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 Archive name: happcamp.txt (mm+, gang-rp, v)
 Authors name: Mark E. Dassad (no address)
 Story title : HAPPY CAMPERS

 ------------------------------------------------------
 (C) 1992  Mark E. Dassad. May be reproduced and re-
 distributed un-edited and un-altered in electronic
 form with this notice intact. The author reserves the
 right to sell paper copies at huge profit to the
 disconnected.
 ------------------------------------------------------

 Happy Campers
 by Mark E. Dassad

 +++++++ "It's not about violence, it's not about sex.
 It's about violent sex." ++++++++

 "Hey squirt!"

 Hushed voices, nasty giggling.  Nervous.  A dirty pair
 of boys jockeys quickly stuffed into his mouth. gig-
 gling. Desperate hisses to each other to shut up, quit
 laughing. Strong hands grab at his arms, flip the ter-
 rified, struggling boy over, expertly lash his hands
 tightly behind his back, as two other pairs of hands
 succeed in holding his legs still as his ankles are
 bound securely together, a roll of tape is wound around
 his head securing the gag in his mouth.

 "Shit!" someone whispers.  "how's he gonna blow us?"
 More giggles, he can hear punching, scuffling, gig-
 gling, desperate whispers again to shut up.  His heart
 races he thinks he can hear it pounding in his ears.
 He tries to scream, feels his chest vibrate with the
 effort but only a muffled cottony "mff" escapes.  

 "what're you buttheads doing?"  Randy, one of his
 bunkmates is awake. A baseball nut, a jock.  He hates
 him.  He hates them all. It's mutual.

 "You wanna take his place?"  one of the abductors
 whispers menacingly. 

 "Nah I wanna _watch_," Randy hisses back.

 "shut up or you're next, asshole."

 He is lifted by his shoulders and ankles and dragged
 twisting from the tent, wearing only the undershorts
 and camp t-shirt he was sleeping in.  Staring up into
 the night, eyes wide with terror, he blanches at the
 sight of the smiling faces of three older boys from
 the Senior group.  Rod, Tom, Spike.  Fresh-Air Fund
 kids from the city, they carry switch-blades and
 scared the piss out his upper-middle-class sensibil-
 ities.

 They drag him higher into the woods, crashing through
 underbrush, swearing and grunting.  When they decide
 they are far enough away from the camp that they won't
 be detected they dump him unceremoniously on the
 ground.  Pine needles press through his underwear and
 he struggles futilely to roll over and away from the
 needles pricking his genitals.

 He listens to his captors talking quietly, they sound
 excited, he can't see them from where he is lying and
 he can't connect names or faces to the voices.

 "Shit I wish we could get some beers,"  one of them
 says.

 "Speed man, I really could use some speed."

 "Pussy!"  the third one blurts out, and they all laugh.

 One of them nudges him with a heavy booted foot, and
 they squat down next to his bound form and roll him
 onto his back so his arms are cramped beneath him,
 digging into his spine.  A small flashlight shines in
 his face so he is blinded; he sees the glint of metal,
 assumes it's a blade.  He's already wet himself in
 terror, and only moans pitifully as he feels a hand
 grab at his crotch.

 "Fucker pissed himself!" the crotch-grabber laughs,
 wipes his hand off on the boy's leg.

 One of them leans into his face, holding a blade close
 to his nose. Spike?  Rod?

 "I'm gonna take this gag offa you but if you scream I
 swear it I'll cut yer dick off I mean it."  A thumb
 and forefinger close around the head of his penis, and
 twist, hard, for emphasis.  He arches his back and
 tries to scream.

 "Fuck the little faggot really did piss himself!"

 He feels a hand underneath his jockeys, hears a tearing
 sound; his underwear is yanked from his body, used to
 wipe up where he peed himself.  Realizing he's lying
 bound and naked on a prickly bed of pine needs, strug-
 gling fiercely, he finally manages to not cry.

 The boys talk in low tones around his head; he is
 incapable of anticipating what they are planning, they
 don't teach this sort of thing in seventh grade health
 class, and even as the tape is torn from around his
 head, the dirty jockeys drawn from his mouth, and the
 leader -- Tom? -- lowers his jeans and underwear and
 kneels straddling his shoulders, he is surprised,
 shocked, _dumb-founded_, when a soft fleshy penis is
 pressed against his tightly closed mouth.

 "Blow me!"  

 He cannot make his jaw un-clench, it is too disgusting.

 A white hot pain jumps across his groin; one of the
 others has picked up a thin supple branch and whipped
 it across his crotch, lashing the head of his prick.
 He opens his mouth to scream and the swelling cock
 pressing at his lips is stuffed into his mouth; hands
 are clutching at the sides of his head, he chokes and
 gags and tries to scream, afraid he is being smothered,
 strangled, by the penis thrusting in his face.

