THE ALPHA BOYS
	by p_grazy

	
	It was Friday, evening was rapidly approaching and the boys of Alpha Zeta 
house were so excited the could barely contain themselves. Tonight was the 
party, the "big bash" as they referred to it, the event they had planned for all 
semester. 	
	There was no mistaking Alpha house from any of the other fraternities on 
campus. Alpha Zeta was the school's definitive "jock house". The three story 
house on Talcott Lane was home to a staggering abundance of sheer muscle and 
testosterone. When an average student, having finished with his afternoon 
classes and on his way back to the dorms, saw a group of Alpha boys heading his 
way along the campus path, he would discreetly step onto the grass and allow 
them to pass, keeping his eyes transfixed on his own shoes, as it was bad policy 
to make eye contact with an Alpha. The Alpha boys would pass, their heads thrown 
back cockily, talking and laughing loudly without embarrassment or 
consideration. They were the prime physical specimens the campus had to offer. 
Football players, wrestlers, bodybuilders, and power lifters. Their polo shirts 
were always stretched along their expansive pecs and the sleeves swollen with 
dense packs of biceps and triceps, muscle that was so meaty, hard and begging to 
be inspected, squeezed and caressed. Some let their juicy pecs jiggle loosely in 
tank-tops. Others let their awesome arms bulge and sway from the ringed sleeves 
of contouring t-shirts pressed tautly against their skin, while some shamelessly 
swaggered around the lecture halls with their shirts wrapped around their 
waists. Some enveloped their stunning quads in sweatpants, while others allowed 
blue denim to tightly swathe their sensational asses. They could often been seen 
on the campus lawns, running around shirtless, their solid biceps tightening 
into hard balls as they held a football in their curled arms, their calves 
exploding as they burst into a sprint and their pecs bouncing in the sun as they 
bounded through the freshly mowed grass. On Saturday nights, you could observe 
the Alpha boys in the downtown clubs, their musculature intimidating even the 
bouncers, as they stripped off their shirts, danced and proudly flexed their 
sweat-moistened bodies. When they passed your nose could detect the strong scent 
of unjudiciously applied amounts of cologne.  When they came from the gym or 
practice, you'd be overwhelmed by the odor of hyper-masculine sweat emanating 
from their tropically damp, thick-dicked crotches. But, you'd also detect 
something else...the colossal arrogance of a college kid who knows all the girls 
want him, all the guys want to be him, and the knowledge that he can beat the 
living shit out of any guy he chooses, at anytime.
	It was 4pm and the boys were getting ready for the night's festivities. 
Big Ryan and Matty were still out, rounding up the last of tonight's “guests”. 
Upstairs Anthony Garranello stepped out of the shower. He was 20 years old, his 
arms, legs and torso pure Long Island muscle-beef. His limbs were coated with a 
thin coat of dark hair, and his back muscles, still speckled with beads of 
water, bunched up lusciously as he wrapped a blue towel around his waist, his 
thick Italian-American cock hanging cozily within. Aaron was in the bathroom as 
well, pressing an electric trimmer against his face and evening out his short 
beard. Aaron was a senior, with blond curly hair and the Hanes underwear he wore 
displayed his slimmer, but tautly muscular wrestler's physique. Anthony smirked 
to himself as he quietly stepped behind Aaron and slowly snaked both his 
powerful arms around Aaron's head, securing the wrestler in a headlock, his 
fingers threaded through blond curls of hair. They both looked at each other in 
the mirror and grinned. The sight of Aaron ensnared and immobilized in his own 
muscular python-strong arms caused Anthony's dick to tingle and grow.
	“Hey Aaron,” Anthony said, his face deadly serious, as his biceps applied 
playful tweaks of pressure to the neck “Bet I could kill you right here and now. 
Huh? You think so? Bet can make you dead just like that. And the last fucking 
thing you'd feel would be this...” Anthony arched his back slightly and rubbed 
his pelvis into the small of Aaron's back, inches above the wrestler's tight 
ass. Aaron could feel Anthony's stiff rod beneath the cotton towel, teasing and 
prodding his spine.
