Public Nudity / Beach / Cops Knotted

The next few minutes are surreal, even by the standards of this day. There a cacophony of shouting as several cops rush into the room, screaming orders and slamming the high-school boys bodily to the ground before cuffing them. Eli manages to run out onto the night-cloaked beach, but you hear shouting out there as well, followed by the tell-tale tick-tick-tick of a Tazer.

You cannot do anything. Nothing at all. You are still locked to Brutus, his thick cock and swollen knot lodged so firmly inside you that every lunge and tug he makes as the chaos around the two of you unfolds sends a wave of agony through you. The cops are clearly furious, out for blood. You know that they are doing it on your behalf, because of you, "for" you, but you wish they wouldn't. You wish everyone would just go away.

It takes a strangely long time for any of the cops to directly interact with you. An older man with a five-o'clock shadow that verges on eleven-thirty the next day finally takes a knee in front of you while draping a crinkly silver space blanket over your naked back. He begins trying to ask you "Are you ok?" but falters and thinks better of the question before reaching the end.

Animal Control has been called for Brutus, but that won't help you any. Before they get here, the knot inside you finally shrinks down enough that in one of Brutus' desperate attempts to free himself (and run over to where Thomas is laying, face down on the deck) he pulls his slimy cock suddenly and agonizingly loose.

You collapse to the ground with a shuddering whimper. The release is so sudden and so violent that the pain is swallowed up by a reverberating storm of rumbling spasms throughout your entire body. It is hard to describe the look on the older cop's face as he kneels there, trying to comfort you, while you writhe in helpless ecstasy as a torrent of burning-hot dog cum pours out of your ass.

The rest of the evening is spent in ambulances and hospitals. Your mother's face is too painful to look at. Your father's face is like black iron and broken basalt.

You cry a lot, but you are not sure how real that is.

It will be years before the boys face any kind of justice, if they ever do. It turns out JayJay's dad is a senator and the legal defense team is like O.J. squared.

Four weeks later you go back to school. Your mother and your trauma therapist assure you that you are ready.

When you see your best friend, she turns the other way in the hall. When you get to your math class there is a drawing of you being fucked by a dog on your desk. The details of the picture are accurate enough that you are certain the artist has seen one of the leaked videos being traded around the internet.

You rush from the room and lock yourself in a janitor's closet. Your face is burning up. You feel like you should be crying. You want to cry but the tears won't come. Unthinking, you start tearing at your clothes. You pull open your school uniform blouse so violently that you hear the loosed buttons tap and clatter off the cement floor and the bottles of cleaning fluid.

You only manage to regain control of your breathing once you are completely naked.

There is only one thing to do.

You dig the heels of your hands into your eyes one more time to squeeze away the dampness, then drop your hands resolutely to your sides and stride boldly back out into the school's crowded hallways.

END