## Archive-name: DarkRoom

From: bogus@bogus.ca (Jeff Voorhees)

Subject: DarkRoom

Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories,alt.tasteless

Warning! - The following story contains
violence and non-consensual sex.

If this is not for you - please skip
the remainder of this posting...

-Dark Room-
An Original Story by
J. Voorhees

Prologue

I was 17 - in my 4th year of high school - when it happened.
I was never very popular there. This was mostly because I
was a new kid from East London (the poorer side of the city)
and no one accepted me on this side of the city.

To a certain extent, I didn't even try to fit in. I didn't
feel that it mattered if they liked me. I didn't expect them
to react the way they did. I didn't expect fights, and I
didn't expect to be continually harassed in class every time
the teacher turned his back. Unfortunately, that is what be-
gan to happen. Even the teachers contributed to the situa-
tion by turning a blind eye to my situation as often as pos-
sible.

I once thought of bringing a gun to class and killing every
one of them, including the teachers, but decided that it
would be more "mature" to put up with it. I figured that
this situation would die out when I reached high school. For
the most part I was right. But a certain animousity remained
and left me confused and uncertain. Girls liked popular guys
and they also liked guys who displayed confidence. Needless
to say, I never scored at all in high school till that
wonderful night when I got an unfair advantage.

Spring

It was spring, and I was getting behind on my photography
project. It was very close to year's end and I figured that
if I came in one night and really worked hard at getting the
job done, I would have a mark-wise advantage over my peers.
I felt it would also help boost an average that was starting
to sag because of some other courses I was taking at the
time.

I chose a Friday because there was also a dance on that
night and I figured it would be better to work on my project
at school than to stay at home, listening to music and
thinking about how every one else is out having fun (like I
usually did) The teacher gave me the keys to the building
and warned me that I would be held responsible if any damage
was incurred in that section of the building. He knew I was
a good kid, but probably just couldn't forget the time I de-
tonated a firecracker during his class (which caused no dam-
age - aside from a total disruption of the "quiet study
period")

The Big Night

It was a bit chilly out that night so I had to wear my
maroon jacket. It was a strange looking thing, a hand-me
down from my grandpa. The stars twinkled with leering mad-
ness as I roamed the streets on my way to school. I felt
like a spectre crossing into another place, a place of
deserted streets and empty houses. I was a bit shaken by the
chill wind and overall quiet, and alternately scanned the
streets and sky as I walked. I heard some voices off to one
side. jackalish leering noises, women screaming, shit-faced
laughter. Ahhh!, I thought, with recognition. The joys of
living in a neighborhood infested with student vermin! Actu-
ally, something happened after I passed the student's party.
A shiver ran up my spine. It was like I accidentally inter-
sected an invisible boundary. To this day I can't account
for it. I just had a feeling that I was suddenly in new ter-
ritory - a place where normal laws no longer apply.

I was approaching the school and noticed a noisy line out-
side the building. I was a bit surprised that they hadn't
gone in yet, as it was after eight o'clock, and decided to
wait off to one side in the field until the lineup was gone.
I was wearing a black shirt with dark jeans under my open
jacket and was practically invisible as I stood waiting in
the shadow of some pine trees. I scanned the waiting teens
with some amusement.

Up against the school wall I could see chubby, blonde-
haired, big titted Cathy necking with her thirty year old
boyfriend. He was a big monster in tatterred jeans, with
tattoos up his arms. I heard he made a "good" living pump-
ing gas. I watched as he palmed her floppy breasts, pressed
her against the wall. Cathy liked to be watched. She knew
that screwing an older man would improve her social status
quite a bit at school, and this was her proof of conquest.
She conveniently snubbed her friends (huddled together, off
to one side) to be with her "man"

I could see Cindy and two other girls I couldn't recognize
rolling in the grass beside the school wall. They were ap-
parently pissed, or at least thought they were. A few guys I
didn't recognise wearing baseball caps came over and slipped
them a joint, which they passed around. Then they began to
act sillier than ever. When the guys started to paw them,
the girls told them to fuck off. One of the guys came up
behind Cindy, reached around her neck and held a switchblade
to her throat. He pulled her up and faced her away from the
lineup so no-one else could see. It happened too suddenly,
and her friends were too shitfaced to notice. The guys led
her off, alone and frightened to a secluded corner behind
the big blue garbage bin. We never saw her again.

