Spammer by Anel Viz

“Spammer”

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(Author’s note: In keeping with the theme of Internet spam, I have not given the main character of this story a name.)

2. Coming of Age

Over the next year and a half the messages from his secret admirer became more explicit. He rushed to open them and read them over and over, drooling. But he never responded.

When Norm turned eighteen, the guys at the plant threw a big party for what they billed as his “spammiversary”.

“No big deal,” he said. “I can’t wash it down with a beer for another three years.”

“Maybe not, but there are other things you can do now.”

Norm accepted the invitation to come over and read the emails from the secret admirer in Spamtown USA. He lived upstairs in a two-bedroom duplex, one of which he’d turned into a computer room, reached by a flight of stairs alongside the house.

He showed off his equipment, proud that he kept up to date with the latest technological innovations. He opened his email and clicked on the folder where he’d stored the messages from the man who’d been hitting on him. By now there were hundreds.

“You saved them?”

“For you, sprout. Have been ever since you said you wanted to read them.”

“That’s real nice of you, but I didn’t mean all of them. Holy crap, how many are there anyway?”

“God only knows!”

“And you still haven’t answered them?”

“Would you?”

“Hell, yes. Just out of curiosity.”

He showed him some of the more recent, juicier messages, and watched the bulge in his pants grow as the kid read on.

“Boy, this stuff is sick!”

“It’s you who’s been sending them to me. Am I right?”

“Very funny! Hey, you meant that, didn’t you? You coming on to me?”

“Just a suspicion.”

“So whatcha doin’ hanging with me all the time if that’s what you thought?”

“’Cause you’re a neat guy and I’m not hung up about what other guys like to do in bed.”

“Like hell! I seen you looking at my crotch!”

“Got you hard, didn’t they?”

“What of it? That don’t mean nothing. Faggot!” He hauled off and slugged him, knocking out two teeth.

“You little punk!” If he backed off now he’d look like a wimp, and a queer wimp to boot, and the punch in the face had only made him more determined to get into Norm’s pants. Christ, he’d been waiting two years for it!

He lunged at him, knocking him to the floor. They struggled, both of them rock hard. In no time he had the kid’s shoulders pinned to the floor and was sitting on him, straddling his hips, while Norm looked up at him, panting.

“OK, you little twerp, let’s see what you have to show!”

Norm didn’t move while he unbuckled his jeans, unzipped his fly, and pulled them down to his knees.

“Not bad. I’ve seen bigger.”

“How much bigger?” The kid had a defiant, I-dare-you look on his face.

He answered by pulling his own cock out of his pants. “You like?”

He never dreamed it would happen that way, and he’d dreamed about it a lot. Forcing himself on someone wasn’t his thing, but suddenly he liked it, it excited him. It made for a welcome change after years of pretending to be straight.

Why not call it by its name? He raped him.

Norm didn’t fight it. His throat dry, he held back the tears that pooled in his eyes. He would not give him the satisfaction of hearing him plead. He opened his mouth when told to and let him roll him over without a murmur, didn’t struggle when he moistened his hole with saliva. And then the pressure and that terrible stretching. He heard him say, “Relax your buns – I don’t want to hurt you,” and let his body go limp.

The boy ground his hips back into him and stayed hard the whole time. But it was still rape.

When they’d finished, Norm hitched up his pants and said, “This ain’t happenin’ again.”

“That’s up to you. You know I can do whatever I want to you, and that’s good enough. But you liked it, didn’t you?”

“No.”

The kid walked slowly to the door, a trifle bow-leggedly, he thought. Then he turned and said sheepishly, “You won’t tell anyone about this, will you?”

“If you can keep your mouth shut, so can I.”

“Shit, if anyone found out what you done to me...”

“I said, I’m not telling.”

“You better not.”

“I’m not scared of you. Or haven’t you figured that out yet?” As Norm reached for the doorknob, he added, “If you start avoiding me at work, people will wonder why. Think about it.”

Norm nodded.

He felt he should say something kind after what he’d done. “You’re a very handsome guy.”

“Thanks,” he mumbled, his voice expressionless.

He listened to Norm’s footsteps on the outside stairs after he’d closed the door behind him, at first slow, then faster, almost racing down them.

“He’ll be back,” he told himself.

Posted: 09/05/08