Warning: This story is unsuitable for minors and contains
explicit descriptions of sexual activity considered taboo (and
illegal) in most (if not all) jurisdictions. If such activity
offends you, please DO NOT read any further. I do not condone any
illegal activity and stress that this work is fiction, fantasy,
and in no way meant to reflect reality. Sexual abuse of minors is
a very serious issue and I encourage anyone tempted to engage in
such behavior to seek help immediately.

Title: Madness (tentacles, alien, m, b, dark) 
Date of Latest Update to This Story: 12/20/16

Dear Reader: Thank you for taking the time to read my work. If
you wish to drop me a line, feel free. My email address is
(CreepingDawn@protonmail.com) and I look forward to hearing from
you. Additionally, proofreading is not one of my better skills so
if you find errors you believe impact the story's readability,
please let me know. Offers to proofread will be welcomed with
open arms.

Without further adieu...

...................................................

8:34pm Eighty Boys and Coach

The bus trundled along the winding and rocky cliffs deep in the
mountains of Colorado, it's faded yellow and black sides adorned
with large banners reading "State Champions" and
"Congratulations." Though the sun had set hours earlier, the
brightly painted words stood out against the darkness as if
defiantly challenging the void to try and smother the precious
life that was celebrating so raucously within the cold metal
frame. The boys, packed tightly within the school bus, were loud
and rambunctious and full of energy. Why wouldn't they be? They
had just won the state wrestling tournament!

For those in high-school, of which there were thirty-six, this
tournament was the end result of a year long struggle to improve
and grow and compete. Few had given them a chance but, through
individual effort and a great deal of teamwork, the boys had
become a solid unit which together earned first place at the
tournament by a comfortable margin. Many of the boys hoped to
pick up a college scholarship in the next couple of years (for it
was a relatively young high-school team) and several were already
making plans for summer workouts.

For those middle-school boys, of which there were twenty-nine,
this experience was the first step in what they hoped would lead
to a competitive and successful high-school career. Like their
older counterparts, they too had put in a great deal of time and
effort and reaped the rewards of a comfortable first place
victory. Moreover, the fact that they were able to travel with
the high-school boys was a great thrill as many of them admired
and looked up to the older students. And to have those older
students cheer them on during the combined
middle-school/high-school tournament was an even bigger delight
for the youngsters!

For the fifteen assorted third, fourth, and fifth grade boys who
were invited to go on the trip this weekend because they
expressed an interest in wrestling when they reached
middle-school, this trip had been a great deal of fun and a
wonderful learning environment. Most were determined that they,
too, would one day wrestle and were actively enjoying the
comradely with the older boys as the bus sped down the dark
roads.

For the coach, who was actually driving the bus, this ride home
was a bit chaotic. Unfortunately, there had been no time after
the tournament to have the boys shower and the bus was filled
with the pungent aroma of adolescent sweat and grime and other
such signs of intense exercise. The boys were rowdy, talking in
loud voices and jumping up and down constantly. Some were talking
quietly in groups while others were shouting loudly about aspects
of the tournament. Many were still in their wrestling uniforms,
the thin material clinging to their developing bodies, while some
of the more immodest boys had slipped off their shoulder straps
so as to sit bare-chested or, in the case of a couple of the
boys, slipped off their uniforms altogether to sit in their jock
straps. The coach almost told them to put their clothes back on,
especially when he thought he saw a couple of flashes of teenage
nudity somewhere in the back and remembered that he had quite a
few grade-schoolers in his care, but he reminded himself that it
was just boys being boys and there really was no harm in it.
Besides, his mind was busy going over the tournament itself, a
tournament that both validated his choice of profession and left
him with a burning desire to start a wrestling dynasty. Trophies
and awards and acclamation danced through his head as he began to
formulate a plan for next year. These thoughts, jumbled together
in the man's brain, caused him to be a bit inattentive to the
road and it wasn't long before he accidently missed his turnoff.
The bus, warm and loud and full of life, hurtled through the
darkness, none aware that the road below was old and abandoned
and leading deeper into the mountains.

.................................................................

9:13pm Eighty Boys and Coach

Stalled. The damn bus had stalled. The damn stupid bus had
stalled in the middle of a long tunnel deep in the mountains of
Colorado, clearly off course, and surrounded by darkness. When
the coach first drove the bus into the man-made tunnel a few
minutes ago, a pitch-black maw that drudged up nightmares
aplenty, he thought the lack of light incredibly unusual. Why
would a tunnel be dark? Where was maintenance or highway patrol?
What the hell was he paying taxes for if the state couldn't keep
the power on? Sighing in frustration, he had continued forward
with his headlights on full blast and his knuckles gripped firmly
on the wheel. Tomorrow, he thought to himself, he would call
somebody and complain!

And then the bus had stalled! Here, in the middle of this tunnel!
At least, the coach thought wryly as he continued to check his
instruments, the battery was still working and his internal and
external lights were keeping the darkness at bay. Looking out the
windshield, he could see (perhaps) fifteen feet in front of him
before the darkness swallowed the light. Sitting back, he ran his
hand threw his hair and grunted. Great! Just fucking great!
Checking his cell, which of course had no reception under a
mountain, he stood up slowly. He'd have to find a call box and
get a tow truck out here. The parents, he thought for a second,
were going to raise hell when this was over. Turning to face the
students to explain what was going on, he realized that none were
actually paying attention. Instead, several dozen conversations
were filling the bus with sound and none of the eight to
seventeen-year-olds gave a damn that they were now motionless or
lost. "Fucking kids," he muttered to himself, reaching under the
driver's seat and snagging the flashlight. Turning on his
emergency blinkers, he slid open the door and slipped into the
darkness. There should be a call box pretty close, he thought, as
he chose a direction and began to walk. Yeah, he'd get the tow
truck out here soon and then all would be well.

.................................................................

9:21pm Eighty Boys

All was not well. Over the last few minutes, more and more of the
boys realized that Coach was no longer on the bus and, in fact,
the bus was not even moving. "When had that happened?" many of
the boys wondered. Looking out the window into the darkness,
quite a few gave a small shiver as they realized that the only
light available came from the bus itself. Oblivion lay beyond.
Many of the boys began to check their cell phones in the hopes of
calling home (just to check in, they rationalized, and not
because they were scared!). None had reception. Though
conversations continued and platitudes were exchanged about how
"lame" it was that they were stuck or that they'd be "moving
pretty soon," an undercurrent of fear began to rise throughout
the enclosed space; especially in the youngest boys.

Quite suddenly, the power ran out and, with a shuddering cry like
a dying beast, the bus ceased to provide the comfortable and
life-assuring light that had been the bulwark against the night.
Darkness crashed in, causing many of the younger boys to shriek
in terror and the older boys to curse in alarm. Pitch-blackness
had swallowed them whole.

Within a few heartbeats, dozens of cell-phones were turned on and
spots of light began to appear throughout the bus, calming the
agitated boys and reminding them that all was not lost. Surely,
the coach would be right back. Surely, the police were on their
way. Surely, nothing bad would happen.

For the next few minutes, the boys huddled (in a totally
masculine and non-gay way) together, their eyes peering out the
windows for any sign of salvation. As they did, quite a few of
the older boys felt the small bodies of the eight and
nine-year-olds squirm into their laps or wedge themselves in
between seatmates so as to be surrounded by their older and
braver counterparts. Oddly, the all boys eyes seemed to be
adjusting to the darkness because, as time ticked forward, the
dark became less and less oppressive. In fact, it almost seemed
as if something else, not quite light but not quite darkness, was
replacing the abyss. This otherness was both comforting and a
little unnerving. To the astonishment of all, the darkness soon
began to retreat and the otherness, a kind of sub-light with
pinkish overtones, surrounded the bus full of boys.