	“Oh yeah?” Aaron just grinned. He was a laid back guy and loved Anthony as 
much as any of his other Alpha brothers, but he knew the guy was nothing but a 
gym-thug muscle head who possessed none of his grappling and martial arts 
abilities. He just played along. 
	“That big boy of your's sure feels like it's hungry. Well, don't worry 
Anthony, dinner will be here soon. Just don't blow your wad in the meantime.”
	Anthony sighed, looked away, with a wistful look in his eyes. 
	“I tell you. I can't wait for tonight.” He constricted his biceps arms 
around Aaron's head and with his mouth muttered “Cccrrr....crrr...crick.”  
before letting go. Aaron resumed buzzing his beard, while Anthony arched his 
back, the thick wall of abdominal muscles blossoming against his skin, while he 
stretched his arms behind his head, his biceps exploding into beautiful, solid 
cantaloupes. Anthony held the stretch for a moment and savored his own physique 
in the mirror.
	By six o'clock everything was set. Big Ryan and Matty had returned with 
another four "guests", making the total 17. Since only juniors and senior Alpha 
boys were allowed a "crack" at them (house rules) that made 2 for each plus an 
extra. No invitations had been mailed, nothing posted on a website, as the boys 
didn't want to attract too much attention and leave any sort of  trail. Rather, 
Ryan and Matty had scoured the campus for candidates. After ensuring all the 
blinds and curtains had been shut, and double-checking the doors, Aaron popped a 
cd into the player and hip-hop music suddenly blared through the house. He 
leaned against a wall and folded his arms, the muscles in his arms acquiring 
detailed definition, as he observed the guests with a sly, bemused smile. The 
guests were huddled in clusters, easily discernible amid the muscled Alpha boys. 
They were anonymous losers, skinny, lanky kids, wanna-be preppies, science 
geeks, scruffy hippy kids, hip-hop poseurs, each one confounded why a bunch of 
jocks would be so eager to have them at their party, especially since these 
athletes now seemed to ignore them or glare back at them mockingly. 
	Matty approached one, a hippy kid, whose back was against a wall. At 5'4 
Matty was the shortest Alpha brother, but he was thick as a brick shithouse. He 
was not in the least bit shy about displaying his body and would often be seen 
strolling around the campus with his shirt tied around his waist, flexing for 
anyone- unsolicited or not. Nicknamed "Crazy Matty" or "Animal Muther" he was 
the untamed sort who could be seen riding on the roof of a car as it speed down 
the street, howling at the top of his lungs. Although short in stature, he 
played for the university's Marauders and packed a devastating punch on the 
field, a ruthless aggression that was often unleashed at parties where he 
typically wound up beating the living shit out of some douchebag. He now wore a 
tight white T-shirt, the curves of his protuberant pec beef casting a shadow 
beneath, where the solid hardness of his abdominal wall was discernible against 
the fabric. With his black baseball cap cranked backwards and a knowing smirk on 
his face, Matty began chatting with the hippie kid, and as he talked and 
gestured with his hands, his compacted biceps and triceps bunched up and 
twitched from of his sleeves. 
	 Ryan walked up to Aaron. They called him "Big" Ryan for good reason. At 
6"2" and 260lbs he dwarfed the other Alpha boys.  Only 21 years old, this  kid 
with a Louisiana drawl had utterly devoted himself towards bodybuilding since he 
was 13 and had developed his body into an incredibly powerful and indomitable 
physical specimen. He wore a black XXL T-shirt that bore the name of the 
school's football team, for whom he busted heads for. His chest stretched out 
the "Marauders" logo on the breast and his massive arms hung with latent power 
from the swollen sleeves. 
	"I think it's time..." Ryan said, slowly flexing his right arm and 
admiring his bicep as the heads of the muscle sprouted and attained awesome 
definition, a cocky grin on his face- "...to get to this party started."
	Aaron laughed. "Sure man. You go ahead. This is your year, so you get 
first pick."
