Author: Lizard69
Title: Destiny's Child
Keywords: M+b, paranormal, rape, bondage
This is a work of fiction.  If you have trouble with the boundary
between fact and fantasy, don't read it.  If the story codes following the
title freak you out, don't read it.  If I mis-coded drop me a note through
the author email link at ASSTR.  Do not under any circumstances forward
this file to anyone that hasn't specifically requested it.  In case you
haven't figured it out yet this is intended as *adult* entertainment.  Do
not allow it to be accessed by minors.  If you have inadvertently
downloaded it in a jurisdiction where such material isn't legal please
delete it immediately.  Do not re-post in whole or in part without this
notice.  Do not repost on any "for profit" site without my specific written
permission.  Copyright 2014 by Lizard69.


Destiny's Child (M+b, mc, nc, bond)
Lizard69


   He went directly to the bowling alley rest room.  After all, that's
where *he* scored.  Drinking beer and rolling a ball down the lanes never
caught his interest.  He noticed the other stall was occupied as he settled
in.  Oh well, nothing ventured..., see if the guy knows the signals. 
Sliding his right foot under the divider he waited for a response.  He'd
almost given up when the other guy nudged his foot.  From the size of the
shoes it had to be a kid.  That was risky.  On the plus side doing a young
boy was a whole lot hotter than getting off with another middle aged office
drone like himself.

   There was some noise from the other stall as he got up and went over. 
The door latch slid back but instead of opening to let him in the kid damn
near ran him over on the way out.  Guess he either didn't know what he was
getting into or had a sudden change of heart.  He turned, expecting to see
the restroom door closing.  The kid was still standing there!

   He'd stopped just long enough to say, "Meet me outside."

   So now what?  The kid looked awful young, maybe twelve, maybe even less.
Was he playing some kind of, "run away closer", game?  Had some bashers
figured out this was a pickup spot and talked the kid into acting as bait?
Red hair, freckles, maybe a little too thin, would bashers know enough to
pick such a tasty piece as bait?  The words were a flat invitation but the
boy was plainly scared.  He was also cute as a puppy.  Finally he decided
that he could explore the possibilities a little farther without too much
risk.  The kid was waiting outside not too far from the door.

   "Do you have a car?" He nodded.  "Then get in it and roll down the
window.  I need to tell you some stuff before I go anywhere with you. 
Maybe you'll decide I'm crazy and drive off without me.  Maybe that's the
best thing that could happen.  This whole deal is like something out of the
twilight zone."

   It was still early afternoon and he'd parked at the back corner of a
mostly empty lot.  Only a couple steps from the car the kid was in the
shadow of some shrubbery and invisible to passing traffic on wheels or
feet.

   "Don't tell me your name.  The less I know about you the better.  I'm
Billy.  Like I said this is going to sound really strange but try not to
get weird until I'm done talking, OK?  I sleep every night just like anyone
else.  Most of the time I don't dream.  Sometimes I do.  Sometimes I know
that I'm dreaming right away.  Sometimes the dream is so real I can't be
sure it's a dream until I wake up.  Does this make sense so far?"

   "Yeah.  I don't know why you're bothering to tell me but so far it makes
sense."

   "A couple of times, like maybe three or four in my whole life, I woke up
and knew it wasn't a dream.  Or not just a dream.  Like something so big
and important was going to happen that I would start dreaming about it
before.  Not like dreaming about Christmas or my birthday.  Not like trying
to imagine what something was going to be like.  I mean dreaming it and
then later it would happen in real life, just exactly like the dream."

   "If you're not bullshittin' me that is weird.  A lot of people claim to
have dreams that predict the future.  I guess it isn't impossible.  If it
isn't impossible for an adult then I guess a kid could have a dream like
that.  What about it?"

   "I'm scared.  It's not a good dream.  I don't want it to happen but it's
already going and I can't make it stop!"

   "What do you mean?"

   "In the dream I'm in a public restroom.  The guy in the next stall
sticks his foot under the divider.  I don't want him crowding into my space
and without even thinking about it I push his foot back.  He gets up and I
get scared and just as I start to leave this old guy tries to push into the
stall with me.  Then I'm past him.  I don't have to stop.  I could keep
going and try to forget it.  Nothing really happened.  But I do stop, and
tell him to meet me in the parking lot.  Just like I told you in there.  If
it keeps going, if you do all the stuff in my dream..., well it isn't
actually possible to die just from embarrassment, but if anybody ever found
out about it I think I'd kill myself."

   "Then don't do it.  Walk away.  Or stand there and don't do anything
while I drive away."

