Prejudice 1

Warning: Apart from being pure fiction I'm not sure what this story is, if you read it, you tell me. Apart from a lot of talk, this story also contains descriptions of one hetero incestuous rape and one incident of gay-male rape, the two incidents are intwined in a rather disturbing manner. Don't read if you have no stomach for nonconsentual fiction.

*

John didn't realise he was in trouble, before he was grabbed from behind on a desolate sidewalk. Even then he still thought it was a sort of joke, a belief he somehow retained while a second person taped his mouth shut - duct-style. But when one of his assailants spoke to him, John knew he was in deep shit and started struggling like a maniac.

"So you like gay-bashing. Do you, John? Huh? By the time we are done with you, you will be wishing your dad's lawyer didn't get you off the hook."

----=(Twenty-four years later)=----

"I'm... uh..." Dave was fidgeting with his coffee cup, even here with only his two best friends present, he had trouble bringing himself to say it.

Molly and Brian looked at him, patiently, not pushing. The three of them were close. They knew Dave well enough to understand he was trying to say something personal, and if Dave was about to tell them something private, which they didn't already know, then it truly had to be a big secret.

"I'm gay," Dave said, finally pushing out the words.

"Ok," Molly said, her tone about the same as it would have been if he had said 'My real hair colour is brown'.

Brian didn't say anything.

"There I said it," Dave continued, "I'm out of the closet."

"Good for you, Dave," Molly said, and offered a small smile, "There is gonna be a trail of broken hearts at the office, but the girls will get over it eventually. When are you going to tell your parents?"

"Tomorrow," Dave said, and nodded as if to confirm his own words.

"Don't do it, Dave," Brian advised, staring intently into his own coffee cup. As if the surface of his coffee had a manual - written in sugar and cream - on how to live as a gay man.

"What?" Dave was baffled, he hadn't been sure how Brian would react to his announcement. A multitude of possible reactions had run through his mind the previous evening. An advice to stay in the closet, however, had not been one of them.

"I said, don't do it," Brian reiterated, and wrestled his eyes of his cup, dragging them to Dave's face.

"Don't listen to him, Dave. Do it," Molly countered.

The three friends went quiet, they didn't want to fight. Brian was the first to break the silence.

"If you do it, you will become a walking, talking political statement. You will become a living bill-board sign saying 'Gay is ok'. Friends, family, acquaintances, everyone you know, will become political nay- or yay-sayers. Not to mention, you will become a hate-target."

After his speech Brian let his eyes move back to his coffee.

"If you don't do it, you will be living a lie. Lies are like slow-working poison, they infest and spread, and you can't presume to know what the consequences will be."

"Bullshit," Brian stated, "as long as he doesn't tell anyone, it won't mean a thing to anyone but himself."

The friends went quiet again. Once again Brian was first to break the silence, after a couple sips of courage gathering coffee.

"I'm gay too."

"Ok," Molly said.

"You?" Dave asked.

"Yes, me. But I keep it to myself, I'm not a bill-board."

Quiet took hold of the room yet again. This time Molly was the first to talk.

"Since we are sharing secrets today, maybe I should offer mine too."

"What? Are you gay too?" Dave asked, his head was spinning. Admitting to his best friends that he was gay had felt unreal, being told that one of them was gay too made him feel like he was having a surreal dream.

"No, I'm not gay," Molly said, "but in ways I would prefer if that had been my secret."

"Hah," was Brian's comment to that remark.

"In ways, Brian, in ways," she said and shot her old friend a harsh glance, "Maybe you should listen to my secret before you judge?"

"Sure, let's hear it," Brian doubted she could say anything that would make him retract his 'hah'.

"Twenty-four years ago, my brother was on trial for a hate crime," Molly began, "My father was fairly wealthy and hired a really good lawyer. His money seemed to be well spent. In spite of being guilty like fuck, my brother, John, was acquitted on all counts."

Molly sipped her coffee, her tone and manner would imply she was telling just yet another normal tale of something half-interesting, but her shaking hands revealed she was troubled by the memories.

"The crime was gay-bashing. You see, me and all my siblings, we hated gays in general and gay men in particular. We weren't directly raised that way, it was just the tone at home. Or well, our father's tone. If a package arrived torn and battered, the post office was run by faggots. If a sports judge made bad calls during a fight, he was a fucking queer. All that, the usual, you hear it all the time."