	Ryan smiled brightly, "Thanks Aaron, you're the best. Love you, man." He 
slapped his big palm on Aaron's shoulder and sauntered away. He made his way 
over to Matty and the skinny hippie boy he'd cornered.
	"Yo, Ryan! I want you to meet my new friend...what was it?"Matty asked the 
hippie kid.
	"Uh, Chris." The kid answered. He was a junior, with long black scraggly 
hair and a patch of fuzz on his chin he hoped would pass for a goatee. It was 
almost comical to see the comparison of physical statures as Ryan stepped up 
behind Chris and rested his hands on the kid's bony shoulders. As Ryan did this 
he could sense a wave of nervous tension stiffen the kid's body.
	"Isn't this guy a freak of nature?" Matty said to Chris, "You should see 
him in the gym. We call him 'Big Ryan'. You know what else we call him?  'Bone-
Snappa'. Do you know how he got that name?"
	Chris shook his head.
	"Well, you see this shit started, like, last year. Me, Anthony, Ryan and a 
bunch of us were walking across campus one night and we see this bunch of 
pussyboys. So we decided to fuck with them a little. You know, just a little, 
nobody gets too hurt. So we run straight at them and fucking bash into these 
three fuckers. Fucking tackle them and lay them out. Then, one of these little 
fags starts screaming and whining about his buddy. When Ryan tackled him the kid 
smashed his little head on the pavement-fractured his skull- and now he was 
going into convulsions. We all stood there and watched him twitch and shit  then 
suddenly...he stops moving. We just stood there like, 'Holy Shit! We just killed 
that guy!'. So his buddy takes out his phone and makes like he's about to call 
the cops when out of nowhere Ryan here grabs the kid's head and fuckin' twists 
it...swear to God, snaps his neck right there. The other kid books and I go 
after him and knock 'im down. What were we supposed to do? I ain't going to jail 
because of those fucktards. So, I get my arms around that kid's throat I fucking 
choke that bitch til he stops squirming. Even after that I kept cranking that 
head of his 'til I heard something bust. Um..." Matty stops and purses his lips.
	"Anyway, it was on the news but they never pinned it on anybody. I was 
scared shitless, always waiting for the cops to come knocking on the door, but 
nothing. But that night, just thinking about what we did, I jerked my meat and 
blew the biggest wad ever, I ain't shittin' you. It wasn't 'til weeks later that 
I found out the other guys felt the same way. So welcome to the party!  You're 
the guest of honor, you fuckin' dirtbag!"
	Chris suddenly felt Ryan's impossibly thick forearm reach across his 
sternum and the palm firmly grip his shoulder, while the other palm swiftly 
enwrapped his mouth.  Ryan savagely jerked the kid's head hard to the right. The 
music was still blaring and no one except Ryan and Matty heard the *pop* *crack* 
and the gruesome gutteral groan that gurgled up from Chris' throat. None of the 
guests observed Chris' arms flops to his sides and his fingers flutter like the 
wings of a dying bird, as Ryan's muscle swollen arms still held his slack corpse 
upright in his death-grip. 
	"Fuckin' amazing..." Matty mumbled. "This douchebag's been alive for, 
like, 20 years or something and then just like that," he snaps his fingers, 
"fuckin dead. Shit, my dick is so fuckin' hard right now, Ryan, you wouldn't 
believe it. C'mon. Let's snuff the rest of these retards, big guy."
	Ryan bent his head down and peered into the kid's eyes, which had now 
rolled lazily back into their sockets.
	"That's why they call me Bone-Snappa, bitch." His hot breath huffed into 
the kid's face. He opened his hands and the body crumpled to the floor. 
