“One, two, three, four…”

Lift, pansy. Lift or you’ll be stuck here for the rest of your fucking life.

Kid pushed the barbell up and lowered it as he took out one hundred sixty pounds of anger on his muscle-bound body.

He was the youngest guy in the workout room, hence his affectionate nickname.

Lift, you stupid fuck!

Mirrors lined the walls. Benches, medicine balls, mats, racks, and weights clustered between two rows of support beams. Guarding one of the doors to the workout room, Marzo, a beefy man with a walleye, folded his arms and stared forward (and to the side) blankly, as if trying to dissociate from boredom. He was rumored to have been not so honorably discharged from the army. At the door on the other side of the room, Clive, a twig of a man with stringy arms and a gaunt face, who appeared to be the poster boy for an anti-Meth ad campaign, stared at his feet as he kicked the doorframe.

Jerry stepped between a tray of dumbbells and a column near the wall. A pot-bellied boy nearly half his size, who couldn’t have been much older than Kid, walked alongside him. He scribbled frantically in a pocket-sized notebook. Jerry whispered something in his ear. Jerry had a stern, most-serious glare frozen on his spotty face. He and the pot-bellied scribe, who the boys knew as Robb, eyed a few guys doing sit-ups on mats on one side of the room. The Brazilians, as they were called. They were gorgeous, ripped guys who’d been lured to Jerry's under the pretense of working in adult films. Whoever had duped them had made a pretty penny off their asses. They were top of the line, except that they could hardly speak any English. Although, they seemed pretty good with “fuck” and “no” or a combination of the two.

One of the Brazilians did crunches, sweat sliding from his mountainous chest into the sharp hills that swelled across his abdomen. A patch of fat couldn’t be found anywhere on his tight body. Of everyone in the workout room, he was by far the prettiest, with flawless caramel skin and blue eyes that glistened under the fluorescent lights.

“Robb, keep our blue-eyed beauty on a high-protein diet. He needs more muscle. And get him on the bench press at least three times a week. I want a chest on him. Those abs are only gonna get him so far.”

Jerry and Robb approached Kid, mid-bench-press, breathing heavily as his biceps, shoulders, and pecs contracted with his violent movements.

Jerry’s serious glare transformed into a pleasant, even friendly, smile.

“How’s it going, Kid?” he asked.

Kid pumped away, sweat rushing like water through a canyon between his pecs.

“Mmmm…That’s good. Real good. Just keep right on with what you’re doing.”

Kid knew he was one of Jerry’s favorites. Not because he was particularly attractive or lucrative, but because he was obedient. Obedience meant almost as much to Jerry as money, so Kid's adherence to his rigid, oppressive rules made him one of the few recipients of Jerry's generosity—a decent meal and an occasional used book. Rare as they came, Kid would savor the books. Without access to TV or radio, they were the only opportunities that allowed him a moment of escape—to leave this cruel and unjust world behind.

He kept them stacked under a cot in his room. Over the years, he'd collected novels by Dickens, Shelley, Conrad, Hawthorne, and Golding. Every night before lights out, he'd fish one out and devour it page by page, imagining that he was somewhere else—anywhere else. He didn't care that the protagonists were usually living in the most unpleasant of worlds. Any heinous life was better than his.

At thirteen, Kid had wound up homeless on the streets of Atlanta. “Wanna fuck?” he would say to the pudgy, sad-faced geezers he’d catch leaving the nearest gay bar. He gave blowjobs and took it up the ass, sometimes for as little as twenty bucks. He didn’t need much. He just had to have money for meals. He didn't have to worry about shelter, because he squatted at an abandoned church with three other homeless guys. They were older and only one of them ever bothered him with sexual solicitations, which he'd endured on occasion to ensure he’d have a place to sleep.

Kid had been cruising the streets, looking for his next meal ticket, when he'd been knocked unconscious and had woken up in Jerry's place. That was what the other guys called it. None of them really knew where they were—or what kind of building they were in, though several of the guys assumed that it had been an old school.

