The Consequences of Envy

Chapter Eight

We drove back toward his house where I was hooded as before. After about five minutes of driving I concluded I had to act, or my life would be totally beyond resuming, in any fashion I had known — or had hoped for.

With luck, if I contacted the police soon enough, they could raid his photo ‘dungeon’ and I could be spared the photos, and this man, from ruining any chance to normalcy. 

I figured the ring in the attaching leash to the collar was likely the weak point, as it felt from fingering it to have no weld.

I worked the ring around such that pulling forcefully upon it, at the weak point, bent it open. I did so, and freed the leash holding me. I turned toward the van’s rear, so he wouldn't see my efforts. I was able to find where the door latch was, and when he pulled to a stop I opened the door and leapt out blindly. I found the zipper quickly and tore off the hood.

Excepting collar,I was stark naked. I began running and didn’t look back.

I laughed hysterically as I ran.

It was a nice neighborhood with homes upon acre lots, and mid-afternoon likely before schools had let out.

I ran to the first house, rang the door bell, and yelled for help. I yelled frantically for them to call police before anyone answered. But no one answered.

The man had not followed me. No one answered the door, nor did I see anyone around at all, up or down the sleepy street. Had the world become empty?

I went round back and saw a pair of slippers at the back door. I put them on and spied a few houses down, in a back yard, a clothes line with clothes drying upon it.

I was in luck, as I found a pair of jeans and shirt. Though too big I began dressing.  A woman poked her head out he rear door and exclaimed. 

‘’What do you think you are doing?‘’ and then slammed the door shut.

I didn’t like her look — ‘what a bitch’; so, I chose to run back towards the woods. I ran over a small hill and came upon a railroad track; and, I began walking along it. I began to rethink what I had to do.

If mother had given this man parental authority the police might just return me to him. I tried to get my bearing, and figured the tracks were headed south; so, I stayed walking upon them.

My only hope was getting home and explaining it all to mother.

After an hour a train finally came along. It moved too fast to jump upon any of the cars — and, even so, was a very intimidating prospect as I looked upon the huge steel wheels that could crush me if I made any misstep. So, when I reached a cross road after a few minutes, I did what I was used to;  I stuck my thumb out. Eventually, a fellow stopped and gave me a ride as far as Columbia, and directed me to where the south bound highway to Atlanta was. From there, I was eventually picked up by a trucker.

I didn’t try to converse with him; though, he went on and on of his life, where I pretended interest, and  tried my best to be a good audience to his boring existence. He did tell me a curious story of when, as a guardsmen in training in a swamp, where he bit, gnawed, through a threatening water moccasin to maintain silence. He took me all the way to Atlanta. It was ten at night when he rolled into the city.

Once there I entered a drug store and asked to use their phone. The pharmacist was annoyed but told me to be quick. I called home.

My brother answered.

‘’I didn’t know you were a fag.’’ He said.

‘’Just you and mom come pick me up, NOW!’’ I demanded. ‘’I’m at the pharmacy by the Rhodes theater.’’ I told him.

After about ten minutes three black Fords came screaming into the lot, and guys wearing blazers and ties hopped quickly from the cars. One had a pistol drawn, and another fat one, quickly came to me and identified himself as FBI. He showed me his badge and led me quickly to the car, and we went in the opposite direction from home; to the FBI head quarters.

I was put in an interrogation room where I sat for about 20 minutes until an agent entered. He looked mean and serious. He was tall, balding, skinny or rather bony, with a long face and piercing eyes.

I determined not tell them the truth, knowing any assistance to the man’s apprehension would result in me being ruined. ‘David and Goliath’ I thought. ‘All I’ve got is a little rock an I don’t even know where to throw it.’

‘’I’m very tired and just want to go home.’’ I said.

‘’Your mother will take you home shortly, unless you need  to go to the hospital. She is waiting downstairs as we speak.’’ He said.

I looked upon my scraped elbow, and decided I was fine. 

‘’We were apprised of your abduction from your mother, who after talking with your friends at the shopping center concluded it was against your will. Was it?’’ 

‘’Yes,’’ I affirmed.