But what started off as a slow and gradual change suddenly became
an onslaught of the unknown as the darkness was banished and this
new actor, now clearly pink and full and radiating an almost
organic warmth, bathed the awed boys in a dim rosy light, their
cell phone screens losing the battle with the unknown force as
the bus was cast in the strange and unsettling hue. On the one
hand, the boys could now see the inside of the bus without
difficulty, though everything was viewed as if through a
rose-colored lens. On the other hand, the pinkness outside was
aggressively visible, as if the bus had been wrapped in slightly
opaque pink tissue paper that glowed benevolently while reminding
those inside that they were trapped.

.................................................................

9:48pm Eighty Boys

The general theme of the bus-wide discussion for the last few
minutes could be summed up as "What the FUCK is going on and what
the FUCK is that shit?" Two significant developments played
important rolls in the current conversation.

First, once the "PINK," as the boys were calling it, had seemed
to settle and was neither growing weaker or stronger,
fifteen-year-old Jason Andrews had decided to try and leave the
bus. When he opened the door, he, and the rest of the boys, came
to a startling revelation. A solid wall of PINK barred his way,
much as one would find a solid wall of snow if one opened up
one's front door after a massive snowfall. Summoning up his
courage and touching the unknown substance, Jason discovered that
the PINK was like a thin membrane that contained a very
liquid-like substance just beyond it. He poked and prodded the
jelly-like membrane repeatedly but, despite his best efforts,
could not seem to bypass the barrier. Quite effectively, he and
his classmates were trapped on the bus.

The second revelation came a short time later when
thirteen-year-old Miguel Rivera, who was sitting just behind the
driver seat, discovered he could no longer see the hood of the
bus. This was incredibly important to Miguel because, when the
darkness first faded at the PINK's arrival, he had felt a great
sense of comfort at being able to again see the bus's hood
ornament. Now, though, the ornament and almost everything up to
the windshield were gone. Alerting those around him, several boys
watched in sick fascination as inch by inch, the front of the bus
began to disappear. It was as if the PINK was subsuming or...
digesting... the front of the vehicle. This revelation led to a
great deal of panic until a few of the boys pointed out that
neither the back nor the sides of the bus, which were obviously
in contact with the PINK, were disappearing. Still, as the hood
and then the windshield wipers and then the glass itself
dissolved into the membrane of the obviously advancing PINK, the
boys began to retreat in shock and fear.

.................................................................

9:57pm Eighty Boys

The windshield was long gone. So was the steering wheel and the
drivers seat and the front door. Instead, only inches from the
first row of seats, a solid wall of PINK stood as executioner in
front of the terrified boys. Several had released the window
safeties in back with the hopes of creating an escape route but
the PINK, pressed against the bus, refused to let the sliding
glass fall and the boys remained trapped. Before despair could
take everyone, though, Miguel, who had been watching the PINK
very closely, discovered that it had effectively stopped. It was
no longer progressing! "Hey! Hey, it's stopped! It's stopped!" he
said loudly, smiling in relief. Standing up, he walked carefully
over to the wall of PINK and bent down. Sure enough, it was no
longer creeping forward. Standing up, he turned to the bus full
of boys and said, "I don't think it's moving. It seems almost
like..."

Miguel didn't finish that sentence because something behind him
suddenly pushed him slightly forward. He heard his schoolmate's
gasp and, looking down confusedly, he saw that three things were
wrapped around him - one around his waist, one around his right
shoulder, and one around his left leg. They were a sort of pastel
blue, their own incandescent teal light at odds with the pinkish
light of the PINK itself. They reminded him of jellyfish
tentacles or bright blue eels swimming in a sea of pink, their
flesh smooth and slippery and slightly warm against his shoulder
and knee. Miguel looked up and opened his mouth to say something,
not quite sure what, when the BLUES (as convenient a name as any)
suddenly gave a powerful jerk and pulled Miguel backwards. In the
blink of an eye, his back was pressed firmly against the PINK
membrane and, before he could even shout, he sunk into the
substance as it rushed around him. To the absolute shock of his
classmates, Miguel was pulled about a foot into the PINK and, as
the forces equalized out, the membrane suddenly rushed past him
to reform the solid wall while Miguel found himself floating in a
sea of liquid PINK.

His eyes wide open, he could see his classmates clearly and they
could see him. Now on the other side of the membrane, a part of
his mind wondered why there was no distortion effect like there
would be if one was staring at someone from underwater. Then, as
that realization crashed down upon him, he began to struggle! He
was surrounded by liquid! He was going to drown! The boy thrashed
and shook and fought to get back to the membrane but the BLUES
held him firm. In fact, several more wrapped around his body to
hold him steady. He could see the alarm on his classmate's faces
as they obviously shouted to one another, though no sound
penetrated the PINK. His best friend Donny Cleaver, whom he was
seated next to, even rushed up to the membrane and began to try
to reach him. It was no use. As Donny punched and clawed at the
slick membrane of the PINK and as Miguel tried desperately to
reach the safety of the bus, his burning lungs finally gave out
and he inhaled the liquid PINK, a part of him resigned to drown.
He did not. In fact, as the liquid of the PINK poured into his
lungs, the super-oxygenated substance quenched his burning desire
for air and as he heaved the liquid in and out, he felt himself
calm. It was strange, no doubt, to breath a liquid but was not an
uncomfortable feeling. In fact, after three breaths, he noticed
that the only real difference between breathing the liquid and
breathing the air was that the liquid required only slightly more
effort.

"Wow" he said aloud, the sound muffled in his own ears but clear
as day within the bus. The vibration of his voice, though
difficult to understand while within the PINK, flowed into the
membrane which vibrated at such a frequency to amplify his voice
a great deal and allow his classmates to hear him perfectly.

"Miguel! Miguel! Are you ok? Guys, help me get him out!" cried
Donny as he continued to try to reach his friend. To their
credit, several of the boys came forward and began to search the
membrane for a weakness. Shouting as loud as he could, Donny
tried to get Miguel's attention but the captive boy heard none of
it - the PINK allowing sound to leave it but not to enter it.
Indeed, now that he was no longer drowning, Miguel began to take
stock of his situation. The PINK was warm and comfortable, with
the BLUES holding him firmly but gently. His eyes, though open,
were in no way discomforted by the PINK's liquid and, though
everything around him appeared very pink, as if he were floating
in pink jello, he found that he could see the bus rather clearly.
In fact, it was at that moment that he noticed Donny's mouth
moving as the boys worked unsuccessfully to free him.

"It's alright, guys," he said reflexively, realizing after he
said it how foolish he sounded trying to talk through water. And
indeed, from his perspective, his words sounded muddled and
muted. However, Donny and the would-be rescuers heard it as if it
were spoken through a microphone and all of them immediately
ceased working. The boys on the bus made eye-contact with the boy
in the PINK and, for several seconds, the two tried to
communicate. It didn't take long before they discovered that,
while everyone could hear Miguel, the captive boy couldn't hear
them.

Miguel had almost been lulled into a false sense of security as
he tried to communicate with his best friend while seventy-eight
pairs of eyes looked on. It wasn't until he felt an odd tingling
spread across his skin that he noticed something was wrong.
Looking down, he realized that his wrestling uniform, shorts, and
shoes were beginning to... dissolve. Indeed, as he stared in
shock, much of his exposed uniform, his shorts, and the outside
of his shoes fell apart, large holes expanding rapidly as the
material disintegrated. Within a few seconds, Miguel was wearing
only his socks and jock, which to his horror, also began to
disintegrate. "What the hell?" he said as the bands of his jock
snapped sluggishly and the crotch-piece drifted forward slightly,
exposing his boyhood before the plastic dissolved altogether. In
almost the blink of an eye, Miguel was de-clothed by the liquid
within the PINK. It wasn't until the boy began to mull over what
that mean that he realized that perhaps he might be the next
thing to dissolve. With that realization, Miguel began to
struggle anew towards the membrane, the BLUES holding him despite
his insistence to the contrary.