 "Bite me and I'll cut off your dick and make you eat
 it," the boy pistoning in his face whispers menacingly.
  
 He is sure the threat is serious; he opens his mouth
 and lets the boy use him.  The penis slides wetly in
 his mouth, he can feel it growing. He feels the weight
 of his attacker sliding back and forth along his chest
 as the penis slides back and forth between his teeth.
 He tries to catch the rhythm, to breathe, so he won't
 panic, but there is no rhythm, instinct wins and he
 twists franticly, only distantly aware of cruel,
 excited laughter.

 "Make him do you good!" one of the others whispers.

 "Fuck his face.  Do it!"

 He is surprised when the penis is withdrawn; he knows
 about jerking off, and he felt the first wet pre-cum
 at the back of his throat; he was waiting for the
 horrible moment when the boy -- Rod? -- would come in
 his mouth.

 The boy gets up off his chest: he is pulled to his
 feet, dragged a short distance, pushed to his knees,
 bent face first over a large available log.  He
 whimpers miserably, terrified of what he does not
 understand, his naked groin hurts pressed into the
 rough bark of the log.

 More excited whispers.  Hands brushing pine needles
 from his naked butt.

 "Smooth like a fucking girl's."

 "Tighter than pussy, you remember the little nigger we
 did last Summer?"

 "Still wish it was pussy."

 Hands pry his buttocks apart.  He hears a loud spitting
 noise, something presses at his sphincter.  He begs,
 pleads.

 "What are you doing??"  "Don't..."  "Please..." "Stop!"

 "Shut him up!"  The one pressing at his ass orders the
 others.  The pressure at his opening is becoming un-
 bearable, he tries to lean forward and away from the
 sensation, but only succeeds in scraping his vulnerable
 genitals against the rough bark.

 Terrible pain!  His muscle dilates against its will and
 his attacker's stiff penis pushes into him.

 A high-pitched shriek escapes his lungs, echoing about
 the darkness until the wet urine-soaked remains of his
 underwear are stuffed into his mouth.  He does not
 notice the foul rag in his mouth, his mind is reeling,
 his entire existence is focused on the thing that is
 stretching his asshole.

 He is sure it will kill him, the fire inside him is
 unbearable, he wishes he would faint but instead he
 feels the penis pushing deeper into him, stretching
 him open, pressing him into the log until at last it
 seems it can go no deeper and his mind leaps as it is
 withdrawn, thankful the ordeal is finished...  but
 just as the monster in his ass is about to exit it
 slams back in, harder and deeper; he shrieks, but only
 a muffled groan escapes the filthy rag and the specta-
 tors giggle.

 "Sounds like the faggot likes it."

 His body slams back and forth as the monster stretches
 him open, his groin slams into the log again and again
 he has lost all sense of time as his rapist continues
 to use him.  Amid the fiery pain, he feels an un-
 familiar wetness spreading deep inside his colon, and
 at last the penis bludgeoning his rectum is withdrawn.

 He sags in relief against the log; jerks hysterically,
 his mind cries out in disbelief as the second abductor
 -- Spike?  Rod?? -- clutches his buttocks and drives a
 stiff, hard penis deep into his freshly raped ass.  He
 is sobbing behind the filthy rag in his mouth, he
 hears the one who initiated him talking softly to the
 third boy as he feels his rectum stretch and pull
 trying to accommodate the penis filling him.

 "The little rich bastards are always the best."

 "Yeah.  Soft and pink."  

 A limp penis appears in front of his nose; strong hands
 are gripping his shoulders, fucking him harder than the
 first one; he feels the penis driving deeper, splitting
 him wider and he can only twist and grunt in terror.

 "Clean it off asshole."

 A hand pulls his head up and he looks into the grinning
 face of the boy who took his cherry.  He grimaces in
 agony each time the cock pounding into him hits bottom,
 and he sees the boy smile.

 "You like that huh?"  

 He sees a knife out of the corner of his eye.

 "You wanna be our girlfriend this Summer?"

 The rag is pulled from his mouth and replaced with a
 soft wet penis. It tastes of shit and blood and salty
 semen and he gags and tries to pull his head away, but
 hands clasp his hair, force him to keep the cock in his
 mouth, he feels it at the back of his throat, he feels
 the penis still working in his ass, the two slam into
 him from either end, off sync, wildly.

 Somewhere faraway he feels a wetness spreading inside
 him, and the second penis is withdrawn from his ass
 while the one in his face continues to slide wetly in
 his mouth.  He knows now to expect a third penis at his
 backside and he is not disappointed.

