supposed to see. Telling no one. Worried that if you ever let the secret escape, it would wind around your life and imprison you in barbed wire—

  “They didn’t rape anyone,” he said with a chuckle.

  “How do you know?” I snarled.

  “Cuz,” he said simply. “It was me.”

  10

  Kyle

  How long had I been in this circular room? Twenty minutes? Two hours? It was impossible to tell.

  They took away the blindfold when they shoved me in here, so at least I could see a little bit in the dim light.

  From what I could gather, I was inside an old grain silo. It was a decent size, about fifteen feet in diameter. The concrete walls curved around me and stretched upward to empty, black heights. From one of my endless circles around the room, I could make out a ladder with spindly steel runs in the side. But when I looked up into the tunnel of blackness, I decided not to risk climbing up. It wasn’t like there’d be a way out of there at the top, anyway. I didn’t know much about farm equipment or silos or whatever, but I couldn’t imagine there’d be a way down from the very top.

  So, I spent the time in the darkness stressing about Phil.

  Phil. Was Phil safe? Why had they separated us?

  And that guy all those hooded figures surrounded on the mattress; how he was getting fucked.

  It didn’t fit in with what I saw in my memory. No; what I saw in my memory was the thing I kept trying to forget; to shove in the back of my mind.

  The way that guy squirmed. How he tried to get away. How he screamed when they… when they…

  And the more I thought about it, finally, the more stuff came out of my subconscious with it.

  Just thinking about it made my cock press against the front of my pants hungrily.

  Why. Why was this turning me on so much? There must have been some serious repressed desires locked away in my twisted little head. And I felt guilt surge through me.

  I shouldn’t feel like this when I thought of that. But it was like some wires had been crossed in my mind or something; some forbidden neural pathways had been forged when I saw what I’d seen so young.

  I didn’t want to deal with any of it. I wanted to erase it all; empty my mind of what I’d seen; make myself innocent and pure.

  I ran my hand through my hair and leaned against the silo wall.

  Secretly, I’d always wondered if seeing what we did… if it knocked a few screws loose in me. Was that what made me bisexual? Did it dislodge some kind of cork deep inside of me, made all of the fluid of my thoughts flow a different way?

  And if I wasn’t originally meant to be bisexual, what was I supposed to be? Gay? Straight? In my deepest, most private thoughts, I wondered if seeing that guy getting raped, in a way, made me fear guys. When I was with girls in the past, it felt good, of course, but it didn’t feel as right as it did when I was with Phil in my bed on Saturday…

  That’s the only word I could think of to describe it.

  It just felt right.

 
With Phil, everything felt right. The word shimmered and glowed around all my thoughts, promising that it had been there all along. Phil had been within reach this whole time, and I’d been afraid to…

  I’d been afraid.

  Because of what I’d seen, I think. I was afraid of men and what all that might mean. I couldn’t think of men in any sort of sexual way without seeing myself as the guy on the mattress, forced to take it against my will.

  Again, my cock pressed against the front of my pants.

  Jesus, what was wrong with me?

  A door slammed open in the distance, echoing through the empty barn.

  I sprung off the wall and stood up straight, spreading my feet apart in a fighting stance.

  If anyone came for me, I’d be ready. I was a decent-sized dude; there was no doubt in my mind that I could fend off anyone who came at me—

  The silo door opened and one of the hooded figures stood there, looming like a dementor or something.

  Cold fear pulsed through me and I held up my fists.

  The hooded figure chuckled.

  I experienced a moment that felt a bit like an out of body experience.

  Dementors didn’t chuckle.

  The thing raised its hand and waved it away, like parting a curtain. “There’s no need for that.”

  I recognized that voice…

  The dementor unhooded itself and that quiet kid from school—Simon—appeared, looking solemn.

  “Simon!”

  “Kyle!” he said in mock-surprise.

  I quirked an eyebrow at him. “What… what are you doing here?”

  “To let you out. We’re done out there.”

  Relief flooded through me, but then a curious anger surged to the forefront of my mind. It was as if that emotion had been lurking and swirling underneath everything this whole time, promising to erupt at the slightest provocation—

  “What were you doing out there?!” I sneered, advancing on the dweeb. But unlike in the halls of Shady Grove High, Simon’s eyes didn’t widen. He didn’t take a step back or show any signs of fear; he just stood his ground.

  I punched the wall next to him to scare him, but he just glanced at me like I was the most boring, insignificant thing in his day.

  And almost instinctually, a thought bubbled up in my mind:

  The playing ground had shifted, and now I was on Simon’s territory. He had command of this place. He held all the cards.

  And he knew it.

  Again, my cock pulsed in my pants.

  What the fuck was wrong with me?!

  “Well, you don’t have to go and do all that,” Simon said.

  I noticed that the nasal tone he usually spoke with was gone. Instead, his voice came out low and hard.

  I… I liked it.

  But I’d never fucking admit that.

  “Where’s Phil?”

  Tsk tsk. “I tell you you’re free to go, and all you’re doing is standing here asking questions? You must be a curious little jock.”

  “I want answers,” I sneered.

  Simon sighed. “You’re not in a position to ask questions.”

  The way he said the word ‘position’ came out all slanted; like it was an invitation. My mind conjured the image of me on that mattress, and my cock pulsed again.

  “Where’s Phil?” I repeated.

  “Outside. We’ve escorted him out,” Simon said, his voice still low and hard. “He’s waiting for you.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “How do I know this isn’t a trick?”

  Simon shrugged, and the folds in the robe shuddered like a curtain in the breeze. “You don’t. You’re just gonna have to trust me.”