I saw Jane standing by the doorway with a bunch of her
friends. They were talking excitedly about something, gum-
popping, staring at boys, all dressed in those idiotic ber-
muda shorts - showing off their abnormally thin legs. I
remember my sister telling me about how she caught one of
them throwing up in the bathroom at school - purging her
lunch, keeping skinny. Actually, watching them made ME feel
like tossing my cookies. "Cover those legs!", I felt like
shouting. Their figures looked like the figures of little
boys. It was bad enough that a lot of faggy guys were wear-
ing pony-tails and long hair, but this only added extra con-
fusion to the situation.

I heard some rustling, whispering, and giggles off to my
left. There was something white moving on the grass about 15
feet away. I cautiously approached. To my surprise the white
"sheet" resolved itself into two interlocked partially-
dressed human forms. They were wildly rutting, lost in their
own little world. They didn't notice me at all as I stood
watching less than SIX feet away. I recognized them both.
The guy was Rob - a popular pretty-boy senior jerk who
treated women like shit but who nevertheless always had a
girlfriend.

"If you want me, you'll get down on fours!", he yelled to
Tula in a crowded hallway once. She was a cute junior who
gave herself to him at a party one night, thinking that he'd
respect the sacrifice. Tula was sobbing. We were horrified.
She dropped to her knees, crying, falling forward onto her
hands - to the correct position. He picked her up gently,
after calling her a "good doggie" and walked her out of the
hall. He dumped her the next week. Now he was with another.
This girl's name was Mira and she was a cute fifteen year
old cheerleader. I left them to their fucking when a loud
disturbance by the school doors diverted my attention.

Two guys were fighting over some girl - hunched forward,
switchblades drawn, circling - looking for openings. The
girl was standing disinterested in the background, popping
gum, with a vacant stare in her eyes. Every now and then I
would see a flash of light off of one of the blades as a
thrust was made. It vaguely reminded me of a fist-fight I
had seen a year ago - two older guys reducing eachother's
faces to unrecognizable bloody masks. But this was dif-
ferent. The other fight took hours. This one could take only
a few minutes. A cop car pulled into the yard - probably for
some other reason, and both guys disappeared into the line-
up. The doors opened and people began filing in. When the
line was gone a lone figure lay where the crowd had been. It
was one of the boys - stabbed in the back. The cop car just
missed seeing him on its way out of the yard but I had to go
by him on my way into the building.

Inside the Building

As I passed by the gym, I had to wade through a noisy sea of
teenage "excreta", smoking and giving me condescending
glances outside the dance area. It was like those first few
sunny days of spring on campus. The arts and business stu-
dents would suddenly appear out of nowhere - sunning their
pale bodies, smoking, listening to ghetto-blasters on the
patio outside the ___ building. There were hundreds of them.
They wore 60's style clothes - jeans with multiple patches,
John Lennon glasses - all that crap. They gave me the same
look. "Did you see all those girls outside?", a friend
asked. Girls? I was confused. I thought the sewer had backed
up.

The voices and music faded in the distance as I walked up
the ramp and entered through the fire-doors that led into
the North wing of the building. This was where all the
technical courses were taught - graphic arts, auto-body,
shop, electronics, etc. There was also a room that doubled
as a photography classroom. Up ahead I could hear the jani-
tors laughing, exchanging dirty jokes. They had a room off
on a wing to one side. Their loud talk reverberated around
the dark halls.

"A bit tight - but what do you expect from a twelve year
old!", one of them said. Raucous laughter followed. I remem-
bered the day I discovered that the boilder room was above
the girl's washroom. I couldn't believe it! Now I understood
why the washrooms on the second floor where reversed from
the ones on the first. I could just imagine them up there,
peeping through holes at girls squatting on toilets, jacking
off into dirty clenched fists. Laughter. Maybe once in a
while, they would come down and scoop a girl from below -
drag her screaming and kicking into the darkness above, nev-
er to be heard from again. I still wonder what happened to
Lynda. She disappeared like that: without a trace.