''We were ready with a wire tap listening and advising, since your call from North Carolina — it’s been a federal matter from the start. We have let her converse with your abductor, with an effort to pin point your location, identify him, and keep you alive.

Did he fuck you?‘’ He continued, looking accusingly at me.

I fingered my collar still locked about my neck.

‘’No’’ I lied.

‘’Is that his collar?’’ he asked.

‘’No’’ I lied.

‘’Is that what you faggots are now wearing? You hippies with your damned Beatles.’’

‘’I’m not a faggot.’’ I lied. ‘’it’s mine and you can’t have it.’’

He stood and leaned over the table upon his knuckles, and said: ‘’You should know, even though you are a victim, that lying to a federal agent is a crime, punishable by imprisonment. You are not being very cooperative.’’ 

''You do know that sex acts are illegal between men don't you?'' He admonished. 

‘’Can I go home!’’ I muttered.

‘’ We’re going to want to talk to you tomorrow, at length, about this, and we expect you to tell us all you can of this man and what happened. You should thank us, boy; since, had we not coached your mother upon her conversations with him, you might be a dead queer now.’’

‘’Thanks!’’ I lied.

‘’ Did you tell her to tell him — my abductor, that Steve, my friend, and I were queer!’ I asked, with a sneer.

‘’I wasn’t the negotiator on this case.’’ He said, flatly.

He led me downstairs to my mother who gave me a big hug.

———

They obviously hadn’t connected me with Stu’s death, at least, but they were looking for a dark toned, mustard yellow, Austin Healey, and a black haired man of about 6’2’’.

My mother made a big dramatic scene in our reunification.

On our drive home she asked about the collar.

I told her not to tell the FBI it was the man’s collar, as I’d lied about that already, and they would put me in prison for lying to them. ‘’It’s locked anyway’’; so, I told her, I needed to get it off.

‘’Did dad leave you any tools?’’ I asked.

‘’It might be essential in catching this man.’’ She said.

‘’If you want to keep teaching at Pace you’d better just let it go. If any of this gets in the news paper we won’t be welcome back at Pace Academy, particularly me.’’ I said.

‘’That is likely true’’ she agreed. ‘’Being 70 protects you though, from being publicly named.’’

She patted me upon my head.

’’Did they tell you to tell the abductor that Steve and I were fags?’’ I asked; as if insulted.

‘’No, but they did assume the kid-napper was either thinking we were rich; and would ask a ransom — you being a student at Pace and all, or that he was a pervert.

‘’After your call it seemed clear he was a pervert; and, that became obvious in the other calls. Your life was in great danger they told me; since, pedophiles will kill their victims, so as not to get caught.’’ She said, and continued. ‘’Though he seemed a nice man actually wanting to help you. Was he kind to you?’’ she asked.

‘’ Well, he didn’t really hurt me.’’ I admitted.

She went on;

‘’So, it became important to let him think you were queer — which you are, Pat. I do know that about you; I am your mother… And, it was important to make him think, we thought, giving him parental powers was a real possibility, and might help in finding you. It was to our advantage, and to keep you safe while it gave us time. We were only able to a get a PO box from him of where to send the papers for his parental powers; but, I still think he would have eventually made himself known believing no FBI was involved.’’

‘’MOM!’’

‘’Your dad is ‘that way’.’’  She said.

‘’ No, he wasn’t!  Isn’t.’’ I retorted.

‘’I caught him in the act, Pat. In our bed, naked with another man’s penis in his mouth!’’ It was clearly, an indelible memory for her.

‘Another’ man’s…?' Seemed a strange choice of words.

‘’And, Steve, good heavens! If that boy isn’t queer, no such condition exists.’’ She continued.

‘’ Susan invited me over one day and said she needed to get some roses for me.’’ Mother began.

‘’She took me around the side of her house. We looked through the open venting grate into the basement; and, as if she’d just discovered it herself, there was you and Steve at it; and she said; ‘isn’t that cute,’ and you two were sucking upon each other’s little dicks; as, if sucking on a slurpy on a hot summer day. It was all I could do to remain silent.’’

I tried to recall the day.

‘’Susan later told me it was very erotic to her. I could have slapped her face.’’  Mom Laughed.

I was clearly outed to her now and forever. The FBI was another question. 'Certainly at least one agent thinks I’m a faggot.' I thought.