  I furrowed my brow. “You guys are sick—”

  “Spare me.”

  I didn’t like the guy in front of me. He wasn’t Simon at all; it was like he’d evolved. Become Super Simon. He didn’t respond to any of my body language in the way he normally did—by cowing down or staying quiet. No; there was something in his posture that seemed to make him taller; stronger; invincible.

  And a part of me… a part of me admired that.

  Fuck. What the fuck was wrong with me.

  He stepped aside, leaving the way out open. “You may go now.”

  My eyes flicked to the dark, concrete hallway in front of us, then back to him. “I’m going to tell everyone about the sick shit you’re doing here. I’m going to tell the cops you’re raping people—”

  “No you won’t,” he said simply.

  And his voice was filled with so much confidence that it stopped me in my tracks. “What?”

  “You won’t,” he repeated.

  “And what makes you think that?” I snarled. “What you’re doing here is wrong!”

  “Think about what you saw,” he said in that same flat tone. “Really think about it. And then check in with how you feel.”

  I swallowed.

  Simon’s eye went to my adam’s apple, which I’m sure bobbed up and down in my neck.

  “You’re not going to tell anyone,” he said, licking his lips. “You know how I know?”

  “How?”

  “Because you’re still standing here, arguing with me about it. Some part of you likes being in a cage. An enclosed space like this. And you know what else?”

  “What?”

  “You’re hard right now,” he said with an evil smile.

  I couldn’t stop my hands from instinctually going to my crotch, trying to block it from view. Embarrassment swirled through me, and I tried to straighten my posture to hide it.

  Simon chuckled. “There’s no shame in it. I used to be like you, too. I used to think it was wrong. Then I found a whole community of people that know it’s not wrong. That’s what you saw tonight.”

  “What I saw tonight was some sick shit—”

  “You witnessed a collaring ceremony. It was all consensual. Seriously, I already explained all this to Phil, just go talk to him. Unless…” his glasses flashed. “You want me to close the door and lock you in here again.”

  “Fuck off,” I said, trying hard to maintain my tough-guy image.

  It was a mask. Everything was a mask to cover up the fact that yes, I was very turned on. I was scared, but there was a curious seed of excitement sparking in my low belly.

  I hated it. I wanted to get it surgically removed.

  But I saw the opportunity. I knew it was time to leave. And as I took a few steps toward the door, Simon didn’t move to shut it, as I half-expected, half-hoped.

  He kept his word and let me pass.

  And because he let me pass, a thought arrived in my mind seemingly out of nowhere, making me feel a whole lot lighter:

  Maybe things weren’t as they seemed. Maybe you didn’t see what you thought you saw…

  But I couldn’t allow a thought like that to come into my mind; I knew what I saw. That guy getting plowed on the mattress all those years ago, getting held down…

  I turned to Simon as I passed, trying to fix a look of complete disgust on my face.

  His eyes followed me behind his glasses, and for a moment I was reminded of Phil. That cool, calm, in-control look in them…

  It was like he saw everything laid out before him and knew exactly what steps to take to make everything work out in his favor. Privately, I wondered which one of them would win in a chess match.

  I tore my gaze from Simon’s, and it felt right not to meet his eyes. I felt a strange wave of relief wash over me, coupled with…

  With excitement.

  I knew his eyes were glued to my back as I marched down the hall. And just before I swung a right to the barn’s front door, I heard Simon call out, “You’ll be back. You’re one of us, Kyle.”

  I whipped around to face him, standing there, still leaning against the silo door like a wraith.

  I wanted to shout at him; to declare that what they were doing in this barn looked sick, that he was a freak…

  But the massive hard-on pressing against the front of my
pants made me keep my mouth shut.

  Heat rose in my cheeks, and I opened the barn door and stepped outside.

  The chirp of crickets sounded in the air. The cool night breeze kissed my skin, and fireflies danced around in the dark.

  I looked this way and that, wondering where Phil was. There was always a chance that Simon lied to me; that they kept Phil locked up in there.

  I closed the door behind me, stepped out into the field, and whirled around to look at the barn.

  This time, all the windows were black.

  It looked like Simon told the truth about that, at least:

  They seemed to be done with their weird Satanic sex ritual or whatever…

  “Hey!” Phil whisper-shouted from beneath a nearby tree.

  Relief flooded through me as I saw his familiar face in the shadows.

  Looking right, then left, I hurried over to the trunk and wrapped my arms around him.

  His arms snaked around my backs as he pulled me into the embrace.

  Not a hug; it was an embrace.

  I could feel all of the goodness and familiarity and feelings of security seep into me from his body. That hug felt… it felt so good, like coming home.

  “I was… worried,” he said softly. Then he pulled away from the hug and looked me in the eye. “Are you all right?”

  I nodded. “I think so. But that was some weird shit—”

  A shadow crossed Phil’s face. “Yeah. I found out some stuff—”

  “Did they touch you?!” I said, puffing out my chest. “I’ll fuck them up if they hurt you—”

  “Calm down. There’s no need to get all macho about this,” he said, crossing his arms.

  But even in the dark, I could see all of his tells that seemed to be branded on my memory; things about him that were so unmistakably Phil that I couldn’t get them out of my mind:

  The way his fingers clutched his elbow like that with his arms crossed. The way that line showed up right below his bottom lip when he pouted. And the way the muscle in his jaw flexed, which meant he was clenching his teeth—

  He had something big.

  “Let’s get the hell out of here,” Phil said. “I’ll tell you everything… but not here.”