Glen was not a popular student at school. He was not even sure if he liked himself. He only knew that his 'loner' status worsened with every passing day of his 8th grade year in school.
If it was not for the occasional queries from his Algebra teacher, Glen might as well have lived in a hermetically sealed bubble -- free from the brickbats (or even bouquets) of adolescent life.
At home, both parents were clueless to his isolation because they both 'abandoned' him during his waking hours. His father worked very long hours at the office and his mother worked the closing shift at the local mall.
It was a different time in which an island could exist the way Glen did. The year 1975 was a time of rotary dial phones around the house and computers only being huge, clunky devices that had no such place in domestic situations.
The buses passed Glen on his way home from school. The open windows revealed the kind of chatter that he wished to engage in if he was not so afraid to venture into such intercourse. Instead, he moped the entire quarter mile to his driveway.
Swanson's greeted the unusually self-sufficient boy. His most difficult choice of the evening was to decide between turkey and Salisbury steak. To prevent three nights in a row of the latter, he placed his aluminum tray of frozen turkey, mashed potatoes and apple crisp into the oven.
Removing his oven mitts and setting the timer, Glen took his time poring over his Algebra problems and reviewing that week's vocabulary words. The smell dinner wafted through the first story of the house and gave him a well-needed break from his studies.
Being that his grades were always decent, he felt no guilt in lingering over the evening newspaper and savoring his meal. He read intently about the second assassination attempt on the life of President Ford. He didn't take either try too seriously because they were both cases of kooky women with axes to grind.
It was probably better that way, he thought. Who would want to make a martyr out of Gerald Ford of all people? Nobody really knew what the man stood for except that he wasn't Nixon.
He turned the page to look for that day's "Broom Hilda" comic strip and poured himself more lemonade to drink.
The tinny sound of the phone nearly made him jump about and knock over his full glass. Nobody called his house. He had no friends and people knew that his parents were away for the time being.
"Hello?" Glen asked. He was always at a loss when he had to interact with the outside world -- even at school.
"Hell, it's me," replied a warm but unsettling voice. This man's words were thick with a kind of emotion that didn't sound normal.
"I'm sorry but my parents aren't home," Glen said, "I'm afraid that I can't help you. They're at work and..."
"Never mind mommy and daddy, I want to talk to you."
"Do you go to my school? You don't sound like anyone I know," Glen tried to guess if someone would be bold enough to play a childish prank.
"I'm a little too old to be at your school, boy. Maybe you should be asking me what I want?"
"What DO you want?" the boy asked, obviously enveloped by a case of the creeps.
"You know what I want," the anonymous man said, "I want to get into your pants."
"Where do you want to go?" Glen's hearing wasn't always the best.
"I want to fuck you," the man spat out, "Can you understand that?"
"You're disgusting. You're a guy. Even I know that you need a girl if you want to..."
"Fuck? Come on, you're a big boy now. You should know that I could put my stiff cock up your little virgin asshole."
Beyond the point of being offended, Glen threatened to hang up on this unwanted caller.
"It's no use, little man, I will just keep calling you."
His dinner growing cooler, Glen's blood ran just as cold. What did this freak mean? He definitely wasn't going to torment him like this.
"What do you want from me?" Glen asked out of stark fear.
Glen wondered if someone in his small town knew his secret desires. After all, how else did homosexuals hook up with each other? If had to have been a secret society where someone picked up on Glen's strange feelings at the city pool during the summer. Or someone noticed how Glen's eye paused momentarily on the lifeguard that June.
"I'll do whatever you want. Just leave me be!" Glen uttered at a volume short of a scream.
The husky voice almost dissolved into mean-spirited laughter but held long enough to offer the demands.
"I know that you're a little cocksucker and you're gonna be mine. Now we can do it my way or you can pay the price," said the mysterious antagonist.
"My parents are home right now and I'll..."
"You're a fucking liar! Both your parents are away. Even a retard knows that there aren't any cars in your driveway."
Sweat saturated Glen's briefs and filled his half-horny heart with suspense.
"This whole mind fuck turns you on and you know it," the menace returned to a seductive whisper, "Now, do what I say."
Glen bit his lip with some anticipation and some dread.
"Are you listening?"
The next thing Glen heard was a dial tone.
It was obviously a prank call to scare the beejeesezus out of him. He still found it tough to steady himself back to normal.
Glen sighed -- not from relief but from not knowing what to do next.
He was steamed and so was his dinner. It was smoldering in the oven.
"Shit!" Not only was his innocence a casualty of the night, it looked like he would have to put together an impromptu sandwich for supper.
He crossed his fingers and opened the oven door. The smell overpowered the kitchen and dashed any of his hopes for a salvageable meal.
Glen wondered who would be calling on his family in the evening. The 'No Soliciting' sign should have been obvious but the occasional Girl Scout or magazine salesman did not have such a vast vocabulary.
Forgetting his ordeal, Glen pulled the door open.
He was immediately pushed backward by a force much greater than him.
Pinned on his back, Glen felt a hand on his mouth and a massive form was on top of him. From what he remembered he heard a foot slam the front door shut.
A pair of foreign hips was grinding on his small frame. It was moving in a way similar to the way the popular boys described dry humping their girlfriends to avoid 'pregnancy.'
Hardness was pressing itself between Glen's thighs and he immediately recognized it as a member much larger than his own.
Glen wriggled and squirmed to no effect. He began to feel the layer of pants disappear between himself and his attacker. Flesh was pressing against him and was drifting upward his mouth in a perverse game of twister.
"If you bite my cock, I'll kill you!" said the now recognizable voice.
A flash of something filled Glen's eyes. IT WAS his tormentor.
"Suck!" he demanded.
The engorged tool jammed itself into the boys mouth and he shut his eyes to pretend he wasn't being mouth raped but was somewhere else.
The pumping of the piston-like motions into his mouth were destroying any sense of not being there. He was being invaded by a strange force and was helpless.
Luckily for him, he was not going to have to swallow this man's sperm but the worst was yet to come.
This man with a swift motion flipped Glen over onto the rug beside the front door and pushed his face into the dusty mass.
The awkward position and pressure prevented Glen from shouting much. He could only manage a squeal that anticipated what would come next.
He felt the tugging at his pants and underwear. He was now spread eagle and face down with scrapes and rug burn on his face. This sensation took an obvious backseat to the cutting pain of his backside being penetrated by a man who was certainly twice his age.
The man's body rocked back and forth with lusty enthusiasm. The man's body found a perverse rhythm with the boy's shamed yelps. This bucking around continued for only a dozen or so pumps but appeared to never end.
Even someone as naive as Glen knew that his 'purpose' was almost complete when the hips that pressed into his ass jerked about and propelled some warmness into his innermost of innards. This sensation was punctuated by the feeling of the man's teeth biting into his shoulder.
The front door slammed suddenly after some rustling of clothes. And that is how Glen's parents found him. On the floor, in pain and half-naked with semen coated his on naked half...