Part two!
Title: "The World Wide WHAT? (Part two)"
Rating: R
Synopsis: The year 2000 just got even more insane, in Zeke's book.
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, and fuck.
Zeke’s bleary eyes turned to the clock, his sight hazy from staring at blinking, bright lights and pictures and text the last three hours. The clock read 4:30; when was the last time he spent more than one hour on any one thing?? “Oh well,” he muttered aloud, ignoring the sloth he felt, returning to type in more ‘keywords’ in his browser window. “Let’s see…” he said, leaning back in his chair, thinking hard. He’s done T&A as his first… then there’d been titty-fuck, cum covered, sorority sluts, ‘Feed the Children’… well, he didn’t want to look like a TOTAL letch. Besides, he felt good about putting himself down for supporting that cute kid in India. Wouldn’t tell anyone about it of course; that might hurt his ‘tough guy’ rep considerably.
“Ahh,” he said, landing on a word. He typed in ‘fuckable’, getting about a million matches. He knew it was too broad to get specific, but his mind was going to mush status at this point. He scrolled down, chuckling at himself for feeling like a total pro. He went to one site, ‘Fuckable Fanny’, making him cringe; oh dear God, she was NOT legal, and Zeke was NOT going to jail for perusing her ‘wares’. The next few sites appeared to be duds as well. One was simply a blog of a high school sophomore, talking about her sexual exploits with half the lacrosse team. He eyes rested now near the top of the page, finding the title “Fuckable Frosh”. Okay, Zeke was pretty damned sure they didn’t mean HIGH-school frosh- that’d be pushing it.
Ah yes, it was a college listing. “Fuckable Frosh: check out what these young men and women do when their noses aren’t in the books!” Zeke smiled, looking over various small pictures lining down the text, most of the words flashing erratically. He clicked on ‘Colleges/Universities’, getting a list to pop up quick. Hmm, where to start… he figured he’d go to his friend’s schools. Stokes was going to some school in Seattle, though he wasn’t sure which. He now found MIT, and smiled evilly. He figured he could ask Casey tomorrow if he knew any of the fresh meat he’d found right at his own school, no less. Maybe he could even give him info; Zeke didn’t doubt for a second that Casey wouldn’t dare peruse such sites. He was probably one of the kids with his nose CONSTANTLY in the books.
He clicked his school, getting a long listing of both guys, girls, along with their profiles and pictures in small script. “Click on any pic/profile” it said at the top. Ignoring the boy’s side of the page, he scanned down the list of girls. Okay- he’d start with… Annie.
Ah yes, she wasn’t so bad. She even had curly red hair like the girl Annie, too. Her picture was very amateur, obviously done in her dorm room. She didn’t show much but Zeke wouldn’t have minded being the one taking this picture. Next he clicked down to Belinda. Ew. Come on, girl; he didn’t want to be mean but she was most definitely not fuckable. She didn’t even look like a freshman, though these days a lot of older people were going back to college. Never mind Belinda then- onto Bonnie.
Billie, Brenda, Bridget, Carrie, Carrissa, Casey… whoa. No, that’s a girl NAMED Casey. “Whew,” Zeke breathed out. That’s when his eyes inadvertently darted to the boy’s side of the page.
Shit. No. Yes? Wait.
Zeke leaned into the computer, his forehead inches from the screen. The tiny picture there with the name ‘Casey’ sat there, a black and white, making it hard to see past what looked to be a pole. But those eyes, very familiar… hoping none of those- Spy Brats, or whatever the fuck they were called were lurking around his internet connection, he took a deep breath and clicked on the photo to enlarge it.
“Oh my fucking God.” Zeke mumbled. Now THIS Casey was not a girl. THIS Casey was a male. THIS Casey… had been in this very room just hours before. The photo he’d clicked on enlarged, and it showed Casey’s eyes peeking out past his wrist. Looking up he saw what looked like a metal cuff at one of them and swallowed. “Click to see full size” the heading said at the top. Zeke did so, feeling something odd tingling at his crotch.
The picture came up, and Zeke had to hold back a gasp. Yes, there was Casey; he was kneeling at a pole and his wrists were indeed cuffed around it at the top. Light was coming from behind him through what looked to be bleachers. “Oh… fuck,” Zeke said, eyes blinking furiously, his thighs feeling warm. The pole obstructed viewing of whatever lay behind it, but he could see that Casey’s jeans were opened, going down his hips slightly. His bare chest was pressed against the metal, a very erect and darkened nipple displayed just under his chin. A half smile was on his lips, eyes wide to imply a strange sort of innocence. This…. This was Casey Connor?? His eyes flicked up to read his profile:
“Casey is a freshman here at MIT, studying both physics and photography… in fact, he took these pictures himself. Quite the multi-tasker, eh?? ;)”
He read on; his likes, dislikes, descriptions… “Click HERE for more pictures of CASEY”… oh for fuck’s sake.
