This story was originally posted at https://www.gayspiralstories.com/newStory/show/871135 on 2020-02-11. It is part of the series ‘Ass Assassin, Round 2‘, which continues where ‘A Game of Ass Assassin‘ left off.
Jeffrey is hunted. Biff is angry. Carl is terrifying. Mitch has a plan. The stakes are even higher in this round…
“This is a CHOOSE YOUR OWN ADVENTURE community series inspired by the format of The Grandfather’s Gift and the game of assassin where I give you all the set up and you can write what happens next! At the end of each chapter, there should be at least two options for how the story can go. If you want, you can include more than that or write about a possibility that isn’t listed. The only limit is your imagination! Minimum 400 words for each new chapter. Please reuse this intro at the beginning of any chapters you add so that new readers will be able to see all the rules. Enjoy!”
Once again, Jeffrey found himself on stage facing a frat bro, the hat in the brother’s hand waiting to reveal his immediate future. He drew out a slip of paper and unfolded it. 33. No, no, no!
“Haha, unlucky dude. Let’s go, let’s go, keep it moving!”
Jeffrey tried to suppress his rising sense of panic. He reminded himself that his dad had succeeded at the game all those years ago. He couldn’t let his father down, not now! And he’d already beaten the first round. I can do this. I have to!
The frat bros were prepping each pledge more efficiently this time. Before long, Jeffrey was fully dressed in the new all-white uniform, this time with the number 33 marked all over his body. He was about to step down from the stage when he heard a yell from further back in the queue.
“Fucking hell, this is bullshit!”
One of the already-nude pledges, a guy with a swimmer’s physique, straight blond hair, and a neat treasure trail leading to a long, thin dick, was shouting at the frat bro holding the hat full of numbers. “Hunted, twice in a row? Come on, man! How is this not fucking rigged?”
Shit, thought Jeffrey, he’s gonna be disqualified! As the pledge and brother continued to argue, Jeffrey saw Biff look up, then stride rapidly across the stage towards them, scowling. Despite the frat president’s recent demonstrations, the blond pledge didn’t seem the least bit concerned about pissing Biff off. What should Jeffrey do? His instincts told him to leave it the hell alone and stay under Biff’s radar, but on the other hand, every Hunted that stayed in the game meant a couple of Hunters who wouldn’t be gunning for his ass. And surely the pledge didn’t deserve to be punished by Biff for a momentary outburst?
“What’s going on here, Zachary?” asked Biff, his hands clenched into fists.
The hat-holding frat bro jabbed his finger at the pledge. “We got a crybaby here, says the numbers are rigged.”
“Rigged? Why, of all the ungrateful—” Biff’s face gradually reddened. “Who the FUCK do you think you are, questioning the, the ways of Kappa Omega Kappa? Do you realise how much fucking work goes into running this whole fucking process? HUH? ANSWER ME, MOTHERFUCKER!”
Silence. Even Zachary seemed taken aback by Biff’s rage. It was now or never. Jeffrey stepped forward nervously.
“Please, sir… h-he’s just frustrated … I don’t think he meant it. Did you?”
The pledge took a deep breath, and nodded, staring at the floor. “Uh, no sir. Sorry sir. I… I meant no disrespect to Kappa Omega Kappa.”
Jeffrey thought Biff was about to punch the pledge in the face, but after another uncomfortably long pause, Biff visibly relaxed. He turned his attention to Jeffrey, his eyes alight with malice.
“You. Thirty-three, what’s your name?”
“I’m Jeff-Jeffrey, sir.”
Biff circled Jeffrey like a tiger waiting to leap onto him and tear him to pieces. Jeffrey stayed silent as Biff sized him up. Despite the frat president’s obvious penchant for making cruel examples of other pledges, there was something compelling about Biff’s sheer physical presence and air of authority. Jeffrey hoped Biff wasn’t planning to take out his anger on him, but at the same time, he couldn’t help the perverse thrill that ran through him. What if he makes me kneel in front of his huge cock? Makes me suck him off in front of everyone here? Or maybe he’ll bend me over and sink the head of his warm meaty shaft in my—
“Eyes up here, Jeffrey. Tell me, why are you defending this worthless crybaby? Are you friends?”