His friends must have come to the same conclusion because they
were now frantically trying to tear open the membrane to rescue
their naked teammate. It was their look of concern that prompted
Miguel to struggle even harder, especially when a few more BLUES
seemed to latch onto his exposed body. Several BLUES wrapped
themselves around his arms lightly, pulling them up above his
body as if he was hanging by his wrists and making his smooth
armpits vulnerable. Two more slid along his legs and forced them
apart, bending his knees slightly and pushing them closer to his
chest. Despite his struggles, Miguel could do nothing as the
BLUES tilted him back slightly, his boyhood and butthole exposed
only a foot from the membrane and at eye level with his
teammates. As his creamy brown flesh was parted, Miguel cringed
at the thought of his privates on full display to the boys on the
bus and, indeed, many of them had the good sense to avoid looking
at the poor boy's junk.

Then, out of nowhere, a small thin BLUE wrapped itself around
Miguel's shriveled dick and began to tease the sensitive flesh.
Miguel began to harden. "Oh no" he thought to himself as his
boyhood engorged, the BLUE finding more and more flesh to tease
as it all of a sudden began to stroke up and down, pulling his
foreskin across his tingly mushroom head. His purple gland
suddenly became visible and Miguel let out an involuntary moan as
the warmth of the PINK sent a shiver of pleasure into his
cockhead. Shrugging off the nice feelings, Miguel tried to
struggle again but froze suddenly, his whole body seizing up as
he felt a BLUE swipe naughtily over his brown boypussy. Miguel
clenched his ass tightly, unsure what this obnoxious visitor
wanted but damned well prepared not to let it in. At that moment,
his three and a half inch boyhood achieved full rigidity and the
BLUE, which had circled the turgid flesh's circumference, started
to properly masturbate the boy.

"Holy shit" said Donny, echoing what most of the boys were
thinking as they watched Miguel try and dislodge the offending
BLUES while letting out involuntary moans now and again. In fact,
Miguel began to moan more and more as the BLUE at his backside
flicked and nibbled and stroked his virgin shitter while the
other BLUE pumped his hard boyhood rapidly. Then, Miguel gave a
startled squeal the BLUE behind him surged forward, it's
slickness forcing it's way past his clenched anal muscles and
entering his most private of places.

For Miguel, the feeling of the BLUE sliding against his rectal
walls sent a shiver up his spine and he groaned loudly, enjoying
the sensation while hating it at the same time. His friends were
watching him as these things jerked him off and... "Oh my god,"
Miguel thought a second later as the BLUE in his ass began to
pump in and out, "It's fucking me. I'm getting fucked!" At this
emasculating thought, a surge of anger swept through the boy and
he began to thrash violently. Unfortunately, this caused him
loosen his clenched bottom and the BLUE, suddenly finding less
resistance, plowed forward and began to fuck the boy in earnest.
This new fervor placed the BLUE right up against Miguel's
prostate and, as the boy began to rumble loudly, the BLUE started
assaulting that specific organ with abandon. Feeling the boy
tense, the BLUE working his cock sped up and this combination
sent the thirteen-year-old over the edge.

"OOHHHH! AHH!" he grunted, his voice loudly echoing throughout
the bus as seventy-nine onlookers watched him climax. His cock
sent spurt after spurt into the PINK liquid, it's off white
coloring forming a very visible trail as it left his throbbing
member. Like bubbles, his teenage cum spread out in front of him
and, for a moment, looked as if they would rise. Then, the PINK
came crashing down on the invading substance and, within moments,
the teenboy seed began to dissolve. As Miguel panted hard, the
BLUE in his ass still fucking him while the BLUE on his cock
continued to jerk him off, his cum sizzled and dissolved rapidly
into nothing.

"Oh Shit!" yelled one of the boys in the back in surprise. Having
been leaning against the side of the bus, the boy was unprepared
for the window to suddenly give way and dissolve. He jerked
slightly, his shoulder suddenly coming into contact with the wall
of PINK that had, at that moment, entirely eaten away the left
side of the bus. Other cries suddenly erupted throughout the bus
as the ceiling, back, and other side of the bus disappeared and
the PINK suddenly surrounded the boys without any sort of barrier
to protect them.

"Mother fucker!" another boy shouted as he scrambled towards the
center of the aisle, grateful for the moment that the floor was
still the floor. Others followed, pushing to get away from the
PINK that now surrounded them. In a matter of a few heartbeats,
the boys pressed together in the bus aisle and warily looked in
all directions. They were trapped in a tube of PINK, the only
obstacle between them and the abhorrent substance being the floor
itself and the many rows of now seemingly freestanding seats.
Questions and curses and exclamations of fear soon filled the
void as the boys, shoulder-to-shoulder and back-to-back, tried
desperately to figure out what to do next.

A booming cry startled everyone and those closest to what had
been the front of the bus turned their heads to see Miguel, his
body shaking in his second climax, buck and writhe as his sperm
flew from his body and into the PINK. The BLUES seemed to pay no
attention and continued their assault as his ejaculate, a smaller
load this time, began to sizzle once again. Miguel babbled
uncontrollably, his second climax overwhelming him. Now that much
of the bus was gone, his groans were echoing within the enclosed
space much more loudly and many of the boys actually covered
their ears to try and keep out the noise.

It was at that moment that the PINK finally ate away the floor
and every boy on the bus suddenly jumped up in agitation. The
seats, no longer bolted to a solid surface, stayed relatively
stable and the boys, to their surprise, found the membrane below
them soft and pliable but steady enough for them to walk on.
"Like a trampoline," thought several of the boys, yelling into
the cacophony like the rest of their bus mates but not so
overcome as to be completely incapable of observation. Indeed,
the now bus-shaped pocket of air, surrounded on all sides by
membrane of PINK, was filled with shouting and crying and curses.

Eventually, the noise inside the membrane was dimmed somewhat by
the repeated "No! No! No!" that Miguel was chanting outside, so
loudly amplified that it nearly drowned out everything else. The
BLUES were still working the poor boy over, his third orgasm in
minutes approaching as he wiggled and kicked and fought to free
himself. The pleasurable tide that was coursing through his
thirteen-year-old body was strong enough to pull him under. As he
squirmed, his hyper-sensitive cock begging to be left alone and
his ass twitching uncontrollably under the assault, he moaned in
unbearable pleasure. He needed release! He needed to be left
alone! He needed to cum!

In the meantime, a strange pink mist descended from the membrane
above the boys and, despite their best efforts, soon settled on
every surface within their prison. The purpose of this mist
became clear moments later when everything not organic began to
dissolve and the boys rapidly realized that everything but
themselves was in danger of disappearing entirely. This
destruction of the inanimate proceeded much more quickly that the
destruction of the bus and the horrified students watched as,
with each passing second, everything from backpacks to cell
phones to metal seats to shoes, pants, and shirts were consumed
by the PINK mist.

As the last articles of clothing dissolved, seventy-nine stark
naked boys shuffled away from each other self-consciously and
Miguel let out a loud "AYYYYEEEEEE" as he screamed his third
orgasm in twelve minutes, his cock shooting only a small dribble
of cum before the boy's seed dissolved into the PINK. His
strangled half-cry half-moan echoed ominously throughout the
enclosure as boy after boy turned his head to look at the poor
abused boy outside and the BLUES that were finally, thankfully,
withdrawing.

