The KGB Boy Origins

Following the great reception of his story, The KGB Boy, Mitch has returned with an origin story for the main character in the story. Check on it:

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You walked quickly from your hostel to the bathroom, your mind alternating between thinking about the final exam you’d just written as a JSS2 student that morning and plotting all the several ways that afternoon was going to be epic. Unity House Junior Hostel had, thankfully, the neatest bathroom.

You chuckled as you quietly walked towards the bathroom and saw his hulking figure standing in the shadows just beyond the doorway. His name was Kamsi and he was your ultimate man-crush. Or, at least, your ultimate boy-crush, considering how both of you were under the age of 14. He was the biggest boy in your set, the one almost every girl in your set wanted as their seatmate for prep and other extracurricular activities. He’d always been, in your opinion, much too tall for his age and your class. Add that to the fact that he was the best midfielder in your set and possibly, the school, and was usually sought out by seniors to join in their matches and it all tied his height, his hulking physique and popularity in a perfect knot.

You never believed Kamsi would notice you. Heck, almost no one in your set noticed you. You were an intelligent student, but you were neither the brightest student nor were you a sporty person. All you had going for you were a good grasp of the English language and a very decent accent. Your glasses and your excessive love for literature had marked you out, from your first day in Federal Government College, Enugu, as a geek – the new gauche word for Fedi students.

So, it had come to you as a surprise when Kamsi started to get close to you, asking you for your help with literature assignments, going out of his way to talk to you. You both began to hang out alone a lot of the time. You both sat and studied together during prep, and you went to the field to watch him play football, something you’d never done in the past. You were both practically inseparable. And, so, it didn’t come to you as much of a surprise when, one night when NEPA took light during prep, Kamsi held your hand and, after a few seconds, pecked you on your cheek. You already had a big flame for him. And so, it was only natural for you to turn your face towards his and kiss him on the lips in the darkness of the classroom. The few seconds that first kiss lasted were an initiation into heaven for you. All of a sudden, you craved his kisses more than you craved oxygen. And you both began to steal out to kiss and fondle each other; in secret spots, in shadowy places, in covert corners.

And, it was equally easy for you to acquiesce when he asked you to meet him in the bathroom during prep that night in second term. When he told you he wanted to try something new, to put his hard penis inside you, you were scared. But part of you wanted it too. And so, you both had sex in that bathroom. The pain you felt when he first tried to stab into your channel had him withdrawing. And, ingeniously, you came up with the idea of using your saliva. This turned out to make the coupling smoother. It was a quick and messy coupling, his spent penis coming out of you with flecks of faecal matter on it. Neither of you lasted long. His hand on your penis and the feel of his penis sliding in and out were too much for you to take. Within minutes, you felt the hottest and sweetest piss you’d ever had to take rushing through your penis towards the tip. And you stared in shock as you came for the first time in your life. Behind you, you heard his grunts and breathing become more irregular and he moaned, a soft and low moan that turned you on even more, as he unloaded himself inside you.

Today was however going to be different, you promised yourself as you walked into the bathroom to meet him. The other two times you’d both had sex, you’d had accidents like the first time. Accidents that made you feel ashamed even though Kamsi didn’t seem to mind. You’d decided to take some precautions this time around. So, when he told you the previous night that he wanted to “do” the next day – the day before school vacated for the session – you decided to try something you’d never done. You used your fingers to wash inside yourself during your bath till every inserted finger came out clean. You also decided to skip breakfast, to just drink the coloured water that was supposed to be tea and forgo the bread. The only meal you took was lunch. Because, you knew that, an hour after lunch, you’d be giving your man what you both wanted. And you were just about to do that.

You walked into the bathroom, taking a glance around to make sure that no one was coming. Then you rushed down to meet him in the last bath stall. You practically flew into his arms. Your lips met and your tongues dueled as you kissed. You felt his hands running over your shirt, deftly unbuttoning it. Your hands mirrored his own. And when your shirts were open, you both came together to feel flesh against flesh, hot skin against hot skin, muscles against muscles. Before long, your shorts were around your knees and his hard penis was out of his shorts. You didn’t know what pushed you, but you dropped down and took that hot hardness into your mouth. The feeling of his flesh in your mouth, filling your mouth, was divine. Consumed by your desire, you sucked hard on his penis, unable to bring yourself to stop. He groaned harshly, his fingers twining in your hair, tugging at times, making you realise he was enjoying it as much as you were.

When he pulled you up and kissed you, you wanted nothing more than to feel him inside you. And so, you turned quickly, offering up your behind to him – to part, to enter, to fill up, to make you his. You heard him spit into his palm. You felt him rub it against your puckered hole. And you arched your back as you felt the engorged head of his penis pushing against you. When he broke through the resistance of your channel, you let out a harsh cry, a cry that made him still his movements as he waited for you to relax. He dropped tiny kisses along your neck and collarbone, kisses that made you moan and unknowingly open up for more of him. He slid fully into your warmth and began to move, thrusting slowly in and out of you; one hand holding onto your waist and the other stroking your erection. Your eyes were shut to the world. You were lost in the feeling. The only thing you could do was take harsh breaths and moan out loud. You wished this feeling would never end.

