Disclaimer: This story is basically a fantasy involving humiliation, mild violence, and sexual activity between teenage boys. If you are underage (18), find such material offensive, or in violation of the laws of your state/country, please don't read any further.
(c) Art M. Hill ArtHill579@aol.com All rights reserved (2004). If you enjoy this story, please email me.
"High School Blues" part 15: After the Storm...
I knew that on Tuesday I couldn't possibly avoid Mike and Jimmy. That was the day they ordered me to tell them whether or not I would be working more hours (I'd better be!) at the store. That way I could give them the extra $50 per week they needed to buy their new dirt bikes. I had "discussed" the issue with dad for at least an hour before he relented. I suspect that he finally agreed with me more because he was tired from his long daily commute than because of my "persuasive" arguments. He threatened, however, that if my grades went down even a bit this semester the deal was off, and that I would have to spend more time studying and less time working.
"Education is an investment in your future," he lectured. "That way when you do start looking for a good-paying job, you'll have a much easier time of it. After all, you don't want to work at that store all your life, do you?"
"Of course not, dad," I said. "I promise to keep up my grades. I just want to have enough money saved to make a down payment on that car you said I could have when I'm 17."
"By the way," dad said. "Sometime soon I want to see that savings account book we got for you. I want to see the deposits to make sure you're putting all that extra money you'll be making in the right place."
"Dad," I said, trying to sound hurt, "don't you trust me? I hope it's not just because of my hair that you think I'm not responsible."
"It's not that, Joe," he said, "I'm going along with the hair thing even though I'm not happy about it. But I wouldn't be a good father if I didn't watch out for you."
I groaned. "In other words, you're gonna check up on me!"
"Not at all, son. I'm just trying to make sure no one takes advantage of you now that you're getting yourself a nice little bankroll!"
(Gulp!) "Okay dad, I really appreciate that, and I'll try to always be up-front with you. I want us to have these talks more often too, so that, uh, you know just what I'm doing. No more hair-raising surprises!" I tried to laugh at my lame joke.
"Really glad to hear that, Joe. Goodnight, son."
Whew! Well, I'm glad that talk with Dad had worked out. Now, at least I could tell Mike and Jimmy that I got everything cleared, and I could work the extra hours. I knew that the store management was always looking for extra help, so I was sure they would give me enough overtime to cover what the guys were demanding. I should still have something left over to put in the bank and a little spending money too. Thank god, dad was still giving me my full allowance-for now!
Then the thought passed through my mind: Why am I doing this? I'm giving up something I want really bad and taking on more work just because I'm afraid of those two bullies at school. I've got to do something to stop this! But just as quickly I dismissed the thought as a fantasy. If I didn't go along with Mike and Jimmy, they would make my life a living hell and probably beat the shit out of me-not once, but whenever they felt like it. They'd most likely unleash Shawn on me too.
I thought again about asking Terry and Bob for help, but now I wasn't so sure I trusted them with the way they had been treating me lately. Besides, I thought all these guys were super hot, and my cock was telling me to stay on their good sides. Just maybe...
Something else happened that day to shake my confidence. I had another encounter with Chris McKiernan at school. McKiernan was the football dude that embarrassed me publically on my way to the cafeteria one day by calling me a fag and pushing me out of his way. Well, I ran into him and a buddy in the school restroom earlier that day. They were taking a piss as I came in. They both looked up as I approached the urinals. Chris whispered something to his team mate Dave and they both laughed. I stood there frozen as they finished pissing and zipped up. Then they backed me against the wall and stared at me for a moment.
They were big, muscular guys, and I knew I didn't have a chance of getting away from them. Both stood over six feet and must have weighted in around 210 apiece. They were good looking guys in a rough sort of way, with squared off jaws, stubble, and V shaped torsos-all-in-all, your typical football jocks. They both sported short buzz cuts: Chris was a light blond and Dave almost jet black. They wore team shirts that displayed their bulging biceps. And they both seemed to have ample baskets that they made no attempt to hide under their tight jeans.
"Hey Dave, ya know this dude with the freaky hair? I hear he's a cocksucker for Greenburg and Mahoney. Ya think we should try him out?"
"Fuck yeah," Dave said, "Man, that's the only thing them lowlife fags are good for. You want to go first?"
"Nah," Chris said, "Let's do 'im together. He'll probably love that, won't ya freak?"
"No, Chris," I said with a tremor in my voice, "I'm really not into that."
Chris slapped me hard across the face. "Not into it?" he yelled. "What are ya saying, that Greenburg and Mahoney are better than us?"
"No, no" I said, my head reeling from the slap, " Please don't hit me again. I, uh, only meant I'm not a cocksucker at all."
"Well, you are today, shit-for-brains! Now get down on the floor where you belong."
Fearing the consequence if I disobeyed, I sank to my knees in front of these two brawny football players.
Chris and Dave both unzipped their jeans, took out their formidable cocks, and began to slowly jack off over me. Soon they were dripping strings of precum down on top of my head. After awhile they both began to moan so I could tell they were close.
"Look up at us, faggot," Chris ordered, "and open your cocksucker mouth."