‘’That was a long time ago; I’m not a fag, mom!’’ I insisted.

———

I slept for ten hours.

My mother and brother were back at school; but not me. I wanted to go back to sleep for another ten, but the door bell rang. Through the peep hole stood the FBI interrogator with a satchel over his shoulder, from the night before. He knocked loudly upon the door. I was still in my boxers; but, I let him in saying I’d get dressed and be back in a minute.

He said not to bother dressing. The official interview had been postponed till later next week owing to another case; but he wanted to follow up on a few questions he’d asked earlier, and gather some evidence.

He bluntly told me to strip. I stood hesitant; ‘Do I really have to do this for him’ I wondered.’

He said he wanted to examine me for bruises and marks the perpetrator might have made. It was standard procedure in these kinds of cases; and they should have done so at the office. He had a Polaroid camera and took one of my bewildered face.

‘’We can do this here or at head quarters — now.’’ He said. His insistence made me horny for some reason.

I slid my boxers down slowly, and then pulled upon my T-shirt. He took another.

I became hard before I got it off. I stood uncertain before him, holding my collar. He took another picture.

He waved it to dry and  grasped my collar with his other hand. He fondled the lock. I could see he thought for a second of it, then returned to where he was intent on going; which seemed to be intimidating the hell out of me.

‘’See?’’ You did lie to me, you faggot. That’s a federal crime. ’’ He swatted my dick with a stinging slap, still flapping the photograph.

It stayed hard, if not harder.

‘’A real man would be soft from that. So, I am going  to ask again if you had sex with him? Did you and this pervert work together?’’

‘’No, NO!,’’ I shouted.

I need to examine your anus for contusions or marks, to see if the pervert might have raped you. Obviously we cannot rely upon a victim’s word for needed evidence — and, the anus stays open after sex, you know. Yes, you’d know. Lean over this chair.’’ He commanded.

I laid over a low backed cushion swivel in our living room.

‘’Your balls hang pretty low; a real man’s wouldn’t. Not with another man looking at them.’’

He grasped them and made me cry out in pain as he squeezed. ''Gotta say, a faggot that’s hairless is the giveaway.'' He ran his fingers up and down my taint, over my anus, to my balls again, and gave them a slap. 

''You also have a pink anus — most men have a brown anus. It means you are part girl. Your anus is a pussy for real men; ‘To fuck boys like you.’’

He then laid a 38 revolver against my down turned, red face.

‘’Are you going to answer my questions honestly from now on faggot?’’

‘’Yes, sir’’  seemed the thing to say.

‘’Keep your head down. Don’t you look at me.’’ He demanded.

I felt the short barrel of the snub nose 38 sliding around my hole — and I involuntarily cinched at it as he did so.

I protested. ’’Don’t, sir. Please.’’

I heard his zipper, heard him spit, and felt his cock at my hole.

‘’Do you like this, queer?’’ he asked.

‘’Prefer it to your gun.’’

He shoved it in to the hilt, and the pain sent my mind reeling. The man had a big cock from the feel of it.

‘’Do you like this?’’

‘’Yes, sir,’’ and, I hunched upon it, moaning in pleasure. He sadistically then humped in return, seemingly just to deny me any pleasure. After a minute he shot his load.

I may not charge you with a federal crime for lying, if you fully cooperate from now on. Do we understand one another?’’  

Looking over my shoulder I saw him pull his handkerchief out his blazer pocket. He then wiped my anus dry of his cum. 

‘’Yes, sir.’’ I said, in a submissive tone, looking down.

He snapped one last photo. I wondered if that and the other photographs he took were going  to be included in my FBI file forever; and that some claim would be included to say, owing to the big gape in my anus, that I was a homosexual who even after return engaged in anal sex with someone; and me, being a fag couldn't be relied upon as as a witness or victim to his 'abduction claims; or rather, if they were to be used for his own memories of fucking me.

He zipped up, gathered his equipment and walked out.

‘’Christ will I ever get my ass hole back?’’ I lamented.

I  jerked my dick, spread eagle, on the living room floor, and the cum landed upon my chest, as the agent’s cum puddled upon the prayer rug from the dripping gape.