I was surprised to find the door of the photography class-
room unlocked. There was a puddle of vomit on the floor in
the darkened hall, which I saw only after I turned on the
classroom light. I felt uneasy because of it and nervously
looked around the room for some sign of occupation. There
was none, so I went in, locking the door behind me.

Developing the Negatives

I had my camera with me as it contained some exposed film. I
partly brought it because it was safer to take the film out
in the complete darkness of the lab and partly because it
would make it easier to explain my presence in this part of
the building (should someone stop me on my way to the room)
I also had my bag with some other exposed rolls, and some
photographic paper that my dad had got from somewhere at a
discount price. After setting up the necessary chemicals on
one of the benches and getting out the plastic developing
tanks, I turned out the light and groped my way back to the
bench. About half an hour later - after fumbling in the dark
to get the negatives in, and finding the light switch, I
turned on the light. Everything was perfect. I now began to
measure out the chemicals into graduated cylinders. I wanted
to do all three spools at once. I hit the timer after pour-
ing the first one, distributing it more or less evenly among
the three tanks. I repeated the process for the other stages
of developing negatives. Later, I opened the containers and
hung the negatives up to dry.

Rick's Sister

I used a hand blower to dry the negatives, occasionally
looking closely at some of the more memorable shots. One
roll fascinated me to no end. This was the one that con-
tained pictures of Rick's sister.

Rick was a pretty good guy and his sister was really attrac-
tive. She was a wispy blonde-haired junior. We managed to
get her to pose naked for us, although Rick was reluctant to
persuade her. I still remember those moments in the room
with her. She was all nervous, her face flushed and red.
Rick excused himself from the whole thing "Do you want me to
do this?",she said, laying on the bed in some kind of imita-
tion of a pose she may have seen in a men's magazine once.
She looked really unnatural doing that. "Sure", I said from
behind the camera, madly clicking away at anything she did.
I was so nervous that I could hardly stop my hands from
shaking. My heart was pounding wildly, and I clutched the
camera - afraid that I would drop it and make an ass out of
myself. Less than five minutes later I had exhausted all 36
exposures - winding up with 36 pictures that more or less
looked the same. I bolted from the room in wild confusion
with my prize, running, frightened by my lack of control,
all the way home. Of course, I had to make up a story about
suddenly feeling sick to explain my odd behaviour. I am
still haunted by the thought that I may have hurt her by
leaving like that. "Such a sweet kid", I thought sadly to
myself as I perused the pictures. The last one seemed dif-
ferent, and it bothered my conscience. She seemed to have an
odd expression on her face - an expression of stark terror -
as if in that instant she realized what I was about to do.

The Dark Room

I sat there for a moment, my head in my hands, before going
into the darkroom to make some prints. I didn't want to
print any of the ones of Rick's sister. Something really
bothered me about them. I decided to concentrate on the ones
related to my projects. A glance at the clock showed that I
had already been there several hours. I cut the rolls into
proper-sized strips and headed into the darkroom.

The darkroom was a small office-like enclosure off to one
side of the classroom with black paper covering all of the
glass windows on it's front face. To further reduce light,
the interior had been painted a flat black colour. It had
all the equiptment required for printing negatives - an en-
larger, timer, developing trays, and chemicals. I quickly
set up the negatives by the enlarger and closed the door. It
was pitch black inside, and I flicked on the red light. I
placed one of the strips into the enlarger and began perus-
ing my pictures, trying to decide which ones would be print-
ed.

I had just set up the photographic paper and was in the pro-
cess of making a test strip in the dim red light when some-
thing happened. A chill passed through me, causing me to
shudder and the hair stood up on the back of my neck. A
sense of horror riveted me to the spot, my mind telling me
in no uncertain terms that something was terribly wrong
here. I was horrified. Even before I realised what had set
me off, I knew that I was NOT ALONE IN THIS ROOM. It took me
hours before I could force myself to turn around - to stare
into the recesses of the far corner from which the faint
sound of breathing emanated.

