"UNLUCKY NUMBER 13"
                             By: Thunder

               Contributions and Editing By Sammy Smegma


          Craig Sommers was not looking forward to school. It
     was hard to look forward to something you hated with a
     passion.

          It wasn't the schoolwork or the teachers -- Craig was
     bright, and he did O.K. (he knew he could do better if he
     tried, but chose not to -- and after all, why should he?),
     and the teachers were O.K., too. It was all the other kids
     that bothered him.

          Craig was not like other boys. When he was very
     little, he had been very ill, and thanks to this had
     unluckily been misdiagnosed as retarded. In fact, he was
     nothing of the kind -- if anything, quite the reverse --
     but by the time anyone had managed to figure that out, he
     had been placed with numerous "rehabilitation centers" and
     special classes throughout his brief childhood, and from
     these he had gained a totally undeserved reputation for
     mental retardation. It settled around him like a blanket;
     no matter where he went, kids picked on him and called
     him "weirdo" or "retart" until there was scarcely a day
     when he didn't run home after school, lock himself in his
     room, and cry himself to sleep.

          These experiences had had a profound impact on Craig's
     personality. He was introverted and philosophical, and his
     long experience with the cruelty of others had taught him
     to be stoical in the face of pain and torment. In all, he
     had seen more cruelty and injustice than most adults would
     ever know in a lifetime, and this had taken a heavy toll;
     despite his age -- he was only eleven -- he was the
     youngest patient ever to be treated at the local mental
     health center for clinical depresion. His parents tried to
     help, of course, but how much could they actually do?

          Craig was, quite understandably, a loner. Not that he
     was shy -- he was quite comfortable around adults, who
     were more apt to accept him at face value -- but he was
     careful to avoid any contact with other children. When in
     school, he studied alone, ate his lunch alone, and he
     played alone -- preferably out of sight of the others.
     Craig hated his present existence; he didn't want to
     be called weird anymore, and he had long ago become
     bittely weary of being constantly picked on.

          And today especially, of all days. Rising out of bed
     and dressing, he saw it was gorgeous day outside, warm and
     sunny. The sky overhead was a bright blue; he could hear
     the birds singing outside his window. It was late spring,
     and one of the first nice days to come along all season.

          Craig decided right then and there that he was NOT
     going to go to school that day. He'd play hooky instead,
     go off and have some fun. Enjoy the nice weather and feel
     HAPPY for a change, instead of feeling sick all over at the
     idea of going to school and having -- yet again -- to endure
     the constant taunts and jibes of classmates who didn't know
     half of what he did, and didn't care anyway.

          As excellent as this idea was, however, there were
     problems with it. The biggest one was that your choice of
     destination was decidedly limited -- you couldn't go "Just
     Any Old Where", you see, because if you chanced to meet
     anyone you knew, you could wind up in a helluvah lot of
     trouble. Fortunately, there was a solution -- the old
     factory at the edge of town.

          The factory had long ago shut down, the heavy equipment
     removed, leaving only an empty shell that was also the ideal
     place to play. Even though the town council had ordered it
     locked up long ago, somebody had broken the lock at some
     point, and the place had become a haven for kids to play in,
     despite the warnings of their parents about how dangerous it
     was.

          With this in mind, Craig went to breakfast, ate, kissed
     Mom good-bye, and left. Only instead of heading toward school,
     he headed toward the old plant, and a day of games and fun
     and...

          His worst nightmare!

                               xxx

          Mike DeBassi felt rather tense today -- then again, when
     didn't he anymore? Traveling as often as he did, eating in
     roadside diners and sleeping in lumpy motel beds was enough
     to make anybody tense.

          At least, he hoped, he'd find what he was looking for
     here.

          To look at Mike, you wouldn't have thought him anything
     more than an average Joe, the guy next door. He was always
     neat and clean, his face always shaved, his hair always
     neatly cut. He never wore anything ragged or dirty, and he
     was incessantly polite. It was, in short, the perfect
     disguise...

          Because underneath it all, he was a rabid, sadistic
     pedophile with a taste for little boys.

          Mike wasn't like other pedophiles, mind you. He didn't
     "love" little boys... rather, he loved hurting them! It was
     such great fun to him to rape and torture a young boy, then
     to watch them slowly die, rather than to teach them "soft"
     sex, which he personally found quite repulsive.

          Town after town, Mike rarely failed to find a boy to
     please him. He wasn't choosy -- any old boy he could get his
     hands on would do. It wasn't so much the sex he enjoyed as
     it was the pain, the domination, the sheer pleasure of
     having control over such young, innocent and quite helpless
     lives! So it didn't much matter what they looked like or who
     they were; still, the better they looked to him, the more he
     enjoyed what he did.

