scare him? Wouldn't spitting make them do something much more nasty?
Curly ground his foot into Cory's instep, and Cory bit back a shout of pain. He could try to keep from blubbering like a baby, at least.
Rocko looked at his watch. “Are you meeting your girlfriend this afternoon, dogshit?"
“Leave her alone,” Cory said, without thinking.
Curly and Angel laughed, one right into each of Cory's ears.
“I think he's in love,” Angel said.
“I think he just wants to fuck her,” Curly said sagely.
“I thought that's what you wanted to do,” Angel said.
“True,” Curly agreed.
“Does this make you feel tough, three against one?” Cory said.
“No,” Angel said. “But it's more fun this way, and I usually feel pretty tough anyway. Do you think I couldn't kick your ass on my own?” He ground down with his foot, and Cory couldn't stop himself from yelping.
“Well, we don't want you to keep you from meeting Miss hockey-sticks-and-sunshine,” Rocko said. “So we'll get this over with and then let you go.” He paused. “Punch him in the bladder a couple of times, first, let's see if we can make him wet himself."
Cory clenched his teeth. Curly hit him just above the pelvic bone, and it made a sharp bolt of pain jolt through him, but he kept control of his bladder.
“That's a little too close to his dick for me, man,” Angel said.
Curly scowled.
“Fair enough,” Rocko said. “I guess it doesn't much matter, anyway. Bring him over.” Rocko walked to the far stall, the one that was always out of order, that didn't flush properly. He pushed open the door, and a horrible stink wafted out. “We all took turns filling the pot,” Rocko said. “There's some shit, and some piss, and some more shit."
Cory started to struggle then, wrenching his arms as hard as he could. Curly and Angel grunted and held on tight, dragging Cory across the floor toward the stall. Knowing he couldn't break free, Cory opened his mouth to scream—and Rocko shoved a wad of balled-up toilet paper in his mouth, making him gag. “Shut up,” Rocko said quietly. “I can keep you from screaming—you see that, right? So no one's going to come help you. I'm going to take that toilet paper out of your mouth, and if you try to bite me, I'm going to do something a lot worse to you than I already have planned.” He grinned. “I want your mouth cleared out, so you can taste my shit and piss in there, but if I have to, I'll keep you gagged. I'll just swish the next wad of paper around in the toilet bowl first. Can you be quiet?"
Terrified, helpless, Cory nodded. Rocko reached to pull out the paper.
Blood , Cory thought. The thought came with nothing else, no context, no mental referents, but he acted on it all the same, biting Rocko's finger.
Rocko jerked his hand back with a hiss, and Cory saw the flecks of bright blood on his forefinger. “You shit!” he cried. “God damn you, I'm going to get you for that!"
Something welled up in Cory when he saw the blood—words to be said, certain movements to be made with his fingers, and a strange twisting in his mind. He didn't know where the impulses came from, but he followed them, because he somehow knew his salvation lay that way.
Everything blurred. His vision dimmed, and he felt as if he'd been dropped down an elevator shaft, a sensation of things whipping past at high speed. Turnaround , he thought. An interval of time went by—he couldn't be sure how long—but when he came back to his normal awareness, things had changed.
Rocko was kneeling before the filthy toilet, his head inside the bowl, and Cory had his foot pressed down on the back of Rocko's neck. He stumbled back, horrified—what had he done? He'd only wanted to get away !
Curly and Angel were leaning against the wall, bleeding from split lips, looking groggy. “Fuck,” Angel said, his voice slurred. “That's some kind of kung-fu shit."
Rocko lifted his head, and turned to look at Cory. The things smeared on
Curly ground his foot into Cory's instep, and Cory bit back a shout of pain. He could try to keep from blubbering like a baby, at least.
Rocko looked at his watch. “Are you meeting your girlfriend this afternoon, dogshit?"
“Leave her alone,” Cory said, without thinking.
Curly and Angel laughed, one right into each of Cory's ears.
“I think he's in love,” Angel said.
“I think he just wants to fuck her,” Curly said sagely.
“I thought that's what you wanted to do,” Angel said.
“True,” Curly agreed.
“Does this make you feel tough, three against one?” Cory said.
“No,” Angel said. “But it's more fun this way, and I usually feel pretty tough anyway. Do you think I couldn't kick your ass on my own?” He ground down with his foot, and Cory couldn't stop himself from yelping.
“Well, we don't want you to keep you from meeting Miss hockey-sticks-and-sunshine,” Rocko said. “So we'll get this over with and then let you go.” He paused. “Punch him in the bladder a couple of times, first, let's see if we can make him wet himself."
Cory clenched his teeth. Curly hit him just above the pelvic bone, and it made a sharp bolt of pain jolt through him, but he kept control of his bladder.
“That's a little too close to his dick for me, man,” Angel said.
Curly scowled.
“Fair enough,” Rocko said. “I guess it doesn't much matter, anyway. Bring him over.” Rocko walked to the far stall, the one that was always out of order, that didn't flush properly. He pushed open the door, and a horrible stink wafted out. “We all took turns filling the pot,” Rocko said. “There's some shit, and some piss, and some more shit."
Cory started to struggle then, wrenching his arms as hard as he could. Curly and Angel grunted and held on tight, dragging Cory across the floor toward the stall. Knowing he couldn't break free, Cory opened his mouth to scream—and Rocko shoved a wad of balled-up toilet paper in his mouth, making him gag. “Shut up,” Rocko said quietly. “I can keep you from screaming—you see that, right? So no one's going to come help you. I'm going to take that toilet paper out of your mouth, and if you try to bite me, I'm going to do something a lot worse to you than I already have planned.” He grinned. “I want your mouth cleared out, so you can taste my shit and piss in there, but if I have to, I'll keep you gagged. I'll just swish the next wad of paper around in the toilet bowl first. Can you be quiet?"
Terrified, helpless, Cory nodded. Rocko reached to pull out the paper.
Blood , Cory thought. The thought came with nothing else, no context, no mental referents, but he acted on it all the same, biting Rocko's finger.
Rocko jerked his hand back with a hiss, and Cory saw the flecks of bright blood on his forefinger. “You shit!” he cried. “God damn you, I'm going to get you for that!"
Something welled up in Cory when he saw the blood—words to be said, certain movements to be made with his fingers, and a strange twisting in his mind. He didn't know where the impulses came from, but he followed them, because he somehow knew his salvation lay that way.
Everything blurred. His vision dimmed, and he felt as if he'd been dropped down an elevator shaft, a sensation of things whipping past at high speed. Turnaround , he thought. An interval of time went by—he couldn't be sure how long—but when he came back to his normal awareness, things had changed.
Rocko was kneeling before the filthy toilet, his head inside the bowl, and Cory had his foot pressed down on the back of Rocko's neck. He stumbled back, horrified—what had he done? He'd only wanted to get away !
Curly and Angel were leaning against the wall, bleeding from split lips, looking groggy. “Fuck,” Angel said, his voice slurred. “That's some kind of kung-fu shit."
Rocko lifted his head, and turned to look at Cory. The things smeared on
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