Wicked Games Pt. 10

This story contains scenes and themes of nonconsensual, rough, painful sex, as well as some mild bleeding and a character having a fantasy involving genital mutilation. In this chapter there is also a pervasive theme of gender identity crisis.

Some of you people who want Nicholas and Valerie to have a happy ending might want to pretend this thing ended back in Part 8 to be honest.

*

In a lot of ways, things were on the upswing in Nicholas' life. He was actually going to his classes again, he was turning in classwork, eating more regularly. He didn't dread being alone in the same way he had in the immediate aftermath of the Violation. Of course, he wouldn't be as functional as he was now if he and Valerie were still having sex in the insane way they had been.

It kind of stung that they weren't having sex at all though. The initial plan was, they take a week off from him bottoming for her so that he could heal. They tried her riding his cock a couple more times, but once the novelty of that wore off they both realized that he wasn't much of a top, she wasn't much of a bottom, so they stopped trying. The back half of that week, Valerie started jerking off a lot. And that was fine, understandable, she had to let that energy out somewhere. The first couple days after their week off, she'd told him, "Oh, I'm a little drained today, hopefully tomorrow," and she'd giggled in that way he liked. And that was fine, it would be soon enough.

When they'd finally attempted to have sex again, something strange happened. He hadn't anticipated how taking some time away from it lowered his tolerance for the pain. Their first time together, he wasn't sure if she was being rougher than normal, or if he was just especially unused to it. Maybe both. Maybe she had a lot of pent-up sexual aggression, and maybe he had a heightened sensitivity. In any case, they went down to their little nook in the park, he'd stripped his clothes off and gotten down on his hands and knees so she could take him doggystyle, and she just started ramming her cock into him, fingers clawing at his back, pulling on his hair. It didn't take long before he was telling her to stop, and when she didn't let up at all he started shouting, "Stop! Stop!" Still she didn't listen. With one of his legs he kicked her in her leg, throwing her off balance enough that he could wriggle away. He rolled over so he was sitting in the sand, his ass against the ground so she couldn't get at it, and looked back at her, reproachfully. She lunged for him and he just said, "No!"

She stopped, seeming stricken. Eyes enormous, apologetic, confused. "You," she struggled for words, "you always said you didn't actually want me to stop. So I didn't."

He sighed. "I know. I know, I just... don't want to play like that anymore. At least not that hard."

She looked down, fingers twisting at a blade of grass. "Why not?"

"I don't know, I guess... after what happened with Rose, I just stayed so... busted open. I don't know how else to put it. Like, I was in this place where my boundaries didn't exist, didn't matter. And it was a dark place, like I spent pretty much all the time we weren't together extremely fucked up. But I still didn't want to leave because there was pleasure in it, and kind of a freedom, kind of this permanent abandon. And I guess, in this time we've spent not doing this, that part of me that was so busted open has healed, at least a little, and I don't want to just be a sex object anymore. I don't know..." He considered carefully how he was going to say this next thing. "I guess I was also kind of expecting you to be more careful."

"Yeah..." Valerie looked ashamed. "I guess, like, before, when we started fucking all the time, I was still having these thoughts about, like, sexual domination, but I was mostly surpressing them. And so when we first started out, I was careful about not pushing too hard. Well, mostly. But as we kept going and I realized how into the rough stuff you were, I was just pretty much only fantasizing about fucking you really roughly again. And so this past week I've just been driving myself crazy with fantasies of dominating you. I've missed it, baby."

"That makes sense," Nicholas said, nodding. "I, you know... we'll work back up to it, yeah? We'll get there, but today let's take it more gentle." He crawled over toward her, with a grin on his face. "Let me ride your cock again, Valerie, huh?"

"Sure," she said, in a voice that sounded... resigned. Bad sign, thought NIcholas.

So he mounted her cock, rode it until his cum sprayed all over her chest, kept riding it until the discomfort of riding it was too much, and got off it to start sucking.

But after about ten minutes of sucking, and her not cumming, she put a hand on his head and said, "I don't think it's gonna happen today, babe."

"Oh." Disappointing. "Okay." He crawled away to start putting his clothes back on. "Next time, though?"

Valerie just lay there seeming sullen. "I hope so," she said in a voice that didn't sound particularly hopeful.