Though he'd abducted Kid, Jerry was, in many ways, his guardian angel. Within the months that Kid had been on his own, he'd managed to pick up several STDs, which Jerry promptly treated, tending to Kid's health and providing him with reading material while he had recovered. Jerry had made it clear that Kid didn't have a choice but to stay there. In the beginning, Kid was fine with that. Better to have shelter and fuck under those conditions than to have to do it all on his own. However, he discovered there was a price to having so many things provided for him, and he grew to resent Jerry. More important than the security of his body was the security of his freedom, which he desperately longed for. He planned to have it again…one day.

Lift, you shit.

He built up his strength. One day, he'd have an opportunity to take on Marzo or Clive, and he'd crawl out of this dump and get the fuck out.

He had plans that didn’t involve spending the rest of his life on the streets. He was going to get a job as a waiter or a clerk at a store. He was going to be a normal person, and when he got enough money together, he'd even go to college. He didn’t know if he’d ever finish, but he could at least take some classes, make himself a little smarter.

Jerry and Robb continued their stroll through the workout room.

A bead of sweat dripped off Kid’s forehead onto the cement floor. His muscles locked and his face turned red, the veins in his neck protruding forward as he pushed his arms to their last possible rep. He forced the bar over his head and set it on the bar rest.

He sat up. Sweat drenched his light-brown hair and dripped onto the smooth flesh that dressed his rift-covered abs. He panted as he tried to catch his breath.

The other guys were far less into their workouts than he ever was. They fulfilled their daily requirements, but that was it. None were eager to make their bodies more pleasing to potential johns.

A man with vampire-white flesh, speckled with black and blue bruises, stepped through the entrance to the workout room.

Fresh meat.

Fresh Meat’s wavy, jet-black hair, in stark contrast with his skin, looked like a bird’s failed attempt at a nest. Sunken cheeks curved up swelling welts that made an already pronounced jawline stick out even farther. A cleft in his chin matched the divot above his upper lip, a groove at the tip of his nose, and even the severe cut dividing his bottom lip.

Kid wondered why Jerry had taken this guy in. Most everyone was like the Brazilians—hot model types who’d been conned into coming to this rat hole by some less than scrupulous street entrepreneur. Some came because this was their way of paying off a debt to a dealer. Others, because some junkie eagerly sold them for quick cash. Regardless of how they ended up there, they were usually in pristine condition, unlike this new guy. At the same time, Kid had to acknowledge that he had been less than pristine when he'd arrived.

Despite Fresh Meat's rough appearance, Kid recognized that he was still a very attractive man. Broad shoulders and thick, curved biceps filled a white T-shirt. His tight ass looked hot in the jeans he wore.

Fresh Meat’s eyes, brown and sparkling in the fluorescence, scanned the room until they came to Kid.

Kid avoided his glare.

Fresh Meat stumbled to a tray of dumbbells, picked up two fifty-pounders, and headed to a weight bench by Kid.

Kid lay back on his bench, grabbed the barbell, and started another set.

“Look a little young to be here,” Fresh Meat whispered.

Kid gritted his teeth. Didn’t respond. Kept working on his reps.

Fresh Meat planted the dumbbells on the floor before him. He picked one up and started doing reps. The veins in his forearm pushed forward. His bicep flexed, inflating and deflating in sync with the muscles in his jaw.

“My name’s Kinzer.”

Kid’s body tensed, more from anger than the tension of the weights.

This idiot is gonna get us both in trouble.

Among Jerry's myriad of rigid rules was the “no talking” rule. The boys weren't allowed to fraternize with each another. Kid imagined this was to prevent them from conspiring to overpower Marzo or Clive or from plotting an escape. This rule wasn't something that Jerry took lightly, either. Jerry's guards would usually tase or beat for infractions, depending upon the severity of the transgression. It was easy to slight Jerry, and he wasn’t fair with his devised punishments. They were severe. Talking could result in punishments serious enough to prevent a guy from working for two months.

