From: an138013@anon.penet.fi (Blackwind)
Reply-To: an138013@anon.penet.fi
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: BLACKWIND: Unlucky #13(mm,pedo,bd,rape,s&m,snuff)
Date: Fri, 4 Aug 1995 04:14:06 UTC
Organization: Anonymous forwarding service
Message-ID: <042308Z04081995@anon.penet.fi>
Contents: mm,pedo,bd,rape,torture,snuff.
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Another Exciting Adult Text File From:
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They said lightning only strikes once.
They were wrong.
Where there's THUNDER... there's LIGHTNING!
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WARNING: This text file contains material of an adult,
explicit, and extremely VIOLENT sexual nature. If you are
uncomfortable reading material of this kind, please delete
this file immediately. Under no circumstances is this file
to be read or poessessed by persons under 21 years of age.
=============================================================
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BBS Filename: Unlucky #13
Lewdness Level: Extreme
Classifiction: YoungStuff/Extreme Violence
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"UNLUCKY NUMBER 13"
By: Thunder
Contributions and Editing By Sammy Smegma
Craig Sommers was not looking forward to school. It
was hard to look forward to something you hated with a
passion.
It wasn't the schoolwork or the teachers -- Craig was
bright, and he did O.K. (he knew he could do better if he
tried, but chose not to -- and after all, why should he?),
and the teachers were O.K., too. It was all the other kids
that bothered him.
Craig was not like other boys. When he was very
little, he had been very ill, and thanks to this had
unluckily been misdiagnosed as retarded. In fact, he was
nothing of the kind -- if anything, quite the reverse --
but by the time anyone had managed to figure that out, he
had been placed with numerous "rehabilitation centers" and
special classes throughout his brief childhood, and from
these he had gained a totally undeserved reputation for
mental retardation. It settled around him like a blanket;
no matter where he went, kids picked on him and called
him "weirdo" or "retart" until there was scarcely a day
when he didn't run home after school, lock himself in his
room, and cry himself to sleep.
These experiences had had a profound impact on Craig's
personality. He was introverted and philosophical, and his
long experience with the cruelty of others had taught him
to be stoical in the face of pain and torment. In all, he
had seen more cruelty and injustice than most adults would
ever know in a lifetime, and this had taken a heavy toll;
despite his age -- he was only eleven -- he was the
youngest patient ever to be treated at the local mental
health center for clinical depresion. His parents tried to
help, of course, but how much could they actually do?
Craig was, quite understandably, a loner. Not that he
was shy -- he was quite comfortable around adults, who
were more apt to accept him at face value -- but he was
careful to avoid any contact with other children. When in
school, he studied alone, ate his lunch alone, and he
played alone -- preferably out of sight of the others.
Craig hated his present existence; he didn't want to
be called weird anymore, and he had long ago become
bittely weary of being constantly picked on.
And today especially, of all days. Rising out of bed
and dressing, he saw it was gorgeous day outside, warm and
sunny. The sky overhead was a bright blue; he could hear
the birds singing outside his window. It was late spring,
and one of the first nice days to come along all season.
Craig decided right then and there that he was NOT
going to go to school that day. He'd play hooky instead,
go off and have some fun. Enjoy the nice weather and feel
HAPPY for a change, instead of feeling sick all over at the
idea of going to school and having -- yet again -- to endure
the constant taunts and jibes of classmates who didn't know
half of what he did, and didn't care anyway.
As excellent as this idea was, however, there were
problems with it. The biggest one was that your choice of
destination was decidedly limited -- you couldn't go "Just
Any Old Where", you see, because if you chanced to meet
anyone you knew, you could wind up in a helluvah lot of
trouble. Fortunately, there was a solution -- the old
factory at the edge of town.
The factory had long ago shut down, the heavy equipment
removed, leaving only an empty shell that was also the ideal
place to play. Even though the town council had ordered it
locked up long ago, somebody had broken the lock at some
point, and the place had become a haven for kids to play in,
despite the warnings of their parents about how dangerous it
was.