   "Didn't you listen?  I already tried.  Besides that, I'm scared.  If I
follow the dream it's super embarrassing, and some of it hurts, but at the
end I'm mostly OK and I can go home.  Everything goes back to something
like normal.  It isn't exactly a happy ending but it's one I know I can
live with.  If I manage to change it somehow maybe I don't have all the bad
stuff.  Or maybe I end up with some nut that gets his kicks hurting people.
Maybe when he's done I don't get to go home."

   "It sounds like you're scaring yourself over nothing"

   "Look, back in there you tried to get in my stall.  If I left without
saying anything would you have gone home, or tried to get something going
with somebody else?"

   "I'd probably be in there waiting for the next guy."

   "Watch the door of the building.  Any second now a guy is going to come
out with his hands behind him.  The man following him is an undercover cop.
If we weren't already following my dream you would be the man in the
handcuffs.

   The kid watched as the door opened and the mans eyes got wider and
wider.

   "Oh shit!  Now you've got *me* scared.  So what happens next?"

   "Huh!  What to you have to be scared about?  I'm the one that has to get
in your car and tell you how to get to a place nobody else knows about. 
I'm the one who has to wait in the car while you stop someplace and buy
paper towels and a jar of slippery stuff.  Or do you want to sit outside
while I stand in line at the checkout trying not to think about what you're
going to use it for?  Take the old highway North out of town."

   The mini-mart wasn't busy and it was only a short delay before they were
in the farm land outside the city limits.

   "OK, turn here and follow the dirt road under the power line.  A long
time ago the place had a regular driveway but it has trees growing on it
now.  When you get to the creek follow the farm lane to the left.  You can
park under the trees."

   They weren't very big trees.  They'd grown up around an old barn that
had long since collapsed.  All that was left standing was the milk house
attached to one end, maybe twenty feet square with poured concrete walls
and a slab for a roof.  The trees didn't completely hide a window built
from glass blocks mortared in place but the bushes were large enough to jam
the door.  Under the trees was a gap in the wood pile that let them squeeze
through to the doorway on the barn side of the weathered gray cube. 
Anything of value was long gone but there were still a metal rack near the
window.  Once more the kid turned to face the older man.

   "So Billy, do you know what happens now?"

   "Yeah, but I'm trying real hard not to think about it.  It's almost a
quarter mile to the road, even longer the way we came in.  The walls are
thick enough that if I yelled somebody standing right outside might not
hear me.  I don't live too far from here.  I can walk home after...  In my
dream I can leave any time I want, but as long as I stay I have to do
whatever YOU want."

   He stood there looking at his sneakers while the queer slowly walked all
the way around him.  The kid was right.  This sure as hell was a "Twilight
Zone" situation, or would be if the old TV series had any X rated episodes.
Part of his mind couldn't get away from thinking it was some kind of trap.
If so he was already caught.

   "Whatever I want, huh?  But if this dream of yours isn't bogus you
already know what I want."

   The kid wasn't blushing too bad but managed to give the impression
something tiny was crawling into his ass.  "I...  Uh...  I was kind of
hoping you wouldn't make me ask for it."

   The rack was pipe, maybe four feet wide and six tall, standing out a
couple feet from the wall it was bolted to.  It had a few horizontal bars
across the front with a second slightly higher set near the wall.  The
upper rear had stubs of the same pipe about four inches long welded on top
at an upward angle.  Billy was talking again, quick and nervous, as he
began to undress.

   "This was a rack for milking machines.  After they were washed they
would sit on here upside down until the next time.  It's angled so they'd
drain and dry out."

   He folded his shirt and jeans over a bar even with his lower ribs. 
Glancing at one of the lower pipes he decided to put his sneakers back on.

   "The pegs at the back were for hanging the lids and hoses.  Hold out
your hand like making a karate chop."

   Billy knotted his tee shirt around the hand then slipped it off and over
his own wrist.  Hooking his thumbs in the waistband of his briefs he
quickly pulled them off and also tied them in a knot.  He was pale and
trembling, too scared to blush, when he paused one last time looking up at
the man.

   "Please...  Go slow and try really hard not to mess me up.  I won't tell
anyone no matter what but if a doctor calls the cops...  Well, they'll ask
a *lot* of questions before they give up and go away."

   Stuffing the briefs between his teeth he slipped his free hand through
the tee shirt loop from the other direction.  A quick half twist and he was
holding his hands out in front of him.  The stretchy material made a snug
figure eight around his thin wrists.  Turning toward the rack he stepped up
on a lower bar, keeping his balance by leaning forward with his hips
resting against his folded clothes.  While standing on his toes, with a
sudden stretch, almost a jump, he hooked the tee shirt loop over one of the
pegs.