Before any could rejoice, however, a large appendage, this time
GREEN, slithered up behind the teen as he floated, exhausted,
just outside the membrane. The boys in the bus began to call out
to Miguel to watch out but the boy, so tired from his three
immense orgasms, had no idea the GREEN was nearly on top of him.
Then, in one lightening fast motion, the end of the GREEN opened
up and swallowed the boy's head, neck, shoulders and waist. It
was when the GREEN was shimmying down his thighs that poor Miguel
even realized what was happening and began to kick fleetingly,
his motions causing no problem and soon stopping as the GREEN
swallowed him whole. As the shocked students watched, the GREEN
slowly withdrew from their membrane prison until all they saw was
PINK.

Quiet reigned, broken only by the deep panting sobs of the
shocked Donny. His best friend, Miguel, was gone.

As everyone gave a sigh and many closed their eyes in silent
tribute, the quite that had settled on the seventy-nine boys was
broken by a sudden scream from where the back of the bus had once
been. As heads turned suddenly to seek out the source of the
disturbance, many suddenly cried out as Tyson Freemont, a
sixteen-year-old Junior and one of the oldest boys on the bus,
looked up in a panic. Several BLUES were sticking obscenely out
of the membrane and had wrapped themselves around the startled
boy. Before anyone could move, Tyson was pulled backwards
wickedly fast and soon found himself on the other side of the
membrane as more BLUES approached his vulnerable teenage body.

.................................................................

11:17pm Seventy-four Boys

Micah Smatters, a popular and well-liked eleven-year-old and one
of the leaders of the sixth grade class, screamed "NO! OH SHIT!
NO!" as the BLUE finally forced it's way past his clenched
sphincter and plundered his virgin boypussy. Like the five boy's
before him who had been taken, the BLUES had come from an
unexpected direction (the ceiling) and had plucked him from the
very center of the crowd. It had been sometime between when Tyson
Freemont and Bernardo Gutierez had been taken that the boys
suddenly became aware of the fact that the membrane on either
ends of the prison was now inching closer, forcing the boys to
get very close to each other or face rubbing up against the
dangerous PINK membrane. Though many of the boys were
uncomfortable rubbing up against each other, it was necessary if
they wanted to avoid the membrane! And boy did they!

It seemed an obvious pattern, though only six boys had been
seized as of yet.  The BLUES came for someone and dragged them
into the membrane. The boy struggled as if drowning before
inhaling the liquid and discovering he could breath. Then, the
boy was masturbated and fucked three times against his will,
leaving his bus mates to sit or stand within the enclosure and
listen to him scream and cry and groan and moan. Overall and at
their best guess, it took nearly fifteen minutes for each boy to
cum three times. Finally, as the BLUES released their chosen
victim, the GREEN came up and swallowed them whole, only to
disappear into the depths of the PINK.

Micah came hard, the BLUE in his ass pounding him vigorously as
the other BLUE wanked his three-inch pecker. "WHAT? OH WHAT? OH
NO NO NOOOOO!!!!" he cried as his body shook, his very first
orgasm ever sweeping through his body. Many boys looked up
through the ceiling to watch this particular climax, for Micah
was the youngest boy taken so far and many were wondering what
would happen if he failed to produce any cum. His climax was dry
as far as anyone could tell but that particular fact seemed to
matter little. Indeed, just as before, the boy wiggled and moaned
through his first orgasm as the two BLUES continued to molest
him.

"Do you... Do you think that was his first time," mumbled Anthony
De'Rozolo to his friend Michael Waterman as they watched the poor
boy thrash and listened to his high-pitched squeals. The two
fifteen-year-olds were sitting side-by-side on the outer edge of
the group, nearly touching the membrane and each wondering how he
could wiggle his way further into the crowd without being to
obvious. Not that being in the center had helped poor Micah...

"Yeah, probably. I mean, the kid's in sixth grade, right?"
responded Michael, pulling his eyes away from the sight and
staring off into the pink. "Shit, I was thirteen before I figured
out how to jack off."

"I was twelve. I remember because my dad had left a playboy in
his room and I found it when I was going through his closet.
There was an article about spanking it and I... well, you know."
Said Anthony.

"You read the articles? You're such a fag..." said Michael
halfheartedly. Several of the older boys chuckled quietly around
them, grateful for the little spot of humor. "Kinda sucks that
his first one was with those things, though, huh? I feel bad for
some of these kids, like him."

Sixteen-year-old Marcus Berry, who was only a few feet away and
listening to the conversation, pondered Michael's point. Though
Micah was still groaning above, the sound volume in the bus
seemed to have come down a bit after Tyson and Marcus found
himself able to hear the other boys' conversation. And Michael's
point about poor Micah was interesting. Mulling it over, he said
rather loudly, "It doesn't have to be."

Several heads turned to Marcus. "I mean, I know if I was, what,
ten, that I wouldn't want my first time like..." he waved towards
Micah, "that."

"What are you getting at, Berry?" asked thirteen-year-old Evan
Simmons, butting into the conversation.

"I'm only saying." Turning to one of the youngsters in fourth
grade, he continued, "Kenny, do you understand what's going on up
there? That Micah is cumming? Have you ever done that before?"
The nine-year-old, sitting between him and Evan, tore his eyes
away from the scene above now that an older kid was talking to
him.

Suddenly on the spot and not wanting to appear stupid, Kenny
answered a very unconvincing, "Uh, yeah. Course I do. The things
playing with his wiener. And his butt."

"And do you know what an orgasm is, kid? Cus that's what he's
having up there." Responded Anthony, suddenly understanding where
the conversation was going and strangely alright with it. After
all, if they were all going to end up in the belly of a GREEN...

"Yeah. I do!" said Kenny hesitantly. By this point, almost
everyone around was listening to the conversation and none
believed the little kid.

Taking a determined breath, Marcus reached over and grasped the
boy, pulling him towards himself and shifting slightly so the
nine-year-old was suddenly sitting in his lap. The dichotomy was
pretty extreme - the 6'1'' 176lbs black teen with the 4'4'' 61lbs
white boy suddenly snuggled up against him, one totally hairless
and smooth while the other had coarse dark hairs all over his
body and large bushy pubes.

Kenny shifted a bit, feeling the older boy's flaccid wiener
pressed up against the small of his back while the boy's big
strong hands and harms encircled him snuggly. For the first time
in a while, Kenny felt somewhat safe.

"Dude, you can't..." Evan started to say before Michael punched
him in the arm.

"Shut up Evan. Let him do this. Better the first time comes from
one of us than from those things." Michael hissed, having to
speak a bit louder at the end as, up above, Micah gave out an
earsplitting shriek and climaxed for the second time, his body
shaking uncontrollably.

When Micah finally stopped moaning, Marcus began. "Kenny," he
said, pointing to the boy's shriveled member, "this is your
wiener, right?"

"Duh" said Kenny, not sure where this was going exactly and
somewhat uncomfortable all of a sudden. Not only were a bunch of
the boys now looking at him and Marcus, but Marcus's hand was
really close to his boyhood. His mom and dad had always told him
that no one should...

"When your wiener gets hard and things rub it up and down, like
your hand, you have what's called an orgasm. Or a cum. That's
what those things are doing to Micah." Marcus explained, ignoring
Kenny's gasp when he grabbed the boy's tiny hairless cock. "See,
what I'm doing is called jerking you off. I'm going to help you
have a cum, ok?"

Sitting nearby, Michael added, "So that it isn't so scary when
those... things do it. Just relax Kenny."

"Ah, um, I, uh" Kenny mumbled as the older boy deftly tweaked his
wiener, causing new sensations to flood his body and his boyhood
to stiffen. "It's... It's getting bigger. It does that
sometimes." He said, unsure what else to say.

