Work Text:
The box in the attic of my new house was the only thing the previous owners had left behind. I'm not even sure that they left it behind – it was hidden behind the water tank and covered in so much dust that it probably predated them. It might have been there 30 years.
I brought it down and opened it. A local newspaper dated 32 years ago, showing a school picture on the front of a missing seven-year-old. A pair of boy's Sonic the Hedgehog-themed underwear, torn at the back. A VHS videotape. A length of rope.
This was really creepy and I wondered if I'd best just call the police now. But curiosity got the better of me, as usual.
In one of the boxes still stacked in the back bedroom from the move two months ago I had an old VHS player that I'd never thrown away on the ludicrous assumption that one day I would get round to watching the shelf of videos I still owned, most of which I had on DVD, some of which were on Netflix anyway. I never had, but the machine and the tapes had faithfully followed me through 2 house moves so far.
I made a guess of which box it was, then a better guess when that one turned out to be full of dirty magazines – another thing I couldn't bring myself to throw away. The right box had the VHS player and the leads I would need for it, a rare bit of thoughtfulness by past me. I took the box down to the living room and spent the usual frustrating half hour making space, connecting the player to the TV and finding batteries for the remote.
Then I settled down on the sofa and pressed 'play'. The picture bobbed and weaved a bit at first, but I was surprised to find the picture quality to be pretty good considering the age of the tape and the technology itself. The camera was pointing at the wall, then swung round to take in the whole room. My living room, I noted with surprise. Different furnishings and truly ugly wallpaper, but very much the room I was sat in now.
I was so busy noticing the room itself that it took a moment to realise that there was something else in the frame, even though it dominated the picture.
A boy in school uniform. He was crying, his hands over his face. A male voice from behind the camera said something sharply and the boy looked up. It spoke again, frustratingly impossible to hear properly for being behind the microphone.
The boy stared into the camera lens, not moving. At that point a man, 40s, hairy, wearing only jeans, appeared and slapped him, incredibly hard. The boy fell backwards and the man stooped to grab his arm and roughly stood him up again, then disappeared back behind the camera. The same barked instruction, and this time the boy complied. He undid the top button on his trousers and unzipped them, then lowered them to the floor. Another demand from behind the camera and the boy lifted his shirt front to reveal his pants. The camera zoomed in. I squinted at the little blue characters on them and then realised they were Sonic the Hedgehog. The man said something again, and the boy turned round and lifted the back of his shirt. The camera remained framed on the boy's little bum, the pants cupping both cheeks tightly.
The man's hand appeared in frame, squeezing each of the firm globes, rubbing them up and down, then his finger tracing the line of the boy's crack, stopping at his arsehole and prodding, then going back to massaging the boys' bum. The camera zoomed back out, and for the first time I realised there must be at least two men in the room with the boy, the other one now controlling the camera.
The hairy man in jeans grabbed the top of the boy's pants with one hand and the middle with the other and pulled. They tore, and the boy's bum was suddenly visible. The man continued to rub and poke at the boy's arse, making the tear wider to get a better grip on it, then pulled the pants down to the boy's knees and pushed him up against the wall. My wall, the one my television was now mounted on.
The other man appeared. A youth, perhaps 15 or 16. He was just in boxer shorts, thin and hairless except for a slight treasure trail from his belly button down into his pants. He handed something to the hairy man and moved back behind the camera. The camera zoomed in again, and I could see the man had been handed a length of rope. He put it round the boy's arms at the elbows and pulled it tight, then deftly tied a knot. The camera pulled back out again with a bit of a judder, and the hairy man turned the boy round to face it. The boy continued to cry, his face red and swollen from the earlier slap. The man dropped to his knees and started to lick the boy's hairless dick, then suck at it, then taking the dick and the balls into his mouth and sucking on the lot of them.
The boy began to wail and call out "mummy, mummy, mummy!" and the youth reappeared, this time entirely naked. He had a long but thin cock, erect, poking out of a light thicket of black pubes. He handed something to the hairy man – his boxers, I realised. The hairy man balled them up and stuffed them into the boy's mouth, the boy making choking and gagging sounds as they went in. Then he went back to licking and sucking the tiny cock and balls.
The youth said something, and the man stood up. He picked up the boy by his arms – the boy screamed in pain through the pants wadding his mouth – and put him face down on the table that stood where my own now stands. He pulled the boy back towards him until his legs were dangling over the side, his bum on the edge of the table, his school trousers still around his ankles, his torn pants still bunched around his knees.
The camera began to shake and wobble violently, and then suddenly was higher up, pointing down, and moved in closer. The youth had taken it off its tripod and had it on his shoulder, I thought. The camera got close in to the side of the boy's bum and the hairy man's face appeared in shot. He pulled the boy's arse cheeks apart and began to lick at his arsehole, his stubble rasping on the pale skin of the boy. His tongue looped round the hole, then he pushed it into the boy a bit, withdrew and put his whole mouth over the hole and started sucking, then pulled away again and put his tongue back at it. He kept this up for a number of minutes, the camera moving to get different angles, the boy futilely kicking his legs back and forth. Then the man stood up and the youth stood back and widened the shot.