	What happened next occurred in a blur. The Alpha boys attacked their 
quarry as if on cue. Ryan began to swing his arms mercilessly into three 
cornered boys, bashing the flailing bodies against the wall. Matty seized the 
collar of his T-shirt and with a powerful yank ripped it from his torso and 
howled. He squeezed his biceps and chest with a crab pose, summoning up veins 
and his musculature pumping up beautifully, then launched himself into the soft 
belly of a guest and sent him crashing to the floor. Anthony had  another one 
wriggling in a rear headlock. Aaron had pulled a Browning .45 from his waist to 
discourage five boys who tried to flee out the side door. Travis' face was fixed 
in a focused growl, black tufts of hair wisping from beneath his baseball cap, 
as he stood with both sculptured arms extended out of his sleeveless T-shirt and 
his strong fingers sunk unstoppably into the quickly yielding throat of a 
gagging boy he held two feet up against a wall. The kid's feet bucked and his 
heels slammed backwards, knocking holes into the drywall until Travis had 
crushed the last remnants of life from his windpipe and the kid's sneakers 
dangled lifelessly above the floor. Sean was busy applying handcuffs to three 
boys who had been immediately cowed by the sudden explosive violence. 
	The house was now in a state of mayhem as each of the Alpha boys unleashed 
their inhibitions and indulged in their brutal lusts. 
	Aaron had stripped down to a pair of gray, ass-hugging, cock-nestling 
Hanes briefs and dragged one poor bastard into the kitchen. Kevin and Devon sat 
on the counter tops with beers in hand and watched and applauded as the blond 
haired, sinewy wrestler grappled with the hapless kid on the kitchen tiling. 
They had seen Aaron in action, knew how he combined wrestling techniques with 
martial arts to expertly break a man apart. Aaron and his prey were both on 
their sides, the wrestler's legs locked around the kid's pelvis as he 
methodically twisted and wrenched the ensnared arm in his unrelenting grip. The 
kid was hopelessly mismatched, had no clue how to counter Aaron's manipulations 
and he huffed, puffed and groaned with desperation and his body was painfully 
contorted, his t-shirt now tugged halfway up his torso and exposing the red, 
bruised skin that Aaron had beaten with his fists shortly before.
	There was an excited anticipation in Devon's face and he yelled, "C'mon 
dude. You got him. Snap his fucking arm, dude!"
	Aaron complied. He manipulated the arm behind the kid's back and with 
shocking suddeness it surrendered with a snap and folded in two. The kid croaked 
in horror when he heard the sound and  yelped a second later when the sharp pain 
shot through his nervous system.
	"What do you think?" Aaron looked up at the spectators, slightly panting 
but looking quite happy, "The other one?"
	"Hell ya!" Both boys cheered in unison.
	Aaron let go of the kid and swiftly flipped him over onto his stomach, 
pinning his knee against the kid's spine. Without hesitation his palms secured 
the kid's intact arm, the limb now straightened and taut in an arm bar. Aaron 
jerked his palm down on the kid's elbow and was excited when he heard the grisly 
tell-tale crack, then immediately cranked the kid's wrist down sharply and heard 
the joint rapidly puh-puh-pop and crunch. The kid screamed and his body bucked 
wildly. He was now crying and blathering uncontrollably, begging for the assault 
to stop. His shrieking was starting to irritate Aaron. He flung the busted arm 
away, got on the kitchen floor and shimmied his legs around the kid's head. The 
boy felt the hard muscles of Aaron's thighs lock and compress against the sides 
of his head like a vice, felt the stubbly hairs on the wrestler's legs prick 
against his face, and he could sense the raw power and potential lethalness of 
those legs.
	The kid sputtered nonsensically, "No, no, no please. I don't know 
wh....no, no , Just...I want-" 
	Aaron jerked his hips. There was a wet snap and then quiet.
	Without changing  position, Aaron took one hand, sunk it beneath the 
waistband of his briefs and popped out his eight inch raging hardon. His dick 
had been driven wild by the sensation of him breaking and killing the boy 
against his crotch and he was extremely impatient to blow his load. Aaron's 
cupped palm swiftly stroked ten times and hot jizz burst onto the top of the 
boy's head, the viscous goo matting his black hair. Aaron threw his head back in 
relief and rested his elbows on the floor. He opened his eyes and smiled back at 
Kevin and Devon, as they congratulated him and held up their beers in 
admiration.