Brian and Dave nodded.

'How is this supposed to be a speech in favour of leaving the closet?'

Dave wondered.

"Twenty-three years ago," Molly continued, "pictures began to circulate in our home town. Pornographic pictures, in which my brother, John the Gay-Basher, engaged in gay sex. There was no doubt they were real. When he saw the pictures, he started telling people he had been raped, but no one believed him, 'cause he hadn't told anyone of being raped prior to learning about the pictures. They had been going around for days before he heard of them. And at that time it had been many months since they were taken."

"John, was a gay gay-basher?" Brian asked.

"That's what we all thought," Molly said, "I was devastated. My adored brother, a gay man, I didn't want to believe it, but I did, I was absolutely convinced he was gay. My brother left town, he couldn't stand the shame of nobody believing him. For two years, I didn't hear from him, and I was relieved."

"You hated gay people so heavily you couldn't stand the thought of your own brother being gay?" Dave asked.

"Actually, that wasn't the worst part for me. That is part of why I have never told anyone about this. I had a secret of my own back then, still a secret today, but now I will tell you guys. You gay guys," she tried to smile, but her lips trembled at the effort.

"I had the biggest crush on my brother John. Yeah you heard me right," Molly said, even though neither Dave nor Brian had made objections to her words, "The biggest crush, I was in love with my own brother. I had daydreamed of marrying him since I was ten and he was fifteen. Later those dreams evolved to... Let's call it 'less innocent fantasies'. By the time I saw those gay-sex pictures of him, I was seventeen. A virgin with raving hormone, having all sorts of impossible thoughts about what could happen at my next birthday. I..."

A tear rolled out of one of Molly's eyes and she got up to fetch herself a paper-napkin.

"I couldn't help myself," she continued while dubbing the napkin against her eyes, a make-up wearing habit, "I fantasised about my five year older brother John, several times a day, almost every single day. Fantasies about him were the alpha and omega of my evolving sexuality. Other guys was nothing, I didn't even date, it just felt too phoney to play up to some guy who meant little more to me than dust on the pavement. The guys I would consider friends, well there were plenty reasons not to date those. For one thing they weren't cool, for another I didn't want to hurt their feelings."

"In that order, huh?" Brian asked, apart from his sexuality he wasn't one to keep his clam shut.

"Yeah, in that order. I was seventeen the concept of being unpopular scared the living daylights out of me. Ok?"

"Ok," Brian shrugged, "so you were in love with your gay gay-bashing brother. I'm happy that you trust me enough to confide in me. But really, your secret isn't all that terrible, Hun."

"I'm not done with my story yet," Molly grabbed a big bundle of paper-napkins and took them back to her chair - she wasn't done by far.

"Keep telling, Molly," Dave said, if she hadn't started weeping he would have felt somehow neglected, having his talk of closet-abandoning interrupted.

"Twenty-one years ago, I was nineteen years old, and still living at home. My twenty-four year old brother John was visiting our parents for thanksgiving. It was his first visit since he had left town. My father had instructed all of us, 'Not to call John gay,' and 'Not to mention the pictures,' " Molly said, imitating a stern male voice when quoting her father's words.

"I had no plans of playing the obedient daughter and good sister. I was planning to let John have it, every piece of venom and malice I had saved up for him in the last two years. When John left I had been a virgin, a good girl, an old fashioned decent girl. But at my eighteenth birthday, where John had not been present, something had snapped inside of me. Since that day, I had grown to be the cheapest slut in town. After cheating on the first three guys, I no longer bothered calling my lovers 'boyfriends'. I fucked anyone, chess-club members, football members, the dirty old guy next door. Anyone."

Molly rose again, and went to her lovely decorated drink cabinet.

"Help yourself if you want drinks," she said, mixing herself a big glass of what seemed to be randomly chosen alcohol. Dave and Brian stuck to their coffee. Molly continued her story as soon as she was seated again, monster drink in front of her.

"I even volunteered for a couple girl-guy-girl threesomes, that's how I know I'm not gay. I mean it wasn't so bad to eat pussy, but if I hadn't been rammed by a cock while doing it, I woulda been bored." Molly shrugged. "What can I say, I am not eligible to join your club."