But it was not to be. In the haze of your passion, you heard a strange voice scream “Jesus!” Your eyes flew open and your eyes darted about, searching for the source of the scream. You didn’t have to search for long. At the sole window of that stall, which was close to the low roof of the building, you saw a face looking in at you both.

IK Udeme, your worst nightmare in your set.

You didn’t know what was worse: the fact that IK had caught you having an intimate moment with Kamsi or the fact that Kamsi had stopped moving inside you, shell-shocked by IK’s sudden appearance. The burning accusation and utter disgust in IK’s eyes made you feel like the earth should open up and swallow you. You thought there could be no worse feeling.

You were dead wrong. Because, the next moment, you heard a deep voice nearby say, “You rat, what are you hanging on that window and peeping into the bathroom for?”

IK immediately dropped from your sight and you heard him say – even as you wished and hoped and prayed that he wouldn’t expose you and Kamsi – “Senior, I was passing the bathroom and I heard noise inside. I now say let me look and I saw…”

While he was still speaking, Kamsi pulled away from you and began to put himself in order. You followed suit, hastily buttoning your shirt and pulling up your shorts.

Then you heard IK say, “…two boys inside the bathroom. It’s like they were doing bad thing, senior.”

Almost immediately, you heard the heavy footsteps going toward the entrance of the bathroom. And you knew the game was up.

Your mind flashed back to the JSS3 boy who was caught kissing another boy during the last academic session. You remembered the terrible beatings they were both given by senior students. Even though they were now SS1 boys, they were still outcasts in their set. No one wanted to associate with them. And they couldn’t associate with each other, for fear of being set upon again.

Your heartbeat increased rapidly as you heard the footsteps enter the bathroom and walk directly to that last stall. And there stood Senior Joshua and Senior Nnamdi; IK Udeme who was behind them. You couldn’t bring yourself to answer when Senior Joshua sneeringly asked you what you were both doing in there. You could only keep your gaze on the floor, hoping that things didn’t escalate. You should have realised by then that only the direct opposites of what you wished and hoped and prayed for were going to come to pass.

Senior Nnamdi lashed out with his right hand, striking you with a heavy slap on your cheek. Even as you fell back from the sudden blow, you heard him slap Kamsi. Vile words were hurled at you by both him and Senior Joshua, words that painted a picture of your depravity, your uncleanness, your abnormality. Your sin!

Words that pierced into you and tore you apart from inside; you couldn’t fight back, you couldn’t help yourself, and you couldn’t stand to see the shame mirrored on Kamsi’s face as they went on slapping and cursing you both. When Senior Nnamdi told you both to walk to Independence House Senior Hostel, your fear rose in leaps and bounds. Because you knew, without a shadow of a doubt, the horrors that awaited you in that hostel.

Except you hadn’t imagined just how horrific it was going to be. From the moment you and Kamsi stepped into the hostel and Senior Joshua shouted out loud, for all the occupants of the hostel to hear, what they’d caught you both doing, the beating had risen to a frenzy. But, surprisingly – or not – it was only you that they were beating. Senior Ucheoma, the assistant sports prefect, had seen his star midfielder being condemned for a heinous act. He’d stepped in and taken Kamsi away to one corner of the hall, where he and three other seniors began talking to him. You could see them gesticulating as they conversed, even as you obeyed the order issued to you that you kneel.

Next thing you knew, Senior Ucheoma rushed over to you. “Bastard!” he bellowed and gave you a resounding slap that left your cheek smarting with the ringing pain. After that, it became a free-for-all bash-fest. You couldn’t speak in your defence; you weren’t given a chance to. The mob of seniors fell on you, kicking, slapping, punching, flogging you with belts and sticks and everything else they could lay their hands on. They stomped on you. They hit your head against the floor. You cried so much that the entire floor around you was wet with your tears and sweat. You begged, you pleaded, you promised to change. All your words fell on deaf ears. If anything, your cries egged them on.

Then Senior Onome walked in. Senior Onome, who was confirmed as the school’s new Head Boy a few weeks before. A boy who commanded respect both among his mates and his juniors. His entrance was all it took to stop the mob. One look at them and they stopped hitting you and stepped away. In that quiet but authoritative voice of his, he asked what was going on. You heard Senior Ucheoma start to speak but you couldn’t make sense of his words. You struggled to raise yourself to your knees. And just as you succeeded, you heard Senior Onome say, “Where is he?”

What they were talking about, you didn’t know. You only hoped it didn’t mean any more punishment for either you or Kamsi.

It wasn’t until you heard the droning of Kamsi’s voice that you started to listen.