	After wiping himself down, Aaron walked leisurely out of the kitchen, 
stopped and broke into laughter at what he saw. Ryan was doing military presses 
with some poor kid. The other boys watched and laughed boisterously as he kept 
smacking his "barbell" into the ceiling. 
	"Hey Ryan. Remember what you did to that guy in the park?" Aaron beckoned.
	"What was that?" Matty asked.
	Aaron nodded over to Ryan, who now held the boy suspended over his head. 
"He crushed that asshole's head like a fucking walnut. It was unbelievable."
	"Really? C'mon man. I wanna see that!" Matty pleaded.
	"NOOO!!!" the kid squealed above Ryan's head.
	Ryan grinned that childish grin of his and dropped the kid to his feet. As 
soon as the shoe-tips touched the floor they tried to scramble away, but Ryan 
had already wrapped both palms flat and firm around his skull and without 
hesitation began to compress and drive against the cranium.
	"This is how we do it Louisiana-style." He smiled and nodded his head in 
affirmation.
	Matty leaned in real close to get a good view. He saw the striated muscles 
of Ryan's forearms writhe and blossom with veins. His biceps engorged with 
blood, the peaks squirming out of his sleeves and his deltoids formed hard, 
tight curvatures-literally the size of bowling balls- against the black fabric 
of his shirt. His pecs oozed out meatily and brushed against the back of his 
prey's head. The kid didn't feel this barrier of chest muscle pressing against 
him, as his brain was overwhelmed by the enormous crushing force being applied 
against it. He could hear nothing but the pressured bubble of oxygen-rich blood 
in his own skull. His hands frantically attempted to pry Ryan's wrists away, as 
his sneakers shifted and squeaked against the floorboards and his pelvis bucked 
and writhed as if hoping to snake his way out of death. Ryan was now forcing the 
kid down to the floor, the big guy's feet stanced far apart, leaning over, 
driving every ounce of muscle power into the nut he constricted in his palms. 
Aaron was standing behind and watched in quiet awe as the now enormously wide V-
taper of Ryan's lats almost shredded through his black shirt, watched the two 
halves of his ass swell against his jeans as the 260lb collegiate bodybuilder 
and power lifter was craned over in focused determination. They all heard the 
hollow *crack*. The kid immediatedly stopped squealing and made a strange 
gulping noise His feet ceased shuffling and his entire body went slack, his 
knees thumping to the floor. Aaron continued to watch Ryan's backside, watched 
the triceps flare and the freakish arms tremble with tension as the powerhouse 
killer, incited by that delicious lethal cracking sound, continued to surge 
destructive force into the skull. Aaron heard more crunching noises, like terra-
cotta fragments being systematically pulverized in a damp towel. Then Aaron 
heard the gruesome sound of blood spilling copiously to the floorboards. Ryan 
let go of the wet sponge that his fingers had sunken into and the body slid to 
the floor.
	"Now, THAT is how it is done." Ryan said with a slow drawl, as he curled 
his arms up into a 23-inch double bicep pose. The other boys cracked up and 
laughed at the haughty arrogance of Ryan's gesture, but the Louisiana powerhouse 
really seemed sincerely intoxicated his own killing strength and physical power 
as his lips wetly kissed the peaked heads of each bicep and his blue eyes adored 
their carved perfection.
	"Eh." He suddenly said dismissively. "I think they could be bigger." At 
which the guys laughed.
	Ryan swaggered over towards two punks in the corner. They had been 
stripped of their clothes, brutally beaten by Travis, their mouths gagged with 
swatches of duct tape and their arms bound behind their backs with handcuffs. At 
the sight of Ryan moving in for them, one kid looked down, his eyes tearing up 
in sad, fatalistic resignation, while the other went bug-eyed with horror and 
shrieked beneath his gag.
	"Now if you girls don't mind..." Ryan said to his Alphas brothers as he 
swooped down, hoisted the two punks up and set one over each of his sloping 
traps. "Me and my new friends need some alone time."
	Ryan turned and began to mount the stairs that led to his room. One boy 
hung over his shoulder without resistance, as if already dead, while the other 
attempted unsuccessfully to shake his way off. They heard Ryan's heavy footsteps 
plod to the top landing and then his bedroom door shut with a clunk.
