***WARNING*** The following story contains scenes of violence, 
rape, and homosexual sex. If the preceding things offend you, well,
I think it's rather apparent that you should push that little "back"
button and go to some other site. Of course, this is America, so I 
think pretty much everybody can handle violence, rape, and homosexual
sex. After all, if we couldn't, Jerry Springer would have no ratings,
right? Anyway, big thanks going out to everyone who sent me e-mail
on the preceding chapters. You guys have been my source for the last
month while I've been trying to write this. And of course, the 
biggest thanks go out to my biggest fan, you know who you are.
Send all comments, good or bad, to tbristol@oswego.edu because hey,
we all *LOVE* to get e-mail! Anyway, enough of this boring, sentimental
tirade, on with the story!!

		Love In The Electronic Age - Chapter 3

	Chris stared almost blankly at his left hand, which slowly
moved Kurt's ring back and forth across the tips of his fingers, in 
near total darkness, the only illumination being cast by the soft blue
light of the CD player's display. His reddened eyes blinked occasionally,
hoping to relieve the dryness that his 32 hour lack of sleep had bombarded
upon him. 
	The events of the past three days played through his mind in almost
highlight form: calling Kurt to ask why he was an hour, two hours, and three
hours late, the visit to his dorm room to find it as unkept and untidy as 
ever, yet showing no disturbance that Kurt's prescence would have caused, the
trip to the campus police to fill out a missing person report, only to be
interrogated on his relationship with Kurt in the end, his frantic search
across the campus, the posters he had posted throughout the small college
town, and finally, the note slipped under his door from Kurt, telling him that
it was over.
	The handwriting was shaky, but it was short and to the point, in Kurt's
fashion, and the content of the note could explain its handwriting. But still, 
in the end, he still didn't want to believe that it was from Kurt. It couldn't
have been, Kurt loved him, and he loved Kurt. But no one had known of their
relationship, no one, they had taken too many precautions to insure that, 
hadn't they?
	The ring stopped rolling across as Chris gripped it and brought it
to the attention of his weary eyes. Chris had remarked that it was entirely
too big for him to ever wear, so Kurt had gone and bought a silver chain to
match the ring so that Chris would have no excuses. The ring was a simple
silver band, nothing more, but still, it was important enough to Kurt that 
he wanted Chris to have it, to always be carrying a part of him, even when
Kurt wasn't there.
	And now, Kurt wasn't there, it seemed that Kurt wasn't anywhere. He
had called again after receiving the note, nearly soaked in his tears of
anguish and anger, only to receive no answer, and to find no home at his dorm
room. 
	He had abandoned his classes, shutting himself in his room, spending
his time now simply staring at the ring, trying to fathom why Kurt had left
him. His mind raced thorugh all the possible categories of reasons: illness,
fear of persecution, love to hate, found someone else, sex wasn't good enough.
And then he reached the last category, the one he refused to face and accept,
that maybe, just maybe, Kurt had never really loved him, and was now taking
the coward's way out so he wouldn't have to see the damage he had done with
the nearly scribbled words "I can't be with you anymore Chris. I'm sorry."
	The CD player made small sounds as it began its long run through its