As they walked back to Waylon together, he put a hand on her back and started stroking. "I sure made a mess on you didn't I? I should probably help you clean it off. Wanna shower together when we get back?" He grinned up at her hopefully.

She sighed. "I'd prefer to shower by myself this time."

"Okay." He knew he shouldn't pick at it, but, "any particular reason?"

Her mouth opened and closed a couple times, without saying anything. Eventually she just said, "Not really."

I don't believe you, he thought, but he didn't say anything.

From that day on, she didn't instigate sex with him again. A few times, he'd tried to initiate, but her response was always the same: "I kind of drained myself today, baby." A kiss on the forehead. "Some other time though, yeah?"

At the rate his socks were disappearing, Nicholas estimated she must be jerking off about four times a day every day. Assuming she wasn't using anything other than his socks to jerk off into, which seemed unlikely actually. Every time they snuggled up together to watch something on her laptop, she always had several porn tabs open, always with titles like "Fresh Boy's PAINFUL First Anal Adventure", or "SCREAMING Boy DESTROYED By HUGE Cock." ("That one is a lot less extreme than it sounds," Valerie had said, a distinct note of disappointment in her voice.)

Of course they were still close, they were still watching things together after all. They talked for hours about their studies, their aspirations, interesting things they were learning... It was like they were finally having the relationship Nicholas thought they were going to have, those first couple of days, before the Violation.

And it was a benefit to be capable of focusing on his classes again, seeing as how he was on the cusp of failing pretty much all of them. If he turned in all his assignments on time, didn't miss another class, and got a 100% on every exam going forward... a couple of them he might just be able to scrape a C. His mind was full, near overburdened. Most days, he mostly wasn't thinking about sex at all anyway. Mostly.

It was about a week after the park that he unexpectedly got a message from Rose, just a picture of him, limbs bound up on that bed, his hole gaping and leaking cum in the aftermath of the Violation, with the message, "Memories... 😈🍆"

He blocked her, obviously. How had he not done that already?

But a few days later, he noticed that before blocking her he'd saved the picture to his phone. No memory of that. Not his proudest moment...

He noticed it on that night because he'd taken some pictures of himself wearing lipstick. For a while, he'd been trying to learn to apply it. The only mirrors he had access to were in the dorm bathroom, so in the middle of the night, around 2 or 3 am, if he could keep himself awake he'd creep off the bathroom and practice lipstick in the mirror. The second he heard footsteps in the hallway, he'd wipe it off and scamper back to his room. Practicing so infrequently, he could never get it to look right, never get the shape how he wanted it, it was always smeared or asymmetrical, and usually outside the line of his lips. But this time, he felt like he'd gotten it kind of good, so he took some pictures. Studying the pictures, he couldn't help being struck by every flaw, how asymmetrical it looked. He was stupid, stupid for thinking it looked good.

And then he scrolled past the first picture he'd taken of himself in the lipstick and noticed the picture from Rose, saved to his phone. And he was ashamed of himself for having saved it, obviously.

But he also had a thought, one that started popping into his head at random intervals throughout the next couple weeks, that Rose could for sure help him with makeup.

Okay, moron, so what? What follows from that thought, idiot?

It's just that there seemed to be no other candidates for someone who could help him with it. Valerie had already said she wasn't good at it, and he didn't really have any female friends he felt comfortable telling about his makeup thing. He had no idea how such a confession would be read by a normal woman. God, he felt like such a pervert, lurking around the cosmetics section of the drug store, such an interloper, an intruder. Thank God for the self-checkout, he didn't think he could face a cashier with it in his hand, he spent the whole time in the store looking down, avoiding eye contact. He hung so much of his hope anymore on the nights where he snuck out to play with the lipstick, the hope of looking into the mirror and seeing a face he found girly again, but it always ended in frustration. He felt grotesque, oafish, a bumbling destroyer of beauty.

He was laying on his bed the next day looking at the pictures of him in the lipstick, trying and failing to convince himself he was improving. Valerie was sitting on the floor with her laptop, working on a paper.

He was feeling grotesque, and maybe it was some weird impulse to be more grotesque that caused him to say, "Maybe I should cut my balls off."

Valerie didn't look up, but in a casual if slightly irritated voice just said, "Why would you do that?"