“How long you been in here?” Kinzer asked.

Kid lifted the barbell and set it back on the rest. Sweat rushed down his face. He panted, his bulky chest rapidly rising and falling. His erect, pink nipples shimmered in the light.

“Shut the fuck up,” he muttered through his teeth, “or you’ll get us both in trouble.”

Kinzer set his dumbbell on the floor, picked it back up with his other hand, and started a set.

Kid lay on the bench, gripping his hands against the barbell.

“Listen, I need to—”

Robb stepped between them, squinting and puffing out his already chubby cheeks. “Kid,” he fussed. “You know the rules.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a Taser.

Kinzer’s sparkling brown eyes grew twice as big. “What the—”

Kid sat up. He scowled, the look in his eyes full of indignation. “What?! He was the one—”

He didn't know why he was fighting it. Something in him was just so infuriated, so pissed off. He was always so good. Always followed the rules. Surely, Robb knew that it was Kinzer’s fault.

Jerry’s other boys paused their workouts to watch the confrontation.

“It’s the rules,” Robb insisted.

Kid resigned himself. There wasn’t any way Jerry was going to let his transgression go unpunished, and better a Taser than something worse. He clenched his jaw and pushed his sweat-soaked chest out. Robb pressed the Taser between his pecs.

Zzzz.

Kid convulsed.

He fell off the bench. Robb stepped over it and knelt, continuing his assault.

“Whoa!” Kinzer said. “I’m the one who was talking to him. He didn’t do anything!”

“Kinzer!” Jerry shouted from the corner of the room. He stood over a sweat-soaked twink of a boy who had stopped mid-push-up to watch Kid and Kinzer. “Kid knows the rules. This is the way we do things around here, so shut your faggy mouth and let Robb handle it.”

Robb sent another fifty thousand volts into Kid’s chest. Kid writhed about.

Kinzer dropped his dumbbell. As it bounced off the floor, he tackled Robb.

Robb whined and slapped around as Kinzer pounded into his cushioned stomach.

“What the…fuck! Stop! It’s…the…rules!” Robb wailed.

“Marzo!” Jerry exclaimed.

Marzo stomped across the workout room, a stern look frozen on his face.

Kinzer reared back, his fist moving to strike Robb again.

Marzo put a Taser to his neck.

Zzzz.

Kinzer convulsed and twitched about, just as Kid had done moments earlier.

***

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” Jerry shouted.

He sat at a termite-ravaged school desk. Kid and Kinzer sat on a cot before him.

On the concrete wall behind Jerry were two large windows. Like all of the windows in Jerry’s place, they were covered in chain-link fencing.

Kid threw Kinzer a foul look.

Fucking asshat, getting me in trouble.

“This isn’t a fucking Jean-Claude Van Damme movie!” Jerry continued. “No need to act like a fucking animal.”

“He didn’t do anything,” Kinzer said. “I didn’t even know that rule.”

“I don’t care what rules you know and don’t know,” Jerry said. “If I discipline, I expect you to obey. My rules may not always be fair, but the only way to be any kind of leader is to be consistent. If you discipline consistently, then everybody understands when and why they get punished. Got that?”

Kinzer nodded.

“I’d prefer auditory confirmation.”

“Won’t happen again.”

Kid looked Kinzer over. He doubted that was true.

A guy doesn’t end up with bruises all over him like that and in a place like this for no reason.

“As for you, Kid, you know better than to be acting up.”

“I was—”

“Shh, shh. I don't like this, but I'm gonna have to find a suitable punishment for you. I have to be honest, considering how long you’ve been with me, it’s not going to be generous. You should have known better.”

There was no point in arguing. Kid hung his head and nodded.

“And you ever cause a ruckus like that again…” Jerry’s gaze shifted to Kinzer. “…I’ll make sure you know your place. Now, get to the showers and get cleaned up.”