Marcus ignored the boy and continued to tease the small cocklett.
It certainly was different from when he jerked off his own
impressive seven-incher but, as the boy's little woody became
totally erect and his hand found a rhythm, Marcus reasoned it
wasn't so different. Nor was he particularly concerned with the
fact that he was now beating off a nine-year-old boy - Marcus
wasn't gay and he certainly wasn't into little boys but it felt
right to get the kid off before those BLUES did it.

And despite Evan's initial protest, none interfered as Kenny
began to groan and Marcus's hand began to speed up, sliding the
boy's foreskin back and forth across his sensitive glands while
the youngster's head rolled back and forth across his strong
chest. In fact, word quietly spread throughout the remaining boys
and many craned their necks to see just what was going on -
shocked at first at the sight of the older teen beating off the
squirming nine-year-old but reaching the same conclusions as
everyone else once the reasoning was proffered. Indeed, this
taboo act now almost seemed one of defiance against fate, a
challenge to the PINK that the boy's still had some ability to
control their own sex.

Quite suddenly, seventeen-year-old Jonathon Reeves, who was
almost at the other end of the group, made a decision and,
reaching next to him and grabbing eight-year-old Mikey Lane, he
pulled the third-grader into the same position Marcus had Kenny.
Very soon, many of the older boys were cradling the eight, nine,
ten, and eleven-year-olds and beginning to tease their rapidly
hardening pricks. The younger boys, totally unsure but trusting,
put up very little resistance. A few of the eleven-year-olds
successfully squirmed out of their would-be benefactors hands,
claiming they could "take care of business themselves,
thank-you-very-much," but, for the most part, the rising moans
from the sexually-innocent pre-teens began to fill the void.

With Micah above, his third orgasm in full force and crying "No!
No! No!" over and over again, Kenny was the first below to reach
his limit.

"Ah! Oh! Marc... Marcus! I gotta pee! I gotta pee! Stop!" he
cried, wiggling around while his hands clamped upon Marcus's
wrist and tried to pull the older boy away from the very funny
feelings quickly overtaking his wiener. Marcus kept stroking.

"No you don't buddy. Almost there. Just relax." Marcus chanted in
his ear, the big teen rubbing his other hand up Kenny's chest and
stroking the boy's nipples.

"UGGHHH!!! UUGGGHHHH!!!!!" grunted Kenny as his body went ridged,
his legs, which had been flailing about, suddenly stiffening
while his toes curled almost painfully. He threw his head
backwards into Marcus's chest and gasped, his orgasm rushing
through him powerfully as the teen's meaty hand flew up and down
his throbbing wiener. These new feelings were unexpected and
unimaginable - sure, he kind of understood what was going on
around him but to experience them was something else. He moaned
loudly, bucking his boyhood into Marcus's hand and, for the
moment, feeling the bliss of his first climax wash away the fear
of what was to come later.

One of the fourteen-year-old freshmen was the next to be taken a
few moments later and that new abduction prompted the rest of the
older teens to renew their efforts at jacking off the youngsters.
Soon, several of the pre-teens cried out in unexpected delight as
their bodies shook in orgasm for the first time, their innocence
lost but, in some ways, preserved and protected from the
insidious PINK and BLUES whose insatiable appetite was slowly
consuming their diminishing numbers. As Marcus listened to the
boys around him moan with their first cums, all while Kenny,
sweaty and limp, lay comfortably in his lap, he felt a sense of
smugness that he had spit in the eye of whatever monster had them
all in it's clutches. That satisfaction lasted only until the
wild BLUE forced it's way past the struggling fourteen-year-old's
clenched asshole and the boy yelled in protest - it was then than
poor Marcus's mind drifted to his own clenched rear and a new
sense of dread began to take hold.

................................................................

5:48am Forty-eight Boys

It was, without a doubt, the most trying night of the remaining
forty-eight boy's lives. Since the ordeal began nearly eight
hours earlier, both their numbers and the space of their prison
had almost been cut in half. Every fifteen minutes or so, the
damn BLUES would come through the membrane - none could figure
out a pattern as the direction always seemed random - and snatch
a boy. No matter how hard he fought or how many tied to help, the
doomed victim would be pulled through the membrane and forced to
climax three times, devoured moments later by a giant GREEN and
forsaken to whatever fate befell the lost.

This constant threat, as well as the exhaustion of each boy (for
none had slept at all despite the fatigue from the previous day's
tournament) created a sort of hypertension among the boys that
quickly developed into a sort of psychosis necessary to preserve
their sanity. Between the moments that the GREEN devoured it's
victim and the BLUES abducted another, all the boys would be on
edge - like trapped animals waiting for the predator to come
around the corner. Then, once a victim was chosen, the boys would
all relax and try to ignore the screams and moans of their
classmate being raped. As unkind as it sounded, in order to hold
against the overwhelming despair, the boys rapidly began to tune
out the happenings outside the membrane.

For many, this task was incredibly difficult. Those being taken
were friends and teammates; part of their community and, in many
ways, like family. Moreover, each boy recognized that, at any
moment, he himself could be the one abducted and forced to endure
those same horrors. In pitiful attempts to drown out the
oppressive noise of sex, some began to hum to themselves while
others put fingers in their ears - attempts they convinced
themselves were working while they denied being able to hear the
eight-year-old scream "NOOOOO!!!!" as a BLUE forced it's way
inside his tiny asshole or a fifteen year old cry like a baby as
his third orgasm in ten minutes was pulled from his unwilling
body.

Sometime around 3am or so, Marcus Berry attempted to buoy
everyone's spirits by singing. Though his song choice was Lil
Wayne, Marcus's deep and warm voice did have a soothing effect on
the boys. For many, already teetering on the edge, Marcus was a
brief respite and a chance to step away from the edge of the
all-consuming despair. When the BLUES came for him a half an hour
later, though, the tentative hope he embodied was smashed against
the reality of the situation and many, at that moment, gave up.
Marcus, perhaps as a plea to some higher power for mercy on those
left or perhaps as a final attempt to spit in fate's eye, refused
to cry out throughout his entire rape, despite a rather
pernicious BLUE jackhammering his vulnerable prostate and
seducing him to the three most intense climaxes of his life.
Luckily, little Kenny wasn't there to witness the ordeal - the
BLUES had taken him nearly and hour and a half earlier.

Just before 5am, Christian McManus, a rather large
fifteen-year-old, snapped. Reaching next to him, where his
longtime friend Gavin Cooley sat, he casually slid his hands
around his friend's unprotected throat and began to squeeze. At
fourteen and considerably smaller than Christian, Gavin gave a
startled cry before he began to struggle, his fingers clawing at
Christian's grip as the older boy, his eyes filled with sadness,
tried to end his friend's life before the BLUES and PINK and
GREEN could do so. At least, Christian figured, Gavin wouldn't
have to go through that horrible ordeal of being violated.

Lucky for Gavin, several of the boys responded and were able to
force Christian to release his grip - though the aggressor began
to exclaim "this was better!" and "please, let me finish!"
Christian was pushed to the edge of the group after that and,
though the big teen wept and cried and begged both for
forgiveness and to be allowed to finish his grizzly work, none
let him anywhere near Gavin or any of the smaller kids. To the
great relief of many, the BLUES came for Christian next and
everyone took a collective breath; Gavin especially, a bruise
starting to form on his neck.

