Bender laid on the floor in his room, trying to ignore the raucous jeering coming from his father's bum friends in the living room. They were all drunk judging by how his father had thrown an empty bottle of liquor at his head when he'd walked in. Now his head was killing him, and he couldn't lie on his mattress because the bedbug-ridden thing had too many springs poking out to be of any help. The bleeding from the shattered bottle had stopped, but now he felt nauseous.
He lay on his back, eyes squeezed shut, until the voices seemed to grow closer. The teenager propped himself up on his elbows to listen closer; he sat up abruptly when his door slammed open. His father stormed in, sneering as his son scrambled to his feet. The man lifted his right arm and his fist came crashing down to meet the boy's jaw. John's head shot to the side and by the time he brought it back to face his dad, another punch landed on his temple with such force that he fell to the ground. He spit out blood from the first punch and looked up in anger and bewilderment as a brutal kick with full force behind it met his chest and he growled loudly. Joe Bender practically stomped on his chest, putting his whole weight into it, until his harshest kick made John yell as a rib broke.
He tried to move away but his father delivered a vicious kick to his stomach and the teenager grunted forcefully and curled around the injury. Now Joe had access to his back and kicked it, along with his legs. When the drunk paused to catch his breath, his son tried to get up with all of his strength, but the pain clouded his mind and his vision spun. Before he could get to his feet, his father grabbed a handful of his long dark hair and tossed him at the wall. John's pummeled back hit it and his dad stomped over before the teen could fall down. Joe grabbed his son's neck and strangled him. He was so strong and so pissed of, John was sure his neck would snap. His lungs burned and the pain of his body was overshadowed by the panic taking over every thought; he couldn't breathe, and his dad wasn't about to let go.
In a last-ditch effort, John lifted his leg in an arc and kicked him dad in the crotch. His dad swore and released him immediately so John crumpled to the floor gasping and choking. He got to his knees and eventually rose to his feet, leaning against the wall heavily. Joe was on the floor groaning but he recovered quickly enough to see his son try to stumble toward the door. He reached out and snatched John's ankle, effectively sending him toppling to the ground. Joe stood and brought his heel down on his son's left shoulder, smirking at the sickening pop from the dislocation and John's howl of pain. After a few more punches to his son's torso and face, he stood and spat on him, then stormed back out. But John knew from what he heard next that it wasn't over, and he knew why his father had done it this time.
Joe's buddies made smug comments as they strutted in after their host's departure. This was all a show for them, and they were ready to join the fun. John had been attacked by some of them before, received a few punches and kicks and bottles thrown at him, but they'd never beaten him as a group. This was going to be the worst beating of his life. John cringed as they came to stand over him and he looked up defiantly. They looked excited. A chill ran down John's back and he couldn't help but swallow in anxiety. What were they going to do?
John was shocked and horrified when two of the men suddenly came down on him and started tearing his clothes off while the other two unzipped their jeans. The teenager struggled against the rough hands to little avail as finally all of his clothes had been ripped off. His breath grew frantic as the first two also unzipped their pants and all of them got undressed. They began to stroke themselves, already semi-hard, and after a minute they were all hard and had the looks of predators on the faces. John tried to move away but they were all extremely fit and one easily grabbed him and flipped him onto his stomach, forcing him onto his hands and knees. John roared in aggravation as two men held him in place while a third stood behind him.
"What the fuck are you doing?! Get the hell off me!" John cried as the man behind him placed something on his ass. It was - fuck - John's eyes widened as the man held his cock at his entrance, grabbed his hips, and forced his way in with one powerful thrust. John screamed, voice hoarse and wrought with anguish and terror as the man pulled back and thrusted all the way in, slamming into him. The boy's naturally darker skin went pale as he was pounded into so harshly. With no preparation of any sort and his resistance, his insides tore as he was brutishly penetrated. John couldn't stop screaming as he bled and tears leaked from his eyes. The man picked up his pace and his nails dug into the teen's skin as he thrusted mercilessly into the tightness. John's cries weren't appreciated by his attackers and the fourth man stepped forward to stand in front of him.
"I'll shut him up," he stated sadistically as he grasped a handful of the boy's hair. John looked him in the eye with every ounce of resolve he had left, determined not to submit. The man narrowed his eyes and threatened, "You bite and you'll pay." He used his other hand to bring his cock to Bender's lips. John shook his head. The man growled and smacked him hard. John kept his mouth shut. Finally the guy pinched John's nose until he couldn't hold his breath any longer and he gasped. The man shoved into the teen's mouth and thrusted, forcing John to deep-throat the offending object. Now he was being penetrated by two men, both harshly pounding into him. John was choking on this man as the other tore him up more. John was so panicked and was being jostled so much that he instinctively bit down. The man yelled in rage and pulled out of John's throat. Bender dragged in air, then cried out as the man inside of him thrusted even more harshly now that his friend had been hurt.
"You'll pay for that, fag!" He nodded to one of his friends. "Why don't we make this a little more exciting?" The other nodded and walked over to stand behind John. The teen gasped the man pushed in along with the first. Two men forced their way inside of him - it was too much. He could feel his insides tearing, there was so much blood and the pain doubled. John couldn't hold in a blood-curdling scream. There was only one man holding him down now, but he couldn't move if he tried. Sensing this, said man stood and moved in front of the boy and stroked himself in preparation, then pushed into his mouth. John could hardly breathe anyway, the agony overwhelming him, and as the man began thrusting into his throat and he couldn't do anything but gag, John's mind shut down and he passed out.