With this in mind, Craig went to breakfast, ate, kissed
Mom good-bye, and left. Only instead of heading toward school,
he headed toward the old plant, and a day of games and fun
and...
His worst nightmare!
xxx
Mike DeBassi felt rather tense today -- then again, when
didn't he anymore? Traveling as often as he did, eating in
roadside diners and sleeping in lumpy motel beds was enough
to make anybody tense.
At least, he hoped, he'd find what he was looking for
here.
To look at Mike, you wouldn't have thought him anything
more than an average Joe, the guy next door. He was always
neat and clean, his face always shaved, his hair always
neatly cut. He never wore anything ragged or dirty, and he
was incessantly polite. It was, in short, the perfect
disguise...
Because underneath it all, he was a rabid, sadistic
pedophile with a taste for little boys.
Mike wasn't like other pedophiles, mind you. He didn't
"love" little boys... rather, he loved hurting them! It was
such great fun to him to rape and torture a young boy, then
to watch them slowly die, rather than to teach them "soft"
sex, which he personally found quite repulsive.
Town after town, Mike rarely failed to find a boy to
please him. He wasn't choosy -- any old boy he could get his
hands on would do. It wasn't so much the sex he enjoyed as
it was the pain, the domination, the sheer pleasure of
having control over such young, innocent and quite helpless
lives! So it didn't much matter what they looked like or who
they were; still, the better they looked to him, the more he
enjoyed what he did.
The town he'd come to recently was like so many
others -- quiet, small, the kind of place people didn't
lock their doors, where everyone knew everyone, whatever.
What HE liked about it were the kids -- they were all over!
And most of the time, he'd noticed, they seemed attracted to
one particular place...
It was an abandoned factory toward the edge of town,
the kind of place that attracted kids like a magnet. Big,
empty and old, it was ideal for games like War or Cops and
Robbers, a perfect place to play Hide and Seek.
Over the past weekend, he'd watched the place
carefully, hoping for an opportunity. Unfortunately, the
few kids he did see go in there were mostly in groups,
which left him feeling quite disappointed and only served
to heighten his agressions.
Luck, however, was with him Monday morning.
He'd been hiding nearby, scoping the place out, when he
saw a boy come wandering along.
He was a small kid, maybe four and a half feet, but not
quite five feet, tall. He wore a blue plaid button down
shirt that hung out over his belt (it looked to be a
hand-me-down, a bit big on him), and well fitting, slightly
faded jeans that looked to have seen a lot of use; the
ground-in dirt on the knees was all too apparent. His shoes
were plain, black basketball sneakers with dirty white laces.
Despite the loose fitting clothes, which were obviously too
big for him, he looked thin. Not concentration camp
survivor thin, but skinny, with just enough meat on his
bones to look healthy. Short, straight, sandy blonde hair,
and the brightest blue eyes Mike had ever seen, standing out
against the kid's light complexion, which in turn was dotted
with a good smattering of freckles. Beyond that, his face
was pretty much average, average nose, average mouth, but it
might as well have been the face of an angel to Mike.
He was carrying schoolbooks, Mike saw, but he obviously
wasn't going to school! Instead, the boy looked around and
hurried into the old plant.
"Playing hooky, eh?", Mike said to himself, his hard
cock forming a tent in his pants. "Wonder what your Mom
and Dad would say about that!"
Chuckling to himself, Mike stepped out of his hiding
place and looked around, making sure nobody saw him. Seeing
nobody else, he snuck up to the partly open door to the
plant and peered inside.
The kid had tossed his schoolbooks aside and was
running around, ducking behind I-beams, like he was hiding
from something; some sort of game, Mike decided. Good, he
thought, let him play -- it'll give me time to get ready...
and then he'd give him a REAL game to Play!