The Doll

It looked like a doll, a mere charicature of a human, but
closer inspection showed that it was the genuine article.
Her name was Lisa, she was also in my photography class. She
looked sinister in the red light - dressed in a black frilly
party dress, with black stockings and dark shirt. Her eye
makeup was smeared down her cheeks and her dark hair was in
complete disarray. She smelled of puke and at first I
thought she was asleep, but I was wrong. Her eyes were open
and dilated. She was staring sightless up at the ceiling,
irregularly breathing, her forehead beaded with a cold
sweat. I didn't really notice it before, but the room must
have gotten cold. It was cold enough that I could see her
breath rising from her parted lips, even under the dim red
light. I kept expecting her to move or something, but she
didn't. She looked like a living corpse or a rag doll,
propped up spread-eagled in the corner. All she did was
breathe. It was like I wasn't there at all. I stepped back,
noticing a puddle on the floor. She must have pissed her-
self.

Lisa was a real "popular" girl in our school. I fell madly
in love with her the first day I saw her. Back then, I used
to believe that women should be placed on pedestals and ad-
mired. Her snobbish ways and interesting attire only helped
re-enforce my delusion that women were somehow special and
remote. I remember that day at Rick's house. I was nervously
pushing the buttons to call her up. Rick was on the exten-
sion. I kept hanging up while dialling, afraid that I had
gotten the number wrong. Rick was getting pissed off. I
wanted this call to be perfect. "Hello?", she answered. IT
WAS HER! My voice was suddenly hoarse and I could barely
force the words out. I really didn't have anything planned
and said the first thing that came to mind "Uh.... You don't
know me but I was wondering if you'd like to go out with me
tomorrow" My mind was reeling. I didn't realize how idiotic
that must have sounded on the other end. Only one thought
kept repeating itself in my mind: SAY YES, SAY YES, SAY
YES.... She said something about how she had to wash her
hair tomorrow night, and wasn't able to go out at all. My
own inexperience must account for the fact that I believed
her. Rick told me that he saw her at the dance the next
night. I felt like a complete fool.

I knew another guy that did go out with her (Rodney). He was
one of my best friends that year. They went to the dance to-
gether, but she didn't dance with him. Instead, she began
hanging around with some tall guy from another school, kiss-
ing up to him something fierce. My friend recognized him as
a major drug dealer he'd seen doing business here before.
She left with him. They fucked in a van right outside the
school doors. My friend was heartbroken, crying, contemplat-
ing suicide. He'd introduced her to his parents and every-
thing. It was his first attempt at dating. Now he was humi-
liated. Not just in front of the school, but in front of his
parents as well.

Taking Pictures

Now here she was, dressed like a slut and mired in her own
filth. It was a truly disgraceful sight and I didn't feel
sorry for her. I turned on the lights and got my camera -
loading up another roll of film. I wasn't going to use the
pics to blackmail her. Instead, I was going to print them
out, photocopy them, and distribute them to any interested
guy in the entire school. Not just pictures of her with her
clothes on either. These were going to feature full frontal
nudity; anything I could get away with.

I had to use my flash as the flourescent lighting in the
room was insufficient and took awhile hooking it onto my
camera. I almost freaked out when I discovered that I didn't
have any batteries in the thing. The whole situation had me
tense enough as it was. Luckily, I managed to find some in a
shelf in another part of the room. I was testing the flash
attachment when a funny thing happened. I heard a soft groan
from the corner. I watched in horror as her body began to
shake, almost as if she was being electrocuted. It was
violent and surprisingly regular. Her eyes rolled into her
head as she jerked slowly downwards against the wall until
she was sponging up the piss on the floor. She lay there,
eyelids fluttering, her back arching a number of times be-
fore the strange vibrations subsided. With a start, I real-
ised that the whole thing could have been initiated by the
flashes.