He felt like he'd been unconscious for little more than a few minutes, and they were still thrusting into him. The man he'd bitten was holding him in place. John was disgusted. They didn't care if he was awake for it or not, as long as they could get some. He must have come to as his mind screamed for oxygen, he realized, as he couldn't breathe. He started to struggle and try to pull back his head, and the man in front of him pulled out for a moment to keep him alive. He kneeled in front of the teen as he groaned in despair and torment. He was humiliated and the man sneered at him, gripping John's chin harshly and lifting his hanging head. He looked into John's eyes, glazed over from the overwhelming torture, then laughed at the boy's misery and leaned in.
"Beg me for more like the slut you are."
John looked up at him, a faint glint in his eye. "F-fuck you."
The man shook his head. "Wrong answer." He picked up a pocket knife from his pile of clothes a few feet away and flicked it open, holding it beneath John's right eye. The teen kept his gaze and shivered at the coldblooded disdain in the man's eyes. "Do it, whore." John dragged in a shaky breath and mumbled, "I want more."
"You can do better than that, can't you, bitch?" The blade began to slice into the skin below his eye, too close.
"I w-want you to fuck me, I want it!" John cried out, earning sniggers. The man cocked an eyebrow. "You're pathetic." He dragged the blade down his cheek, cutting deep into the skin, all the way down to the corner of his mouth. "So you never forget."
He stood and left John to let his head fall again. Eventually the men released into him and let him collapse in a heap. He was sprawled on the bloody floor, in far too much pain to move. His vision was blurred and he vaguely saw his father amble in as the others dressed. Joe scoffed and shook his head. "What a skank. Only thing he's good for is a fuck, and now he's just a broken doll. You fags owe me twenty bucks each. Toss him far out back in the woods, let him die. No one'll miss him." With a dismissive wave, Joe Bender left to pass out in the living room. One man grabbed the semi-conscious boy and threw him over a shoulder, ignoring the groan of agony.
"I want compensation for taking out the trash. Y'all go home, I'll take care of this."
The others agreed and left as the man sloppily re-dressed then carried John out the back door and into the cold night.
The man lugged John into the cover of the trees and continued for a few minutes before dropping him unceremoniously. A dry sob escaped the battered teen. The man turned John to lie on his stomach and straddled him, unzipping and pulling down both of their pants.
"N-no, stop it, get the fuck off of me!"
"Shut up before I make you!" The man hissed in annoyance.
"Leave me alone, you already- no, pl-" John stopped abruptly, not willing to plead and surrender his last scrap of dignity. It didn't matter, though, because the guy ripped off one of John's sleeves, balled it up, and shoved it into the teenager's mouth. The school criminal let his head fall to the ground after the cloth was shoved in as an effective gag. He was in way too much pain to try to fight, and what was once more cock? Fucking nothing at this point. He wished that by pretending, he really wouldn't care and might even go numb, like how he doesn't care in school. But it's all an act, and the agony was too real to ignore or shrug off. Once again, the man pushed his length into John, and his muffled scream did nothing to discourage the man from picking up a vicious pace. The torment caused the boy's breathing to grow shallow as he began to hyperventilate. He couldn't breathe again, but this time it was the pure culmination of distressed anguish that made his vision go black and mind go blank and his attacker pounded into him. John Bender fell unconscious for the last time that night.
Consciousness returned to him gradually. He didn't want to return to the waking world where there was only pain and fear, but he had no choice. If he wanted to live, he had to stop being such a fucking pussy and try to escape. When he opened his eyes, though, there was no one around. He was lying on his front, haphazardly re-clothed and sprawled. That man must have flipped him over to force his clothing back on. Did that mean that he thought John would be found, or that he didn't want to be discovered as a rapist if he was found?
There's that word he's been avoiding. Rape. Shit, how did he let it get that far? He should have fought back harder. Or maybe if he hadn't pissed off his dad… But he hadn't. He'd just barged into his room for no reason and started beating him. Why?
He was making sure I couldn't fight back. So his father had offered him as a piece of ass for sale to his friends, but first he conditioned him to be attacked. And how much had he said John was worth? "You fags owe me twenty bucks each." So that's how much his own flesh and blood was worth to him. How touching.
John couldn't ignore his injuries any longer. His back arched as waves of agony crashed down on him. His broken bones and deep bruises were so sensitive that his movement made his stomach churn awfully. He turned his head and threw up. Luckily the only blood he saw in it was from the cuts in his mouth courtesy of his dad's fists; it was sheer dumb luck that he didn't have internal bleeding.
He turned his head back to face the sky. It was a little light now: the sun was rising. Tuesday morning. No way he'd be able to go to school for a while. In fact, he'd probably never go again. He was sure he'd die out there, thrown to the ground and abandoned like garbage. As if he was any better than that. He was dumpster trash, just like his dad said. John closed his eyes. He wouldn't give that bastard the satisfaction of victory. John would hate him until his dying day. That asshole wasn't right about shit. He smiled faintly. At least I'm still a stubborn son of a bitch.