The hairy man dropped his jeans to the floor and stepped out of them, then removed his briefs. His cock was shorter than the youth's, but much thicker, the head round and wet, his body much hairier around the base of his cock, a thick bush of brown wiry hair. From out of shot he grabbed something – a big pot of lube – popped the lid and plunged his fingers into it. The youth reframed the camera on the boy's arse and the man's fingers were at the boy's arsehole. To the sound of muffled screams, he put his index finger all the way into the boy with one vicious push, rotated it round and pulled it out. Then he put his index and middle finger at the hole and, with more resistance this time, pushed both past the sphincter. Again he rotated them round and pulled them out.
His hand appeared in shot again, this time his middle three fingers pushed together. With real force he pushed them into the boy's arse. The muffled screams were really loud for that one. Once more he rotated them inside the boy and once more he pulled them out. His hand reappeared, with more of the gloopy lube applied, and this time he had all four fingers and his thumb held together. He pushed and moved them around and pushed again, getting nowhere, insistently pushing, putting real effort into it as the boy cried out from behind the pants stuffed in his mouth. A final hard push and his hand was in the boy's arse. He kept pushing, getting down to the first knuckle, then the second, then the third. The boy's screams abruptly stopped. I reckon he'd passed out from the pain.
The man withdrew his hand and his thick cock appeared in its place. Another splodge of the lube appeared and he roughly rubbed it all around the dripping head, then put his cock hard against the boy's angry-red, gaping arsehole. He went in with almost no resistance, all the way down, his mat of pubes grazing against the boy's bum cheeks. With it all the way in, he left it there, pushing harder but not really pulling it out. A push, a pause, another push, another pause. Then he slammed so hard the boy slid slightly on the table and he pulled out, a trail of cum following him.
The camera started to wobble and bobble up and down again, and then steadied. The youth appeared and he dropped to his knees and began to lick and suck at the cum in the boy's arse, swallowing every drop, seeming to savour it, even the globs that evidently had blood in them. Once the arse was clean of cum and shiny from the youth's spit, the camera started its shaking again. It was being put back on the tripod, I thought. The pictured steadied and zoomed out, back at where it was at the start of the video, the room – my room – in full view.
The hairy man untied the boy's arms, then took the rope to the beam that runs across by the door. The youth was holding a glass of water and he tipped it on to the boy's face. The boy woke with a start, and the youth removed his pants from the boy's mouth, then got the boy to stand on very shaky legs.
The hairy man had fashioned the rope into a noose at one end and had tied or caught the other on a hook in the beam. I glanced up at the beam in the present day, and could see a hole in the wood, filled with a wood-effect plaster now, invisible unless you were looking for it. The site of the hook 3 decades ago.
The boy was gently pulled over to stand under the noose by the youth, then helped on to a small stool. The hairy man put the noose round the boy's neck and the boy resumed crying. "Please, please sir, don't, please, I won't tell anybody, but please, please." The man spoke intelligibly for the first time, his voice soft and almost caring. "I'm sorry, Simon, but there's no choice. Don't worry, it'll be quick. And then you won't be in pain any more. Alright?"
The boy wailed again. The youth stood behind him, his dick touching the boy's arse cheeks. The man dropped to his knees and leaned in close to the boy's dick. "Goodbye, Simon," he said, and pulled the stool away.
The boy immediately started to go purple, his arms flailing but too bruised to be functional in any way. The youth grabbed his hips and slammed his dick into the boy, pulling out and slamming back in again. The hairy man was steadying the boy's convulsing body while keeping the boy's cock in his mouth, sucking hard. The youth pushed in and out repeatedly and then came with a shout of exultation, thrusting his cock into the boy with each spurt of cum. At that point, the boy stopped convulsing and was just hanging there, his face purple and swollen, his eyes staring, the look of terror he'd had on his face for the past 25 minutes frozen there forever.
The hairy man stood up again, grabbed his dick and gave it four stiff strokes, spurting 3 ropes of cum on to the boy's genitals and the bottom of his white shirt.
The youth walked round the body, embraced the man and kissed him passionately. Then he detached, walked towards the camera, his dick bobbing in front of him and still dripping cum, and reached for something. The picture was suddenly replaced with static.
I sat stunned, unable to decide what to do next. Pulling myself together, I hit the eject button on the tape and stood up to retrieve it. On standing, I realised I'd cum in my pants a few moments before. I hadn't even noticed, the video was so intense. I wondered what type of person that made me? As bad as the two guys on the tape? Perhaps even worse?
I took the tape out of the machine and went back to the box. I took the pair of pants out of the box and sniffed them deeply, then put them back in the box. I put the video back in there too, pushed the lid back on and took the box back to the attic.