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Shermer High School really hadn't changed much since the mid-1980s.
Sure, students now had cellphones, and the school had a special room for them to be thrown in via confiscation. The hairstyles were different, although even on that score some opted for a now-retro 80s look.
All in all, though, Shermer was still just another suburban Chicago shell without much soul.
This was evident in the retirement party that Vernon was coming home from. The same faces that had been around for years, and even the new faces didn't seem much different from the old ones. Vernon just went with the flow, fawning a smile throughout, really looking forward in his mind to finally being able to get home, to put the final cherry on the cake of his career (or was it the final nail in the coffin?).
He got home in a taxi, not wanting to risk driving himself, even though the amount of alcohol he had was modest. It was a dry and warm night in the midst of summer in Chicago, a far cry from what it had been a few months earlier or what it would be a few months later.
He turned the key in his door, having to navigate somewhat due to the load of leaving presents in his hands.
Once he got in, a few of the presents fell to the floor.
He bent over to pick them up.
A slight noise was heard from somewhere behind him.
Suddenly, everything went dark.
Blurry visions of what must have been the early hours of the morning gradually latched onto his line of sight. He was facing the door from which he had entered, but he was far away from it, on the other side of his living room.
When he tried to move, he felt a burning sensation on his wrists.
Rope.
"Careful there, brownie hound. You might hurt yourself."
He knew the voice so well (despite it being around twenty years since he had last heard it) that he felt an ominous chill run through him, like he had been injected with ice cubes.
John Bender stood in the kitchen doorway to his left. His appearance was just as familiar as his voice, even though he was now 30-something.
Vernon had noticed the continuation of 80s fashion with many current students at Shermer. Bender hadn't changed one iota in appearance since then.
The only difference was that the flannel shirt and denim jacket both somehow looked too big for him, like he hadn't eaten in a while.
"You like me huh? The way you keep staring at me, some people are going to start making assumptions. Good thing I'm the only other person here isn't it? Sir."
The last word seemed to echo throughout the house, like they were in a well.
Vernon thought of something equally snarky to fire back at his former student.
It was only then that he realised that he had masking tape around his mouth.
Masking tape didn't hurt as much as rope.
Bender wasn't as thin underneath his clothing as Vernon had thought earlier. He had expected him to be bony, but he wasn't at all, really. He thought that maybe he had bought his old clothing styles especially for this occasion and that the better-fitting ones had been gotten rid of long ago.
It wasn't as if he was capable of asking him right now.
"Ain't bad-looking am I? I don't work out much, but it's almost like I do."
Vernon had no idea why Bender had taken his shirt off, other than perhaps it having something to do with the weather.
That's what he told himself.
Reaching into his pocket, Bender pulled out a pocket knife.
That in itself sent a stabbing sensation through Vernon, appropriately enough.
"Oh, don't be so worried Richie, it's just a little blade. It's not here to hurt you."
What wasn't reassuring to Vernon was the deadeyed look on Bender's face, something he had perfected through his many years as a delinquent.
"I promise. The knife isn't here to hurt you."
After doing some juggling with it, like he had been signed-up to a circus act, Bender returned the knife to his pocket. Without much of an interval, he starting undoing his pants.
Vernon looked away, this time not out of fear but out of something else.
After a while he heard a flopping sound.
Bender was slapping his cock against his bare stomach.
"Like I said. The knife isn't here to hurt you."
It was big. Not far off ten inches.
Whatever insecurities Bender had (and they were plentiful), they weren't due to him not packing much downstairs, as was so often the case with males.
Saliva began to drip out of Vernon's mouth, like a tap that had been left slightly on. Luckily, the masking tape both kept it in and concealed it from the view of the criminal in front of him.
"Know how often this has been put to use? Too often almost. I might not have many good grades, but I have many good fucks."
He began stroking it.
"And wanks."
The rope being off didn't make the situation more comfortable for Vernon.
Nor did the sounds of constant spitting and rubbing from behind him.
"I didn't mention it earlier, but my fucks haven't been restricted to females you know."
The rubbing became louder.
"Seriously Vern. I'm surprised you don't know, with your profound insight and all."
Vernon felt something starting to intrude on his bare behind. He didn't even need to guess what it was.
"Back in High, it was at least three guys a week. Almost as many as girls I did a week."
A groan emerged from behind the masking tape. A groan that Vernon didn't know he'd made until after it had happened.
"The guys always wanted it more though. And, by the sounds of it, Veep, you really want it too."
Bender's cock entered Vernon, like a train slowly making its way out of a railway station.
"Yeah. Those desperate faggots. I didn't know you were one of those, but I guess it fits. Excuse the pun."
Once the cock was fully in, Bender pulled back, and then pushed forward again.
"Me? A hole is a hole. It's not like I'm the one taking it up the ass so it's all good. Putting faggots in their place also feels good."
He thrust back and forth, building up a groaning and moaning rhythm of his own.
"Just being in control. That's the best thing. Especially if the bitch in front of me is my former Vice Principal."
The intrusion was painful to Vernon, but he couldn't do anything about it. He kept his emotions at bay, even keeping back the moaning.
Bender also became quieter, silently pounding his old nemesis, until eventually he came.
He pulled out his cock, it being soaked with his own cum.
"Man, that was do much more satisfying than punching you in the face would have been. That was a lousy suggestion on your part. Mister Vernon."
Bender put his cock back in his pants and started to get fully dressed, indicating that his task was complete.
Vernon could only look up at the window in front of him, part of it visible through the mostly drawn curtains.
It was still dark.