“…to gboo ncha in the bathroom. Then he now came inside. He said he can help me out. I told him no but he knelt down and he now started sucking it. It was sweeting me and he now say he can show me a better way. Then he turn around and…”

Kamsi was speaking, but at this point, you blocked out his voice. Your heart broke as you considered how he was sacrificing you to save himself. You wanted to scream, to shut him up, to tell things as they’d truly been. You wanted to let out the pain and anger you had inside you. But you couldn’t. You only closed your eyes as tears leaked out. You played his words over and over again in your mind, each replay filling you with more hurt, more pain and anger. Your emotions filled you as swiftly as a tap fills a bottle. His betrayal wounded you in ways that the beatings you’d just gotten hadn’t.

When Senior Onome said, “I’ve heard you guys. Oya, junior, stand up and follow me,” you sluggishly stood up, hoping that your ordeal had finally come to an end. You followed him out of the hostel, your aching body struggling to keep up with him. A few steps away from the hostel, he wrapped an arm around your shoulder and drew you close to him as you both walked. You leaned into his warmth, drawing what little comfort you could from him. He led you all the way to the empty dining hall and told you to walk in ahead of him. Still trembling from the beatings you’d received, you walked in, turning around when you heard him close the doors behind him and lock it. You knew he was the kind of nice guy who’d talk to you, persuade you to change. And you were ready to swear till kingdom come that you’d change, that you’d never commit such a heinous again.

He had a small smile on his face as he turned to you. And in a cold voice that was very much at odds with the smile on his face, he told you to lie face down on the floor. Confusion sprang into your mind. Was he like you? you wondered. Did he want to have sex with you inside there? Was that why he locked the doors?

You did as he asked, these thoughts reeling through your mind.

“Don’t look up,” he said in that same cold voice. Then he walked deeper into the building. You listened to his footsteps as he went away and as he came back. The next thing you felt was water being poured on your body.

What was happening? No scenario you’d created in mind involved anything like this.

Again, you heard his footsteps moving away from you and returning. You looked up in time to see him raise one of the broken stools that lined the walls of the building and bring it down heavily on your body.

You thought you’d felt pain in the hostel. You thought you’d faced the worst in there. You had never been more wrong in your life. The pain that ricocheted through your body was unlike anything you’d ever experienced. Your scream tore out of your throat, a scream so piercing that even a rock would have been moved to mercy. Senior Onome laughed, welcoming your screams. He hit you again and again with that stool till it fell apart. Then he took the individual legs of the stool and continued mauling your body with them. All the time he hit you, he spoke about how evil you were, how you were a disgrace to manhood, how you were a devil who wanted to ruin the life of a poor innocent boy. Your screams, your tears, your pleas were useless. He didn’t care. If anything, they gave him joy. While the other seniors had been furious in their beating of you, Senior Onome was maniacal.

When he mentioned Kamsi’s name while delivering a particularly vicious blow to your buttocks, talking about how you wanted to infect him with your evil, you remembered how easy it was for Kamsi to throw you under the bus, to surrender you to the mob. In that moment, you feel something you’d never felt in your life. A blinding rage. A rage that surpassed the pain you were going through. It coalesced and settled in your heart. And while Senior Onome beat you, you felt your heart die inside, slowly turning into a shard of ice. The icier it turned, the less you screamed – till no more sounds left your mouth. No matter how much Senior Onome hit you, you simply refused to give him the satisfaction of hearing you cry anymore. After a few more minutes of beating, he ordered you to stand up. As you stood, you surveyed yourself, noticing how dirty you’d become and how bruised and swollen several parts of your body were. You looked up at him, noticing his heavy breaths, the sign of the toll his exuberant actions had exerted upon him.

“Come next school year, I promise you, what we gave you today would be a joke compared to what we will do to you. If you like, don’t change,” he said.

And he turned and, unlocking the doors, he left the hall.

You made your way to your hostel very slowly. You got in, took your bath and retired to your bed without a word to anyone. You could hear IK and several others talking and sniggering at you. You felt their judgmental gazes on you. But you refused to give them the satisfaction of seeing you curl yourself up.

The next morning, you took your bath very early and packed up your things. You wore the bulkiest clothes you had: a pair of trousers, a long sleeved shirt and a cardigan. And, just like the previous night, you didn’t join the others to go to the dining hall to eat. Instead, you stayed on your bed, hungry and waiting for noon.

By noon, you were already at the entrance hall with your bags, waiting for your parents. Mercifully, Father arrived before 12:30. You made your way to the car quickly and stowed your things away in the boot. And as soon as you both were in the car, you said, “I’m not coming back to this school next year.”

You didn’t care how he took it. You just told him. No explanations, nothing.

Throughout the ride home and for most of the holidays, both he and Mother tried to convince you to go back. When it didn’t work, Father said you’d be going back and that was final. You calmly got up from the sitting room, walked into the kitchen, pulled out a knife and went back to the sitting room.

“The only way I’ll be returning to Federal Enugu next term is if I’m dead,” you said, while you held the knife point first against your throat. “So, think carefully before you say your next words.”

And, just like that, they agreed. The next term, you started attending UNSSEC.

TO BE CONTINUED

Written by Mitch