          The town he'd come to recently was like so many
     others -- quiet, small, the kind of place people didn't
     lock their doors, where everyone knew everyone, whatever.
     What HE liked about it were the kids -- they were all over!
     And most of the time, he'd noticed, they seemed attracted to
     one particular place...

          It was an abandoned factory toward the edge of town,
     the kind of place that attracted kids like a magnet. Big,
     empty and old, it was ideal for games like War or Cops and
     Robbers, a perfect place to play Hide and Seek.

          Over the past weekend, he'd watched the place
     carefully, hoping for an opportunity. Unfortunately, the
     few kids he did see go in there were mostly in groups,
     which left him feeling quite disappointed and only served
     to heighten his agressions.

          Luck, however, was with him Monday morning.

          He'd been hiding nearby, scoping the place out, when he
     saw a boy come wandering along.

          He was a small kid, maybe four and a half feet, but not
     quite five feet, tall. He wore a blue plaid button down
     shirt that hung out over his belt (it looked to be a
     hand-me-down, a bit big on him), and well fitting, slightly
     faded jeans that looked to have seen a lot of use; the
     ground-in dirt on the knees was all too apparent.  His shoes
     were plain, black basketball sneakers with dirty white laces.
     Despite the loose fitting clothes, which were obviously too
     big for him, he looked thin. Not concentration camp
     survivor thin, but skinny, with just enough meat on his
     bones to look healthy. Short, straight, sandy blonde hair,
     and the brightest blue eyes Mike had ever seen, standing out
     against the kid's light complexion, which in turn was dotted
     with a good smattering of freckles. Beyond that, his face
     was pretty much average, average nose, average mouth, but it
     might as well have been the face of an angel to Mike.

          He was carrying schoolbooks, Mike saw, but he obviously
     wasn't going to school! Instead, the boy looked around and
     hurried into the old plant.

          "Playing hooky, eh?", Mike said to himself, his hard
     cock forming a tent in his pants. "Wonder what your Mom
     and Dad would say about that!"

          Chuckling to himself, Mike stepped out of his hiding
     place and looked around, making sure nobody saw him. Seeing
     nobody else, he snuck up to the partly open door to the
     plant and peered inside.

          The kid had tossed his schoolbooks aside and was
     running around, ducking behind I-beams, like he was hiding
     from something; some sort of game, Mike decided. Good, he
     thought, let him play -- it'll give me time to get ready...
     and then he'd give him a REAL game to Play!

          He ducked away and ran back to his car, hidden behind
     some trees near the plant. Already he had a plan in mind,
     one that had worked for him before. Shedding his own jeans
     and flannel shirt, he pulled on a pair of blue pants and a blue
     shirt -- actually a uniform from a service station he'd worked
     at once -- from a duffel bag on the back seat and put them on.
     He moved quickly, lest he lose his chance. Then, from the
     duffel bag, he removed an old police badge he'd picked up in a
     pawn shop once. The thing was old, probably something a
     boozing cop or an old widow had sold for a few bucks.
     Nonetheless, it served a purpose.

          Now dressed, he grabbed up the duffel bag and headed
     back to the plant, peeking inside. The boy was on his knees
     now, drawing in the dirt with a piece of wood. Stepping back
     quietly, Mike shoved the duffel into some bushes and
     prepared himself, putting on his best Look of Authority.

          The kid would never know what hit him.

                               xxx

          Craig didn't see the man right away. He was busy
     playing, pretending he was exploring the surface of Venus,
     that the huge plant was a Venusian cave. Running to and
     fro, he almost jumped out of his skin when the man called out
     to him. He stopped dead in his tracks.

          "Hold it right there, mister! You're are in a lot of
     trouble, young man!"

          Craig turned slowly, spotting the man standing in the
     doorway. Uh-oh, he thought, caught!

          The man was neatly dressed; his hair was cut short,
     almost a crew cut, his face was clean shaven. He wore what
     to Craig looked like some kind of police uniform; it was all
     blue, pants and shirt, and he had a badge tacked to the left
     side of his shirt.

          Craig swallowed hard. Was he in some kind of trouble?
     Likely he was! The man strode up to him, a very stern look
     on his face. "This building has been condemned by the town
     council", the man spoke, his voice echoing throughout the
     room. "And on top of that, why aren't you in school?"

          Craig swallowed hard again. His mother would kill him!
     Still, he stood his ground, trying very hard to
     think of a way out of this.

          "Um, are you a cop?", he asked. "If you're a cop,
     where's your gun?"

          "I'm not a cop", the man told him. "I'm a Building
     Inspector. I'm with the Fire Department. I saw you come in
     here and believe me, you're in big trouble, mister. What's
     your name?"

          "Craig Sommers, sir", Craig answered.