“No, sir… I just— it was just a moment of frustration, and we all know how much effort you and Zachary and the brothers put in to run these games. Please!”
Biff thought for a moment. He looked like he was about to say something, but then his eyes flicked down to Jeffrey’s crotch. Biff smiled deviously.
“All right, Jeffrey. I am moved by your dedication to Kappa Omega Kappa. So I will give that fucker over there one more chance. ONE more chance!” The pledge breathed a sigh of relief.
“But I will not tolerate any further complaints about our initiation process.”
Biff gestured to Zachary, who handed him a squirt rifle filled with Pink Haze. The frat president levelled the gun at the blond pledge, but then swung the gun towards Jeffrey.
“And since you were so keen to protect your little ‘friend’ here, why don’t you take his punishment for him as well?”
Biff fired, hitting Jeffrey square in the chest with a plume of pink mist. Jeffrey stumbled backwards in shock, the Pink Haze already beginning to eat through his fresh new shirt. Once the shirt had begun to fall apart, exposing Jeffrey’s bare skin, Biff fired a second plume of Pink Haze at Jeffrey. As Biff had demonstrated earlier, nothing happened immediately, but within a few seconds, Jeffrey began to feel his thoughts clouding, his desire to beat this round and join the frat becoming less… relevant. His dick was growing stiff in his white cotton pants. The threads of his shirt drifted off him, revealing Jeffrey’s noticeable bulge to the assembled pledges. He blushed as he noticed various guys whispering to each other and pointing to his crotch.
Biff grabbed Jeffrey’s chin in his meaty hand, forcing Jeffrey to look directly at him. “It’s so much more satisfying when I turn guys like you into my bitches for the week. I’ll be keeping my eye on you.” Biff glanced down at Jeffrey’s half-hard dick. “Better hope you and crybaby make it through this round and the next one, ‘cause if you lose, I’m going make you both my own personal fuck-boys. Maybe for the whole year.”
Biff released Jeffrey, chuckling. “See you later, pledge.” Jeffrey shuddered, but his dick gave another twitch in his pants. “As for the rest of you, get ready and get moving, you fuckers!”
Jeffrey took several deep breaths to try and clear his head. He was about to step off the stage and make his way into West Ferndale when the other pledge called his name. “Hey, Jeffrey, wait up!” The pledge beckoned Jeffrey over. He grasped Jeffrey’s hand and shook it.
“Thanks for having my back there, dude. I’m Mitch, Mitch Harrison. Sorry to cause a scene. It’s just— it feels so unfair, you know? Dude, you okay?” Jeffrey nodded, still a little distracted. “Seriously, I owe you one. Tell you what— you got your phone on you? Let’s exchange numbers. Us Hunted need to stick together if we’re gonna survive this round.”
As soon as WFU’s clock tower struck noon, Hunters emerged from various buildings on WFU’s campus, firing Pink Haze at the scattering pledges. Biff’s intervention had delayed the preparation of some of the Hunted; a few unlucky pledges barely had time to put on their uniforms before being hit with Pink Haze. In the chaos, Jeffrey, now bare-chested, found himself running into town towards the Plaza district. Some distance away, he saw Mitch sprinting away towards Silverfern, a gritty industrial part of town.
Jeffrey glanced over his shoulder to see four Hunters on his tail. Tourists and shoppers jostled him as he entered a market area off Independence Boulevard. Fortunately, it was another warm autumn day and there were quite a few shirtless guys in the crowd making it more difficult for the Hunters to spot him. Jeffrey slipped warily from stall to stall, keeping close to large groups of people whenever he spotted a gun-wielding Hunter heading his way.
