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Enunciate	By : FleshCutFlower Category: 1 through F > Faculty, The Views: 1339 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own anything to do with 'The Faculty', no monetary profit is made. This is all for fun, and fun only.

Chapter List
- 1-Enunciate
- 1
Casey’s breathing stopped when he felt the car stop moving. He couldn’t make out anything in the dark, half-empty trunk. Even with the boxes of videotapes, magazines and other contraband Zeke sold during school hours, he’d fit just fine--not that he took any pleasure in that. In fact, he was utterly horrified at what was to happen.

Whatever that was, he didn’t know.

It was well-known that Zeke didn’t have parents around, so Casey had figured that his plans would go off smoothly. No lights in Zeke’s house had been on, and with him living in an area full of older people, Casey had the advantage of working in almost complete darkness with no night owls to witness his acts. But he should’ve known better. If Zeke was a phantom at school--someone you barely noticed was around until he was right in front of you--then being in his territory at two a.m., presuming he was asleep? Casey barely remembered how he‘d gotten here, or when Zeke had had the time to tie his wrists together before closing him in. ‘I’m a f-fuckin’ id-idiot.’ Even Casey’s thoughts stuttered with fear. Adrenalin flowed like a tsunami in his veins as the GTO’s engine stopped rumbling, followed by the sound of heavy footsteps in gravel. A pause followed. Casey swallowed, closed his eyes and slowly withered and died having to wait through the utter silence surrounding him.

His heart jumped to his throat when keys clinked and turned the lock of the trunk; when it opened, the only thing Casey could make out was Zeke’s tall, dark silhouette against the night sky. Before Casey could react, Zeke reached in, grabbed Casey’s bound wrists and pulled at them with a violence. Casey broke his silence in a howl, sending it echoing into the sky. He needed to attract attention to himself; if there were houses wherever they were, they’d certainly come a’runnin’ with the fuss he’d kick up.

But again, that was a ridiculous thought, proved when Casey was finally dragged out of the trunk and onto his feet. He whipped his head from side-to-side, searching for something, anything; lights in windows, other cars, playground equipment, anything, but there was nothing but a field of tall grasses lined with thick forests and a long-ignored cornfield, blocking any view from possible nearby streets. A pebbled dirt path was underneath; Casey was forced to stand straight and walk over to the driver’s side of the car. With violent intent, Zeke grabbed the back of Casey’s neck and shoved his upper half down to face the driver’s door.

“You did that,” Zeke said.

“Did what?” Casey defiantly replied, even though he could see the dents and scratches he’d made through the darkness surrounding them.

“What does is say, Casey? Hmm?” Zeke asked. He gripped Casey harder, making the boy’s eyes bug out. “C’mon. You can read. Spell it out for me. And enunciate.”

Sniffing and coming close to hyperventilating, Casey parted his lips. “B-U-T-T-F-U-C-K-E,” he finally, quite clearly and loudly, replied.

“Didn’t get the chance to finish it, huh? What was gonna come next?”

“An R.”

Zeke’s breathing became heavy, nostrils hissing with anger. “You could’ve done this on my locker. Or on a bathroom stall: ‘Zeke Tyler is a buttfucker’. I might not have even caught you doing it--fuck knows I hate that hellhole,” he said. Casey grunted when Zeke pushed him down, making him land on his knees, hard. Zeke crouched to get to his level, his hot breath washing over Casey’s cheek. “But no. No. You decide… to fuck with my car.”

“Seemed like the thing to do,” Casey said. If he was going to die tonight, he’d prove he had balls before the final blow. He still couldn’t help the yelp when he was thrown backwards, landing on his back. Gravel dug into his bound hands behind him as he tried his best to squirm upwards, but he was a fish out of water without the use of his arms. Zeke sauntered over slowly, eyes set on the fallen boy before him. Without warning, he drew back a foot and kicked Casey’s side, hard enough to make Casey cry out in a sharp wail.

“Now I know why those jocks kick the living shit outta you. It’s fun,” Zeke said.

“You… already f-found that out this af… afternoon,” Casey said between gasps and chokes.

“I didn’t kick the shit out of you this afternoon.”

Casey fought back the paralyzing fear to roll onto his side and push himself up halfway with his elbow. Zeke wasn’t making another move to attack, but he didn’t know which was worse; Zeke continuing with the kicking and shoving, or the way he just stood there, watching Casey’s fight to sit up. “No. You just stood and watched,” Casey said.

“What was I supposed to do? Tell Gabe to stop washing your hair in a toilet? Sorry, Case. I don’t stick up for anyone, and you KNOW that.”

“You LAUGHED. I h-heard you. You laughed,” Casey practically spat out.

“So did everyone else. And?” Zeke coldly replied.

“‘Everyone else’ is allowed to. You’re not.”