          The man stared at him, his face expressionless. "How
     old are you, Craig Sommers?"

          "Eleven, sir."

          The man smiled. It wasn't a normal smile, not a fond
     one or a friendly one, but kind of a leer, one that sent
     chills down Craig's spine.

          "You're in a lot of trouble, Craig Sommers", the man
     said, more quietly this time, almost a whisper, "and believe
     me kid, you don't know how much."

          Craig started to back up right then, but he was just a
     hair's breadth too late. The man grabbed the boy's slender
     shoulders and spun him around, clamping one hand over his
     mouth before he could cry out. Shoving Craig to the floor,
     the man pressed one knee into his back, keeping his hand
     firmly over Craig's mouth.

          "Now you listen up, Craig Sommers! You're going to do
     what you're told and not give me even a bit of trouble, you
     got that? If you do, I'll hurt you so bad you'll wish you
     were dead!"

          The threat was enough to make Craig freeze. Inwardly,
     he groaned. "No. PLEASE tell me this ISN'T happening", he
     thought to himself. The man's hand came away from his mouth,
     but Craig made no attempt to scream -- especially not with
     the man still on top of him!

          "Give me your hands, Craig", the man ordered, even as
     he was pulling Craig's hands together behind him. He felt
     something being wrapped around his wrists, something rough
     and scratchy -- rope, apparently.

          "I like little boys, Craig", the man sneered, twisting
     Craig's head to the side and stuffing a balled up wad of
     cloth in his mouth. Out of the corner of his eye Craig saw
     the man withdraw a kerchief, which he tied over Craig's
     mouth, keeping the other wad in. "I like to hear them
     scream and cry, you know that? Little boys scream and cry a
     lot when I fuck them in the ass. I'm gonna fuck your ass,
     Craig. I'll bet it's a TIGHT ass, and it's gonna hurt a lot
     when I fuck it. And you know what, Craig? And that's not ALL
     I'm gonna do, either!"

          Inside, Craig writhed at the unfairness of it all.
     He had seen plenty of television newscasts concerning the
     sex murders of young children: kids who had been kidnapped,
     stripped stark naked, beaten, raped, killed -- and sometimes
     even worse things! -- and Craig was plenty bright enough to
     realize that something rather like this was now happening to
     HIM! He had no real ground for complaint -- he was, after all,
     here by choice (although if he had known that THIS was going
     to happen to him, he would most certainly have chosen to go
     elsewhere). If nothing else, it meant an end to a thoroughly
     miserable existence. He DID hope that he could face up to his
     death bravely, and not give this pervert any enjoyment out of
     his dying; and he deeply regretted the agony which he knew
     his mother and father were bound to suffer from his murder.
     In thinking all of this, Craig could not help but give vent
     to a deep-felt, soul-wrenching sigh, which his captor either
     failed to hear, or else ignored completely.

          The man hauled Craig to his feet and, holding his arm,
     pushed him, half-stumbling, deeper into the old plant.
     "Yessiree, Craig, I'm going to have a fucking ball with you.
     It gives me a real fuckin' kick, you know? I just love raping
     cute little kids like you. It's Fun." He gave Craig a shake.
     "That scare ya, huh? Does it?" He laughed. "If it don't,
     I got some real surprises in store for ya, Craig. And
     they WILL scare ya!"

          He stopped then, turning Craig toward what had once
     been an office back when the plant was in operation. Pushing
     the boy ahead of him inside, he pushed the sagging wooden
     door closed as far as it would go and turned Craig to face
     him.

          The office was bare, outside of an overturned wooden
     milk crate in one corner and some old papers. The man
     pushed Craig over to the wooden crate and told him to stand,
     while the man himself sat down, positioning Craig in front
     of him.

          "Well now, let's see the goods, shall we?", the man
     laughed, undoing Craig's belt and the snaps on his pants,
     finally pulling them down his legs to his ankles.  He
     ordered Craig to step out of them, then took off the boy's
     underwear next.

          "Huh! Not much, guess you ain't seen puberty yet!", the
     man laughed. "Well, consider this a crash course!" He
     cupped his hand under Craig's balls, rubbing them; then, for
     no reason at all, he suddenly grabbed them and squeezed!

          Craig screamed into his gag at the sudden shock of pain
     and collapsed, the man's hand still firmly clenching his
     balls. As soon as the boy hit the ground the man let go of
     his nuts and Craig fell back, his head bouncing painfully
     off the concrete. Before he knew it the man was over him,
     straddling him, then sitting on his chest.

          "Woowee yeah!", the man yelled, his face flushed with
     excitement. He pulled something out of his pocket -- it
     looked like a length of wire to Craig -- and leaned forward.
     Craig felt the man's fingers stroking his little penis,
     which, in spite of the pain he still felt, got hard very
     quickly. Then he felt something else, something slightly
     cool, being wrapped around it, tighter and tighter...

