“But you’re not…”
“Yes I am. I am gay. I am not as brave and confident as our friend Enzo. Maybe some of it has to do with being on the basketball team and the fear of being ‘out’ among my teammates. I don’t know. But I will tell you this. If it weren’t for the fact that Enzo is as crazy about you as you are about him, I would have confessed my secret and scooped that boy up months ago. But I didn’t because you two belong together. But that doesn’t mean that someone else won’t jump in ahead of you if you let them. Look, Owen, Enzo ‘came out’ to you the day he met you. That was more than two years ago. As much as he is in love with you, you have not made a safe space for him to tell you that, like he has for you. The ball is in your court. The move is yours to make. What queer man wouldn’t fall for Enzo? You better hurry before you miss your chance.”
Wyatt finally pulls on his right sock as the others emerge from the showers.
Enzo:
I wouldn’t go willingly, so they carried me right out the front door and onto the night darkened sidewalk. They threatened me with dire consequences if I were to scream out. Big strong hands gripped me around the ankles and wrists as we made the one minute journey three houses up the block.
My phone had been on the table next to the couch and that is where it still sits. No one will be tracking my location. All I can do is hope that my housemates notice that I’m missing and piece together the nonexistent clues and come find me. I think Owen will care about my absence. At least I hope he will. But how could he figure out what happened and where I am?
Once inside their house, they inform me that I am to be their houseguest for the weekend. They assure me that I will not be harmed in anyway, I just need to do as they say and follow their rules. It’s only Friday night and I will be held captive for pretty much the next sixty hours. That is a long time and they are bound to get bored. I am told that I will be their toy for the weekend. I am advised it will be easier on me of I don’t fight them. And if I play along, I might actually have fun.
I have no idea what any of this means. I’m about to ask when one of the six hulking guys surrounding me pokes a finger in my ribs and I flinch and giggle. I say don’t do that and he laughs. A guy on the other side of me pokes a finger into my soft side between my ribcage and my hipbone. I flinch in the other direction and yelp out a laugh. I tell them to stop, but seeing my reactions, all six of them are grinning from ear to ear. I’m starting to get the idea. I will be their plaything for the weekend. Their entertainment. Their toy. If I survive.
Two of them bend my arms behind my back and I arch toward the other four facing me. My hoodie gets pushed up and at least four hands grope around my exposed stomach. Tears spring to my eyes and I howl in agonizing laughter for what feels like twenty minutes. At some point, my hoodie is pulled off completely and I am left vulnerable and shirtless. Not by choice. I get the feeling that for the next sixty hours, nothing that happens will be my choice.
They lay me down on the floor and the six of them take stations. Two take my feet (one for each) and two take my hands. The other two flank my sides and prepare for further attacks on my stomach. They said they won’t harm me, but stretched out all exposed, weak and defenseless like this, I truly think I might die.
The two by my hands pin me down by the wrists and use their free hands to mercilessly prod, poke and drill into my armpits and my ribs. The two at my feet flip my untied high-tops right off and begin to peel off my white Nike crew socks. They give my naked feet an unnerving visual examination before they dig in with strong athletic hands. They bend my toes back and drag finger nails up and down the soles of my tender bare feet. My whole body bucks and thrashes as I howl in uncontrollable laughter. Then their fingers scratch at the area under my toes and I shriek. Meanwhile the two guys in the middle have decided that one will squeeze the shit out of my sides above the hips while the other swipes and sweeps his fingertips across my lower abdomen causing me to quiver and convulse.
I am full out screaming now. I can’t help it. The combination of the sensations of these six guys is pure torture. There are twelve strong hands gripping, holding, grabbing, squeezing, swiping, poking and prodding most of my body. Then the foot guys start something else. Teeth nibble at my toes, the balls of my feet and my arches. The teeth are followed by tongues that bathe the full length of my feet. My heart is pounding, my body is sweating and my shrieks weaken to breathy gasps. I’m on the brink of passing out.
I feel helpless and violated. My biggest fear is that to these guys, I’m not even a human being anymore. I am nothing more than their toy to use and abuse. I merely exist to be their entertainment. To them, I’m nothing more than the newest gaming counsel and their gonna play the shit out of me. This terrorizing assault has me in genuine fear and tears. Then the guy squeezing my sides decides he wants to squeeze something else. He fumbles under the waistband of my sweatpants and finds the ends of the drawstring. He begins to pull and my voice comes back. I thrash wildly and scream, “NNNOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!”
Owen:
I was silent on the walk home from the fitness center. The other guys were talking and laughing about any and every thing while I stayed quiet. I was thinking about what Wyatt had said. He called me out and he was right. I’ve known about my feelings for Enzo for a long time now. I’ve tried to tamp them down, but I’ve known. And now I realize that I don’t want them tamped down. There’s no reason to. I would be proud to be Enzo’s… Boyfriend? Wyatt was right about everything. I do need to talk to Enzo. And I will. Tonight. I don’t want to be too late.
I imagine the table set and hot enchiladas ready to be served. My stomach growls again.
We enter the house, kicking off our shoes into a gigantic pile by the door and something immediately feels amiss to me. The other guys don’t notice, but I can tell. The quiet, still air in the house feels empty and wrong. I start to get frantic. I run into the kitchen and Enzo is not there. The oven is not on and the two prepared trays of enchiladas are still in the fridge. I run up the stairs to our bedroom and Enzo’s wallet and keys are on his dresser. I run back downstairs. His phone is on the table by the couch and his headphones are on the floor. My heart pounds hard in my chest.
Something is really wrong. I have to shout to get the attention of the other guys. I tell them that Enzo is missing.
Aiden says, “So? He’s a grown man. Maybe he went out for a walk.”
I shake my head, “He doesn’t go for walks alone at night.”
Cooper says, “Maybe he went home for the weekend. He probably told you and you just forgot.”
The three of them all start chattering and laughing again, but Wyatt’s eyes are on me. When I indicate Enzo’s phone on the table, his expression changes from mildly concerned to moderately alarmed. He yells at the others, “Shut up and listen to Owen. Just shut up! This is important!”