Zeke made a derisive chuckle as he finally moved to Casey. He crouched down again and took the boy’s chin to lift his head up to face him. “I’m not? Says who, you? Why?” he asked. When Casey fell mute, Zeke shook his head and continued on in a light, airy voice. “Silly boy. You think cos’ I haven’t smacked you around that I’d stand up for you? Lemmee make one thing clear: Zeke Tyler doesn’t stand up for nobody TO nobody. Those dumb fucks could beat you, kick you and pants you ‘til kingdom come, and I wouldn’t bat an eye. Know why?”

Casey took a few quick breaths before asking, “Why?”

“Because if you can’t spit back, you ain’t worth my attention. I’d go so far as to say that you like it when they get all rough n’ tough with you.”

‘Spit back, huh?’ Casey thought. Fine. Casey pursed his lips and did exactly that, sending saliva spraying over Zeke’s face. Zeke flinched but kept staring at him, eyes narrowing. “Fuck. You,” Casey said.

“NOW you’re tough, cos’ you think I’m ‘not as bad’ as the rest of ‘em. Even though I’ve dragged your ass to the middle of nowhere in my trunk. Okay.” Zeke stood up slowly, wiped his face with his hand and looked down on him. “Maybe I wouldn’t have had to do this, but see… I once beat the Christ outta this kid when he gave my fender the teeniest, tiniest bump in traffic. And that was an accident, not on purpose. You had intent. You wanted me to either take the bus on Monday to spare any embarrassment, or show up with the word ‘buttfucker’ carved into my baby’s paint job. That’s earned you some serious fucking repercussions, you little bitch.”

“Yea? Like what, tough guy?”

Zeke snickered and went around Casey to his back. The sound of a knife opening made Casey go shock-still. ‘Oh my fucking god. He wouldn’t…’ he thought. He expected the sharp blade to cut into him, perhaps carve out the word HE’D tried scratching into the GTO--into his skin, this time. Instead, he felt Zeke grab his wrists and the knife sawing at the coarse ropes binding him. His hands were soon free, flopping out to the ground and at Casey’s side. In an instant, Casey jerked up, intent on standing in a flash and running out into the night. If there was one thing he did better than the rest, it was run like his ass was on fire. But he wasn’t quick enough; Zeke grabbed his arm and pulled it, sending Casey flat again. He, too, was lightning quick, unfortunately, at least when it came to apprehending his victim. All Casey could do was swallow and try to breathe as Zeke pinned Casey down at the waist, using his own opened thighs to do so. The knife was brought up, gleaming prettily in the minute amount of starlight. Zeke’s smile shone like diamonds as well; he gripped the hem of Casey’s t-shirt and brought the blade to it.

“Go ahead and scream if you feel like it. This is my ‘private place’, where I can do anything I want,” he said as he began slicing the fabric of the shirt, tearing it from belly to neck in one long line.

“Hey… h-hey, stop it!” Casey said, screaming out the words, indeed.

Zeke said nothing as he swiped his hand over Casey’s chest, pushing the fabric to the side. The knife returned, this time hovering over Casey’s nipple. “Want me to cut it off?” Zeke asked. All defiance and toughness left Casey in a snap, absolute terror replacing it all when the sharp tip began swirling around the tightened nub.

“No. N-No, please…” he said. Zeke took a deep breath and watched his hand moving around and around, the blade scraping over sensitive skin. Even with the fear of impending death, or at least Zeke’s taking away a few ‘trophies’, Casey’s jaw shook and his body reacted. Zeke’s grin went wicked.

“Don’t tell me this is turning you on, Casey-boy,” he taunted; he squeezed his thighs tighter around Casey’s waist, which caused his ass to press against the growing erection Casey wore. “You sick fuck. You LIKE this. I shoulda known you would.”

Casey closed his eyes and turned his head to the side, trying his best to escape what was happening. I really liked breakfast this morning. Dad makes the best fried eggs. I got a A-minus on my math test, I should’ve studied harder. I really liked the way Furlong’s pants were so tight you could make out the shape of his dick, he’s impressive, Zeke’s got the knife by my bellybutton, oh fuck…

“Maybe you WANT me to be a ‘buttfucker’, huh, Casey?” Zeke said. The cool metal scraped against the denim waist of Casey’s jeans now, Zeke bringing his other hand up to rest at the button and zip. “Maybe you’d like to lose that pathetic virginity right here and now.”

It didn’t matter if Casey had taken a few glances at Zeke’s backside over the years. Not here on a patch of dirt and dead grass, not now, in the middle of the night where no one could find his bruised, abused body in the morning. “No, Zeke,” Casey said in a surprisingly calm voice. “Don’t. Please.”

“Why not? With your lil’ attempt at ‘detailing’, I’ll take what I can get. Your dick’ll be in the way, but I can ignore that--especially if you’re on your stomach. Get on it.”

“Get…” Casey opened his eyes now to stare up at the glower-smile Zeke wore. “On wh-what?”

“Your stomach, dumbshit,” Zeke said.