          Craig let out a little gasp as the wire, which he was
     sure it was, pinched a little skin on his cock as it grew
     tighter. He could feel the man twisting it, twisting until
     it was like a steel band, with a slightly worse, more
     annoying sting where it had caught the bit of skin, wrapped
     around his cock!

          The man stood up, and Craig could see it now, wrapped
     around the base of his penis so tightly that everything
     above it was engorged. The skin there was turning red
     already, all the blood suffused into it...

          "Does that hurt, Craig? Does it? YOu gonna cry for me,
     Craig?", the man teased, making crying faces at him. Craig
     bit down and refused to cry. He didn't want to give the man
     the satisfaction of seeing his pain. If he was going to
     die, he at least wanted to die bravely!

          The man looked angry. "Don't wanna cry, huh? Well,I
     think you will!" Grabbing the boy's ankles, he lifted them
     and pulled off his shoes, then his blue socks, tossing them
     toward the door. He fumbled in his pockets and cursed
     angrily, as if he were missing something.


                         "UNLUCKY NUMBER 13"
                             By: Thunder

               Contributions and Editing By Sammy Smegma

                             Part 2 of 2

          Then he turned and scooped up Craig's pants, going
     through each pocket, dumping things out -- a cheap brown
     plastic wallet with raised tooling showing cowboy motifs,
     which he opened. "Two bucks and nineteen cents", the man
     muttered, pocketing the money. "Lot of money, eh, kid?" He
     pulled out Craig's library card next. "Craig Sommers, yeah,
     that's you!" That he tossed aside, and finally, Craig's "In
     Case of Emergency Notify" card. "Well now, this is
     pertinent, isn't it? Let's see, I guess I ought to call
     your Mom, Betty Sommers -- your Mom's name sucks, kid!", he
     bellowed, "and tell her little Craig's been kidnapped? Yeah,
     maybe I should!" He laughed and tossed that aside, as well.

          The last thing he took out was something Craig was
     proud of, a membership card to the Smile n' Sales Leadership
     Club. Craig had gotten it just before last Christmas. Smiles
     n' Sales was a Club that went door to door selling greeting
     cards; Craig had sold the most last Christmas and had won a
     $25 savings bond for his efforts. All that meant nothing
     now, as the man ripped the card in half and tossed it to the
     floor.

          "Sure got a lot of junk in here, kid", he muttered.
     "Worse than me."

          Shoving his hand into another pocket, he pulled out
     the rest of what Craig normally carried -- a plain black comb
     (his mother insisted he keep his hair neat -- wouldn't she be
     mad now!), some pens, "Hey, I can use these", the man said,
     and a keypouch. The man examined these, then tossed them
     aside and swore loudly.

          "Nothing but a lot of junk", hissed. "Fuck, kid, don't
     you got a yo-yo or something?" When Craig didn't respond he
     shook his head angrily and scowled at the boy.

          The pockets emptied, he threw the pants aside, then
     seemed to get an idea and picked them up again. "Yeah,
     this'll do", he said, pulling Craig's belt off. Grabbing
     the boy's ankles again, he wrapped the belt around them and
     cinched it. "There. Now stay put, the fun's just begun!",
     he laughed, and dashed out of the office, leaving Craig
     alone with his pain and misery.

                               xxx

          Mike's head was pounding, his heart racing like it
     always did whenever he had a little boy. He ran back to
     the entrance, scooping up his bag of goodies from where he'd
     left them, and ran back inside.

          He was gone only about two minutes; yet to Mike's
     amazement, he found Craig there, hopping slowly and
     precariously along on his two bound feet towards the rear
     of the building! Mike just stood there, watching in surprise
     for a moment, then walked over towards the fleeing boy.

          Craig heard him -- he turned and glanced over his
     shoulder, a look of anguish on his face; then he began
     hopping faster. Too fast: he lost his balance and fell to
     the floor with a plop. Mike went over and hauled him up by
     the arm. "Sorry, Craig", Mike said. "but I'll have to admit
     it was a nice try." He returned Craid to the office and
     lowered him to the floor.

          Craig lay where he'd been put, struggling a bit, but
     still not crying. He did look scared to death, and the pain
     from his bound penis -- which was now getting even darker in
     color -- was showing on his face. Mike knew it would be just
     a matter of time before the kid cracked -- they always did!