***

A stream of water flowed from an overhanging showerhead.

Kinzer massaged a bar of soap in his palms, building up foamy suds. Black strands of his bangs clung to unhealed wounds on his forehead. At his feet, water slapped against yellow-stained tiles, framed in brown and green grime that fanned out from the grout.

Kid stood under an adjoining showerhead. He wiped a bar of soap across the ripples in his torso and over his naturally-flexed biceps.

They were the only ones in the showers. The others had cleaned up while Jerry had been chastising them.

Fucking asshole.

Mad as he was, he couldn't keep his gaze from shifting repeatedly back to Kinzer's cock. Even flaccid, it was hanging mid-thigh. That thing must've been twelve inches. The mushroom head stretched out well beyond the shaft. When he'd first seen Kinzer undress in the shower room, he had a much better understanding of why Jerry had brought him on board. With a dick like that, he was going to be one of Jerry's busiest boys. Even more fortunate, he probably wouldn’t have to take it up the ass nearly as much.

“You got me in a lot of fucking trouble,” Kid hissed.

“Sorry.” Kinzer brushed the suds in his hands across his chest and massaged them against his pecs.

Kid's eyes flashed back to Kinzer's dick. He couldn't help himself. He wondered how that would feel in his hole.

“Your cock’s huge.”

Kinzer smiled. “I thought we weren’t supposed to talk.”

His smile was disarming, and Kid found it difficult to maintain his anger, especially as he continued to imagine that chunk of flesh filling him.

“They know we can’t get out down here,” Kid said, “and they gotta keep an eye on the others.”

His eyes remained fixed on Kinzer's member. “But seriously. What the fuck?”

Kinzer eyed Kid’s dick. “Not so bad yourself.”

Now Kid was really having a hard time keeping his defensive front up against Kinzer. Something about him was charming, fun. Kid’s shaft widened and lengthened. Kinzer’s twitched and hardened.

Kid threw Kinzer a satisfied glare. “Like what you see?”

Kid’s dick was fully erect. He glanced back at the door and lunged at Kinzer, dropping to his knees and placing his lips around the head of his dick.

Kinzer jumped out of the showerhead’s path, dropping the bar of soap on the tile. White streams of soap slid down his torso, detouring at the top curves of his abs.

“Come on!” Kid said. “We gotta hurry.”

Kinzer’s face cringed with confusion. “But, uh—”

“Dude, you clearly want it. And I need it. Please. I’m begging you. I’ll just blow you. Please.”

“You don’t get enough sex in a place like this?”

“I don’t really consider what goes on here sex.”

Kinzer walked back into the hot water.

“This doesn't mean we're cool,” Kid said, water webbing between his eyes.

He was pissed at Kinzer for getting him in trouble, but he needed that cock inside him. Pain and pleasure were the greatest distractions from his shitty life. They pulled his thoughts away from his daily tasks and the memories that haunted his thoughts. With a hard girth like that inside him, he wouldn’t be able to think about anything other than the unbearable pain that pulsed through him. Not that he was eager to feel all forms of pain. He just wanted to feel the pain he chose to feel.

As Kinzer's cock neared Kid’s mouth, Kid’s lips slid right over Kinzer’s mushroom head and down his shaft. Water parted at the bridge of his nose, two paths arcing around his stretching lips and coming together at his chin.

Kid shoved Kinzer’s dick as far back as he could take it. Less than half of the shaft fit in his mouth.

God, he tastes so good. I bet his cum tastes even better.

Kinzer threw his head back and released a deep, satisfied groan.

Kid slid his lips back, massaging the tip with the end of his tongue. He tightened his hand around Kinzer’s girth, stroking back and forth, as he moved his lips to the same rhythm. He closed his eyes, taking in the deliciousness of Kinzer’s flesh.

Kid pulled back, giving his mouth a rest.

