Title: Order

Author: Athena2693

Description: Why is Newt in particular so obsessed with everything being in order?

Warnings: Rape. I am a horrible human being.

"Our whole existence depends on things working. Order. Order. You say that bloody word over and over in your shuckhead. Reason we're all sane around here is 'cause we work our butts off and maintain order. Order's the reason we put Ben out. Can't very well have loonies running around trying to kill us can we? Order." -Newt, The Maze Runner

Upon waking to find themselves in the Glade, the first of the Gladers had gone through a similar series of stages.

Confusion. Where were they? Who were they? Why are there animals here? What was that maze about?

Then came disbelief and denial. This must be a dream. An illusion. A joke. Who would lock together a bunch of teenage boys in a giant maze?

Then came anger. Who were these people to do this to them? They'd all be dead as soon as the boys were free.

Then despair. There was no way out. Life was pointless. Why bother talking, eating, or even getting up in the morning? Why bother to breathe?

Finally acceptance.

For some, acceptance meant just taking it in stride, accepting their fate, and knowing that this is their life for now on. To others it meant the acceptance of the challenge. Screaming and fighting and sobbing wasn't going to help. There was a puzzle to be solved and it must be solved.

Either way, acceptance was acceptance. The boys stopped crying one by one, started to form bonds, started to pull themselves back together. Life went on.

And this was when the trouble started for Newt.

You'd think acceptance would bring peace, but this was not so. Newt in particular had already been labeled a loner. This was of no fault of his own. He tried to come off as friendly and attempted conversations with random boys, but something about him distanced him from the others. Maybe it was his off way of speaking. That odd accent. Maybe it was because he was thinner and paler than most of the boys. Maybe it was because he was one of only a handful of boys with shoulder length hair, and the only one of them who was blond. Maybe he was just too friendly.

Either way, he found himself spending most of the day, every day, alone.

It was about a month and a half after their arrival that Newt found himself cornered by a group of four larger boys he hadn't bothered to learn the names of. Agewise, he was about in the middle in the Glade but these four were all older than him.

They had just appeared from no where. One minute, Newt was sitting against the wall in a corner of the Glade, attempting to whittle a ball with a small chunk of wood he'd picked up, figuring if nothing else he could play catch with the wall, and the next he'd glanced up and they were there. If he hadn't been alone all the time it wouldn't have happened, but he had been. There were no friends to watch his back. He dropped the ball, started. It rolled to one side, but only being half-finished, came to a sudden stop as the rest of the sphere was still trapped in the wooden block.

"Snoot, is it," one of the boys asked smiling in an oily way. He was the tallest of them all, though not the most heavily built. He looked a year or two older than Newt, as did the others, but he held himself like he was the leader of them. His hair was short and dark brown.

"It's Newt," he corrected cautiously. "What's it to you?"

"My name's Fred, I'm sure you've noticed me and my gang." With this he gestured to the other boys. A red head, a boy with light brown skin, and a boy who was more acne than face. They all mirrored that same oily grin.

"Well you're right in front of me, hard to not bloody notice you." Newt reached back for his ball, turning it in his hand to find the section he had been working on.

"Very funny. I meant around the Glade. We've been building some clout lately. Making connections. We just started on a new venture and we think you'd be perfect to take part in it." The boys were slowly stepping closer to Newt. His heartbeat sped up in silent fear but he ignored it.

"Yeah?" Newt questioned not at all sounding like he wanted anything to do with the boys or their new "venture."

"With this many of us packed together like this it's going to happen eventually, might as well make an investment early on." He wasn't looking at their faces but the four set of shoes were closer.

"Uh huh..." He blew some of the dust off the ball.

"Who knows why we are here? Either way, with all the stuff given to us to work with, it's obvious we are nothing but an enclosed duplicate of a primitive society."

"Your point is?"

"Well, what does a society need? Food, energy, clothing, you know, the basics. But specifically, we've decided to deal with the most traditional trade throughout history."

Newt noticed one of the boys had some weird twitchy issues with his fingers. He kept flexing them, rubbing the tips of his thumb and middle fingers together like he was waiting to use them.

"Brewing?" Newt guessed, remembering faintly something he had heard, somewhere, in the past, that alcohol had been the true reason humans had first brought around organized society.

"Let me be more specific. I believe the more common phrase is 'the world's oldest profession?'"

It took a moment for the phrase to process through the muddled mess Newt called his brain but then something just clicked in place.

"Bloody hell! You want to start a brothel?"

"Well, not a physical stone and mortar brothel, of course, since we are a bit short in available buildings."

"There aren't even any shucking girls in this place," Newt pointed out with a harsh laugh, using a term he had heard being thrown around lately without thinking about it.

"We know," one of the other boys pointed out, speaking for the first time, shorter but more muscular than their leader. "Why else would we be talking to you?"

By the time Newt got his meaning, five seconds at most, he had already been grabbed and was being dragged away against his will to a more secluded spot. He fought back, attempting to kick and bite and just squirm to free himself but the others were larger than him and he was outnumbered. His small whittling knife was quickly hit away from his grip. His arms were wrenched behind his back, his mouth covered. They dragged his squirming figure to a shed near the animal pens and threw him in, locking the door behind them.