          Dropping down next to the kid, Mike slipped an arm
     around Craig's shoulders and sat him up. The boy was nude
     except for his shirt; Mike had deliberately saved that for
     last. "That's a nice shirt, Craig", he cooed, carefully
     undoing one button and slipping his hand inside. "Mmm,
     nice, smooth little boy chest. I like that." He slid his
     tongue along one side of Craig's neck. "Mmm... little boy.
     A little dirty, but tasty." He continued to lick and kiss
     Craig's neck for several minutes, his hand under Craig's
     shirt pinching and caressing the boy's nipples. One by one,
     he undid each shirt button, moving his hand lower and lower
     each time, then he leaned Craig back and began to kiss his
     chest, licking at his bare skin as he undid each button
     slowly.

          He pulled the shirt open finally, exposing Craig's
     naked little body. It was a nice body, in Mike's opinion,
     not fat but not horribly thin, either -- just right. He had
     an "outie" belly button, which Mike thought was pretty cute.
     "Hey, look at that, a baby hardon!", Mike laughed, kissing
     the little outie belly button, licking it with his tongue.
     He could feel Craig shiver -- with revulsion or fear, he
     didn't know or care which -- and raised his face, grinning
     at the boy.

          "Ready to have some fun, Craig?"

          Wrapping his arms around the boy, Mike climbed on top
     of him and sealed his mouth over Craig's lips, kissing him
     deeply. He held the kiss a long time, his tongue shoving
     into Craig's mouth and rasping over the boy's tongue. Craig
     squirmed a bit, but couldn't dislodge him.

          He drew away, smiling at the boy. "You liked that,
     didn't you Craig? You want some more, huh?"

          He flipped the boy over then, pinning him with one knee
     as he undid the rope on the boy's wrists. Grasping the
     collar of Craig's shirt he yanked on it, nearly pulling the
     boy's arms out of his sockets in an effort to get it off. As
     it came free Craig tried to move his arms forward -- trying to
     escape, perhaps? -- but Mike was too fast. He caught the
     boy's wrists and quickly re-bound them.

          "Nice try again, but no escape for you, Craig!", Mike
     laughed, and realizing suddenly what position he had the boy
     in, pressed his knee into Craig's buttocks. The boy let out a
     sharp gasp as his sore, engorged penis was ground against the
     cold, hard concrete floor, coupled now with the pain of Mike's
     knee against his ass!

          It was all too much for Mike. The boy was squirming
     furiously -- hurting himself even worse, no less -- but still
     not crying; yet the sight and feel of it was getting to him.
     Keeping Craig pinned down, he yanked down his own pants and
     underwear, his massive hardon springing out of its cotton
     prison.

          Mike slid his hands over the youngster's naked body,
     his fingers kneeding the soft young flesh. Craig lay
     squirming, still trying to relieve the pain in his engorged
     penis where it grated against the hard concrete.

          Wrapping his arms around Craig's waist, Mike hoisted
     the boy up, pushing his knees under him so his ass was now
     spread nice and wide, ready for entry...

                               xxx

          Bent over, his face shoved into the floor, his
     abductor's arms wrapped firmly around his small waist, Craig
     could could only grit his teeth and bear down as the man
     shoved his cock up inside his buttocks and asshole. Burning
     pain filled Craig's rectum as the huge, fleshy member pushed
     in, parting the constricting walls of his anus like a
     missile boring into him.

                               xxx

          Despite the pain, Craig refused to give in, to scream
     or cry, even as the man's huge cock pushed into his abdomen,
     each thrust burning and tearing and pounding hard at his
     insides. Craig's own little cock ached beyond all belief,
     constricted as it was by the wire wrapped so tightly around
     it. The little bit of flesh that had gotten caught up in
     the twist of wire was really stinging badly; indeed, Craig
     couldn't decide which hurt more. Yet he would not give in!

          "Oh yeah, oh yeah kid great fucking ass!", his rapist
     moaned, his voice more of a thick grunt than a man's voice
     now.

          Suddenly, the man stopped, thrusting forward in one
     great big heave. Craig could feel his attacker's cock
     pulsing inside of him, could feel something thick and warm
     pouring out into his intestines. For what felt like hours
     the man just stayed there, then slowly withdrew, his cock
     coming free with a soft pop!

          "Wow", the rapist breathed. "Nice ass!"

          The man lifted Craig up then and sat him back down on
     the crate. Craig squirmed and whimpered a bit, his sore,
     bare ass none to comfortable against the crate's rough wood
     surface, especially after the ass pounding he'd just been
     given!

          For the first time, Craig got a good, hard look at the
     man's huge cock. Craig had seen one before when he'd
     accidentally saw his father coming out of the shower, but
     this one was so much BIGGER and THICKER!

          "Like it?", the man asked, pulling the boy's gag down
     and tossing aside the wad of cloth in Craig's mouth. "All
     for you, Craigy!"

          "Open up, Craig", the man ordered, grabbing both sides
     of the boy's head in his hands, holding it firmly.

