It’s the world of gay men I find so confusing, their beautiful hard and defined bodies craving other men for comfort and release. It angers me to know they find me attractive but whenever I confront those own feelings inside me, I discover nothing but rage.

And whenever I fantasize about a group of men playing with each other, I feel uncontrollable desire. I’ve been told I have a personality disorder that I’m sure affects the feelings inside me, but can I help it if I’m repulsed yet excited by a man? I’ve had women, I’ve had men, and would truly classify myself as a bi-sexual (though the authorities would surely note me a psychopath) although what I really am, as we all are, is an animal–capable of unspeakable acts in order to survive.

The guilt I feel for forcing myself upon Mike is mild, considering I know he really wanted it. He protested, but hey, I know the truth of that blurred line of consent versus rape. How many people are like alley cats in heat? Whining for sex and teasing a partner, exploring their sexuality and sensuality--- but when the time comes, a fight ensues before and during penetration. Sex really is about the exchange of power. That’s the rush.

I stood naked in Mike’s kitchen, making myself another peanut butter and banana sandwich, sipping my fifth cup of coffee.

A noise was heard in the living room.

I quickly peered from the kitchen doorway, Greg motioning behind his mouth gag that he needed to tell me something.

I stepped forward and removed the worn kitchen towel from around his lips.

“He’s not moving.”

I looked over at Mike. “That’s because he’s asleep, you idiot.”

“No! He just passed out. His eyes rolled into the back of his head and his body went limp.”

I felt Mike’s pulse. Slow, but normal. His forehead was warm but nothing to be concerned about.

“He needs a doctor.”

Was this some kind of fake out? I’d seen this trick in countless TV shows and movies.

“No, no. See, Greg, I’m not falling for this.”

“What are you talking about? He’s sick.”

“With what, The Flesh Eating Bacteria? Give me a break.”

Greg paused, suddenly unsure of how to approach the problem. Here were my two hostages in a world that didn’t know they were being held against their will, and were becoming more and more frustrated with their situation.

“You’re a goddamn freak and when we get out of here, I’m going to make sure they fry your ass.”

I laughed. “No, you won’t. Because who says you’re going to be alive to tell anyone?”

Suddenly, Mike stirred, coming out of sleep. I touched his shoulder and he recoiled. “You’re okay. Right?”

He simply nodded, looking at Greg, trying to figure out what was happening.

“Nice try, Greg,” I mumbled.

He was silent, looking away. I moved back into the kitchen, got my sandwich, and retired to the bedroom. The caffeine wasn’t giving me anything anymore. I was tired, and decided to lie down for a quick minute before I knew I’d have to kill them.