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 the 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 himself, 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 boy's eyes seemed to be adjusting to the darkness for, 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 children.

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 classmates' 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 (a convenient 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 jack snapped sluggishly and the crotch-piece drifted forward slightly, exposing his boyhood before dissolving 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 several 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 classmates. 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 masturbated 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 babybatter 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 which 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 and he babbled uncontrollably. Now that much of the bus was gone, his sounds 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 was 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 mean time, 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 and the BLUES that were finally, thankfully, withdrawing.

Before any could rejoice, however, a large appendage, this time GREEN, slithered up behind the stung-out 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 waste. 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 quickly... 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 Michaels 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 boy's conversation. And Michael's point about poor Micah was interesting. Mulling it over, he said rather loudly, "They don'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 thing's 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, 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 boy's 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 (hoped) 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 curious 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 boycock, 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 talented 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 an 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 lie 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 Boy

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 masturbated 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 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?