FRATERNITY (Chapter One, Part One) written by FRATERNITY (Kramtoad Story)

 

FRATERNITY (Chapter One, Part One)

by FRATERNITY

Warning: Violence and hate speech.

For a moment, Jason thought the light reflected by the rain gauge belonged to a car on the nearby highway---A headlight peering through the trees as a car rounded the bend. The song of crickets and cicadas was uninterrupted, however, as he finished checking precipitation. As he stood from his crouching position, soft yellow light bounced off the weather gauge again. Jason turned to the
wooded area behind him.

'Not again, he thought. Not tonight.' The flashlight could have belonged to some fellow science students, making late-night observations on nocturnal weather patterns, or perhaps a couple frolicking in the woods. But somehow Jason knew better. Like a storm chaser following a funnel cloud, he knew that conditions were probable for trouble.

Grabbing his log book, he moved quickly away, trying not to be noticed. He was careful not to run, fearing that it would draw attention to him. Instead, he crossed the field with long strides, paying careful attention not to step on anything that would make noise.

That was close, Jason said to himself, as he reached the tree line, too damn close for comfort. Jason hurried through the brush, making himself clandestine in the darkness of the adjacent woods. He would have to take the long way home. He could barely see the silhouette of large trees, let alone any sort of fallen limb or
overgrowth that may lay in his way. He moved forward, slowly careful not stumble and fall. His hands were held like a blind man, searching out what was in front of him.

It was slow maneuvering, but he had a feeling the flashlight men were far behind. Perhaps, they were searching aimlessly. Maybe they'll get bored and go away, Jason thought. He had gone a little ways when he unknowingly set his foot
down on a stick. The cracking sound seemed to echo through the woods. Jason
hesitated, trying not to make any more noise than he already had. Maybe it's not that loud, he said to himself. Maybe it just seems that loud to me.
“Hey, man. Someone's over there,” he heard a panty voice call. It sounded a lot like Troy Schaffer. I can hear him moving around.

‘Damn, it's the Delta Phi boys,’ Jason said to himself. But how many of them? He struggled to keep his composure. He thought he had gained more ground---That they were a good ways behind him, still working their ways across the field. When he heard Troy, however, he realized they were perhaps thirty yards away.

“Are you sure?” Greg Yeary's voice cut through the darkness. “I didn't hear anything.”

“I'm positive. He's over there. I heard him.”

‘Oh, dear God. I'm going to die out here,’ Jason said to himself, as his heart began to pump violently. Images of frat brothers standing over his badly beaten body began racing through his mind. They'd tie him to a tree, gag him so he couldn't yell, and take turns seeing who could do the most damage.

The pounding in his chest was so loud, he hardly noticed the sound of approaching footsteps. Stay still, he told himself. Stay still and low to the ground and they won't see you.

“Over in there,” Troy said. Jason noticed the beam of the flashlight pass above him.

“Just look around, man. He can't be far,” Greg said.

“Man, are you sure wanna fucking do this?” Jason noticed Shawn Jennings voice.

“Yeah, we gotta fucking do this, man! No one breaks the fucking rules on...”

“There,” Dan Sharp interrupted. “I think I see him.”
As the light fell on Jason's red jersey, he knew he had been found. Without a moment's hesitation, he sprang to his feet in a flurry and began tearing through the weeds like a mad man.

“It's him! Get that mother fucker!”

Run. Run. Run. To the field... Get to the field... His mind was going into overdrive as he fought his way toward the field. He could feel thistle and thorns scraping across his legs. ‘If I can just get the field, I got the advantage. Ain't no one within five hundred miles that can catch me on open ground.’

Just ahead, he could see where the trees thinned out and the field was on the other side. Jason broke into a hard sprint, but he had hardly gone a few strides when he felt something ---perhaps a fallen tree limb-- stop the movement of his foot. He came crashing to the ground.

“Get that motherfucker! Get him!” The men were on top of him before he could even get his hands out.

A pair of hands dug into the back of his shirt. Another pair wrapped tightly around his left armpit bruising grip sunk deeply into his bicep. Despite his passive resistance, they forced him to his feet. A third set of hand grabbed hold of his right arm.

“Leave me alone,” Jason groaned, as the flashlight lit up his face. Fear spilled from his mysterious blue eyes, as they held him up against a tree. He gasped to catch, as the frat brothers looked him over---Something that wonder out of a Calvin Kline advertisement.

“Why are you doing this?” he asked, as he tried to look around. There
were three guys standing in front of him, including the one with the
flashlight. Three sets of hands were holding him up. All six of them jocks and
football players.

“Shut the fuck up, Hall.” Jason recognized the voice of Greg Yeary, president of Delta Phi Omega. Greg handed the flashlight to Troy Schaffer, who was standing to his left.

“Look guys, I don't want any...”

Jason noticed the ferocity in Greg's face as he lunged forward, throwing his knee into Jason's stomach. Jason made a muffled groan as the air was forced from his lungs.

“I thought I told you to shut the fuck up! If you'd keep your fucking mouth shut, we wouldn't have to do this.”

Tears began to roll down Jason's face, as he looked up at Greg. He remained silent, but the expression on his face said: Why?

“Why are you doing this to me?”

“We trusted you motherfucker! We let you in! We called you a fucking brother, man,” Greg ranted. “And now all over campus... All over this fucking town... Do you know what they say?”

Jason's head turned slowly from side to side.

“Troy, tell him. Tell him what they say about Delta Phi.”

Jason saw the hurt in Troy's face. Troy hung his head, a mutter escaped his lips.

“Say it again, yelled Greg. I don't think he heard you.”

