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You loved your best friend more than anything in the world. Despite the two of you meeting as teenagers your bond with one another was stronger than any forged in childhood. Getting through highschool was a battlefield-esque experience that you got through together. She was the first person you had come out to, a doubt never having crossed your mind of her not accepting you.
Senior year Sarah was the one who helped you find your first girlfriend. A sweet girl you hadn’t met before but you recognized from passing in the halls. You had dated her for the rest of highschool; the relationship only ended when the two of you separated to different colleges.
You were in your junior year of college, your major taking up so much more of your time than you could have anticipated. It was one of the reasons you were so reluctant when Sarah had invited you home with her for the holidays. You felt like you were drowning in your workload, trying to burn the words of the textbooks into the back of your eyelids.
It was incredibly hard to tell her no when she had gotten to her literal hands and knees to beg. You had wanted to continue your protest but you knew that she’d soon start asking questions and you weren’t about to reveal the big reason you didn’t want to return home with her.
Joel Miller, Sarah’s dad.
He was kind of a creep and you weren’t ready to subject yourself to the sick feelings that he would conjure up inside you. He’d never been so blatant as to make any advance that he couldn’t brush off as something else but as you had gotten progressively older, he grew bolder. You thought frequently about how he was escalating, like he would have crossed a line he couldn’t come back from should you have not immediately left for college.
It made you ill the thought of seeing him, of staying in that house with him.
In the end your love for your best friend overruled your fear of seeing her father again. You held out hope that nothing would happen especially with the added promise of her uncle Tommy staying for Christmas. Surely her dad wouldn’t try anything with both his brother and daughter staying in the same house.
Joel was a good reminder of why you didn’t like men, why you despised the majority. It was so rare for you to have a man in your life that didn’t sicken you. Your dad had stereotypically left your life at an early age — your mother never remarrying.
You didn’t know if you’d consider it a blessing or a curse that you came down with a cold the day after you two had arrived. It was an easy excuse to avoid any interaction with Sarah’s dad. You stayed holed up in Sarah’s room the majority of the time after she had opted to stay on the couch in favor of you ‘resting better’. She came to visit you frequently throughout the days despite your cough getting progressively worse. It was on day five of your trip that your voice shit the bed. A fact that didn’t seem bad at the time. Her dad and uncle kept their distance as best they could, neither of them being able to afford getting sick and miss work.
You still were slow to settle, staying on edge as you felt vulnerable being sick in a home that was not yours. Those days you were feeling your worst. The few times Sarah left the house you were left hyper aware of the fact that you were alone and no longer had her as a defense. You didn’t mind her uncle Tommy, he was a bit doofy — reminiscent of a golden retriever — but he was fun to be around and was nice to you even after you came out. He wasn’t the one you were worried about.
You knew you weren’t crazy, you couldn’t have been imagining all of those encounters you had with Joel. He started treating you differently when you were in highschool, right around the time you started dating your first girlfriend. His eyes always lingered too long, the occasional flash of disdain in them. You may not have seen him in years but you don’t think men like him really change.
By Christmas eve your voice was still nowhere to be found despite your cold having started to clear up. You tried desperately to avoid spending the evening with all of them but Sarah’s persistence ended up winning again. You held your breath as the night passed on, waiting for… something.
Nothing?
No wandering hands as he passes by or curated looks of distaste when he knew the others weren’t looking. He treated you as if you were any other guest. He was the most polite you’ve ever witnessed him.
You were able to end the night without incident, retreating to bed feeling relieved but a little confused. You started second guessing everything, had you just been making it up the whole time? Had his prowling hands and leering looks just been something you dreamed up?
You woke up Christmas morning still fighting with your thoughts. You only managed to put them at bay when you were reminded of the holiday. Maybe you could afford to be optimistic about it, you could enjoy the day without having to be hyper aware of yourself at all times. You wouldn’t be forced into much socialization, most of the day planning to be spent with just Sarah.
You decided on wearing something nicer to suit for the occasion as you got ready. Knowing she would insist on taking pictures turning it into a mini photoshoot; if you didn’t pick a good enough outfit she would insist on dressing you herself. You fussed with your hair a bit longer than necessary, never having easily settled on a style before. After so long you ended up settling on something at random content that it just looked neat.