Dillon Wesker, the thirteen-year-old moaning pitifully when he
was pulled through the membrane, had just lost his anal virginity
to a BLUE when Trevor White finally reached a decision. It was
now or never. Though he was fourteen, Trevor was petite and, if
truth be told, had only joined the team because his friend Andy
Baptiste was so enthusiastic about wrestling in high school. The
two freshmen boys had been best friends since kindergarten -
having spent almost as many nights sleeping at each other's
houses as they had their own and with no secrets between them.
Well, one secret. In the past year, as Andy had begun to notice
and talk about the girls in their classes, Trevor had begun to
notice his best friend in a clearly non-friendly manner. And, if
he was going to die here in this forsaken hell, he wanted
desperately to do one thing before hand.

"Um... Andy" Trevor whispered to his friend, their bodies pressed
against each other thanks to the limited space (not that Trevor
was complaining about that - it gave him a chance to stare at his
best friend's nude body when the other boy wasn't paying
attention).

"Huh?" his friend grunted, his eyes closed as he tried to imagine
being somewhere else.

Licking his lips, Trevor gathered up all his courage. "Dude, I
gotta tell you something."

"What?" responded Andy, not really paying attention.

"I'm... I... Um... I'm gay." His heart lurched in his chest and
his stomach dropped. Perhaps it was his imagination but, at the
moment he said it, Trevor could have sworn that there was a hush
that allowed his voice to carry throughout the space the boys
occupied. Not that it really mattered if anyone else heard him
say he was gay, of course, because... well, there were a lot of
other things to be worried about at the moment. Still, he shook a
bit at the fact that his best friend, and possibly several of his
classmates, now knew his secret.

Trevor laughed in a self-depreciating manner, cocking open one
eye and glancing over to his friend. "Oh, I got it. Did you tell
Kelly after she jerked you off?" He smiled, thinking about how
his best friend had gotten a handjob from Kelly Minter a few
months ago and playing along with Trevor right now. Trevor had a
weird sense of humor sometimes and, at this point, Andy would was
up for any sort of distraction to take his mind off of what was
going on.

"Oh... Um... I kinda made that whole thing up. I mean, she didn't
actually... I mean, she offered but..." Trevor stuttered,
remembering the lie he had told Andy in an attempt to make
himself seem manlier and less... gay. Trevor began to shake a
bit, his stomach doing summersaults as his nerves went crazy.

"Ok dude" said Andy with a grin, not really understanding the
joke but playing along. Then, he began to really think about what
Trevor had said and his smile began to fade. He didn't get the
joke. Normally, he'd get the joke. What was Trevor playing at?
Frowning, he said "I don't get."

Trevor felt his eyes water up and, ever so slowly, he inched away
from his best friend. This wasn't going well.

Andy's eyes suddenly got big. Trevor was shaking and... crying?
Trev couldn't be gay. He would have known if his best friend
liked guys, right? This was some joke, with a punch line he
didn't understand. It couldn't be...

"Dude... your not fucking with me, are you? Trev," he said
quietly, reaching out and punching his friend lightly on the
shoulder, "you're not a faggot, man. I mean... we've talked about
Kelly and Mellissa and..." Big fat tears began to pour out of
Trevor's eyes as the smaller boy looked away, his shame and
self-loathing evident to Andy. "Holy shit man. You're really gay,
dude?"

"Yeah..." whispered Trevor, his voice so soft that Andy almost
missed it.

Andy was a lot of things. He was kind of a jock. He thought
himself pretty cool. He secretly thought that all the girls liked
him and was eagerly trying to get Keri Madison to let him feel
her up. And, truth be told, Andy was slightly homophobic - quick
to joke about "faggots" and "queers" and more than willing to
look down on "homos" for all the nasty stuff they did with each
other. But Andy was also incredibly loyal and he loved his best
friend like a brother. Trevor... His best friend... A queer?
Andy's reality shook rapidly and, as the moments passed, his
worldview began to crumble. As Trevor pulled his legs up to his
chest and began to silently weep into his knees, Andy felt his
breath leave him and concern - true and real and deep - for his
friend swept through him. Fuck! If Trevor of all people could be
a faggot, then... Well shit! Reaching over, he slowly and
tentatively began to rub Trevor's back and, seizing the
initiative, pulled Trevor towards him and wrapped his friend in a
hug.

"Dude... It's ok dude... I don't care, man. Really." Andy said to
Trevor as he rubbed the other boy's back over and over in a
gesture of support. For the next few minutes, the two boys, still
hugging, whisper back and forth - Trevor relieved and overjoyed
while Andy was supportive and loving.

Pushing Trevor slightly away as the two boys laughed in
friendship, Andy joked, "Besides, it's not like you want to have
sex with me or whatever..." His eyes glanced downward very
briefly, perhaps subconsciously checking to make sure his friend
was not "into" him or whatever, and widened as he discovered
Trevor was hard as a rock, his five inch cock having reached full
height while the two boys rubbed together in their shared hug.
Shocked, Andy's eyes shot upward and, as Trevor tried to assure
him that particular concern wasn't necessary and that he didn't
like Andy "in that way," Andy, in a moment of insight, understood
the truth. Trevor like-liked him. Like, sex-wise liked him.

Cutting off Trevor's hollow placations, Andy interrupted "Dude,
what the fuck..."

"I'm sorry" Trevor said hastily, already feeling a wave of
despair washing over him. Andy had just accepted him and then his
traitorous cock had ruined it! "I promise. It's just I've never
done anything with another guy before and you were rubbing my
back and we're naked and..." Realizing how that sounded, Trevor
shut up. You fool! That sounds even worse!

Andy's mind was moving in many directions all at once. Trevor
wanted to have sex with him! That was the only explanation. Of
course, why wouldn't he? Andy was great looking and a total stud,
if he did say so himself. Of course, none of the girls had fallen
for his charms yet, but it was only a matter of time... or, at
least, it had been. In fact, he had been thinking just a few
hours ago how, if he was going to die now thanks to the GREEN's
outside, he kind of regretted not getting a blowjob or some pussy
before hand. Sure, his hand was nice but a blowjob or a fuck
would have been...

"Trevor" Andy said suddenly, interrupting his line of thoughts.
He cleared his throat once... twice... and looked his friend in
the eye. "Um... I was thinking earlier... I kind wish I had...
you know... gotten a BJ... before now... what with" he waved his
hand towards the wall, clearly indicating the situation they now
found themselves in. "Feel free to say... no... but you kind of
said that you had never done anything with a guy before and...
well... you kind look like you want to..." again, he waved
towards Trevor's throbbing cock.

Trevor was dumfounded. Was Andy saying what he thought Andy was
saying? Was Andy giving him permission to (gulp!) suck him off?
Luckily for Trevor, Destin Marsh, a twelve-year-old who was
sitting on the other side of Andy and had been listening in on
the entire conversation, couldn't take it any more and
interrupted. "Fuck Andy, you want him to blow you? That really
gay!" Several boys in the general area heard (and several had
been listening in already) and quite a few eyes suddenly turned
to the embarrassed Andy and Trevor, though none said a word.

"Fuck off, Destin" said Andy after he recovered from the surprise
that someone else was listening in. "This is between me and him."
Turning to his friend, Andy, licking his lips and wondering how
the world got to a place where he was about to utter these words,
said somewhat bashfully "You can, you know. If you want. Suck me
off, I mean."

That was all the invitation Trevor needed. If his friend was
going to let him give him a blow job, Trevor wasn't going to
disappoint. Giving Andy a nod, Trevor pushed away from his friend
slightly and attempted to lie down, though it was difficult as
there was little space available. He settled, a moment later,
somewhere between sitting on his knees and lying on his right
side, his right arm grounded for support and his head in his
friends lap. Slowly, his left arm drew closer to Andy's chubby
cock, Trevor's face only inches away from the organ that had
played a central role in many of his nightly masturbatory
fantasies. Oblivious to the now half dozen boys openly staring at
the scene, Trevor's index finger made contact with the flared
head of Andy's cock and, after the electricity of that feeling
passed, slowly skimmed across the sensitive head.