          "No, please, I can't, apfph--"

          Craig gagged as the huge member was shoved into his
     mouth, nearly into his throat. "If you even consider biting
     me", Mike snapped, "I'll rip out every fucking tooth in your
     head!"

          Holding the boy's head firmly in his hands, Mike began
     to jerk his head back and forth, the boy's lips wrapped
     around his cock forming their own little suction seal and
     driving him wild. Craig was pleading with his eyes, a sight
     that nearly made Mike come instantly. Somehow, he held out.

                               xxx

          Craig was hardly able to breathe with the man's penis
     sawing in and out of his throat. He choked and gagged and
     felt vaguely sick, but he couldn't do anything about it. He
     started to get dizzy from lack of oxygen and might have
     passed out had the man not suddenly stopped, and a warm,
     thick stream began to shoot into the back of Craig's throat.
     The boy choked and swallowed, having no other choice but to
     do what he was made to do.

          Finally the man pulled out and Craig began to gasp,
     taking in huge gulps of air. He very much wanted to cry
     then; he hoped it was all over.

          It wasn't.

                               xxx

          Mike pulled his cock free of Craig's mouth and stuffed
     it back in his pants. "Not bad for your first time", he
     told Craig, pulling the boy off the crate and sitting down
     next to him, then lowering him back to the floor.

          "Please, no more", Craig pleaded quietly. "Just let me go,
     please, I won't tell. Don't hurt me anymore. Please don't
     kill me."

          "Maybe I won't kill you", Mike teased.

          As encouraging as this sounded, Craig didn't believe it
     for an instant. And, if this man DID kill him, waht then?
     Would he hide or bury his body? Craig had seen many television
     specials about missing children; he knew that if his body
     were to be concealed, the odds of anyone finding it would be
     remote. His parents could spend the rest of their lives looking
     for him, and never find him! It was not to be thought of.
     "Please, oh please", he said, "if you MUST kill me, at least
     leave me someplace where somebody will find me? Please! Don't
     make my family suffer with not knowing what happened to me!",
     Craig pleaded.

          Mike stared at Craig, astonished that any child could face
     death so courageously. That a kid -- ANY kid -- should be capable
     of making such a plea filled him with amazement. There was no
     doubt about it: This kid had GUTS.

          "O.K., Craig", Mike began slowly. "You want me to leave you
     here, and you want it so they can find you? All right, I can do
     that. But I'll tell you right now that they won't like what they
     find!"

          He pressed his lips against the boy's mouth again, forcing
     more kisses from him. Weird kid, he thought, but fun! A
     little more, maybe, and he'd get what he wanted!

          Pushing the boy away, he put his gag back but didn't
     bother with shoving the rag back in his mouth first; he
     wanted Craig muffled, but not totally silenced. Not for
     what he had planned!

          Reaching into the duffle bag, he drew out a long, wide
     leather strap with twelve notches cut into one end. "See
     these?", he told Craig. "One for every little boy I ever had
     fun with. You get to be number thirteen." He peered at the belt.
     "Why hey, that's an unluckyy number! Escpecially for you."

          Folding the strap over, he brought it down hard on
     Craig's stomach. WHAP! The leather cracked against Craig's
     skin, making the boy double up for moment. WHAP! again,
     this time on Craig's chest. Again and again it brought it
     down, slapping the boy's chest, his stomach, then moving
     down his legs, finally cracking it hard against the soles of
     his feet. Each time Craig jumped and cried out in pain, his
     body tense and quivering as he anticipated each blow. Yet
     he did not cry, and that pissed Mike off even more!

          He rolled the boy over and cracked the strap down hard
     across the backs of his calves, moving up his thighs, then
     up to his back, two whacks each time, each part and then
     moving back to Craig's ass -- where he paused.

          Craig was trembling, shaking, but not yet showing any
     signs of giving in. Deep down, Mike had to admire the
     kid -- he had balls. On the other hand, he was really
     pissing Mike off to the nth degree!

          WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! Four hard blows across Craig's
     small ass, each harder than the last. Craig cried out with
     each blow, shaking harder, yet he did not give in.

          Angrily Mike tossed the strap aside and flipped the boy
     over. "You're really asking for it kid!", he shouted, slapping
     Craig hard across the face. The boy cried out and lay there,
     dazed.

          Mike had had enough of this. As much as he had tried
     to "break" Craig, he realized now that that just wasn't
     going to happen. But even so he wasn't finished, not quite
     yet. He wanted to do one more thing, mostly for his own
     personal fun.

          Reaching into his duffle bag, he pulled out a small
     length of string. Turning his back to Craig, he sat down on
     the boy's chest and cupped Craig's balls in his hand. His
     badly engorged penis was a dark purple now, almost black; it
     looked like it might burst or fall off any second, it was
     stretched so tightly. But his balls were still fine, at
     least for the moment.

