Thomas' Rape

Reader discretion is adviced, this story contain graphic content depicting violence and rape which may not be suitable to all readers. This is a fictional story and do not portray real events or real persons.

“Number two…Number five…Number three…” Thomas identified his three rapists during separate police lineups at a Washington, D.C. stationhouse. He was one of the victims of a series sexual assaults in the autumn of 2015. There were just brief newspaper reports of these incidents and little television coverage. The crimes were downplayed due to the racial component. The reality that three black men targeted, abducted, orally and anally sodomized several young white men was believed to be divisive and potentially explosive.

During each of the lineups, the straight and trembling Thomas accurately selected his attackers out of a field of six. How could he forget them after just a month? They had shamelessly brutalized and degraded him. By the time they were done with him, their faces, voices and bodies were seared in his consciousness forever. He had constant flashbacks and nightmares of that horrible afternoon for the last month. He got panic attacks if he saw a van that looked like the one he’d been abducted into or saw men who resembled his rapists.

Make all the noise you want, baby. The walls are padded, no one can hear you. We like a noisy white boy. We just want some fun, that’s all. It’s a jungle, baby. You’re the zebra, and we’re the lions…

Blond, blue-eyed and good looking 23-year-old Thomas was 5’ 10” with a solid 160 lbs. attractively distributed over his compact physique. He was from a prominent Indiana family, graduated from Notre Dame and was now in his second year at Georgetown Law School. He lived off campus alone. He’d been dating his latest girlfriend Christine, for four months. She was a blonde, attractive 23-year-old law student. The couple had sex on the weekends at his place.

In mid-September, Thomas was wearing light blue nylon shorts and a light blue T-shirt as he did his daily 7:00 AM run that Thursday. There were two men walking toward him up ahead, one of them quickly put his foot out, Thomas tripped and fell to the ground. They hustled the disoriented Thomas into the back of a nearby dark gray van. After the doors closed, the driver rode off.

Two hours later in broad daylight, Thomas was tossed out of the van into a parking lot. He was nude, disoriented and had trouble walking. He collapsed and passed out. Eventually, two policeman helped him into the backseat of their patrol car and drove him to a hospital.

“I’m from the Special Victims Unit. Were you sexually assaulted?” a woman asked Thomas  nodded. “I need your permission to perform a rape kit.” Thomas scribbled his signature on a form. He placed himself on the examining table with his legs raised in stirrups. His ass and mouth were swabbed to collect DNA, samples of the semen on his body were taken and he was photographed. There was evidence of rectal trauma consistent with anal sex but no actual injuries. Thomas’ graphic statement was taken down.

Jeans and a sweatshirt were produced for him and he was driven home by two policemen. The superintendent of his building let him into his apartment as he had no keys.

While taking a shower, Thomas saw the gobs of semen that dribbled out of his ass and swirled down the drain, visible evidence that he’d been fucked by those men. When he was done, he looked at his face in the mirror and remembered why his jaw ached. He had sucked three big black cocks. He put on a bathrobe, poured himself a scotch, drank it and passed out in his bed. He slept the rest of the day and night. He did not go out for a run the next morning. He got dressed and went to classes like normal.

The next night he was at an Italian restaurant having dinner with Christine. He drank more wine then usual as he was on edge. He was trying to function. He’d look in mirrors to see if his face looked different from giving head to three guys. He was able to walk without a problem, but his ass was still sore. They finished dinner.

In bed, he was thrilled that his dick was hard as they made out, all while he relived his defilement in his mind. They performed oral on each other. He fucked her furiously and made her cum. When he peeled off the condom, his saw his load. He was able to sleep happily having proved to himself that he was still a man.

Later the next week, on his new phone he got several reminders of what had happened to him. A doctor called to tell him he was HIV- and had no sexually transmitted diseases. A counsellor called him to see he if wanted an appointment with a therapist specializing in male rape victims, which he declined. A day after he identified his attackers, a female assistant District Attorney in her early 30’s called for him to come to her office.

“I wanted you to know that no charges have been filed, the suspects were released as there’s no case. Yes, you positively identified them and the DNA from your body matches theirs, but they’re sticking to their story. That the sex was consensual, there’s no way to prove otherwise. There are no other witnesses and no surveillance footage showing that you were forced into the van which has your DNA. None of the suspects has a criminal record. The DA isn’t going forward.”

“That’s crazy! I’m not gay! They grabbed me! They raped me!”

“I know, but it’s He said He said, and we can’t go to trial with that. Their lawyer would destroy you on the stand, he’ll say in court that you’re in the closet and went out provocatively dressed looking for rough sex. No other victims are willing to come forward, so the case is closed.”

“I went out in shorts for a run! They cleaned out my PayPal! They stole my money!”

“They claim that you paid them for the sex, there’s no way to prove that the transfer was fraudulent. That’s where it stands. You could file a civil suit, but everything would come out, including your name. As painful as it is, my advice is to forget about it.”

“I can’t forget!”