"Oh fuck!" said Andy at the feeling, his prick immediately
bouncing forward and growing thicker. Nobody had ever touched him
down there and the feeling of Trevor's finger gliding across his
flesh mixed with the boy's warm breath on his meat was simply too
good. It didn't really matter that it was Trevor down there.
Hell, it didn't really matter that it was a boy. At that moment,
as Trevor slipped his hot mouth over Andy's now leaking gland and
began to gently tease the piss slit with his tongue, Andy's head
rolled backward and he let out a loud moan. "OHHHHH
FFFUUUUCCCCKKKKKK!"

Trevor could sympathize. As his best friend's five-inch cock, now
totally hard, glided into his eager mouth and his friends flesh,
hot and salty and somewhat tasting of orange, ran over his tongue
and his cheeks and his lips, Trevor felt as if he and Andy were
alone in the universe. There was no longer and PINK or BLUES or
GREENS or even anyone watching. It was only the two of them and
Trevor, for the first time in a long time, felt unconditionally
happy.

And horny! Holy shit! Reaching his left hand down to his own
throbbing boner, Trevor eagerly began beating himself off. He had
Andy's cock in his mouth! Faster and faster he stroked himself,
feeling the lust swell inside of him. He began to bob his head up
and down Andy's pole as well, sliding his tongue over Andy's
sensitive prick head and eliciting moans of agreement from his
best friend. Feeling his own impending orgasm, Trevor released
his throbbing cock and brought his left hand up to Andy's swollen
balls, stroking them lightly but with vigor. "Shit! Shit! Dude!
Trev!" Andy grunted loudly. "I'm gonna cum! Oh shit! I'm gonna...
" Suddenly, Andy's eyes shot open and he looked down at his
friend who was busy going to town on his prick. That did it.
"AWH! AWH" he grunted twice, his muscles contracting. He tried to
warn Trevor but the sight of his friends black curls flying up
and down his member, the flesh wet with spit as it was devoured
repeatedly and slickly by Trevor's eager mouth, sent him over the
edge. "AAHHHHHH!!!!" he groaned loudly, his balls tightening at
that moment as blast after blast fired deep down his buddy's
eager throat.

Trevor came as well, his seed flying from his untouched prick in
several powerful blasts, coating his chest and Andy's legs. He
didn't care - the feel of Andy's cum going down his throat sent
the boy to the moon as he continued to bob up and down on Andy's
turgid member. Soon though, Andy, grateful and with a great deal
of care, pushed Trevor's head away and for a moment, their eyes
met. Though no words were said, Andy could tell how grateful his
friend was and Trevor could tell how... satiated Andy was.

A slight movement out of the corner of his eye distracted Trevor
for just a moment, the boy glancing briefly over his friends
shoulder. Five BLUES, hurtling thought the membrane of the PINK,
were coming directly towards him. No, he thought. Not towards
him. Towards Andy!

Using his legs, which were already under him, Trevor dove forward
awkwardly and, using his shoulders, chest, and arms, forced Andy
to fall backwards as the BLUES strafed towards them. "No!" he
shouted as the two teens fell backwards and Trevor suddenly found
himself surrounded by BLUES. The seized his shoulders and neck,
with one slipping behind him and grabbing a leg, before anyone
reacted. Andy, suddenly seeing his friend grasped by the
offending tentacles, gave a startled cry and tried to grab
Trevor. A few of the other boys, too, grabbed hold.

"Trevor!" Andy shouted as Trevor yelled "Andy!" For a moment,
time stood still and each boy realized that it was over. That
Trevor was about to be taken. Then, the BLUES gave an awkward
jerk and Trevor, off balance, fell forward, his naked chest
suddenly landing on Andy's chest as the two boys' heads almost
crashed into each other. Their eyes met and, in that moment of
recognition, of deep a friendship, years of loyalty, and profound
love, Andy's mouth darted forward and, before Trevor or the BLUES
reacted, he slipped his lips into Trevor's and kissed the boy -
sliding his tongue into Trevor's surprised mouth for just a
moment and tasting his own cum. For Trevor, it was the perfect
moment, unmarred by the subsequent few seconds of pulling and
yanking and cries from those around him.

As Trevor slid through the membrane, he smiled at Andy while joy
illuminated his face.

When his second cum in nearly as many minutes was pulled from his
body, he gazed happily at his best friend.

He cried out as his third cum was forced from him but deep down
remembered the blowjob and was grateful.

The fourth cum, for the BLUES were determined to achieve their
three orgasms despite the fact that it was Trevor's fourth in
fifteen minutes, was intense and painful and would have been the
most awful experience of his life but for the fact that he knew
he was loved.

.................................................................

4:56pm Twelve Boys

Though there were so few left - indeed, none remained over the
age of fifteen and none remained younger then ten (though
eight-year-old Billy Matthers was outside howling his way through
his third orgasm) -the prison felt tiny. In fact, the boys had
noticed that once their numbers dropped below twenty, the
membrane seemed to speed up considerably. Now, instead of sitting
together side-by-side in a cramped room, the space had become
almost womb-like and the boys lay across each other in a pile
like a group of exhausted puppies. Most would have found it
claustrophobic, with the ceiling so near and the sides pushing in
ominously, but the boys, having not slept in thirty-four hours
and having been subject to this most traumatic experience, found
it oddly comforting. Flesh rubbed against flesh, but, instead of
wondering about how "gay" it was, each boy was grateful for the
warmth and community of the others.

For the past hour and a half, the boys had been both catatonic
and full of energy. To move in any fashion was incredibly
difficult, their bodies exhausted to the point where simply
rolling over became nearly impossible. Their minds, however,
seemed to grasp that the end was near and the need to talk, to
communicate, to remember, became important. So, the boys lay in a
pile but jabbered away with each other, sharing their backgrounds
and their favorite classes and what they had hoped to be when
they left school. Moreover, they talked about life and it's
meaning and the world and it's burdens. They asked each other
questions and they shared their deepest thoughts. They also
talked about those already gone, sharing stories of their
teammates in honor of the missing. When one of them would be
inevitably snatched, the boys would, morbidly, wish them well and
best of luck. Though the group could still hear the moans as the
BLUES popped virgin cherries and the wails as the boy's outside
reached their second, and then third, climax, anyone outside of
the membrane became gone as far as those remaining were
concerned.

Hakeem Knute began to laugh hysterically when Marvin O'Neil, the
boy he was spooning, was taken. The two had never had a
conversation before today, Hakeem being fourteen and Marvin being
twelve. Now, though, he knew that Marvin liked tennis and, when
he was home alone, he would hide under his parent's bed because
the house kind of scared him when it was so quiet. Hakeem's
laughing turned into sobs when thirteen-year-old Anthony Higgins
lifted Hakeem's head and moved it into the younger boy's lap, his
right hand stroking Hakeem's forehead while Anthony made soothing
noises.

And that was how they spent their time. Comforting each other and
being comforted in return, the boys waited patiently for the end
to snatch them up while trying to hold onto the remaining time
left.  Despite the smell of the place (for it was filled with
many unwashed teenage bodies) and despite the fact that they were
all naked and rubbing against each other, none wished to give up
what "was" for what was "to be." Yet they each had to in the end,
the patient PINK waiting menacingly while the naughty BLUES
continued to plunder, depriving the survivors of body after body
as time ticked forward.

.................................................................