 This boy is shorter and wilder.  He feels the numbing
 pain of a fat cock stab into him as the penis in his
 mouth slowly hardens.  The boy in his ass is clutching
 him tightly, slamming into him in especially hard,
 short staccato bursts he feels the boy's hips slam
 into his ass and he wails around the cock in his mouth.

 He hears laughter; tears rise in his eyes, he cannot
 help it anymore, the pain is more than _anyone_ could
 bear, and he sobs around the cock sliding against the
 back of his throat, tears rolling down his cheeks small
 shrill cries escape him each time the boy riding him
 slams up into his rectum and picks his hips up off the
 log for a moment supported only by the dick pressing
 into his ass.

 Strong muscular hands reach around to pull and scratch
 at his nipples; the cock in his mouth is getting
 harder; each time he tries to scream at the sharp
 bursts of pain exploding inside his ass the cock in his
 mouth slides down the back of his throat and he panics
 twisting and struggling against his bonds and the
 strong hands that clutch at his body, an instinctive
 response to having his air-passage blocked that he
 cannot control.

 At last the penis brutalizing his ass is removed; he
 does not feel the streamers of semen that spray the
 back of his t-shirt, he is only aware of the penis
 sliding back and forth in his mouth.

 "Twice in one night man!"  the two boys watching seem
 impressed with their friend's ability to get it up.

 The cock is sliding at the back of his throat the shit
 taste long forgotten, drooled out onto the ground.  A
 slimy salty wetness pulses at the back of his throat,
 he gags and spits cum onto the ground at the feet of
 the boy in front of him; semen splashes into his face
 and he whimpers pathetically.

 He feels a set of hands at his back and panics; afraid
 one of the other boys is ready for another turn in his
 ass.  A face appears in front of him as the ropes
 binding his hands and feet are removed. Hands clutch
 at his exposed buttocks, squeeze his genitals.

 The face in front of him speaks softly, menacingly.
 Rod!

 "If you tell anybody about this you won't live long
 enough to testify."

 He hears a voice whisper near his left ear, he can feel
 the warm breath on the side of his face.

 "Besides, why would you tell anyone you were a faggot
 and fucked a bunch of older guys from the senior
 group?"

 He feels his buttocks squeezed and pulled, slapped and
 tickled. Something large, hard and smooth, is pressed 
 up into his ass.

 "see you tomorrow night, _sweetie_"  

 He lies, crying and exhausted, still bent over the log,
 their semen drips from his tortured asshole as he
 listens to their laughter receding back towards the
 camp, feeling the object they've shoved inside him
 filling his rectum.

 Slowly, untwisting his cramped arms, moving to push
 himself up onto his feet.  Collapsing to his knees as
 he realizes what has happened to him.  Raped.  Fucked.
 Used, like a _girl_.  Like a whore.  A FAGGOT. He _is_
 a faggot.  That's why they've chosen him instead of of
 of...of Randy, they could've fucked Randy but they
 chose him because he's a wimp, a sissy, a FAGGOT.  

 He lays for an eternity, curled fetally on the pine
 carpet, feeling the thing in his ass, listening to the
 crickets, the quiet night sounds.  When he figures it
 is only a few hours before dawn, he rolls to a
 squatting position and painfully works the muscles of
 his rectum to expel the thing buried inside him.  He
 stares at it, a large smooth rock, a streak of shit
 covering it.  Picking it up, carefully, with his ruined
 underwear, rubbing it clean he palms it.

 He notices they've left behind the briefs they gagged
 him with, they will do as clothing.  He pulls them on;
 three sizes too big he holds them up with one hand,
 clutching his souvenir he creeps back to camp, slinks
 into his bunk, crawls into his cot, hiding his cum-
 streaked t-shirt inside his pillow-case.

 Randy stirs as he enters.

 "Hey Spaz"

 He freezes in his cot.

 "We all want blow jobs or we're gonna tell the whole
 camp what you were doing."

 The other two members of his bunk are leaning on their
 elbows in their cots, staring at him.  He freezes as
 Randy approaches his cot and holds his dick in his
 hand in front of his face.

 "Well?"  

 He closes his eyes and opens his mouth as his bunk-
 mates line up for their turn, giggling and pulling at
 their small hard pricks.

 ***** not the end ****

 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
 This story was written as an adult fantasy.  The author
 does not condone the described behavior in real life in
 any way shape or form. Anyone tempted to act out any of
 the scenarios in this story;  should seriously consider
 seeking professional help.
 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
 Kristen's collection - Directory 9