Once he was confident that the Hunters had lost track of him, Jeffrey continued into a wide, covered arcade bustling with people. He stepped into a light and colourful little bookstore called Textual Minorities, which he’d visited in his first week at WFU to buy textbooks. Inside, he made his way to a quiet little cafe area on the upper floor and bought a sandwich and a glass of water. He sat at a table partially shielded from the rest of the cafe by a wooden screen, with a view through the window to the entrance of the arcade. It turned out to be an ideal spot to watch out for Hunters while passing the time. Jeffrey ate his sandwich, watching the crowds of shoppers and tourists passing by. He checked his phone. Samir had messaged him to wish him good luck, but other than that, there was nothing new from him, or from Mitch. Jeffrey had just finished his water when the relative peace was disturbed by a pledge barreling through the arcade, two Hunters in hot pursuit.
The pledge, a short but wiry-looking dude with the number 135 on his shirt, had put a good distance between himself and his pursuers, but as he approached the section of the arcade outside Textual Minorities he tripped and went flying, landing awkwardly on all fours. The Hunters, both solidly built football-player types, reached the pledge and immediately fired their squirt rifles. Plumes of pink mist covered the pledge, as well as a number of bystanders who had stopped to help the pledge get back on his feet. The crowd fell back for a moment, but as soon as some of them found their clothes dissolving, there were shrieks of surprise, embarrassment and anger.
Jeffrey watched with horrified fascination as several people in the agitated crowd stepped forward to confront the two Hunters. A huge bear of a man, his red checked shirt hanging off him in shreds at the arms and collar, snatched one of the squirt guns and turned it on the unfortunate Hunter, unloading a spray of Pink Haze straight into the Hunter’s face. Two other shirtless guys wearing baseball caps managed to wrench the other Hunter’s gun from his grasp. Hands ripped the Hunters’ disintegrating clothes off their muscular bodies. The two Hunters ended up on their knees, working their exposed dicks feverishly. Someone must have given the Hunters an order, because they immediately locked lips with each other. One of the Hunters got up, shoved the other onto his hands and knees, and plunged his cock deep inside the other Hunter’s ass.
The hapless pledge, meanwhile, was at the center of a group of five shirtless skater dudes, each taking turns feeding him their stiff cocks. One of the skater boys apparently had a hair trigger – without warning, he suddenly released a load of cum over the pledge’s face and hair, before making the pledge clean off his dick as the other boys nudged him and laughed. Jeffrey didn’t know whether it was the effect of the Pink Haze from earlier or some desire that the game had awakened, but he was rock-hard.
“…he’s right there!”
One of the bookstore staff on the ground floor was pointing out Jeffrey to another Hunter, a tall thin guy with dark hair and the number 11 on his shirt. The Hunter dashed towards the stairs. Jeffrey leapt to his feet and ran towards a second set of steps. They led down to a back exit to the store, which opened onto a narrow alley. There were exits to left and right. Jeff took a left, heading deeper into the maze of passages behind the arcade. He stumbled over a discarded plastic bag, startling a black cat which skittered off behind some boxes.
Behind him, the Hunter was running full pelt towards Jeffrey, slowly closing the distance! Jeffrey gasped for air. He took a right. Now he was in a passage between two apartment blocks. The passage bent to the right. Jeffrey rounded the corner – only to find his path blocked by a solid metal gate. There were doors to either side, also locked. “HELP!” Jeffrey shouted as he pounded on the door to the left. “PLEASE, someone open up!” He banged on the other door, and then tried the gate, but it was secured by a padlock and chain. He was trapped.
Jeffrey heard the Hunter’s footsteps. The Hunter entered the passage, his gun pointed straight at Jeffrey. He fired a burst of Pink Haze which hit Jeffrey in the center of his bare chest. A second blast coated his pants, which began to unravel. Once again he felt the drug begin to take hold. He was growing hard again. He reached down to rub his dick through the white boxer briefs. No, this wasn’t right. He needed to get away!
“Please… let me go…” Jeffrey mumbled, as the fog in his brain began to thicken. “I’ll… I’ll do what you want!”
The Hunter smirked contemptuously. “Oh, you’ll do what I want all right. Think I’ll take my time with you.” Still training his gun on Jeffrey, he pulled out a phone and held down a button. “Call Carl Schwartz.” A pause. “Hey, Carl? I got him, cornered in an alley behind the arcade. Yeah, it’s definitely him. Where are you? Come to the block behind the arcade and see for yourself. All right. Cool.”