7:31pm One Boys

Caleb Adams was eleven-years-old. He was in sixth grade. Within
the last forty-eight hours, he had come in third place in his
weight class for the middle-school wrestling tournament. He was
one of those who, when one of the older boys had tried to
masturbate him hours earlier, had insisted he was good (because
he had discovered that particular joy several months earlier.) He
kinda-sorta had a girlfriend - Megan Clark - though they hadn't
even kissed yet. He had been worried about the math test that Mr.
Johnson was giving them on Tuesday, though that seemed pointless
now. His mother told him he needed to cut his hair, which was a
rather unruly chestnut brown, but he kept fighting her on that
point because, on principle, he was old enough to make that sort
of determination himself. He was glad he missed Michael Levy's
birthday party the other day because Michael was an obnoxious
brat whom he only hung out with because the kid had a great video
game collection. His favorite color was orange. He was excited
for the new Star Wars movies to come out. He really wanted to get
his hair cut, as he hated the length, but he couldn't because it
would be seen as giving in to his mother. It had felt really
awkward being pressed up against Fisher Hanson a few moments ago,
the PINK's membrane smushing them together like twins in a womb,
because the thirteen-year-old had had a boner the whole time
which had been pressing into Caleb's own crotch.

Now, he desperately wished for that awkwardness back, to cut his
hair, to go to the party, to kiss Megan, to take the math test,
and to jerk off one last time because Fisher was long gone and
the BLUES were coming towards him. Caleb cried out tiredly,
inhaling a moment later when the BLUES burst through the membrane
and, grasping him, pulled him through the substance and into the
liquid PINK.

Like the seventy-nine boys before him, Caleb felt like he
couldn't breathe and was forced to inhale the liquid after
holding his breath as long as he could.

Like the other boys, he soon discovered that he could breath the
super-oxygenized liquid without any problem.

Like the other boys, the tentacles began to tease him, their
slick flesh roaming his hairless body tweaking nipples and his
boycock and, after spreading his butt cheeks, his virgin asshole.

As had happened to seventy-nine other boys, he began to get hard,
his three-inch boner slowly stiffening at the stimulation

Caleb moaned, like those before him, when the small BLUE that had
wrapped around his cock finally began to stroke him, his foreskin
sliding deliciously over his sensitive boyflesh while the BLUE
jacked him off dexterously.

Caleb, as had many others done, gave a startled yell when, lulled
into a sense of pleasurable repose, the BLUE that was diddling
his pink little shitter suddenly penetrated him, its warm flesh
sliding seductively up his poop-chute as he squirmed at the
invasion.

As had happed to many before him, Caleb yelled "OHHH AYYYEEE!!"
and climaxed dryly while the BLUE on his cocklett flew up and
down his horny pole and the BLUE in his ass fucked him silly.

Just as none before got a reprieve, the BLUES continued to molest
Caleb even as he came down from his booming orgasm.

A short while later, with a BLUE still milking him furiously and
a BLUE sawing back and forth vigorously across his prostate,
Caleb, like many before him, climaxed dryly a second time -
squealing uncontrollably.

Gathering his strength as the assault continued, Caleb tried and
failed to dislodge the offending digits as they pushed all of his
sexual buttons and set him on course, as they had seventy-nine
other times, towards a third orgasm.

Mimicking those that had come before, Caleb thrashed and pleaded
and cried as his third orgasm approached, the BLUE on his cock
moving rapidly back and forth while stroking his member
authoritatively and, occasionally, using it's tip to flick and
tease his sensitive cock head.

Seventy-nine other boys had felt their third orgasm approach and,
just like them, Caleb began to groan as the mystical power that
was cumming began to swell in his boyhood - the BLUE in his ass
feeling impossibly thick as it fucked his once-virgin boypussy
hard and fast and powerfully, jackhammering the eleven-year-olds
tiny body and sending shivers of pleasure through his nervous
system.

Caleb's boygasm hit hard, swamping the kid as his body stiffened
and his muscles clenched. "AAAHHHHH!!!" he screamed, his body
shaking as if suffering from epilepsy. Unbeknownst to Caleb, his
tiny abused prostate finally got the proper signals and, as his
maturing balls released their cargo for the first time in his
life, his body began to ejaculate a watery babymaking boyjuice.

The climax seemed to go on forever as Caleb rode out the
vibrations helplessly, his body racked with the pleasure of
orgasm and the pain of cumming three times in nearly fifteen
minutes. Finally, mercifully, the BLUES began to retreat and it
was an exhausted, pliant Caleb the put up little resistance as
the GREEN quickly swallowed him whole.

................................................................

Some Time Later

Caleb felt, in a distant sort of way, pressure on all sides of
his body. It was almost as if everything around him was pressing
against him from many different directions at random times. No,
he thought hazily. Not random. There was a pattern. In fact, as
Caleb's confused mind tried to sort through the feelings, he
realized that he was moving - that the pressures were pushing him
along in a direction.

Then, quite suddenly, the world opened up and a bright light
forced Caleb to close his eyes tightly. Cold air hit him and,
before he could react, he felt many hands grab him and pull. He
cried out weakly when strong arms were wrapped tightly around him
and he was pulled free from the pressures that were releasing
him.

He thought he heard someone say that he was the last one. He sort
of thought he sensed people talking. He almost felt as if he was
no longer in danger but he could not be sure. Confused and
exhausted, Caleb tried to make sense of the world around him.

It wasn't until hours later that Caleb would learn that the thing
that had captured he and his classmates had been releasing them
in increments of fifteen-minutes or so for the past day in a very
remote valley well away from the nearest city. That the thing,
very massive and impossible to categorize, must have wedged
itself deep in the center of the tunnel they had been driving
through and that was how they had become it's victims. That, once
the first few boys started popping out of the creature, they had
set up a small base camp, set a fire (a few scouts among them),
and tried to take care of the boys as they were released.

When he was fully cogent, Caleb would learn that, once all eighty
boys had been released, the creature had taken off towards the
stars in a spectacular and aw inspiring fashion. No one would be
able to provide a good answer as to just what it was or exactly
what it wanted.

Days later, Caleb would be sitting in a hospitable bet with his
parents by his side. Several of the boy's had been able to find a
ranger station and, though the ranger was incredibly shocked to
discover eighty naked pre-teen and teenage boys, he had rapidly
taken control of this situation and contacted the authorities.
Caleb would eventually learn that their beloved coach was found
safely several miles away, having left the tunnel to find help
and having gotten lost.

Weeks later, Caleb would get the chance to talk to many of the
boys he'd shared the experience with and none would provide any
more answers than he himself could articulate. It seemed, they
would all explain to each other quietly, that they were just at
the wrong place at the wrong time. But, as time marched on, many
of the boys began to argue that nothing at all had occurred. That
there was no creature or PINK or BLUES or anything of the sort.
That the whole event had been some sort of grand illusion, some
mass hysteria or collective delusion.  Surely, they would argue,
the event was preposterous! Aliens! Ha!

Caleb wasn't sure what to believe, truth be told. He remembered
the events clearly, or, at least, he thought he did. He could
recall the feel of the BLUES as they stroked him and violated
him. He remembered the conversations between the boys as the
minutes turned to hours and they were forced to listen to the
moans and cries of pleasure emanating from just beyond the
membrane. He remembered the PINK. Yes... he certainly remembered
the PINK.

And yet... Several of the more vocal apologists claimed everyone
who believed aliens abducted them were simply mad. They claimed
that there was some trauma - a bus crash (for no one had ever
found the bus) or a virus or something - that caused the
delusions to take hold of those on the bus. And this
explanation... made sense. In fact, as time passed, Caleb began
to really question what he remembered. Perhaps it was true and
there was no alien, no BLUES, no PINK. Perhaps the whole
experience was the result of madness - a madness so profound that
his brain had to find a way to cope. Perhaps, in accepting that
madness, he had avoided some more terrible fate?

Was it mad to embrace the madness?