	Aaron popped open another Budweiser and quietly crept down to the 
basement. He stopped at the bottom of the stairwell and peered through partially 
ajar door. He observed Matty and Anthony, who were fucking around with two boys 
they had dragged down there. They had positioned a skinny little fuck-a blond 
haired preppy clone named Zach- on the ping pong table. His clothes forcibly 
removed by Anthony, his bare ass rested on the green surface of the table, his 
naked legs hanging off the edge and his flaccid cock exposed under the harsh 
fluorescent lighting. Matty was kneeling on top of the table, down to a pair of 
black sweatshorts, his teeth barred in an evil and lascivious grin, as he 
cradled Zach's skull in a rear headlock. His thick bicep squished against Zach's 
face and the silver chain that hung over the deep groove between his pecs 
dangled in the boy's hair. 
	"You. Come over here." Anthony ordered with his thick Long Island accent, 
pointing at another punk named Justin. Anthony was wearing nothing but 
sweatpants. His meaty pecs jiggled as he grabbed Justin impatiently and firmly 
by the shoulders and easily shoved him over to the ping-pong table.
	"Suck his fucking cock." Anthony nodded over to Zach.
	"What..."Justin said, baffled.
	"YOU HEARD ME." Anthony barked as he seized the kid's hair and forced his 
face into Zach's crotch.
	Justin looked at Zach's stunned face and then looked at the limp, sad 
sprout that was his dick.
	"Don't worry about it." Anthony said, "Just put his dick in your mouth. 
Get it nice and wet."	
	Justin was trembling with nervousness and looked around, his face an 
expression of pained uncertainty.
	"Fucking lick it." Anthony ordered as he pulled his own sweatpants and 
underwear down to his ankles, kicked them away and shook out the two slabs of 
muscle that were his quads. Unlike Zach, Anthony's very substantial and 
lusciously thick dick was rock hard and eager to fuck.  The Italian musclehead 
put his hands on Justin's hips and punched his cock into the virgin asshole.
	Justin cried in shock.
	"It's alright. You'll get used to it. Now go ahead. Fucking suck on that 
shit." Anthony said, nodding his head toward Zach again, his bull-neck flaring 
as he did so.
	His face grimacing at the sensation of Anthony's beef beginning to pump 
his asshole, Justin timidly took Zach's limp penis in his hand. The wet tip of 
his tongue began to caress the tender, sensitive belly of Zach's dick and very 
quickly it began to grow rigid, hard and plump with hot blood. Zach moaned, as 
if trying to resist the pleasure that began to generate in his cock. He brought 
his hands up and gripped Matty's forearms, feebly hoping to break free of the 
headlock.
	Matty tightened his hold and jostled Zach's skull painfully. "Shut the 
fuck up, geek, or I swear to God, I'll break your neck."
	Zach understood the futility of escape. His fingers felt the solid 
hardness of Matty's forearm and he clearly sensed the unbreakable certainty of 
the muscled jock's headlock. He obeyed and dropped his hands from Matty's 
forearms.
	Anthony's eyes were closed. He began to lose himself in his own mounting 
sexual pleasure, as his hips slowly gyrated and his fingers repeatedly squeezed 
and kneaded Justin's smooth ass. He muttered- mostly to himself-
	 "That's right. Get him real hard."