"The first day of my brother's visit, I didn't get a proper chance to bully him. My father was guarding him like a hawk, he didn't even leave his side to fetch beers. My mother aided in that by fetching beers non-stop, like an old-fashioned wifey. The second day however, they started letting their guard down, there hadn't been any incidents."

Molly sighed.

"Most of the family went to the mall together, for the big not-yet-last-minute-thanksgiving shopping. John the Infamous Gay Gay-Basher stayed behind, he did not want to expose himself to the curious eyes of the town. Claiming to need to wash my hair, I stayed behind too. This was my big chance to be alone with John. My big chance to vent the wrath of my sexual frustrations on their target."

Taking a gigantic gulp of her monster drink, Molly delayed the story a few seconds.

"You see, the reason I was the cheapest slut in town, was that I was trying to drown my fantasies about John. I kept trying and trying, anything, with anyone, to extinguish my forbidden fantasies about my gay brother."

Molly laughed a bit to herself.

"Oh the irony," she said, not offering an immediate explanation to that remark.

"Did you ever succeed in that?" Dave asked.

"That, my friend, is another story," Molly stated, "let me continue this one, before I lose my nerve."

"Go ahead," Dave admonished, not sure how Molly's fantasies about her brother could suddenly be another story.

"I went to the shower, just before the others left, while washing my hair and body I planned how to assault John verbally. When I finally left, I had a really trashy, condemning, demeaning speech ready for him. Covered only by a big towel I went to my room to dress up in one of my few not-slutty outfits, for more effect. But when I reached my room, my plans shattered.

"He was there, sitting on my bed. John the Gay Gay-Basher. The image of my every sexual fantasy, just sitting there looking hotter than ever.

" 'What the fuck are you doing in my room, you gay fuck,' I screamed at him.

" 'Don't fucking call me gay, you slut,' was his reply, all this time after, I still remember every word he said clear as day.

"Shit. At noon I can't remember what I had for breakfast, but I remember every single word my brother spoke to me that day. I remember them, and I remember how his voice sounded as he pronounced each one of them. I remember how he smelled like sweet rice, expensive cologne, and musk. I remember the freezing fire in his ever intense eyes. I remember how even just looking at him, made me wet, even though I was yelling like a lunatic.

"Yet I don't remember what he was doing in my room, apart from the explanation being quite innocent, and plausible.

" 'Gay, gay, gay. You like fucking men in the ass, Sicko,' was how I responded to his almost civil request not to call him gay.

" 'Shut the fuck up, Bitch, I'M NOT GAY,' he roared at me. The force of the volume in his voice, genuinely turned me on," Molly paused her story.

Brian looked a bit uncomfortable.

"You don't have to tell us this, Molly. Unless you want to," he said, '

Why is she telling this? What does it matter so many years later?'

"I want to," Molly stated.

"There I was, soaking wet under my towel. And I don't mean from water, I dried up properly in the shower. Wet for my own brother, and it made me even more furious. Planning to yell at him, and take my wrath out on him, I was still turned on by him.

" 'Don't call me bitch, Bitch!' I said." Molly shrugged. "Well right then it seemed like a witty retort. It got him to his feet, he launched of the bed, and was in my face in a second.

" 'I was raped, you stupid slut, get it into your head. I didn't fucking enjoy it,' he said. I didn't believe a word of it. I had seen the pictures of cum all over his stomach, his own cum, still dripping from his own cock.

" 'Sure, and Santa is real, and the Easter Bunny has a sexy ass! Did you have some of that ass too, Queen?' I said. To this day I don't know where those words came from, I was far out.

" 'SHUT the FUCK up!' he replied. He was furious, his eyes burned more than ever.

"Staring into those eyes, I was swept away, I didn't think about what I was doing. I opened my towel and pushed my chest, my tits, forward.

" 'Oh yeah?' I said, 'If you are not gay, how come these don't turn you on, huh?'

"He looked down at my breasts, and narrowed his eyes.

" 'Are you saying, that if I wasn't gay, I'd be turned on by my little sisters tits? Who is the sicko now, Slut?' that was his question, and I realised he was right. Closing my towel I pushed past him to my closet, to dress. While opening the closet, I started yapping off my prepared speech.

"Oh yeah, I let him have it. I had my back to him, so I couldn't see how he took it. He was eerily silent, and John was

never

silent in the face of insults; his silence alone should have warned me that he was cracking. But I was too far out to think straight. Literally dizzy from old frustrations, I dropped the towel, adding an unplanned remark.