Your morning remained low-key, Sarah roping you into cooking breakfast for everyone with her. The kitchen was filled with the soft sounds of Christmas music interjected with snippets of a mostly one sided conversation. You were content to listen to her as she went on about whatever topic came to mind. Occasionally you would add your own commentary, albeit with some trouble as you tried to squeak out words with some semblance of dignity. The sounds you made frequently caused the two of you to burst into laughter.
Neither of you wasted any time diving into breakfast after announcing to the men that it was ready. You happily sipped your coffee in between bites of eggs and bacon. It reminded you of the many mornings the two of you spent together in your shared apartment.
You were so caught up in your own little world with Sarah not paying any mind as her dad entered the kitchen in your periphery. You missed the look he threw your way as you deliberately fought to not think about him, he wasn’t going to ruin your day in any way.
“How’s your mom doing? Is she mad I stole you for Christmas?” Sarah asks after finishing her last bite.
You swallow the bite you're eating and give her your best attempt at a response. “She’s fine.” Your voice barely screeches out.
You want to continue but any attempt at forcing your vocal cords into working falls flat. Sarah places a hand on your shoulder sympathetically as you hang your head in defeat.
“I’ll stop making you talk. You should probably be resting your voice as much as you can. It’d suck for you to be stuck like that for much longer.” She gives you a small smile.
You roll your eyes, waving off her sympathy.
“I’ll be fine.” You whisper as reassuringly as you can.
The two of you start getting up from the table just as Tommy finally makes his way into the room.
“Good morning girls!” He says cheerfully. “Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas!” Sarah echoes back.
The two of you get up to clear your places as the two men replace your spots at the table. You two end up taking residence in the living room, both of you exchanging the gifts that you had brought for each other before turning on a Christmas movie to enjoy together. Sarah insisted that the lights on the tree be plugged in, demanding she have her festive ambience.
You weren’t more than an hour into your movie when you had to excuse yourself to go to the bathroom, letting her know to keep watching without you. You made your way to the bathroom across the house, hurrying to do your business so as to return to her quicker.
Your stomach dropped the moment you opened the bathroom door to see Sarah’s dad standing on the other side of the door. His body leaning against the door frame, a wicked glint flashing in his eyes as they meet with yours. Without warning he advances towards you forcing you back into the bathroom. His hand is on the doorknob closing it as soon as he’s cleared the doorway.
Visceral raw fear clenches your insides as danger starts to repeat like a siren in your mind. This is what you had feared all these years. You were all alone with Sarah’s dad advancing on you quickly. Your eyes are wide as he forces you up against the far wall, his huge frame coming to completely cage you in.
You were coming to face the terrifying realization that no matter how hard you tried to force vibrations through your vocal cords, no sound was making it through. Your hands try desperately to push against his chest but he easily wraps a hand around your wrists immobilizing them above your head. His body presses firmly against yours, crowding you into the wall.
“Stop.” You barely manage out as a whisper of air between your lips.
“You gotta speak up a bit more.” He cocks his head to the side before shrugging. “F’ not, seems like you might actually want this.” The grin he gives you is wolfish as he takes in your quivering form. He presses himself against you harder, the outline of his large erection pressing into the skin of your belly dauntingly. “Think someone would come runnin’ if you could actually get loud enough?”
You throw your head back in desperate frustration knowing there was no point either way, a single tear makes its way down the expanse of your cheek.
“It’s a lot easier this way.” He says, dropping his tone. “It would be a shame to waste such a perfect opportunity as this.” He grinds his hips into you forcing you to feel him in his entirety.
His free hand finds its way to your chin gripping it tightly, anchoring you to the spot while his face looms closely next to you. You can’t make a sound as he comes close, his tongue flicking out to lick the side of your face lewdly. You struggle the best you can against his iron grip, desperate to get free from him.
“I bet you were hoping I’d do this to you, dressing like this today. Tryna’ taunt me like a fuckin’ whore.” He finishes in a growl.
You shake your head uselessly, your struggle against him growing evidently futile.
He chuckles tracing a careful thumb along your jaw. “I really like that you can’t talk back for once. It’s a nice change of pace.”
You do your best to glare daggers at him, putting as much disdain and vitriol that you could muster into the look. You hadn’t expected him to be this bold, he hadn’t so much as accidently brushed up against you. He provided no indication that he was going to attempt something this awful.
“Mr. Miller.” You try your best to get out but it just comes out as a pathetic squeak.