"I dunno," Nicholas said. "Don't like 'em. Think they're weird looking, get hurt real easy. Plus the scrotum flesh sticks to my leg all the time, very annoying."

"Well, I like them," Valerie said firmly, and then, in a more coaxing tone, "I mean, I wouldn't want to never see you cum again, you know baby?"

Nicholas scoffed quietly, "Well you've got a funny way of showing it."

That annoyed her. "Excuse me?"

Some strange enjoyment of bothering her kept him pushing. "Maybe you could be the one to cut them off."

"Stop it."

"I mean, you have lots of friends who are into dark stuff, I'm sure you could find someone who'll sell, like, bootleg local anesthetic. Just inject me right in the taint and then... TWHICK!" He mimed an upward slash of a knife.

"Why..." she waved her arms around a bit, trying to figure out what she wanted to say, "Why would you want me to do that?"

"I don't know," he said, weird grin on his face, "It would be like... intimate. It'd be nice if it were you, I don't know."

"And, what, you specified local anaesthetic? Why would you be awake for that? That sounds horrifying."

He shrugged, "You only get your balls cut off once, I'd hate to miss it."

She shook her head. "I don't even know why I'm having this conversation, this is the dumbest thing I've ever heard."

"Apparently when, like, trans women get their balls cut off, they're usually awake," he said. "I dunno, just what I read."

Valerie took a deep breath at that, and then asked, "Nicholas, do you think you're trans?"

He hesitated a moment. He hesitated another moment. "No."

Valerie looked up at him skeptically. "Okay. You know... I mean... it's... you know that what I want is to be with a boy, right?"

He hesitated a moment. He hesitated another moment. "Yeah."

She started shaking her head, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that..."

"Well," he said, hearing this curious sort of pointedness in his voice as he spoke, "if that's how you feel then you should say it, shouldn't you."

"I... I..." she seemed flustered now.

He moved over to kiss her on the cheek. "Hey, maybe you could cut 'em off with no anesthetic. Bet I'd make some really interesting pain faces, huh?" A stroke of her hair. "Don't you kinda wanna see that?"

She slapped her thighs, "Alright. I'm going to the library. You're trying to provoke me and I can't... I can't with this right now. I'll be back later."

She stood up and packed her laptop and a couple books into her backpack. As she was leaving, she noticed the sullen look on his face as he lay on the bed. She got down and gave him a hug.

"Hey," she said, softly, warmly, "I guess just like, if you think there's something wrong with you, with the way you are, know that I don't feel that way. I really like you just how you are."

"Okay," he said. "I mean, you know, thanks." He hugged her back.

They lingered a moment in each other's embrace, in the feeling of unsure, edgy intimacy.

After she was gone, he found himself masturbating to a fantasy, of him tied to the bed, his legs separated, Valerie standing over him with a big knife and an eager grin.

"You're right," she was saying, "I did want to see your pain face."

And in the fantasy, Nicholas was having second thoughts, squirming and writhing against the restraints, but Valerie was just gently saying, "No no, no way out now." She gave the knife a lick, staring right into his eyes. As she was lowering it toward his crotch, she giggled and said, "Guess you're going to get infected with my germs, huh?"

He imagined the feel of the knife as it sliced through his scrotum flesh, the pain as it severed the testicles themselves from the rest of the body and then, once it sliced through the back of the scrotum, he was free, they were gone, gone, gone. Valerie took the severed parts into her hand and, staring into his eyes, crushed them in her fist.

He came, hard, uncontained, splattering it all over his shirt. In the aftermath, shame took him quickly, shame at how he'd messed up his shirt so early in the day, shame at that weird dark fantasy, shame at having these dirty little testicles that produced this dirty substance that he made a mess of nice things with.

As he lay there, procrastinating on cleaning himself up, he was actually properly struck by the thought that he might end up losing Valerie if he wanted to pursue... well...

Well now wasn't the time, anyway. He didn't have time or headspace to do much besides study, finals were getting close and it was still in his grasp to pass all his classes, barely. His brain was so loaded with assignments and study sheets that right now, he told himself, was hardly the time to come to any life-changing decisions about his identity. Summer, and some relative peace and clarity of mind, he hoped he'd have time to think. Time to practice makeup...