tracks once again, the soft jazz music that Chris and Kurt used to snuggle up
and listen to by candlelight barely reaching the edge of Chris's now narrow,
fixated attention span. What did reach his mind quickly evoked limited flashes
of memory, images of him lying against Kurt's chest, Kurt's long furred arms 
wrapped about him, his head resting against his own, nuzzling him softly, images
of them consummating their love afterward, their eyes never breaking contact
even when their act reached its final summit, images of afterward, their minds
and souls joined as well as their bodies. 
	And now he was gone. A salt filled tear dredged it's way down his face
as he continued to stare at the ring. How could Kurt not love him? How could have
the shine that appeared in Kurt's deep golden eyes when he looked into his own
be interpreted as anything else? How could...
	Chris opened his eyes again, feeling the need to sleep tighten it's hold
upon him, feeling the burning that his depravation had caused. He forced his mind
to trudge through the haze that had enveloped his brain to find an answer. How
could Kurt not love him? He couldn't, he couldn't not love him, it all couldn't
have been a lie!
	Chris's mind began running through all the near impossible scenarios, 
Holmes' edict ringing clear. He knew that they had been careful as possible in
insuring that no one would know of their relationship, but they had made public
displays of their love. More flashes of memory permeated his mind, which began
shaking off the heavy shackles of his fatigue, his brain charged with its 
purpose. They had held hands and kissed while watching "Titanic" at the college
theater, kissed on the lakeshore soon after. Their first kiss. Chris's heart
warmed for the first time since getting the note as he thought of it. Kurt had 
searched him out on the public running trails, exhausted as anything by the time
he had finished his second lap of the trail and found Kurt standing in front of
him. Kurt had told him that he loved him for the first time, and they had kissed,
right there on the running, in front of whoever might have passed by. The kiss was
so deep, so loving, they both probably lost track of time. Anyone could have seen...
	And because of the frightening amount of prejudice on campus towards a 
relationship such as theirs, there was a chance that someone could have kidnapped
Kurt, or beaten him, or... He immediately dismissed the final words, he knew Kurt
was alive, he *knew* it. So Kurt must have been abducted, but why not both?
	Divide and conquer. If he had been kidnapped, Kurt would have torn apart 
the campus looking for him, whereas by kidnapping Kurt, the stronger one was taken
and probably restrained while the weaker, intellectual one was left alone to suffer
alone. But he wouldn't be left alone forever, he knew that. He knew that eventually
they would come for him. He had to get out, now.
	Chris took the necklace and donned it quickly, opening the door and peeking
outside. The hallway was clear. He then closed the door, an idea reaching him thorugh
the tired haze. Why not let them think they were successful? Then they wouldn't expect
his interference. His mind raced, formulating a plan. He grabbed the note, and in the
smae shaky handwriting, wrote along the back. He then opened the door, his bloodshot
eyes feeling the painful light lancing against them. And as he slowly slipped out, 
he unclasped the necklace. While the door clicked shut, the ring clinked softly against
the worn linoleum, rolling along until resting besides the bed.