The Hunter returned his attention to Jeffrey. “Get on your knees. Take your cock out.” Jeffrey obediently freed his cock from the boxer briefs, letting it spring up and slap against his skin. “Very nice. Now jerk your cock for me, but don’t cum.”
“Do it, pledge. Entertain me, or I’ll just shoot you now with Pink Haze until your brain turns to mush.”
Jeffrey grasped his hard cock and began to stroke it, his face reddening again as the Hunter leaned against a wall, enjoying Jeffrey’s lewd display.
“Tell me how much of a cock-loving slut you are.”
Jeffrey hesitated, but he couldn’t see any other option if he wanted to avoid getting dosed up with Pink Haze. “I… I’m a c-cock-loving slut! I love cock!”
The Hunter snorted. “Use your imagination, fuckwit.” He touted the squirt rifle menacingly.
“Uh… I’m a cock-loving slut! I- I want to suck your cock. I love- sucking cock!”
“Ugh, so cliché.” The Hunter aimed at Jeffrey.
“Nnngh… wait, please! I, I love getting fucked! I love the feeling of a guy’s hard cock in my ass!” Jeffrey blushed as he degraded himself for the Hunter’s amusement. He could feel the cum starting to rise in his balls, and slowed his pumping to avoid cumming. “I need your cock! I’m a cock-loving slut!”
“Better.” Jeffrey heard footsteps coming from the main alleyway. The Hunter turned to greet whoever it was. “Hey, Carl. This is him, right? Let’s get him back to campus.”
Carl stepped into the alley and Jeffrey’s eyes widened in surprise – he had the biggest arms that Jeffrey had ever seen on a guy his age. The sheer volume of muscle on Carl’s upper body stretched his white pledge shirt to its limits – it looked like the sleeves and a good portion of the fabric at the shoulders had been ripped off in the process of putting on the shirt. He had a mop of curly brown hair and his gray eyes fixed Jeffrey with a chilling glare, before returning to the Hunter. When he spoke, Jeffrey was surprised at how deep his voice was. There was a … European, maybe Germanic shade to his accent?
“Yah, it is. Very good, Robert.”
Robert aimed his squirt rifle at Jeffrey. Jeffrey closed his eyes, awaiting the final bursts of Pink Haze that would render him a boned-up slave of K.O.K. for the rest of the week, or worse…
Jeffrey opened his eyes. Carl was suspending Robert by his neck against a wall, a massive, meaty hand around the Hunter’s throat. Robert dropped his gun and tried to prise open Carl’s fingers. Carl raised his squirt gun, pointing it at the Hunter.
“Why- why are you doing this?” Robert spluttered. “We’re a team!”
With the squirt gun at point blank range, Carl rapidly pumped the trigger. Pink Haze blasted Robert’s face and he coughed as the drug filled his mouth and nose, becoming liquid.
“Robert. It’s not personal, yah. I just do what it takes to win this game. Fewer players in the next round means less competition, yah? I get rid of you, I win the next round more easily.” Carl released his grip on Robert’s throat so that he could spray the rest of Robert’s body and clothes with Pink Haze. Still firing the squirt gun, he turned his gaze towards Jeffrey. His lips curled into a thin smile.
Jeffrey’s phone buzzed. He grabbed it at the same time as a door suddenly slammed open between him and Carl, briefly obscuring his view of the two Hunters. Thank God!
“What the bejesus is going on here?” asked the middle-aged man holding the door open. Seizing the opportunity to escape, Jeffrey dashed through the doorway, shoving his way past the man and into a corridor – the hallway of an apartment block. Behind him, he heard Carl’s heavy footsteps approaching. He kept running, past several apartment doors, and out onto the street. There was a bus stop just ahead, with a bus just pulling in. Jeffrey sprinted across the road towards it and managed to board just as the doors closed and the bus began to pull away. The driver, used to seeing pledges in various states of undress during hell week, simply motioned Jeffrey to move towards the back of the bus. As the bus pulled away, Jeffrey saw Carl emerge from the apartment building, turn towards him, and smile.