          He began to tie the string around them, or rather,
     around the sack, just above the kid's nuts. Tightly, no
     less, until Craig's balls were stretched tight against the
     scrotum sack that held them and the boy was moaning in pain.
     Pulling the two ends of the string out, he wrapped them
     around Craig's penis further up and pulled them tight,
     forcing the boy's penis to aim downward. Behind him, he
     could hear Craig scream out.

                               xxx

          Craig was in real pain now. It felt as if someone were
     ripping his abdomen apart slowly, stretching the skin beyond
     belief. He felt dizzy and faint, the pain washing over him
     in waves.

          But he didn't get a chance to faint. He felt the belt
     being removed from his ankles, and suddenly he was pulled to
     his feet. Dizzy, stumbling, the man holding onto his arm,
     he was led out into the warehouse proper, hardly noticing
     the sharp sting of bits of concrete and other debris against
     the soles of his sore, bare feet.

          He dropped the boy into a sitting position and told him
     to watch. Craig's head seemed to clear a little then, making
     him all the more aware of how much pain he was in.

          Craig saw then the man had brought the duffle bag.
     Fighting pain, he watched what the man was doing.

          Reaching into the bag, he withdrew a neatly bundled
     coil of rope. Methodically, with Craig watching, he laid it
     out end to end, measuring it from one I-beam to another,
     then nodding to himself.

          "This'll be a scream", he told the wide-eyed, shaking
     boy.

          Taking one end of the rope, he tossed it up and over an
     overhead beam, making it on the first try. Pulling one end
     and a good length toward the far I-beam, he walked back and
     pulled Craig to his feet.

          "Over here", he said, pulling Craig after him until the
     boy stood even with the rope. Despite his obvious fear,
     Craig stood silent and rigid, while Mike took the child's
     belt and pulled it around his neck tightly, but not so
     tightly the boy couldn't breath.

          His fingers hooked in the belt so that if Craig tried
     to bolt, he wouldn't go far, Mike tied the end of the rope
     around the belt itself, several times to be safe. Then,
     grabbing the length of it that hung down from the back of
     the I-beam, he turned to face Craig.

          "You said you wanted to be found", he told the boy,
     "and well, hey, I think that's pretty cool." He chuckled
     thickly, as if enjoying this. "Now, any last words?" With
     that, he reached up and pulled down Craig's gag.

          "Please, don't kill me, let me go and I promise I'll
     never tell anyone, please!", Craig pleaded.

          "Nope. Too late", Mike laughed, and began to pull on
     the rope.

          "Oh, no, please not that! Please, I umphfff--!"

                               xxx

          As his feet, kicking and swinging, cleared the ground,
     as his air was cut off and his throat constricted, Craig's
     thoughts swung into high gear, and he began to pray. He
     prayed that that someone, anyone, would come along to save
     him; that his family wouldn't suffer from his death too
     much; and forgiveness for the mis-choice that had resulted
     in this happening to him... Slowly his vision began to
     darken; the floor below spun and grew dim... and then the
     blackness was total, and Craig was beyond praying. The
     unhappy life of an unhappy little boy had come to a tragic
     and unhappy end.

                               xxx

          Mike stood and watched the youngster struggle and
     thrash about in the air, his eyes bulging and tongue jutting
     out as he hung suspended only a few feet from the floor, his
     legs kicking and waving, face turning redder and redder.

          With sudden inspiration, Mike dashed back into the office
     and returned carrying the wooden crate. He positioned it next
     to the dying child, then stood up on it himself.

          Unzipping his pants, he let them drop, exposing his
     rock hard cock. He grabbed the still writhing youngster
     around the waist, and thrust himself into the child's rectum
     and and began to pump wildly, the thought occuring to him to
     be GLAD he had thought of tying off the rope to the I-beam,
     and GLAD that Craig hadn't died more quickly -- that he
     was, in fact, dying a very slow, agonizing death...

          And then, as the jerking and twitching in Craig's body
     slowed and came to a gradual stop, Mike came, spewing his
     semen deep into the child's anal cavity, and he held the boy's
     naked little corpse against him snugly in ectasy, his eyes
     tightly shut as sexual release overwhelmed him...

                               xxx

          It felt like hours had passed.

          Mike opened his eyes and withdrew, hopping down from
     his precarious perch atop the crate, and looked up -- looked
     up at Craig's lifeless body hanging just a few feet away;
     looked at the wide, bulging blue eyes staring down at him,
     filled with the sudden shock and horror of sudden death.