				*************

	Kurt became aware of the same surroundings that had occupied him for... He 
couldn't begin to tell how long he had been there. A day, a week, maybe a month, 
only the perpetual darkness reigned. Only the rapings of his body broke the monotony.
	But it was only of his body, his mind, his heart, his soul were still pure.
Injured, perhaps, but not raped. The only thing that seemed to pass the time for his
mind was evaluating whatever method would allow him to escape and get back to Chris.
The only thing that helped his heart pass the time was the hope that he could be
with Chris again before the poison took him completely. The only that helped his 
heart pass the time was the thing that had kept it going since the day he had 
realized his love for Chris, and that was that love. 
	No matter how much poison was flushed into his veins, no matter how many
times his body was beaten and restrained to the table, no matter how many times
his captor rammed his wretched organ into his passage, spilling his loathsome 
fluid into his body, he would never feel different about Chris. The old adage was
proving true, this ordeal had only made him love Chris all the more. It had only
proved to him that their love was real, was pure and true. So pure and true that
someone decided to try and stop it.
	Kurt winced involuntarily as the fist of his captor struck his face.
	"You listen to me when I'm talking to you, you filthy breed!" he said, 
another blow colliding with his face. 
	Kurt stared at his captor, his eyes now fully adjusted to the dark setting of
the room. It was a wolf morph, definitely of the timber stock, which would explain 
the hatred towards the humans. His father was a timber wolf, and hated humans as well,
he just wasn't as blatent. 
	"I gave you no permission to look at me!" his captor growled as another hit 
slammed into his skull. The world became blurred and wavy for a while until it cleared
enough to see that the wolf was moving toward his usual position. He began to block
out his body as he has been doing for the last few rapings, refusing to take any pleasure
and let him think he was making progress.
	But if there was no progress in that wolf's mind, he'd never be freed from the
table. There was no way to get any kind of signal to Chris that he was still alive,
that he was there, that he still loved him. If he could put on an act for his captor, 
he might be freed from the table, and maybe get a chance to overpower him, and get out, 
and get back to Chris. 
	He had to get back to Chris, at the very least to prove to himself that what he
felt in his heart was right, that Chris was still alive despite what his captor had told
him. But to get out, he would have to...
	The wolf was already starting to push his way in, the soft tingles of pleasure
from his body trying to lure his mind into betraying Chris. He would not not enjoy it,
he would not enjoy being raped by that wolf. But he had to make him think that he was.
His mind raced, providing the simple solution.
	He closed his eyes, his mind reining in the messages from his body, contorting
the images into something more acceptable. In his mind's eye, he saw not a lust crazed
wolfen rapist, but a soft, caring human. The burning golden orbs became loving blue
grey eyes that carried a sparkle that he always claimed was there even Chris said he
could never find it in a mirror. The rough calloused pads became the warm, tender hands
and fingers that ran their way up and down his body. The large intruding member became
Chris's smooth organ, sliding in and out with the utmost care, the balls gently bumping
against his cheeks. He felt himself extending in response to his mental translation, 
Chris responding by pulling his sheath down to the base, rubbing him as if he were
polishing a museum piece. 
	He felt his expulsion quickly impending, and opened his mouth, making short, 
raspy barks as he felt Chris pulsing within him. He was about to cry out Chris's name
when he realized the reality of the situation, and restrained it with the viciousness
of the bonds that held him to the table. No, he couldn't give away his plan. He hoped
that his performance would be seen as adaquete progress, at least enough to maybe get
him released from the table.
	Kurt winced as the long meat yanked itself free from him, dripping it's toxic
spillage. Looking to the side, now knowing to not provoke his captor, he strained his
ears to pick up whatever his captor might utter under his breath.
	"You did real good that time, breed. Good to see you're having a change of
heart. I told you we're better than them. That sap ever make you howl like that, breed?"
	"No," Kurt muttered, knowing that Chris usually had him howl louder. He inhaled
in a gasp as the needle jabbed his arm again, filling him again with the drugs to stave
off his death another day. 
	"You keep howlin' like that, maybe I might let you off of that table and put you
in a little room instead."
	Kurt swallowed his pride, telling himself in was for the good of the plan. "I'd
like that," he winced internally, "master."
	"Master. My, my, my, you are coming along rather nicely. Now either you've finally
broke, or you're planning something. And if you are, remember, you can live without your
medicene, right? Don't try anything stupid, breed, I'd hate to have to kill someone with
an ass as tight as yours."
	It was so difficult to stop himself from unleashing a fury of expletives that it 
nearly showed on his face, but he regained his composure and resumed his normal position
of staring at the ceiling, trying to remain deaf to the situation while his mind formulated
the next stage of the plan. The plan that would get him out, that would get him back to 
Chris. 
	He would let the wolf batter and rape his body, so it could buy him some time, so
he could think of a way to get back to Chris. He would call the wolf "master" and act as
if his anti-sapien drivel was actually permeating his mind, so the wolf would let down
his guard, and let him off of the table, so he could overpower the wolf, and then escape,
so he could get back to Chris. He would try to not have his love for Chris be apparent
when his captor was there or when the camera droned through it's sweeping cycle, so he
could not lose the progress he had made, so that he could make more progress, that could
help him get out, so that he could get back to Chris.
	His heart warmed as he clung to his few remaining hopes, his flew as he ran down
his list of escape options, and his soul continued feeling the same love that refused
to let him fail in his quest. His breathing regulated as sleep overtook his tortured body,
the darkness of the room melding with the darkness of sleep almost unnoticeably. 
	Afraid to even let the words roll off his tongue, he simply said in his mind the
one phrase that had kept his hope alive since his abduction, "I love you, Chris, and
I'm going to get back to you, no matter what it takes..." His head lolled to the side
limply as the arms of sleep finally cradled him in it's arms, offering him the only
thing it could, a few minutes, maybe an hour of two of peace, perhaps even a illusion
or two that this nightmare truly was one, and that all he had to do was wake up...

To be continued...

August 23, 1998
11:12pm
by Gwydion