“Jeffrey! I’m glad you made it.” Mitch looked around to make sure no-one was following Jeffrey, before letting him enter the warehouse. Wearing only white boxer briefs, Jeffrey envied the fact that Mitch had managed to keep all of his uniform intact.
“My uncle owns this place,” Mitch explained. “He has a few storage places like this all around Silverfern. It’s closed today so we can hide out here if we need to. Got a couple of other guys heading here in a bit.” The interior of the warehouse was stacked with large metal containers and racks of shelves storing wood flooring and other building materials. Mitch led Jeffrey up to a gantry and into a small office with a leather sofa, on which the two pledges sat.
“So Jeff… tell me again about what happened back at the Plaza. Who was the Hunter you messaged me about? How’d you get away?”
Jeffrey shuddered. “He was some massive guy, a body-builder or something. Arms like tree trunks. The other guy called him Carl? He sprayed Pink Haze on the other Hunter, and I only got away because someone opened a door into the building. Otherwise he would have got me as well.”
“Wait, back up a minute. You said his name was Carl?”
“Yeah. You know him?”
Mitch leaned closer. “Maybe… Brown hair, gray eyes, sounds a bit foreign?” Jeffrey nodded. “It’s gotta be Carl Schwartz.”
“Shit. I’ve heard stories about him. He’s a sophomore, WFU wrestling champ. Didn’t know he was pledging this year. After what happened last year, he’s supposed to be banned from joining any fraternities! This is bad…”
“Is it that bad? If Carl takes out other Hunters, doesn’t that improve our odds of surviving the round?”
“For this round, sure, but he’s dangerous. Doesn’t care who gets hurt as long as he wins. Last year he put a group of pledges in hospital. A real piece of work, that guy. There was an investigation, but his family and Biff’s have some kind of business connection, and they got WFU to drop the inquiry – other than banning him from pledging, or so I heard.”
Mitch leaned back, folding his arms. “Biff and Carl are very close. If he gets into the final round, you can bet Biff is gonna pull out all the stops to help him win. That’s one less place for guys like us. Besides, have you forgotten what Biff said this morning about keeping us as his fuck-boys for the rest of the year? Biff is probably gonna use him to take us both down! Shit, he might even be gunning for us in this round! I don’t think we can risk letting him go through.”
“Yeah… I remember, the way the other Hunter was speaking, it sounded like they were working together to take me down.”
“There we go, then. So…” Mitch sat up and looked right at Jeffrey. “Let’s take him out.”
“We set a trap for Carl, hit him with Pink Haze, then take him down to campus and turn him in. There’s no way K.O.K. can put him through to the final round if everyone sees him go down.” Mitch placed his hand on Jeffrey’s arm. “What do you think, Jeff? You in?”
Choice #2: Should Jeffrey…
- Take up Mitch on his plan to knock out Carl with a carefully set trap?
- Try to talk Mitch out of taking on Carl?
- Wait for the others to arrive and see what they have to say?
- Leave Mitch in the warehouse and go it alone?
“Anyone who wishes to write off of any of these prompts is free. I encourage you to include at least one choice in every branching path that leads to failure, and clearly mark it as such. I’d enjoy reading plenty of stories about Jeff’s possible failures where he becomes a hypnotized fuck-slave of the frat in addition to ones where Jeffrey perseveres and triumphs.”
Author’s note: Thanks for reading! If you liked this story and want to support my writing, you can do so at https://www.patreon.com/varlance!
Please clearly label any subsequent chapters to this story based on the pathways chosen. For example, if you choose to write a chapter based on the first option in the intro, title it “Ass Assassin, Round 2 Path 1.” If you choose to write a chapter based on the third option of Path 1, title it “Ass Assassin, Round 2 Path 1.3.” If you choose to write a new pathway not listed in the intro, title it “Ass Assassin, Round 2 Path 4” and so on. Please reuse this paragraph at the end of any chapters you add so that new readers will be able to see all the rules. Enjoy!