“I bet a little dyke like you is just terrified of what a man like me could do to you.” The slur catches you completely off guard — it’s like a harsh slap in the face. His words make your blood turn to ice.
You shake your head back and forth desperately. “Don’t.”
“I should’ve stopped Sarah from being friends with you a long time ago.” He stops letting out a quiet, low chuckle. “But then I guess we wouldn’t get to have this perfect moment, would we? I’ll show you how much better dick is than pussy. I’ll have you begging before I’m done with you.”
Your struggle is renewed with his words, the blatant promise sending icy fire through your body, you’re desperate to get away or at least be able to cause enough of a ruckus to draw the attention of anyone else.
“Shh…” He hushes as he throws more of his body weight into you to pin you better in place. “I bet that’s why you think you prefer it, you just haven’t had a dick in you to show you any different. I bet you have a tight virgin cunt.” His hand slides down to rub against your clothed slit.
Your fear is almost palpable in the air between you, Joel may as well be able to taste it, the thought alone making you feel sick. You squeeze your eyes shut not wanting to face him. He brings his free hand up to grope at you through your clothes. More tears form frustratingly behind your eyes, the earth shattering realization that you weren’t likely to escape this unscathed all but bringing you to your knees.
“You really can’t make a sound, can ya? Let’s test that, shall we?” He challenges smugly.
Your eyes fly open to meet his, desperation shining bright within them. You want to plead with the humane part of him, surely he had to see how wrong it was that he was about to do.
“God you’re a sexy little thing when you’re scared.” He breathes out in awe, eyes darting back and forth across your face. “Come here.” He tugs you by your captured wrists bringing you over to the sink. He maneuvers your hands in his until he manipulates them behind your back, then he’s able to use them to force you down flat with the counter. “Stay still.”
As a last ditch effort you take a deep breath before using every ounce of effort you had into attempting to scream. The sound that comes out instead is one of truly pathetic origin. You can see the grin that splits across his face in the mirror. He’s genuinely amused as he takes in your obvious state of despair.
“Aww that's cute. Reminds me of a little kitten. I’ll have to keep you from using your claws, huh?” He tightens his grip around your wrists.
He makes it futile as you try to kick out in a last ditch effort to get him to stop. He chuckles at the attempt, pelvis pressing hard flush against your ass. You get a better feel of him and you find yourself fighting with renewed terror at the realization of just how big he really is. You didn’t have any reference when it came to the size of penises but even you could tell that Joel was above average. Phantom flashes of pain make their way through you at the thought of him inside you, stretching you to your physical limit. You’d never intended for one to be inside you.
“I’m going to destroy your little pussy.” He growls rolling his hips into you.
His free hand drops down to your waistline, fingers sliding along the top of the fabric. “You look absolutely stunning in this outfit, I’d really hate to ruin it.” Without much more warning than that, his fingers are in the fabric and ripping them down your legs in a single fluid motion.
You hang your head in defeat as you start to submit to the fact that this was happening whether you wanted it to or not. There really was no way out of this, your only ability to call attention to yourself having been stolen from you days ago. Maybe this was all some horrible cruel joke from the universe, maybe God was real and he really did hate gays.
“Look at that ass, god damn.” He says giving it a hard enough smack to force you forward into the mirror. You grit your teeth as it sends a jolt of electricity down your spine. “The only thing worth letting you stay around my daughter all these years is getting to look at you and this hot ass body. So fuckin’ hard keepin’ my hands to myself all these years.”
The sound of him fiddling with his buckle punctuates your dread. The world stops, everything coming to a stand still. This was happening and you weren’t going to be able to stop it. You couldn’t scream or call for help.
You were about to be raped by your best friends dad, an awful sobering realization that sends fresh tears rolling down your face.
Your cheeks instantly heat with shame the moment you feel the head of his cock prodding between your legs. It drags along your slit, the dry skin of your labia being rubbed painfully back and forth. You’re unable to even force a whimper from your lips, your attempts to push any noise through continuing to fail.
“It’d probably be better for both of us if you relaxed a little bit.” He grits out as he kicks your legs further apart. “I don’t want to hurt you, but you won’t leave me much of a choice if you keep acting like that.”
His hand flexes around where he’s restrained your wrists, his other hand helping himself push into you. The first breach of pressure doesn’t quite hit you until the girth of the tip makes itself known. You frantically attempt to squirm from his grasp causing his hand to fly to your hips pinning you in place while he forces his way inside your heat.