He had to. He didn’t know why, but he had to. Perhaps it was the intrigue of seeing Casey as he’d never seen him- as NO one had ever seen him. Whatever it was, Zeke was compelled to indeed click on the link provided.
Thumbnails of small photos, all with the tempting ‘Click for larger view’ scattered over the screen. Zeke’s head spun slightly, the heat in his thighs growing. One he figured was safe; it looked like Casey lying on bleachers somewhere. Okay. Click.
Yea… with his jeans opened again, an obvious erection threatening to push out… oh for… click back.
“Okay, okay,” Zeke mumbled out, his throat feeling dry. Ow. What was that? Looking down, Zeke gasped and stood up quickly. A hole had burned through his jeans, right near the seam of the thigh and crotch. Had he been smoking when he got to this site? Jesus, he couldn’t remember, never mind when it’d dropped out of his mouth. He grabbed up the culprit in question from the floor and put it in his ashtray, then lit another. Clamping his lips down he continued to look through this collection…
****
Zeke’s head rose from the pillow of the couch painfully. Light was streaming in through the windows in the room, making him realize that he must have taken three steps from the computer to the couch and simply passed out. What time had it been when he finally fell asleep? What time was it now?
8:10, the clock read. He had work in less than an hour from now; Zeke groaned and lie on his back, groaning loudly. “The fuck.” He muttered as he rubbed his face, turning his head to look at his new enemy. The computer sat quietly there across from him on the desk, its screen black except for the small bouncing ball icon hitting the sides and jumping around slowly. He became entranced a moment then realized; shit. I’m addicted. It’s got me. I’m watching a blank fucking screen with a bouncy ball, and I won’t look away.
And then… he remembered.
Before he’d realized how desperate he was for sleep, he’d spent at least a whole hour and a half perusing the “Fuckable Freshmen” site, but not for girls; not even for a bevy of guys, either. One guy in particular, and that was all. Casey Connor, Herrington’s famed quiet guy, nerd, and hero, whatever anyone else tagged on him. The boy who saved the world- the boy who never bothered anyone, who sat in parking lots taking pictures of caterpillars crawling on the asphalt. The boy who decided to unbutton his jeans and take pictures of himself handcuffed to poles. How DID he do that, anyways?? Jesus.
For the first half hour checking out this corner of the web Casey had claimed, Zeke was trying very hard to convince himself that no- he wasn’t ‘checking him out’. He wasn’t drooling (like probably any warm blooded girl would in seeing that sort of thing) over how simply beautiful Casey was. ‘No, he isn’t beautiful, c’mon Zeke. Don’t think that’ he kept thinking to himself. He was just a guy who was admiring his good friend’s work, his excellent photography skills, right?
Right?
After a full ten minutes of staring at one picture in particular; a particularly nude Casey lying in a bed with strategically placed sheets, eyes peeking out past his arm with a smile on his lips to die for… Zeke scared himself and pressed the back button, going to the original page. He almost got up right then and there, frightened at the very idea that he wasn’t just wondering what kind of camera he’d used or if he’d used special filters to make things lighter and darker. Zeke realized that his jeans were getting uncomfortable, growing warm again; this time it wasn’t from a dropped lit cigarette.
So he grabbed up the mouse again and kept clicking. Kept staring, kept gazing with wild wonder at the ‘boy who grew up’, and grew up he did. Casey had seemed to fill out some of the more boyish, lankier aspects of his body, though he remained small. But it was clear in seeing the sinew of his arms, clenched and looking a lot tougher than Casey used to be that he must have done some sort of working out lately.
The only thing that stood in Zeke’s way of respecting Casey entirely during school and afterwards during their last summer, was the fact that Casey didn’t seem to have any for himself. Respect, that is. It didn’t matter that things had certainly changed after the invasion, and he wasn’t getting beat up anymore. Zeke would drive him to school and drive him home, a camaraderie binding them. But put everything aside and Casey would still not look at you when you talked, still hung his head when he strolled into school; Gabe was still Gabe; even without the beatings he’d stopped giving Casey everyday, he was still a prick. He’d made a nasty comment during chemistry class when Casey dropped a piece of chalk after demonstrating a certain combination of compounds on the board. “There’s a position Casey’s used to,” he’d blurted as Casey bent over, making him look towards the back of the room where Gabe and his cohorts were chuckling. He said nothing, simply walking back to his desk and crouching low as he always did. No confidence, no respect. Nothing.
That wasn’t a factor now, was it?
8:24, the clock read. Shit. Zeke rolled his eyes and grabbed the phone to call Ned, his co-worker who was off today. He wanted more hours anyways.