“You taste so fucking good,” Kid whispered. His mouth was back around Kinzer’s dick in a heartbeat. He was committed, focused.

He wanted to please Kinzer. Just as he wanted to choose when he felt pain, he wanted to choose whom he satisfied.

Kinzer’s skin tasted so good.

Kid filled his mouth with the flesh, sucking gently as he slid his free hand across Kinzer’s ass, tucking two fingers between his cheeks, then into his hole.

“Oh, fuck yeah,” Kinzer said.

Kid tried to take more of Kinzer’s vein-covered goodness, but Kinzer yanked it out of his mouth.

Kinzer grabbed Kid's shoulder, forced him to his feet, and pushed him against the wall.

Kid shoved his ass out, inviting Kinzer inside. He glanced back at the door. “Just please…be quiet. They’ll beat the shit out of us if they catch us.”

Kinzer pressed his nose against Kid’s ear, his hot breath crawling across his neck as he said, “I don’t think I’m gonna be the one who has a problem keeping quiet.”

He pressed the head of his dick against Kid’s hole. Kid’s ass, a product of excessive squats, was tight, uninviting.

Kid could tell just by the feeling that it was going to be an incredibly painful experience. He started to rethink following through, but as Kinzer’s fingers slid around his side and across his abdomen, he felt a jolt of energy rush through his pelvis like a Taser of satisfaction and arousal. He pushed his ass farther back.

“I’m gonna be slow, okay?” Kinzer said.

“No. I want you to come. We have to do this as fast as we can.” He regretted his words, but he was too scared that they wouldn’t have time to finish. And right then, all he wanted was for Kinzer to make him bleed.

Kinzer hesitated before he closed his eyes and pushed forward.

Kid gritted his teeth as he felt the inner lining in his ass tear.

Kinzer slid back. He spit in his palm and rubbed the fluid across his shaft. He attempted to enter Kid again, this time successfully forcing his way inside.

Kid thought he was about to rip in two. The pain was so intense, so unbearable. He reared his head back and opened his mouth to scream.

Kinzer slapped a hand over his lips, obscuring the blood-curdling cry Kid would have otherwise unleashed.

Tears rushed down Kid’s cheeks. Kinzer thrust his pelvis back and forth, his cock rough against Kid’s dry hole.

Kid thought his insides might explode, and yet, it left him wishing it were even more painful.

All he could think about was the pain, and that was wonderful.

He pressed his ass even closer to Kinzer’s pelvis and threw his hand back, pulling Kinzer’s face close to his ear. Kinzer breathed heavily against the back of Kid’s neck, grunting, groaning, as if taking out all his aggression and anger on Kid’s ass.

Kid kept trying to scream out, but as any sound leaked through Kinzer’s fingers, Kinzer would tighten his grip even more to block it.

Kid’s tears showered over the floor like the still-running streams of water coming from their abandoned showerheads.

“Fuck me harder,” Kid begged, his words nearly indiscernible under Kinzer’s hand. Every muscle in his well-toned body was tense, flexed. His face was red. The veins in his neck popped forward as he struggled with the pain.

Kinzer leaned back, effectively gaining leverage as he slammed into Kid’s hole, filling him, hurting him.

Kid pressed his hands against the wall, pushing as hard as he could, hoping to lessen the throbbing pain. As much as he wanted it, his body couldn’t handle it.

SLAM!

Kid recognized the sound. On the other side of the door, up a stairwell, there was a door the guards had to come through to get to the showers. It always made that same noise when it closed. Someone would be there in just moments. If Kinzer didn’t hurry up, they were going to be fucked…in a bad way.

He flipped his head to the side, slipping free of Kinzer’s hand.

“You have to come…now,” he grunted. “They’re gonna be down here in a second.”

Kinzer thrust his pelvis into Kid’s ass. The pounding quickened. Sharp slapping sounds echoed through the showers until Kinzer threw both of his arms around Kid’s chest and grunted.