"You can't do this to me," he screamed after managing to turn his face away from the hand that had been silencing him. "I'm a boy!"

"We're all boys," the acne kid replied, "But you're one of the prettiest."

"Once the others get desperate you'll look enough like a girl for them, just you wait." It was the leader again. He spoke in an almost soothing way, a horrible mockery of somebody trying to ease another's fears. "We'll get you some makeup and do something about that hair and see if maybe we can get you some pretty clothes."

"I'm not a bloody girl! You can't just stick makeup on me and say I am!"

"Maybe some perfume too," acne kid added helpfully.

The leader nodded at this suggestion as well.

"Of course, none of that will matter if you're not at least a halfway decent lay, so before we bother with any of the frills we need to start with training. Congratulations Snoot, you're our first trainee."

It was hot in the little shed, with five boys jammed together with the sun beating down. Still, Newt fought tooth and nail to keep his clothes on.

As before though, all his fighting accomplished little. Delayed the process a bit, maybe, but when he managed to kick one of them in the face as they tried to remove his left shoe it earned him a hard slap across the face. The taste of blood didn't deter him though. His elbow caught one of them in the gut, which got him a swift punch in his own, and when his last ditch attempt at biting one of their arms resulted in a solid fist to his face he fell back limply. He hadn't been punched in the face before, as far as he remembered, and it hurt. Really, really hurt. He wouldn't have imagined it could've hurt that bad. The pain felt like it was almost inside his sinuses, not just the sensitive outer skin of his bruised face. His vision had blurred and the crunch that had came with the punch made him suspect maybe his nose had been shattered.

He faded in and out for a few minutes, not quite aware of what was going on. He could sense the boys moving around him, touching him and moving his limbs this way and that, but didn't quite come back to reality until two of the boys grabbed him by the arms and dragged his unresisting body to his knees. Despite the warmth of the shed, his pale body prickled with goosebumps. He was completely naked, exposed to the others' eyes. His blond hair was matted to his forehead with blood and sweat, his eyes swelled halfshut. His head lolled against his chest. A hand touched his face, directed Newt's gaze upwards.

"Look at you, you're a shucking mess." The green eyes of the leader had a malicious smirk in them. Newt didn't respond. His face was wet but he wasn't sure if he had been crying or if it was just blood. "Do you really expect me to be able to get it up when you look like a piece of klunk? You better help me."

"Help you?" Newt's voice, wet and slurred, resounded with disbelief.

"With your mouth," he clarified. "Get me hard and I'll give you the privilege of having my cock up your ass."

"You must be insane to think I'd let you anywhere near my mouth with your tiny little cock."

Another slap across the face. This time the pain exploded through his entire head. Last time he had been slapped his nose hadn't been nothing but a lump on his face. He coughed up a clot of blood that had drained down his throat and spit it on the floor.

"You're going to use your mouth and if you attempt anything then a broken nose will be the least of your problems. If you use your teeth that will be the last time your teeth will ever be used, got me?"

Again, Newt chose not to respond.

"He asked if you got him," the short muscular kid demanded, his arm tightening on Newt's left bicep.

"Alright, I got it!"

"Good."

Somehow, the boy seemed entirely comfortably with pulling his penis out of his pants with his friends watching on. Despite his previous claims, he actually was already passed halfmast and only had to grab it and pump it a few times to get it decently hard before he shoved it in Newt's face. Reflexively, Newt turned his face away. The leader simply grabbed a chunk of his soft blond hair and yanked him back towards him.

"Open up," he demanded almost cheerfully. Gripping the base of his cock, which was about average in length, maybe slightly on the thick side, be slapped it against Newt's face. It bounced against his lower right cheek and lips, leaving a blot of pre-cum on his skin. The skin was soft and warm, slightly darker than the skin on the hand holding it, but Newt swore it burned like acid against him.

"Please," he begged pathetically.

"Aww look, he's begging for my cock," the boy cooed like he was watching a kitten play with a ball of string. "Come on, open your mouth like a good boy."

Newt looked up into those eyes again, begging with his own, but it was no good. Slowly, he parted his lips, just a little. Not nearly enough to accommodate the appendage, but the offer was accepted. Still gripping the hunk of Newt's hair, he yanked the smaller boy's head back and thrust in with one shove. The sudden force tore Newt's lip against his upper tooth and more blood spilled out. He didn't notice though as he attempted to hold back the vomit that suddenly wanted to spill forth. Between the idea of what was in his mouth, the bleachy taste of the boy's pre-cum, the overwhelming musk of the balls pressed against his face, and the fact that he literally had an object jabbing against his uvula, he was surprised he managed to hold it back.

The leader of the boys let out a small grunt but was mostly quiet. No loud breathy moan or any of that other porn stuff. He did appear to forget he was supposedly "training" Newt though, as Newt basically did nothing as the leader forcefully just rutted against Newt's face. The hand that had been gripping his hair slid down, cupping the back of Newt's head, holding him in place so he could just thrust himself halfway down the blond's throat repeatedly. No technique involved on Newt's part. Eventually the other boy must've started to get tired as he stopped thrusting, preferring to grab Newt's head and use him like a giant masturbation toy, bringing him down repeatedly on his leaking cock.