          Slowly Mike caught his breath and returned to the office
     where he'd raped Craig, gathering up the boy's clothes and
     other items, then returning to the spot where the boy had
     been hanged. He dropped the boy's stuff in a pile beneath the
     body, and went back for his duffle bag, returning with it a
     few minutes later. Pulling out a clean rag, he wiped down
     everything he'd touched, scattering each item in a circle
     around Craig as it was wiped clean. Lastly, he reached up and
     wiped down the youngster himself; then, almost as an
     afterthought, went back and wiped down the office as well.

          Finally done, he glanced at his watch. Nearly three
     hours had passed; and time to get moving. If the school had
     called to check on Craig, his parents by now were sure to be
     looking for him, if the truant officers weren't. It was
     just a matter of if, and when, they'd look in here...

          Gathering up his stuff, he sneered at Craig's lifeless
     corpse. "Shouldn't've played hooky, kid. See what happens
     to bad little boys?"

          And just before leaving -- he almost forgot! -- he reached
     into his duffle bag and pulled out the leather strap he'd
     earlier beaten Craig with. Digging his pen knife out as well,
     he cut a small notch into the leather, next to the others.

          "Unlucky number 13", he said to himself. "But Lucky, at
     least for me...!"

          Then he left, laughing, satisfied with himself for yet
     another day.

          And then he was gone.

          Behind him, a light wind blew softly through the
     building. It flapped through the pages of losse-leaf
     notebooks which never again would see a little boy's
     handwriting. It whispered through that lonely place,
     rustling the sandy-blond hair of the naked little boy who
     still hung, feet dangling just inches off the floor. His
     eyes wide and staring, his head lolling grotesquely to one
     side, mouth gagged, and hands bound tightly behind him,
     he swayed gently back and forth in the cool spring breeze
     of a world which never again would witness him at play.

          Slowly, the hours passed...


                             EPILOGUE

          School let out at three p.m. that afternoon, the doors
     of the elementary school bursting open like the skin of a
     ripe orange, letting loose an oozing stream of kids all
     eager to get home and play before dinner time.

          Practically at the head of the pack was Jeremy Whiler,
     aged eleven. Jeremy's family had only moved here a few days
     ago, and already he was itching to explore. While he'd been
     over some of town the past few days, one place he hadn't
     been yet was the old plant at the edge of town.

          Yanking his bike out of the bike rack, he pedaled away
     quickly, waving to the few friends he'd made who all had to
     go home and do chores. Through the streets and down the
     sidewalks he went, finally skidding to a halt before the
     huge doors of the plant itself.

          He stared up in awe. This was terrific! Jeremy just
     loved to explore old buildings, no matter how many times his
     parents warned him it wasn't safe. After all, what did an
     eleven year old boy care about safe? He wanted adventure!

          Pushing his bike into some bushes so nobody'd steal it,
     he crept inside. Again, he stared in awe at all the space,
     at the smaller, darker side offices -- and then he saw the
     body.

          At first, Jeremy didn't realize it was a body; he
     thought it was a mannequin, left hanging there by some other
     kids. He ran over to it, his eyes quickly going from the
     mannequin to the pile of stuff that lay all around it. He
     saw a wallet amid it all and picked it up, and discarded it
     when he found it empty. Looking around, he spotted what
     looked like a library card. Picking it up, he examined it
     curiously. It bore a name: CRAIG SOMMERS.

          Jeremy scratched his head. Hey, that name was familiar!
     Craig Sommers was a kid everybody picked on, a weird loner.
     Personally, Jeremy felt a bit sorry for him; but he picked
     on Craig too, mostly because everyone else did.

          Only then did it hit him.

          Lifting his eyes, he stared up at the mannequin. He'd
     seen mannequins before, with no clothes on; but they didn't
     have long, black things sticking out of them where their
     private parts should be -- and they DIDN'T have such hideous
     expressions on their faces...

          Jeremy dropped the card and backed up. This was no
     mannequin he was staring at -- it was CRAIG SOMMERS!

          Screaming, the boy tore out of the plant, forgetting
     his bike, and ran down the street, still screaming at the
     top of his lungs...

                               xxx

          They buried little Craig Sommers two days later,
     dressed in a brown suit he wore to church every Sunday.
     Nearly the whole town turned out for the funeral, perhaps
     the largest gathering in the town's history.

          Craig's parents were devastated. The autopsy had
     revealed he died of slow strangulation, and that he'd been
     raped prior to that. They were not told the rest, however,
     like the results of what had been done to his sexual organs,
     or the damage he would have suffered had he survived.

          Even as his parents mourned, the police began the hunt
     for his killer. Outraged citizens joined them, searching
     for the faceless person who'd violated and taken the young
     boy's life, vowing mob justice once they found him.

          By then, of course, it was too late. For Craig. And
     for Craig's killer, who'd long ago left them and his crimes
     behind...

                        <*> THE END <*>