He ducked away and ran back to his car, hidden behind
some trees near the plant. Already he had a plan in mind,
one that had worked for him before. Shedding his own jeans
and flannel shirt, he pulled on a pair of blue pants and a blue
shirt -- actually a uniform from a service station he'd worked
at once -- from a duffel bag on the back seat and put them on.
He moved quickly, lest he lose his chance. Then, from the
duffel bag, he removed an old police badge he'd picked up in a
pawn shop once. The thing was old, probably something a
boozing cop or an old widow had sold for a few bucks.
Nonetheless, it served a purpose.
Now dressed, he grabbed up the duffel bag and headed
back to the plant, peeking inside. The boy was on his knees
now, drawing in the dirt with a piece of wood. Stepping back
quietly, Mike shoved the duffel into some bushes and
prepared himself, putting on his best Look of Authority.
The kid would never know what hit him.
xxx
Craig didn't see the man right away. He was busy
playing, pretending he was exploring the surface of Venus,
that the huge plant was a Venusian cave. Running to and
fro, he almost jumped out of his skin when the man called out
to him. He stopped dead in his tracks.
"Hold it right there, mister! You're are in a lot of
trouble, young man!"
Craig turned slowly, spotting the man standing in the
doorway. Uh-oh, he thought, caught!
The man was neatly dressed; his hair was cut short,
almost a crew cut, his face was clean shaven. He wore what
to Craig looked like some kind of police uniform; it was all
blue, pants and shirt, and he had a badge tacked to the left
side of his shirt.
Craig swallowed hard. Was he in some kind of trouble?
Likely he was! The man strode up to him, a very stern look
on his face. "This building has been condemned by the town
council", the man spoke, his voice echoing throughout the
room. "And on top of that, why aren't you in school?"
Craig swallowed hard again. His mother would kill him!
Still, he stood his ground, trying very hard to
think of a way out of this.
"Um, are you a cop?", he asked. "If you're a cop,
where's your gun?"
"I'm not a cop", the man told him. "I'm a Building
Inspector. I'm with the Fire Department. I saw you come in
here and believe me, you're in big trouble, mister. What's
your name?"
"Craig Sommers, sir", Craig answered.
The man stared at him, his face expressionless. "How
old are you, Craig Sommers?"
"Eleven, sir."
The man smiled. It wasn't a normal smile, not a fond
one or a friendly one, but kind of a leer, one that sent
chills down Craig's spine.
"You're in a lot of trouble, Craig Sommers", the man
said, more quietly this time, almost a whisper, "and believe
me kid, you don't know how much."
Craig started to back up right then, but he was just a
hair's breadth too late. The man grabbed the boy's slender
shoulders and spun him around, clamping one hand over his
mouth before he could cry out. Shoving Craig to the floor,
the man pressed one knee into his back, keeping his hand
firmly over Craig's mouth.
"Now you listen up, Craig Sommers! You're going to do
what you're told and not give me even a bit of trouble, you
got that? If you do, I'll hurt you so bad you'll wish you
were dead!"
The threat was enough to make Craig freeze. Inwardly,
he groaned. "No. PLEASE tell me this ISN'T happening", he
thought to himself. The man's hand came away from his mouth,
but Craig made no attempt to scream -- especially not with
the man still on top of him!
"Give me your hands, Craig", the man ordered, even as
he was pulling Craig's hands together behind him. He felt
something being wrapped around his wrists, something rough
and scratchy -- rope, apparently.
"I like little boys, Craig", the man sneered, twisting
Craig's head to the side and stuffing a balled up wad of
cloth in his mouth. Out of the corner of his eye Craig saw
the man withdraw a kerchief, which he tied over Craig's
mouth, keeping the other wad in. "I like to hear them
scream and cry, you know that? Little boys scream and cry a
lot when I fuck them in the ass. I'm gonna fuck your ass,
Craig. I'll bet it's a TIGHT ass, and it's gonna hurt a lot
when I fuck it. And you know what, Craig? And that's not ALL
I'm gonna do, either!"