“I--”

“It’s either that or we get back in the car, I drop you off at Mommy’s then go home to report you to the police. Now… how the hell would your parents take that? Hmm? Their lil’ golden-boy, running off into the night to vandalize someone’s car? It ain’t no piece of crap, y’know.” Zeke paused to nod towards the vehicle. “I paid up the nose for it--it’s a classic. The price-tag for your bullshit would have Mommy and Daddy scrambling to make their mortgage payment this month.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Even if Casey deserved SOME kind of ass-whipping, this wasn’t fair. “I… I’ll pay for it, I promise…”

“With what, dumbass? Your allowance?”

“I will! It’ll take some time, but I p-promise--”

“It’s cops or a quickie, Casey. I love either option; which one’s more appealing to you?”

Casey’s chest trembled with halted, wheezing breaths. His mother and father’s wrath would be insurmountable. They expected Casey to be the best of the best when it came to everything--school, behavior and the lack of a police record. He doubted they’d believe that he could do anything like this, but Casey was the worst liar that had ever lived. He’d never be able to answer, “No!” if they asked if it was true, not without shaking and acting highly suspicious. If anyone could read him, it was his mother, and she’d shit bricks over this. His father would most likely get the belt. After that, Casey would be locked in his room for an indeterminate amount of time. Perhaps they wouldn’t let him go to the Art Institute in San Fran, as he’d begged and pleaded for for months now. They were on the cusp of saying, ‘All right,’ he knew it. This would change all of that.

Casey’s eyes filled as he made a solemn nod and moved to get on his side. Zeke moved up to allow Casey movement; with a few shimmies, Casey was in the position Zeke wanted, stomach flat on the ground, head buried into the pillow he made out of his arms. The boy said nothing, choosing to breathe in the dust below his face.

“Undo your button and zip.”

Going puppet-like, Casey pushed his ass upwards to reach underneath him, all to follow Zeke’s command. Once through, Zeke grunted, took up the waist of Casey’s pants and underwear then made one violent tug downwards, exposing Casey’s ass in full. Casey felt cold grasses surround his cock, sending a sharp shock through his groin, his stomach, all the way to his flushed face. Even with the Spring chill, Casey’s body turned into a furnace, especially when he felt Zeke’s hand at the small of his back. A light hum thrummed in Zeke’s throat as he moved lower, until his hand rested on one rounded cheek.

“Such a pretty boy. I’m gonna love this,” Zeke said. “Yea. You’d make a nice street-corner piece of ass. Guys’ll pay top dollar for what you’ve got.”

“Just FUCK me already, get it over with!” Casey bellowed. The words tightened his throat and he choked on tears. “G-God, just--”

He didn’t have the chance to say anything more as the strangely-gentle swooping hand left then came back down in an unforgiving smack--then returned, then returned, slapping Casey’s ass repeatedly and with as much violence as Zeke could put into it. Casey squirmed and squealed, legs going straight and heels kicking into the air. “ZEKE!” he screamed as the assault went on, his position leaving him completely helpless. He was going to feel this--Zeke was making sure that he’d be noticeable every time he tried sitting at his desk. Tears exploded from his eyes and he wailed; three slaps more and Zeke stopped everything. Crickets chirped and sang night songs, peepers joining along. A breeze came through and rustled the cornstalks, white noise filling the air. Warm breath met the side of Casey‘s face, lips brushing his ear; he stilled.

“You were going to let me fuck you,” Zeke whispered. “You were actually going to let me fuck you.”

Casey wanted to retort that he didn’t have a choice--but he had. Take his lumps, or give his ass up to keep this ‘secret’ between them. In the end, he couldn’t come up with any sort of reply. He lay there, feeling as dried up and dead as the cornfield next to them. Zeke sighed, moved to a kneel then stood. Casey dared to turn his head and watch as Zeke lit a cigarette, his usual casual, unbothered demeanor returning.

“I’d stick around, but I’m really fucking tired. Have fun walking home.”

Blinking wildly and immensely confused, Casey pushed himself up with his arms and tried standing. His legs had gone jellylike, but he finally managed it; Zeke wasn’t kidding around, however. As Casey fought to put himself together and follow Zeke, the older boy got into the driver’s seat, shut the door and started the car. “Wait--wait!!” Casey yelled, but Zeke didn’t listen. With a roar, the car was put into drive and it sped away, bumping along the dirt road. Casey started to run after it, even if he knew it was futile. “ZEKE! Where… where the fuck AM I??” he yelled.

No reply came. Casey wheezed and came to a stop when the GTO made it to the end of the long pathway, turned right and disappeared. Casey’s current situation and state left him feeling hollow. Looking down, he saw the opened button of his jeans, the torn shirt hanging by threads at the neck. Exposed. Casey couldn’t find the tears, however, not now. ‘Now’ consisted of finding his way to whatever road they’d traveled on, to whatever part of town they’d come from. Resigned to his fate, Casey pulled the shirt over his head and off, tucked it into his pocket and went down the road where Zeke had gone. At least the bastard had given him a small hint, and Casey had the feeling that debts had been paid; that this wouldn’t be talked about on Monday. He hoped, anyway.
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