You feel as if you’re trapped in one of your recurring nightmares, trying everything you can to scream at the top of your lungs only for it to get stuck in your throat — no one able to hear the sound.
The pain you feel is excruciating, the stretch burning hot as he pushes more of himself into you.
“Stop. Stop. Stop.” Barely escapes your lips in a whisper more befitting a mouse. Fat tears rolling down your face into the porcelain sink below.
This wasn’t happening.
This wasn’t happening.
This wasn’t happening.
You knew it wouldn’t do anything but things would have felt so much worse if you didn’t try something. Hoping to catch him off guard you attempt to throw your head back into his face. You’re too slow as he easily stops you by fisting your hair and throwing your head down into the sink. Dull pain shooting from the top of your head down your spine.
“Well now I just don’t feel like playing nice.” He says, his words being punctuated by the thrust of his hips as he forces the rest of the way inside you.
The pain from before is intensified tenfold with the thievery of your body. You cry harder as it sets in what exactly is being ripped from you. How this experience will haunt you for the rest of your life. You’d never be able to be touched the same way again.
The sensation of him inside you is disgustingly foreign, you feel another level of sickness as he forces your body into making room for him. You are left to just close your eyes, grit your teeth through the pain, and pray that it’ll be over as soon as it began.
He leans over to place his lips next to your ear, the angle allowing for his cock to dig deeper inside you. “Such’a tight fuckin’ pussy. It’s been a long time since I had myself a virgin.”
Your distress grows at the thought that he might have done this before, that there was some other poor soul out there that he’s forced himself upon. He pulls his hips back, his cock leaving your entrance only to be slammed back in again exacerbating the pain that’s rippling through you.
You grow hyper aware of the trickling of fluid down your leg. A tacky wetness that sticks to the inside of your thighs. You stare at the drain, your brain starting to drift off as the weight of everything continues to wash over you.
Joel looks down at where the two of you are joined, his free hand spreading one cheek of your ass so as to give himself a better view. A low moan leaving his throat as he takes in the red mess coating his dick and your thighs. He uses the leverage he has on your hands to yank you back so that you're held flush against him, his hot breath an uncomfortable sensation on the side of your face.
You stare up at the ceiling not daring to face the mirror, afraid the sight would be burned into your brain for the rest of your life.
“You don’t want to see,” He taunts cruelly. “Don’t want to watch as I ruin you? Make you realize that all you needed was for a man to fuck the queer out of you.”
You shake your head, the tears sliding from your eyes in rivulets carving paths into your skin.
He chuckles against your shoulder, a sound that was low and threatening. Without a beat of warning he sinks his teeth into the meat of your shoulder causing you to force out a silent shriek. You kick your foot out as much as you can trying desperately to slam against his shins or feet, anything to get him to release the hold he had on your shoulder.
His tongue lathes over the area as he sinks his teeth in harder.
You're helpless to do anything, only being able to focus on the pain. Little shocks of pain shoot through your shoulder to the rest of your body. You twitch violently in his hold, only stopping when his teeth finally release themselves from your neck.
“I have to admit, I’m sad I don’t get to hear what it sounds like when you scream.” He whispers quietly in your ear. “It’s a shame really. But it’s better you're quiet for now, hmm?” He thrusts his hips forward sending his cock up into you harder than before.
He snaps his hips into you with an intemperate pace. His quiet groans and moans fill your ear. Sounds you couldn’t escape from, sounds you wouldn’t forget.
His next words are strained, you can hear the effort seeping into his tone. “I’m going to fill you so full of cum you’ll be leaking for days.”
His breath was so hot against your face.
There’s a spot on the ceiling that’s water damaged, you distantly think that it looks like a dog.
It’s so sudden when he comes that it catches you off guard, you can feel the way his cock twitches inside you as it empties his spend into your aching cunt. It’s the ultimate feeling of defeat, disgust filling you as you feel his warmth in your insides.
He slowly lets go of your wrists. You think you’re going to be sick, bile rising in your throat with the sensation of his retreat from you. You instantly brace your hands on the rim of the sink, retching rampantly at the sound. Your bones feel nonexistent, your body collapsing to the floor.
Another chuckle leaves Joel’s lips as retreats from your broken form, tucking himself back into his pants.
He walks to the door pausing with his hand on the knob, a smug grin adorning his lips. “Oh, I almost forgot. Merry Christmas.”