   It had happened so quickly the man stood there stunned.  School would
let out for the summer soon.  Last years tan was long gone and redheads
never tan that deep anyway.  So maybe it was just his imagination but the
skin of the young boys ass seemed to have a creamy whiteness the rest of
his body couldn't quite match.  The sight drew him closer even though the
whole situation was sending a different sort of chill up his spine.

   He'd known he was different even before he entered puberty.  Since then
he'd met more than a few creeps who used queer and pervert interchangeably.
But he'd never raped anyone, never even seriously wanted to.  The thought
of raping a *kid* was enough to wilt a hardon.  If he left right now the
boy could get himself loose.  Instead he moved up beside the kid and
watched his hand, seemingly of its own volition, reach out to lightly
caress that lovely naked ass.  He heard a strangled sob and felt the muscle
flex as Billy spread his legs until his weight was supported by his bound
wrists and the front of his hips.  Only the balls of his feet still rested
lightly on the lower bar.  Billy didn't want sex and wasn't old enough to
consent even if he did.  But the boy was eager, almost frantic to play this
out and get it over with.  An erection slowly tightened the front of his
slacks.  He realized that if he didn't leave now he was going to hate
himself for a long long time.  The voice behind him hit like a bucket of
ice water.

   "Golfers rules guy.  If you can't figure out how to play the hole, step
aside and let the next guy play through.  While you're at it, quit staring
like you're trying to memorize my face for a police sketch artist.  You
should be thanking whatever god you believe in that you got caught by
somebody with similar tastes.  Now that I think about it, there's a better
way to settle this.  Lets see your dick.  Come on, don't be bashful, haul
it out."

   Shocked, embarrassed, and even a little angry that Billy hadn't warned
him about this, he unzipped his fly.

   "OK.  It looks like we're about the same length but you're definitely
slimmer.  You go first.  We'll all enjoy this more if you get him slippery
and opened up for me."

   Talk about taking "performance anxiety" to a new high!  It shouldn't
have taken much to push him into doing what he'd been having such a tough
time talking himself out of.  Maybe it was the other guys, "business as
usual", attitude.  Maybe he had a trace of feline ancestry.  Whatever, it
ground on his nerves to be told to do exactly what he most wanted to do
anyway.  He looked at the boy beside him and found him stretching his head
forward to peer past his arm, trying to catch his eye.  Billy nodded and
went limp.  The kid knew this was coming and wanted him to get with the
program!

   Billy squealed and squirmed a little as first a well greased finger,
then a grown mans cock invaded his virgin ass hole.  The first guy would
normally be delighted by the long slow buildup to one hell of an orgasm. 
In this case he was alternately sorry that he was prolonging the child's
ordeal and glad to be standing between the kid and some serious bad news.
After his orgasm he leaned against a wall and tried to ignore the other
guy. He was ashamed of what he'd done and watching somebody who actually
got off on raping young boys sickened him.  Especially after the pervert
began to masturbate the kid, intending to add the extra humiliation of an
unwanted orgasm to being sexually violated.  He almost missed the quiet
snick of a lockblade knife being opened and turned just in time to watch
Billy cum.

   "What in the hell do you think you're doing?!"

   "Sorry, I like to take trophies, but I forgot you bagged this one.  I'll
do the cleanup for you, unless you want to go again?"

   "Get out of here."

   "OK.  I've had my kicks.  Maybe I'll see ya around, but I'm a travelin'
man and won't be back this way.  He didn't see me, but the kid can pick you
out of a line up.  Sure you don't want me to finish him?"

   "Just go.  I'll take care of it."

   Billy was quiet while the man helped him down and untied him.  He didn't
speak at all until he'd used the towels to clean up and, ignoring the
knotted underwear, began to get dressed.

   "Thanks mister."

   "Don't thank me!  You almost got killed because I brought you out here.
You got raped twice, once by me.  You have no reason to thank me."

   "You're wrong.  I brought *you* here.  If I didn't bring you here I
would have been here alone.  If you didn't do it he wouldn't have trusted
you not to turn him in.  Because you were here he didn't get as rough as he
wanted to.  Because you were here I'm alive right now even if my ass is
pretty sore.  Have you got a pen?"

   Billy took it and turned his knotted briefs over until he found a strip
of waistband.  Writing something on it he handed them and his tee shirt to
the man.

   "Here, that's my phone number.  If anyone but me answers tell them I
asked you about getting into junior league softball.  If you tell me you
want to give them back and where to meet you, when I show up I won't be
wearing any."

   Before he could say another word the boy slipped out the door and was
gone.
   
The End?