Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Sexual Material, story meant for people over 18.  Why are you loitering? 
Damn kids.  When I was your age I knew where I wasn't wanted.  And I
thought I said to stay the hell off of my lawn?



   The In Your Ass Secret Society part 2 by Alexi92



   That's when I joined the IYA.

   I had spent the rest of the day in my office.  It was really the
basement, but I had set it up with a desk and a computer.  And the fax
machine.  Can't forget the fax machine.

   I was in there trying to figure out what I was supposed to do with my
wife.  It was hard.  It was just too insane a situation to think
rationally. That's when the fax came in.  It didn't say much, just "Don't
call the police.  Meet us at McDonalds, 5th and Jefferson, 2:00.  We can
help."

   I don't know why I went.  Fate, destiny, not having a clear head after
my wife was gang raped.  Anyway, I went.  I was greeted by a guy eating one
of those crappy cheeseburgers.  We sat down in a booth away from the
windows.

   He was pretty straightforward about the whole deal.  Yes, the IYA was
known for randomly shoving objects up women's asses in public.  But
apparantley they also had a secret military organization that went around
punishing evil doers.  Evil doers being the people who had turned them into
cuckold husbands.

   Basicly it was a bunch of guys whose wives had cheated on them getting
revenge.  I said as much, keeping my voice down so no one else in the
restraunt would hear me.  (Turns out I shouldn't have bothered.  Every
customer there was in the IYA.)

   "Not really," the guy said.  "Some of our wives were made into sex
slaves by rather abusive individuals.  Usually through blackmail.  Some of
them were raped."

   That one made me wince a little.  But he went on.  I think, now that
I've been on a couple recruitment drives myself, that he was going by some
script he had written.  It all came off as a little false.  There are some
guys in the IYA who recruit new members like they're selling a car.  The
really good recruiters speak from the heart about the joy of paying back
the bastards that fucked their wives.

   "And yes," he admitted, "some of our wives were sluts who fucked around
on us behind our backs.  But it's not about our manhood being taken from
us. It's about justice.  Someone fucked around with something that's ours.
We have to make it right."

   Sounded good on paper.  Also sounded like it was a bunch of guys who had
been emotionally castrated compensating with violence.  He knew I was
thinking it, hell, he was probably thinking it too.  Like I said, his spiel
sounded a little fake to me.

   We were pretty quiet for another ten minutes or so.  I was afraid to get
up and he had no idea what to say.

   What finally interupted the silence was his pager.  He checked it and
got up.

   "Come on," he said.

   "What?"

   "I've got something to show you.  Then you can decide if you want to
join or not."

   We left McDonalds and got in his mini-van.  I hadn't been expecting
that. I thought he was going to drive a SUV or a sports car.  The windows,
back windows, were all tinted though.  I peeked into the back seats and saw
why.  There were more weapons in there than I had seen my entire life:
guns, knifes, and something that looked like a bazooka.  There was also
some pretty high tech spy equipment.

   At first I thought he was going to take me to the IYA inner sanctum.  No
such luck.  I recognized the route, we were going back toward my house.

   We stopped in front of my house, across the street.  Fear stopped my
heart.  There were motorcycles parked in my front yard.  Four or five, I
didn't take the time to count.  The guy pushed me into the back of the van.
He came back with me and handed me some headphones.  I put them on and a
tidal wave of shouts attacked my eardrums.

   "Fuck yeah bitch!"

   "Shit this asshole's tight!"

   "Bitch's so hot."

   "Like that cunt?"

   "MM..Oooooh god!"

   That one was my wife.  She was getting raped again.  I picked up one of
the guns from the van's floor but the guy's hand gripped my wrist.  I
looked over at him, he shook his head.  He was wearing a pair of headphones
as well, listening to what I was listening to.

   "You love that, don't you bitch."

   "Ngh..  Oooh...  Ohhh."

   "Bet your old man can't give it to you like this."

   "Hell, her old man's dick probably ain't big enough to fuck a Cheerio."

   "Heh, yeah.  Hear that bitch?  Your old man's cock's too little for a
cunt like this."

   "Little cock hungry cunt.  Lovin' this ain't ya."

   "Mmm.  Yes.  Give me your cock."

   The fuck?  I looked over at the man from the IYA, he gave me a sad look,
like he'd heard this kind of thing before.  Rape was the furthest thing
from my mind.  She was enjoying this.  The gun fell out of my fingers.  I
listened to the rest of it in a daze of pain.  I heard them make fun of the
size of my dick and my wife agreeing.  I heard them command her to do them
analy, orally, and ways I still haven't figured out.  I heard her eagerly
comply.

   I waited in the van for an hour before they finally got tired, hopped on
their bikes, and left.  Even then I didn't move.  I just sat there, dazed.

   The guy next to me spoke up.  "Actually it probably does have something
to do with emotional castration.  I mean not to put too fine a point on it,
but those guys just took something that modern philosophy is claiming to be
more important than the covenant, than god, and warped it to such a degree
that you'll never be able to expierience it in the pure form it was
intended again.  Now tell me, doesn't that make you want to go out and kill
people?"