Inside, Craig writhed at the unfairness of it all.
He had seen plenty of television newscasts concerning the
sex murders of young children: kids who had been kidnapped,
stripped stark naked, beaten, raped, killed -- and sometimes
even worse things! -- and Craig was plenty bright enough to
realize that something rather like this was now happening to
HIM! He had no real ground for complaint -- he was, after all,
here by choice (although if he had known that THIS was going
to happen to him, he would most certainly have chosen to go
elsewhere). If nothing else, it meant an end to a thoroughly
miserable existence. He DID hope that he could face up to his
death bravely, and not give this pervert any enjoyment out of
his dying; and he deeply regretted the agony which he knew
his mother and father were bound to suffer from his murder.
In thinking all of this, Craig could not help but give vent
to a deep-felt, soul-wrenching sigh, which his captor either
failed to hear, or else ignored completely.
The man hauled Craig to his feet and, holding his arm,
pushed him, half-stumbling, deeper into the old plant.
"Yessiree, Craig, I'm going to have a fucking ball with you.
It gives me a real fuckin' kick, you know? I just love raping
cute little kids like you. It's Fun." He gave Craig a shake.
"That scare ya, huh? Does it?" He laughed. "If it don't,
I got some real surprises in store for ya, Craig. And
they WILL scare ya!"
He stopped then, turning Craig toward what had once
been an office back when the plant was in operation. Pushing
the boy ahead of him inside, he pushed the sagging wooden
door closed as far as it would go and turned Craig to face
him.
The office was bare, outside of an overturned wooden
milk crate in one corner and some old papers. The man
pushed Craig over to the wooden crate and told him to stand,
while the man himself sat down, positioning Craig in front
of him.
"Well now, let's see the goods, shall we?", the man
laughed, undoing Craig's belt and the snaps on his pants,
finally pulling them down his legs to his ankles. He
ordered Craig to step out of them, then took off the boy's
underwear next.
"Huh! Not much, guess you ain't seen puberty yet!", the
man laughed. "Well, consider this a crash course!" He
cupped his hand under Craig's balls, rubbing them; then, for
no reason at all, he suddenly grabbed them and squeezed!
Craig screamed into his gag at the sudden shock of pain
and collapsed, the man's hand still firmly clenching his
balls. As soon as the boy hit the ground the man let go of
his nuts and Craig fell back, his head bouncing painfully
off the concrete. Before he knew it the man was over him,
straddling him, then sitting on his chest.
"Woowee yeah!", the man yelled, his face flushed with
excitement. He pulled something out of his pocket -- it
looked like a length of wire to Craig -- and leaned forward.
Craig felt the man's fingers stroking his little penis,
which, in spite of the pain he still felt, got hard very
quickly. Then he felt something else, something slightly
cool, being wrapped around it, tighter and tighter...
Craig let out a little gasp as the wire, which he was
sure it was, pinched a little skin on his cock as it grew
tighter. He could feel the man twisting it, twisting until
it was like a steel band, with a slightly worse, more
annoying sting where it had caught the bit of skin, wrapped
around his cock!
The man stood up, and Craig could see it now, wrapped
around the base of his penis so tightly that everything
above it was engorged. The skin there was turning red
already, all the blood suffused into it...
"Does that hurt, Craig? Does it? YOu gonna cry for me,
Craig?", the man teased, making crying faces at him. Craig
bit down and refused to cry. He didn't want to give the man
the satisfaction of seeing his pain. If he was going to
die, he at least wanted to die bravely!
The man looked angry. "Don't wanna cry, huh? Well,I
think you will!" Grabbing the boy's ankles, he lifted them
and pulled off his shoes, then his blue socks, tossing them
toward the door. He fumbled in his pockets and cursed
angrily, as if he were missing something.
End Part 1
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