As Nicholas was walking back from a late study session in the library, he noticed that outside of Greg and David's room David and Greg's friend Mark were sitting side by side in front of the door, David with a baseball bat draped over his knees.

"What's going on?" Nicholas asked.

"Greg texted Rose again," David said.

Nicholas sighed. "Why would he do that?"

"Cause he's an idiot."

Mark added, "We're not letting her get him again. Not this time."

Nicholas gave them a nod. "Right on." He was about to walk away, but something kept him lingering there. "Maybe I could talk to him? I know a little something about what he's experienced."

David nodded, and they got up and opened the door to let Nicholas through.

Greg was sitting on the bed, looking miserable, bottle of whiskey on the floor, solo cup in his hand.

"Hey man," Nicholas said, gingerly, "how you doing?"

Greg sighed. Without looking up, he said, "Lonely."

"Yeah?" Nicholas sat down next to him on the bed. "You're not alone though. You've got friends who care about you, they're sitting outside."

"I know." Greg took a sip of whiskey. "I know, I just... nothing else feels like being with her. I don't want her to hurt me again, really, I just... wanna be fucked again by a girl with a big dick, more than anything. But she scares me. Heh," he took another sip, "I texted her, waited for like two hours, came to the conclusion that it was a bad idea to see her again, made peace with it, and then hours after that she replied, like, 'omw'. Freaked out really bad when I got that message, that's how they found out. It's just, you never stop wanting her, no matter how much you hate her, no matter how bad it gets, you never stop wanting her again. Or, well," he actually looked up at Nicholas for the first time, "you probably don't still want her. You have, like, a futa girlfriend who's nice to you."

Nicholas said nothing for a moment. "Maybe we can find you a futa girl who'll treat you well, huh?"

Greg scoffed. "Where? Like, there's not a lot of futas in the world, you know?"

"Yeah, well," Nicholas said, "It's not impossible."

"Says the guy who won the fucking lottery," Greg said bitterly. "Did she... did Rose ever mention me with you?"

Nicholas almost wanted to tell him yes, she had, just to lift his spirits a little. But the truth was more what he would need to hear. "No, you didn't come up."

"Mm." Greg took another sip. "She talks about you a lot. She even called me Nicholas one time, roleplayed like I was you while she fucked me. I think she's genuinely obsessed with you."

Please don't tell me that, Nicholas thought, I don't need to hear that. "How about that?" he said, simply.

"Yeah. And so, I don't know, maybe that's another reason I keep going back. She always makes me feel like garbage, undesirable, just a prop. And I keep thinking maybe this next time I can make her like me. But I don't know, that's just wishful thinking."

"Yeah..." There was some emotion building within Nicholas, some momentum he did not yet understand taking hold in his body. "Well, hey, just know we're here for you, and we're not going to let her hurt you again." He patted Greg's leg. "I've gotta go. See you around."

Greg just nodded. Nicholas knocked on the door and David let him out.

As he was walking toward the front door of the building, he heard David asking behind him, "Where are you going?"

"I don't know. Forgot my Roman History textbook at the library, going to pick it up," Nicholas said, vaguely.

"You don't know, or you're going to the library?" David probed.

"Library," Nicholas said.

"Okay... you know Rose is out there right?"

Nicholas gave a nod, "I'll be careful."

In fact, he hadn't left a book at the library. That was a lie. What he was actually doing, why he was going out, that he wasn't sure he could explain. He felt some compulsion to confront Rose, that was clear enough. Why the ridiculous fuck he would go looking for her on purpose, he wasn't sure. Partly, she had become such a towering figure in his imagination, all consuming, larger than life, he hoped it would do him some good to just get a glimpse of her, maybe slip past unnoticed in the night, see that she was just a normal human.

Except no, that wasn't what he was after. He wanted to face her again. Partly, it was just that he didn't want her to breach the walls of Waylon, that seemed some kind of violation. There were practical reasons to avoid that, the possibility of violence, that she'd run into Valerie and there'd be some altercation between them, or that David and Mark would be hurt, that Greg would end up victimized again. If he could ward her off, talk her out of going... but what could he say that would do it? Nothing seemed imaginable.

And, yeah, being honest, he wanted her to see him again, wanted to feel the burning lust for him in her eyes, and then tell her no, she couldn't have him, she'd never have him again. Make her know that he was stronger now, and she couldn't hurt him.