" 'Ah, that's right,' I said, 'you're gay. No reason to not let you see a naked woman's body is there? Doesn't do anything for you anyway.'

"After that remark I began a new verbal bashing, but I was interrupted mid-sentence. As John grabbed my hair and pulled me backwards. Surprised, by the sudden attack I didn't even protest as he hauled me to my bed and tripped me onto it. He pressed my down on it, face down, my knees on the floor.

" 'I will tell you exactly how I was raped, Molly,' he said, 'I will

show

you exactly how I got raped.' "

Molly paused to concentrate, to better mimic the anger she remembered in John's voice.

" 'They duct-taped my mouth and hands, Molly. I have no duct-tape on me, so I will have to improvise certain aspects.' "

Dave and Brian each felt chills running through them, they had not expected this turn in the story. Now they began to understand the monster drink and the darkness of Molly's secret.

"He was wearing a tie," Molly said, "he was dressed up for meeting the family, dressed manly."

She blinked and took another large gulp of her drink.

"John caught my wrists and pinned them to the bed. He seated himself on top of me, he gathered my wrists in one of his hands. While taking his tie off with his other hand, he started narrating to me, he kept talking while tying my wrists together.

" 'They placed me on a bed, like you are right now, Molly. That bed was quite similar to yours actually, it also had a single wooden board on the wall side. They tied my taped hands to that board. Like I am going to tie yours to this one.' "

Molly paused, tears left her eyes again, but she didn't bother with the napkins this time, she just let them travel slowly down her cheeks.

"Like he said, so he did. The tie was plenty to keep my hands together. A belt I had carelessly discarded next to the bed was all he needed to bind that to the board. Still speechless I hadn't protested even once by the time my hands were bound - together - to the wall side of my bed.

" 'There were several of them, and they kept me restrained at all times. Not once, did I get a chance to make a swing at one of them,' he said, 'I wished one of them would put their filthy cocks in my mouth, so I could bite it off. But guess what, Molly, none of them were that stupid.'

Dave and Brian, were getting accustomed to the change in Molly's voice whenever she quoted her brother. It was disturbingly easy for them to imagine this man, whom they had never met, saying these words.

"John seated himself next to me, his feet on the floor, his hands on my ass. 'One of them sat next to me, like I sit next to you now, Molly. Another held my ankles to the floor, the cowards took no risks, Molly. But you and I are alone here, so we will have to do without that.'

"My breaths were shallow, I was listening intently, I honestly can't tell what I was feeling that moment. As my brother groped my ass while describing how he had been raped by men. Whatever I felt, it froze me, hypnotised me, left me inactive.

"He spread my ass-cheeks, I could feel his weight shifting on the bed as he leaned forward. I think he was studying the view of my pussy and anus.

" 'The guy who sat next to me started probing my asshole with a finger. I tried to scream with rage, Molly, but with the tape over my mouth all I could do was whine through my nose.' While he told me this, his one hand slid towards my asshole. I was convinced he would do to me what they had done to him. But his fingers changed direction and moved down instead, to my pussy.

"He slid one finger up and down between my labia, uncharacteristically gentle for a few seconds, but then suddenly with no warning he shoved the finger inside my pussy. I felt my walls contract against the intrusion. It woke me from my dazed trance.

" 'Please stop, John,' I pleaded, 'I'm sorry I called you gay, I won't do it again.'

" 'You are wet, Molly,' he said, and proceeded to finger-fuck me in a steady rhythm."

Brian reached a hand slowly over the table, towards Molly's hands, which were clinging on to the monster drink.

"Don't!" she commanded, "If you touch me now, I will break down in tears, and I won't be able to finish, and I want to finish. For twenty-one years, I have kept this secret, hidden it inside. I want it outside now."

Brian withdrew his hand, not sure if he should say something or not - he remained quiet.

"John's finger in my pussy felt, wonderful. And horrible. I had had countless fantasies of my brother finger-fucking me like that, some of them with me in bondage. Most of them on that very same bed. But I had never fantasised him doing it while enacting a rape of himself. And..."

Molly lost her courage and sought it in her monster drink, after three long gulps the bitter taste nearly made her vomit. Somewhere in between coughing in her hand and fighting off the nausea she found the courage to continue.