“They say Delta Phi Omega has queers in it.”
Greg stepped forward, staring into Jason's face. “Do you know what they feels like?”

Jason remained silent, as Greg towered over him---A six-five hawking specimen of a man. He placed his hands on Jason's shoulders. “It feels like this!” Greg brought his knee up so hard and swift into Jason's balls that it lifted him a couple of inches off the ground. Jason's balls began to ache at once, as he let out a cry. He could feel his legs becoming rubbery beneath him as nausea moved through his stomach.

“Shut up!!!” screeched Greg, as he threw a punch that knocked Jason's head sideways. Liquid fire spilled across Jason's check has Greg's solid iron fist drove the inside of Jason's mouth into his teeth. Blood spewed out at once. A quick left jab followed that caught Jason's eye, forcing his head back against the tree.

Another right caught landed in his solo plexus, knocking out the little wind that he had regathered. Before letting go, Greg drove one more knee into Jason's balls. Greg held his knee in Jason's crotch for a moment, grinding his Jason's genitals. Greg could feel Jason's penis flop across the top of his leg as one ball rolled to either side of his knee cap. Jason's mouth gaped open like a fish.

Soft gasps escaped but nothing more.

Greg took a step back. Jason legs were bucking but three frat brothers were still holding him up by his arms. Greg looked over at Troy and nodded.

The scene went momentarily dark as Troy drew the heavy flashlight up in the air like a golf club. A yellow streak carved through the air with a whooshing sound. A sound like a tennis ball connecting with a wiffel ball bat was heard as the flashlight sailed into Jason's balls. Jason's knees came together, as he let out a
scream that echoed through the woods.

“My turn,” said the Shawn, as he charged forward throwing a wild punch that landed just below Jason's eye. Images of policemen searching the woods with dogs and coming upon the scene of his body began rushing through Jason's head.

‘I'm dead already,’ he thought. ‘It's just a matter of time.’

Shawn and Troy were about to swing again when a voice called out that stopped them in their tracks.

“That's enough guys.”

The tone was so matter-of-fact and direct that Jason thought it belonged to one of the men holding him up. It was forceful and declarative.

“Who the fuck are you?” Greg asked as he started toward the approaching shadow of a man.

As the flashlight angled on Greg, the face of Derek Hartly became visible.

“Got a lot of balls little dude,” said Greg, as charged toward Derek. Derek was much smaller--- A blonde-haired blue-eyed minion at five nine, one hundred and fifty pounds.

Greg through a punch that was interrupted by a sharp block and counter punch into Greg's armpit. Greg's arm appeared to go limp after the shock to the nerve center. Derek made a sudden sweeping motion, taking Greg's feet out from under him. As Greg fell on his back, his legs sprawled in the air. Derek grabbed a hold of Greg's right leg, pulling up on his while he stamped his heel down into
Greg's crotch. Greg moaned until Derek lifted his foot and sent a snap kick in Greg's jaw that knocked him out cold.

Dennis Haulsman, Dan Sharp, and Ken Sluter let go of Jason, as Troy and Shawn stormed toward Derek. As Troy came brandishing the flashlight toward the Derek, he stepped to the side, catching Troy's arms and throwing him to the ground. Derek shot off a round house kick that landed aside Troy's head, as Shawn reached around trying get him in a headlock. Troy was staggering, dizzy and unable to help Shawn. Derek took a step to the side with his left foot,
lowering himself into a stance that looked like he was riding a horse. This left Shawn's body open, so he through an elbow into Shawn's solo plexus before slamming his open palm down into his balls. Derek's fingers dug into Shawn's sac grasping them tightly.

“Let go of me,” Derek said calmly, but Shawn was still being stubborn with his headlock. So, the man threw up a back fist punch up that broke Shawn's nose, sending a stream of blood into the air. As Shawn fell back, Derek slapped his balls once more, caught Shawn's right arm, and forced him to the ground.

The three remaining men were already charging forward.

Dennis Haulsman, a linebacker, was ahead of Dan Sharp and Ken Sluter. Dennis moved as if he were going to tackle the man, but as he approached Derek
leapt into the air, firing a single side kick. A heel came crashing against Dennis's head that knocked him out on his feet.

Dan and Ken grasped a hold of the Derek's shirt, like they were going to pull him to the ground. He stood, facing them. Since they were within arm’s reach, his right hand dug into Ken's testicles and his left hand into his Dan's. His fingers curled tightly around them, like he was holding up two dumb bells. Dan and Ken began to squeal and squirm, but they held on stubbornly at first. So, the man twisted each fist to the side, as if he were switching from standard curl to reverse curl. Simultaneously, he was tugging upward on the testicles. Squawking, they let go at once.

“Very good,” he said. Then, he tugged Ken forward close enough so that he could smash his forehead into Ken's nose. As Derek let go of Ken's testicles, Ken fell to the ground. Derek brought his right fist down on top of Dan's testicles which were still twisted and trapped by the man's left hand. Dan went out like a light, as Derek looked over his shoulder.

Troy was staggering to his feet, as Derek came around with a back-spin kick that connected with Troy's ribs. Troy clutched as ribs and stooped forward. Derek stepped forward, throwing a ridge--hand strike into Troy's groin. As Troy's mouth gaped open, Derek finished him with a roundhouse kick to the side of his head.

Derek heard the muffled sound of sobs behind him. He spun around at once, half-expecting another attacker. Instead, there was Jason, writhing, barely conscious against the tree trunk. His hands were cupping his groin.

“Jason!” Derek shrieked, as he rushed to his side.

“My balls,” muttered Jason.

To be continued….