   I nodded.  It did.  It really did.  But it couldn't have been as bad as
I was imagining.  Nothing could have been that bad.

   I must have been talking out loud because the guy said, "Want to bet?"

   He opened the van door and we walked across the street to my house.  I
stopped in front of the open door, trying to brace myself for what I might
see.  He pushed me in.

   My wife was lying naked on the floor, licking cum off her fingers.  The
stuff literally covered her body.  And a lot more of it was spilling out of
her ass and cunt.  Linda was in some sort of euphoria.

   Didn't do a lot for my self confidence.

   The guy coughed.  My wife looked up startled, I think she thought it was
one of the bikers come back for a quickie.  She saw me and her face fell.
Fear?  Surprise?  Disapointment?

   "H-honey, it's not what you think.  I'm in the gang."

   Oh that explained everything.  Yes completley.  What the hell was that
supposed to mean?

   "In the gang," I said.

   "That's why I've got the tattoo.  I passed the initiation so now I get
to be one of their whores."

   Later I would learn that the initiation involved a long procedure where
every gang member fucked my wife in the ass and had their dick cleaned off
in her mouth.  Then when everyone had been in her anally they took her
blindfolded to a farm.  She was then made to crawl on all fours until she
came upon an animal.  Once she found an animal she was to take it in her
mouth and swallow all its cum.  She had found a pig.

   Of course I knew none of this.  What I did know wat that my wife had
said she "got to be one of their whores." "Got to be", she considered it a
privellage.

   "I still love you," Linda said.  And for some reason I believed her.  It
sounded sincere.  But then, so did what she said next.  "But I belong to
the gang now.  Maybe if you're lucky they'll let me fuck you some time. 
But until they give me permission I can only fuck someone in the gang. 
Sorry."

   She just seemed so god damned happy.

   I'm not really sure what happened next because I was knocked out.

   When I woke up I was in the complex, or rather the medical bay.  A
medical technician had a kid named Leroy show me to my room.  As we
traveled through hallways and corridor, over scaffolding and bridges, I
took notice of my surroundings.  The place seemed like a military
organization, almost a little too much so.

   Leroy filled me in.  The IYA Society had headquarters in every state. 
Every HQ housed about five hundred active members and their families, all
of which maintained HQ.  The only people housed in a HQ were trainees and
professionals.  Trainees were people like me who needed to be taught the
basic skills required for the IYA.  The professionals were men who couldn't
get jobs because their wives had effectivley humiliated them to a point
where normal employment was impossible.

   "See the family thing is a little screwed up," Leroy said.  "If a pro's
wife can be rehabilitated to a point where he can trust her again she
usually lives with him in a domestic capacity.  If his wife can't be
rehabilitated, if she stays a slut, then special arrangements have to be
made.  Some guys put them in the pen, kind of like a big jail for wayward
wives.  That's on level eight.  Other guys get their wives locked up in
their living habitat, like some sort of fucked up pet."

   A woman walked past us dressed in fatigues.  I asked Leroy if she was
one of the cheating wives.  He laughed.

   "Nah man, she's one of the dykes.  See after a point we began asking
dykes to join if their lover was cheating on them too.  We figured we'd be
fair, find vengence for everyone a woman cheated on.  It's fucked up too,
because the dykes who join up are more sadistic than the guys."

   He dropped me off at my quarters, which turned out to be bigger than I
thought.  It was like a small one bedroom apartment.  Nice.  Inside there
was all sorts of reading material.  There was a pamphlet entitled "Coping
with a Cheating Spouse" that was filled with some shit about forgiveness.
Forgiveness, yeah fucking right.  Linda had voluntarily become the whore
for a biker gang, forgiveness was just what we needed.

   The other pamphlet started off with "If you thought the pamphlet 'Coping
with a Cheating Spouse' was full of shit you belong in the IYA." I read it
very carefully.  It reiterated that the IYA was an organization devoted to
punishing cheating wives and their accomplices.  But also that the
organization was about rescuing enslaved wives and girlfriends, punishing
rapists, and rehabilitating the victimized women.  There was also a section
about how the organization helped the men get over any insecurities they
might have about their wive's sudden overwhelming expierience compared to
their own.

   The next day I began the two week training session.  It wasn't too hard.
I mean, fuck, it's not like we were trying to become the marines.  We just
learned basic procedure, martial arts, and how to shoot guns.  We were told
if we wanted to specialize that we'd have to take extra classes.  I ended
up taking some classes in knife work.

   After a month I was judged ready to go out on a mission.

   To be continued...  ------------------

   I just want to say two things.  1) I did not proofread part 2 before
posting it.  I will eventually, but that day is not today.  Could you say
that I don't take pride in my work?  You could say that but, short of
paying me money, I don't see a way for anyone to change that.  2) I will
take short break before I continue this story.  In that time I hope to
write a story that follows up both "the Baker's Wager" and "the Wolf
series".

   feedback is appreciated.  Send comments to...

   aaalexi92@yahoo.com

   Most of my stories are archived at /~alexi92