	And Zach's cock was getting hard. It had gained control of Zach and 
disobeyed his commands to resist the beckoning ecstasy that Justin's mouth 
offered. His cock submitted to the orifice that gushed with warm saliva, was 
home to an adoring tongue and gated by sweetly sucking lips. His shaft was now 
completely solid, demanding satisfaction, and Justin's mouth fully enveloped it 
and began to suck and slurp hungrily. Matty watched with an approving grin as he 
observed Justin's devotion towards his task. Matty could feel Zach's captive 
body begin to stiffen in his grasp with a fast approaching orgasm, heard his 
breathing rate rise, heard him try to suppress his intensifying moans. As Justin 
sucked, the  hot organ in his mouth began to twitch expectantly, the head 
screaming to burst with pent-up semen. Justin heard a jarring *snap*. He heard 
Zach grunt and felt a shudder undulate through his body.  His eyes darted up and 
he saw Zach, sprawled on the table before him. His arms were limp and splayed to 
his sides, his body relaxed. Matty still cradled Zach's head in his beefy arms, 
but the boy's face was twisted sharply at a harsh angle. His neck broken and his 
brain deactivated, Zach merely stared emptily back at Justin with heavy lidded 
eyes, as his right hand twitched and his knuckles tapped against the surface of 
the ping-pong table. Without warning, the dead boy's cock twitched and spewed 
into Justin's mouth, great hot wads of cum flooding the warm cavern.  Zach 
merely looked on with his glazed gaze, seemingly unappreciative of his own 
cock's productive output. When his cock jettisoned out the last bits into 
Justin's mouth, Anthony reached forward, took both of Zach's lifeless balls in 
his palm and gave them a good crush, forcing out one final spasm of cum. Justin 
let the penis flop from his mouth and began discreetly sobbing, unable to bear 
Zach's dead gaze, as he choked and gagged on the dead man's fluids. He was 
traumatized at what he had seen and done, and was in increasing agony as 
Anthony's dick continued to slide against his raw anal shaft. His agony didn't 
last much longer though. His vertebrae popped as easily as Zach's and Anthony, 
his bulky muscles now suffused with post-orgasm looseness and his own balls 
spent of semen, laid Justin's slack face in Zack's crotch. Anthony said nothing. 
He just laid his forearms on the naked backside of the boy he had just killed 
and quietly savored the satisfaction this fucktoy had given him. The muscle-bull 
uncorked his dick, yanked his sweatpants and underwear off the floor and 
swaggered out of the basement, completely pleased with his fuck and ready for a 
shower. When he left Matty was still kneeling on the table and playing with 
Zach, kissing the neck he had broken with his bare hands and whispering tenderly 
into the boy's ear.
	Devon and Aaron had been dying to know how Big Ryan was making out with 
his two boys.
The two crept gingerly upstairs and creaked open the door to Ryan's bedroom. 	
	Big Ryan was on his bed and leisurely humping one of his fucktoys. Ryan 
was now naked, the curved symmetrical bulbs of his ass tensing with hard glute 
muscle as he pumped his pelvis, and his compactly hard hamstrings and balling 
calves were highlighted by the desk lamp. The kid he was fucking was completely 
submerged beneath the sweaty muscular mass and he was moaning in barely 
conscious delirium. He must had been uncooperative at some point, for both his 
arms were clearly snapped and bent at sharp angles. Devon snickered as he took 
out his camera-phone and began to narrate.
	"And here we have our favorite backwoods redneck, ladies and gentlemen, 
Mr. Ryan Bauman. He's just having himself a good ol fashioned fuck n' snuff. 
They got those in Louisiana, Ryan?"
	Ryan craned his head up on his tree-thick neck and looked at Devon with a 
goofy, happy and very, very drunk grin.
	"Whattfff the fuck, man...get on outtff...." 
	He wasn't really annoyed and seemed to loose awareness of his buddies as 
he continued to drive his cock into the deep cavity.
	"What do we have over here?" Devon continued narrating. He drew his 
camera-phone up close to the other punk. Entirely naked, he was draped and 
sagging over the head of a desk chair, his fingers swaying above the carpet, his 
eyes closed and peaceful as if sleeping, and his face smushed into the cushion. 
Devon carefully inspected the boy until he found what he was looking for.
	"There you go." He pointed the camera at the kid's backside, focusing on 
the point where Ryan had broken his spine in two places. 
	"Now that's fuckin' strength, right there, ladies and gentlemen. Ryan, the 
mother-fuckin' Bone-Snappa." he said as he examined the damage and used his 
fingertips to tap the jagged ridges of cleaved vertebrae that jut out against 
the skin.