Newt attempted to relax his throat muscles, trying to suppress his gag reflex, but it didn't seem to be working. If anything, the leader seemed to enjoy the feeling of Newt gagging on his dick, the spasming of the boy's throat around his length bringing the occasional groan. The constant gagging brought tears to his eyes and snot smeared across Newt's upper lip and the boy's penis by default. Again, the boy seemed fine with that. Eventually, Newt's lunch finally did come back up on him, but with his mouth full he had no choice but to swallow it back down again. Somehow that seemed to be a catalyst. The boy quickly pulled out with a pop, grabbed his penis in his hand to aim it, and directed the three splashes of cum across Newt's face. He closed his eyes quickly to avoid getting any of the sticky mess in his eyes.

Newt collapsed back to the ground. His knees hurt from kneeling, his throat burned. He wondered how anybody could ever have received any pleasure from such a disgusting, brutal act. He wiped at the mess on his face but stopped with a small gasp as his hand brushed against his broken nose. He let his hand fall and lay there, not crying, just quiet. At least it was over.

"Is it our turn," acne kid asked their boss.

"Go for it."

Newt didn't have the heart to even attempt to resist. This time he was pulled up onto his hands and knees. He let his front half sink to the ground, resting his head in his arms. He felt hands on him, parting his legs. Something wet and cold probing at him.

Would this be his life for now on? A toy to be used?

The pain was sharp but after a broken nose and a split lip he barely acknowledged it. He closed his eyes, tried to think of something nicer. A better place he could be. Sadly for him, he possessed no happy memories he could lose himself in. All he knew was his life in the Glade, alone and outcasted. Maybe they'd rape him to death and he could just be done with it all.

Another one of the boys stepped in front of him. Another hand in his hair, pulling him up. He hated how long his hair was right now. Apparently it was an obvious invitation for anybody who wanted to do with him as they wished.

"You have two holes and there's what, thirty boys here? You may as well use them both at once."

Sure, why not? Newt let his jaw drop open, not caring anymore. Another jab of pain from his back end.

"He's shucking tight," a voice sounded from that direction, almost complaining. "I've barely got two fingers in him. How will I ever fit?"

"Just go for it, he'll get used to it. He better." These words came lazily from the leader on the far side of the shed who, apparently spent, was now recovering from his recent frenzied activity.

"He's not even hard. Is that a problem?" The boy from the back again. Newt felt something, fingers apparently, pull out of him. It was an odd feeling. He felt overly sensitive and it hurt almost as much as when they had went in.

"He'll learn to like it," another voice.

Hands grabbed his hips, pulled him up higher on his knees. The hands were gripping him so hard it felt like it may leave bruises. Newt always bruised easily. Not that a few bruises made a difference at this point.

Something poked against him. Soft and warm but firm. Bigger than a finger. Definitely bigger.

Suddenly, there was a bang, the room was bright. Newt's eyes burned.

"What the shuck is going on here?" A new voice. Sudden sounds of movement around him. The hands on his hips released him. Newt collapsed to the ground. There followed the sounds of angry voices, too many to distinguish, some sounds of flesh against flesh. Stomping. Even with his eyes closed, Newt sensed the shed had emptied.

"Get me a blanket," an angry voice bit out. Muffled voices from outside the shed. Newt shivered, cold and alone on the floor. Too tired and in too much pain to even attempt to move. He supposed he should attempt to get up, to cover himself, to save some dignity. He didn't care.

He body jumped when he felt something soft and light suddenly against his skin. Strong arms gathered him up in a nice little bundle.

"Don't worry," a gentle voice soothed, "I ain't gonna do anything to you. You're that kid with the weird accent, right? Newt?"

"Yeah, that's me," he wheezed, "The weird kid."

He could feel that they were moving, the sun shone on his face. Opening his eyes just a slit, which was only as far as they could open since they were all but swelled shut, he saw the blocky outline of a boy's face with dark skin and a scowl on his face.

"My name's Alby. I'm taking you to the Homestead. We're gonna get you in bed and get you fixed up and you'll be as good as new."

"As good as new," Newt repeated bitterly. As if his life hadn't been ruined to begin with.

"As soon as you're all fixed up I'll start training you. You're a bit small but you'll grow. We'll get some muscle on you and if anybody tries to mess with you again you'll be able to lick 'em."

"What about those four? What if they try to attack me again?"

"They're gonna be punished."

"Kill them," Newt suddenly cried out, "They did this to me! They should die!"

"It isn't up to me," the larger boy replied, "We have to vote on it. We just started writing up the rules today and that was one of our first, after no going out in the maze. All rules and punishments must be voted on."

"We?"

"The keepers. And our leader. We're going to bring some order to this god forsaken hell hole. We're not wild animals. We can't have boys going around stealing and fighting and doing whatever they want. We need rules. And consequences if those rules are broken."

"We need order," Newt offered.

"Right," Alby agreed sternly. "That's exactly what we need."