Kid could feel Kinzer swell inside him. A warm stream rushed down his leg. His eyes rolled back as he basked in the pleasure and absorbed the pain.

CLICK!

Kinzer pulled out.

He swept down, retrieving the bar of soap he’d dropped on the tile. He hurried back to his shower, acting as if he was finishing up.

Kid limped to his side of the shower and collapsed onto the floor.

“You okay?” Kinzer asked.

“I’ll be fine,” he whispered, his body trembling.

The door burst open. Robb and Marzo entered.

***

Please let him be asleep, Kid thought.

Houses, inches apart, lined either side of the street. Mailboxes planted at forty-five degree angles pointed in various directions. On the side of one of the houses, a jigsaw hole in a brick wall opened into darkness. Before the wall, a line of bricks scattered across foot-tall weeds. Miss Greer sat on the porch of this dilapidated house, cats at her heels. She rocked in her chair as if she hadn't received notice to abandon the condemned property. Kid knew that she had, because he'd heard Mrs. Michaelson and Miss Lanser discussing it just a few houses back.

He walked down the street, his thumbs curled under his backpack straps.

The streetlamps flickered orange behind him, combating the blue of dusk.

Directly across from Miss Greer's house, shattered windows acted as advertising to the occasional squatter that the place was known for. Kid passed the broken-windowed home, walking up a barren yard toward a rusting trailer—white with a once gold streak across the center. It looked like an old faded flag.

Please let him be asleep, he thought again.

After school, he always snuck off to the woods and spent his time reading. He'd developed decent timing for when Daddy would pass out from his evening binge. Nothing pleased him more than seeing him fast asleep on the couch. It meant he could disappear into his room, read his books, and not have to worry about anything until the next day…when it started all over again.

He hopped up a set of peeling periwinkle-painted steps. The screen and the front door creaked open as he slipped inside.

Daddy sat on the couch, across from the TV. The familiar Jeopardy soundtrack and the scent of Budweiser and popcorn filled the room. Daddy's belly, stretching a faded blue shirt, rounded over his belt. His eyes looked shut.

Thank God, Kid thought.

He closed the door and crept through the hall toward the back of the trailer.

“Willy,” Daddy called out. “Willy-boy. Where you been?”

Kid turned around. Daddy's eyes glistened in the TV's blue light.

Kid tossed his backpack in his room and started in, hoping Daddy was too drunk to notice.

“Willy! You know I'm talking to you, little shit.”

Kid stepped back out.

Daddy undid his belt and unzipped his pants. His thick, semi-erect cock rolled under his belly.

“Come over here, Willy.”

Kid shook his head. He wanted to sneak back in his room and disappear, but he knew what would happen if he didn't comply. He'd resisted too many times only to wind up with a more severe pain than his submission would receive.

He slouched, walked over to the man, and dropped to his knees.

Daddy's glazed eyes stared into his. “You sneakin' off like your mama? You like gettin' fucked, too? Huh?”

Kid gazed at Daddy's now fully erect cock. He couldn't feel pain. He couldn't feel anything as he slid his lips over the head, like he'd done so many times before.

“You think you’re getting off easy, do ya?”

Daddy snatched Kid by the hair, pulled his head up, and yanked him to his face.

“You know what Daddy wants.”

He rolled over, swapping places with Kid. He drove his victim’s face into the cushion.

“Daddy, no!” Kid cried against the scratchy cotton fabric.

Daddy's hand reached around Kid’s jeans and undid the button. He exposed Kid's ass, stroking his erect dick in his crack.

“That's right. This is what you get for being a whore, you son-of-a-bitch.”

Kid woke, his heart pounding, sweat dripping down his face.

He glanced around his little room, eyeing the concrete floor, the cot beneath him, the thin sheet over his legs. As oppressive as this room was, in some ways, it protected him, reminded him that there was no way Daddy could ever hurt him again…except in his nightmares.