	Both Devon and Aaron turned around when they heard a grisly crunching 
noise as Ryan's deadly arms coiled and the boy's chest caved inwards.
	"uh..uhhh....UHHHH!!!!!" the boy cried out loudly as his own ribcage 
imploded, his heart was compressed and instantly crushed against his deforming 
spine and bursting internal organs. His expression was frozen in shock, his 
mouth gasped twice like a dying fish, before his face relaxed and the life that 
animated his eyes evaporated.
	"Mmmppfff!!" Ryan grunted and suddenly seized as his ass-muscles tightened 
in successive waves and his broad muscle-laden backside tensed and arched.
	Devon brought the camera down to bed level.
	"That's right! Do it, Ryan! Fill him up. Fill him up, man!" 
	Ryan's coarsely hairy balls, wedged between his sweaty crotch and the dead 
boy's downy ass-cheeks, summoned up a vast reservoir of jizz and purged nearly a 
half-pint of hot, sticky fluid into the welcoming anus.
	"Yeah..." Devon muttered approvingly. "Gimme some love man. C'mon." Devon 
said. Ryan grinned drunkenly as he knocked knuckles with Devon.
	"Now getff the fffuck outff." Ryan said.
	When they shut the door, Ryan was happily kissing the head of the boy and 
playfully rubbing his nose against the bruise-splotched skin of the unmoving 
backside. 
	It was now nearly three a.m. and the party was winding down.  Most of the 
Alpha boys had retired to their rooms. Their muscled, underwear-clad bodies 
reposed in their beds, their skin damp with a thin coat of sweat, their breath 
redolent of beer, vodka and Jagermeister, their balls generating new fresh 
stores of jizz and their cocks stiffening in their sleep. They slept well and 
dreamt of the limbs they had broken and the windpipes they had slowly crushed. 
Aaron and Devon were now on cleanup patrol. Aaron hauled the last sagging 
carcass into the laundry room. The only one left was the dead guy Ryan was 
currently passed out on, and they would recover that one in the morning. Nobody 
was going to attempt to force Ryan to give up his pillow. Aaron was now counting 
the stack of corpses. He could detect the distinct smells of the blood mingling 
with some shit and piss that had leaked from the relaxed orifices
	"Sixteen." He said.
	Devon shook his head. "Outrageous." Then he looked pensive for a moment. 
"So...what do you do with them?"
	"Well, my dad owns warehouse outside of town. That's all I can say. Alpha 
house secret."
	Then suddenly a hand grasped Aaron's ankle.
	"Shit." he said as he stepped back and watched the arm of one punk flutter 
and flop against the concrete floor.
	"Damn, that one ain't dead." Devon said.
	Aaron nodded, then looked at Devon.
	Devon was from Indiana. A tight tank-top was shrink-wrapped around his 
bulbous pecs, the whiteness of the fabric strikingly contrasted against the 
blackness of his skin. For an 18 year-old kid, Devon had outstanding arms, his 
biceps and deltoids swelling and balling at the slightest gesture or movement. 
In a few years, if he maintained his level of intensity in the gym and 
commitment to regimen, he'd have a truly world class physique. Devon was a 
freshman and traditionally only junior and senior Alpha boys got to snuff little 
bitches.
	"Hey," Aaron whispered, "Why don't you take care of him?"
	"Really? No shit?" Devon said with grateful surprise, his eyebrows raised.
	"Yeah, go ahead."
	Devon's eyes were bright and his mouth a crescent of white teeth and he 
moved over and knelt down. His biceps burst with definition as his arms jerked. 
He shut his eyes when he heard vertebrae crackle. He was quiet for a moment as 
he relished the gritty sensation of the skull breaking loose in his palms. He 
now fully understood the appeal. He had developed his body to dominate other 
males, and there was no greater satisfaction than using his muscular power to 
snuff a weak little bitch. His body had attained its fullest purpose. He let the 
head thump to the floor, opened his eyes and smiled at Aaron.
	"Good shit."
	Aaron grinned back. "You just stick with the Alphas, Devon. There good 
stuff in store for you."