I decided to get this over with as soon as possible and took
a few preliminary pictures of her with her clothes on, ad-
justing the focus and angle. She didn't move at all as I
snapped away. I began removing her soiled clothes, undress-
ing her. I put her into various poses, took pictures, then
undressed her more. Soon she was completely naked and I had
exhausted the whole roll. I got another one from a drawer
and filled it up as well. I began to relax and took more
time with the final pictures. The last roll had some of
best.

Towards the end, I began to get horny. "Why not?", I fig-
ured, rolling her over onto her stomach, and spreading her
legs. I pulled down my pants and began humping away at her
inert form. It was hard at first, because she didn't provide
any lubrication but it got much better. I was impressed by
how hot she was. I never imagined a woman could generate
such an intense heat. It was like sticking my cock into an
oven. I was so excited that I didn't notice her piss soaking
through my pants at the knees. I just pumped away, grunting
like a pig, my exhalation visible in the red light. I
couldn't believe that anything could feel this good. It felt
so good, that even after I climaxed, my body kept pumping
away on its own volition for several minutes, even though I
wanted it to stop.

Afterwards, I sat there panting and shivering in the cold
red darkness. A trillion thoughts passing through my mind as
I lay there on my side. It was like my whole world had been
turned upside down. On the one hand I actually felt (believe
it or not) that I loved her or something like that, but on
the other I just wanted to get the hell out of here - as far
away from her as possible. I stood up, noticing the piss on
my knees and began picking up my stuff, nervously shoving it
into my bag. I turned on the regular light, exposing most of
my developing paper. I didn't care. I just wanted to be able
to see what I was doing. In a few minutes, I had cleared up
most of my stuff from the darkroom.

Cleaning Up

I put her clothes back on, paying attention to small de-
tails. I was getting really worried because she seemed to be
stirring, tossing and turning, eyes squinting, coming back
to life. After the last article of clothing was tossed on
her, I dragged her out of the room by her feet. I deposited
her just outside the door, probably right into the puddle of
vomit (although I was too distracted to notice it at the
time). I ducked back in and shut and locked the door behind
me. I also turned out the main classroom lights and shoved
my jacket under the door, as I didn't want her to see them
if she woke up out there.

Working by the light coming out of the darkroom, I cleaned
up the chemicals and stuff from the bench. I also used paper
towels to clean up all the piss she had left around the
place. I was very careful in erasing traces of my presence
from this room, even though I wasn't sure whether I intended
to say I came here tonight or not. Everything was still unc-
ertain. I did this so that all my options would be open when
the moment of "truth" came.

About an hour later, I had all my stuff and was ready to go.
I checked the classroom and darkroom for about the hundredth
time before walking out the door. Lisa was gone.

Epilogue

Obviously, I didn't get much work done that night. But I did
develope the negatives for my projects and it didn't take
much longer to print them up, so it was to some benefit.
There was no ruckus about a rape the next day (Monday). But
then again, maybe the ruckus about the stabbing death out-
side the dance overshadowed this "minor" incident. Lisa
showed up to home form just like she did any day, and didn't
look funny at me or anything.

I developed the negatives at another after-school session
and was impressed by the results. I carefully cropped out
any portions of the picture that contained any suggestion of
where they were taken; for example, the corner of the dark-
room cupboard that protruded into the upper left of most of
the views. I also had to do a bit of matting with a piece of
cardboard to eliminate the floor tile pattern that was
characteristic of our school. I began experimenting with
composites. For example, cutting out a print of her and
placing it onto a picture of *my* bed. It was hilarious! The
resulting pictures were fantastic.

One morning, bright and early, I tacked them up to bulleten
boards around the school, after having copied them on the
school office photocopier. I also shoved them under empty
classroom doors, placed them in male (and female) washroom
stalls, you name it. I was going to send some to her
parents, but figured this would be enough. I was right.
After about three weeks of continual harrassment, she disap-
peared - storming red-faced out of math class in a flurry of
tears. We never saw her again. Many of us were grateful.

Last modified (10/09/96 12:14:22) by Eli-the-Bearded.

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