I quickly followed Chris' instructions, not looking for any more punishment. They were standing together smiling down at me as they both aimed their huge cocks directly at my face. Chris turned and gave a wink to Dave. They picked up their stroking and then, moaning at the same time, they each shot a huge load of warm cum right on my face and into my gaping mouth. My entire face and hair were covered with jizz. As they were shooting, they both aimed for my mouth so that it, too, was slimed with jizz.
"Swallow it, faggot," Chris said. I obeyed. Then they both burst out laughing. Chris placed one booted foot squarely on my chest and pushed me over on the floor just as two other dudes came into the rest room.
"Now thank us for being so good to you, cocksucker," Chris sneered.
As I hesitated, Chris moved his boot from my chest to my groin and began applying pressure to my nuts. "I didn't hear you, fag," he said, as he increased the pressure which now was becoming painful.
"Owww! Thank you Chris and Dave for being so good to me," I gasped.
"That's better," Chris said as he gave my balls one final squeeze, making me wince. Then without warning both of them hawked huge wads of spit which spattered all over my already cum-covered face. With that they turned and left. I could hear their laughter gradually disappear down the hall as I continued to lay on the bathroom floor in shock and embarrassment. I was amazed to see I had another hardon. Apparently Chris and Dave somehow didn't notice it or I'm sure they would have dished out more punishment and mockery.
The other dudes who wandered in while I was being abused by the two football players snickered at me as I made for the sink to wash off the disgusting sticky mess from my face. One of them commented, "I always knew Crawford was a faggot." At that point I got out of there as quickly as possible.
As I went up to bed after my conversation with dad I remembered the red condom that Jimmy had slipped over my cock when they dyed my pubes pink. I had kept it. I took it out of the drawer, put it on, and slowly masturbated, thinking about how the two football players had treated me today. How they had slimed my face, forced me to swallow their cum, and humiliated me in public-something which was sure to quickly get around the school.
Then I thought about Shawn pounding me into the mat in Mike's basement on Saturday. I thought about wearing that red condom to the bout under my shorts. Of course it would probably give me a boner, but if I wore a jock and loose fitting shorts probably no one would notice. One thing I didn't want to do was make Shawn think I was fag for him. He was totally straight, and it was because he caught me sniffing his motorcycle boots that he challenged me to begin with. If he saw that I had a boner in the ring, he might go crazy.
The funny thing was that I was both afraid and looking forward to the match with Shawn. I was afraid because I really didn't know how to defend myself and Shawn obviously did. Besides he outclassed me in both weight and strength. At the same time I felt attracted to him as I had to the football players. He had a cute face, cocky grin, sexy hair, and a great body. I wanted to see him in shorts and boxing gloves, asserting himself, getting aggressive, and giving me his full attention-even if it was just to punch me and knock me to the ground.
I could see him standing over me, sweaty and satisfied, his buddies cheering him on as he hurled insults at me and called me a weakling and a faggot. At that point I had another powerful orgasm, thinking about Shawn and the two football players standing over me grinning with their hard cocks sticking out of their jeans, and demanding that I suck them off...
On the following day after lunch Jimmy again pulled me into the bathroom. "So Joey- boy," he said, "you convince your old man that you want to work more hours? You better have, or you know what'll happen." He balled his hands into fists.
"Yes, Jimmy," I said, completely unnerved as I always was when he got belligerent. "All I have to do is ask down at work. I'll do it this afternoon."
"Cool," he said, "so we can expect that extra money to start come'n in, say by a week from this Friday."
"Thanks for giving me the extra time, Jimmy," I said, "I really appreciate it."
"You should, Zits," he said. "Mike wanted it this week, but I talked him out of it because I like you."
As he turned around and left, I couldn't help but think he was somehow different. He had always been arrogant, but today for some reason he seemed especially smug and self- satisfied. I took a moment to admire his tight bubble butt encased in those revealing jeans as he strutted down the hall. Then I went off to my next class, feeling much relieved that we had finally come to an agreement on the payoff. I didn't think at the time about the heavy toll the extra hours would be taking on my free time, my studies, and even my sleep.
And now I had another worry. I kept looking over my shoulder for any sign of Chris or Dave, the football dudes. Luckily they were a grade ahead of me, but that still didn't mean I might not bump into them in the hall or the cafeteria. That "bump" would certainly be a painful one for me. So tell me-was it so unusual that I was getting paranoid?
Bob came to class that day, but he also seemed different. Of course, in Bob's case the reason was clear-he was still in shock about the loss of his most treasured possessions. He was quiet and withdrawn, even with Terry. I stayed away from them, not only because of Mike's orders, but also because I felt they probably wanted time alone to talk about what had happened. I remembered Bob's big cock as it thrust in and out of my throat in the basement that day. God, I was beginning to associate guys by their cocks! But I sure hoped I had the opportunity to suck it again soon.
Somehow after the robbery Bob seemed to lose it. He became depressed, he broke up with his girlfriend, and began to drink heavily. He also started cruising around, picking up strange older women outside local bars for one night stands. He would take them to some sleazy motel for a few hours and fuck their brains out (if they had any) before coming home.
Terry tried to encourage Bob to go to the local gym to keep his body in shape and to prevent him from getting even more depressed. Terry's nagging usually won out, and Bob accompanied him to the gym, although half-heartedly. Sometimes Bob would skip classes, and Terry told me he was on probation with the school. At the very least he'd have to take summer classes. The Greenburgs were concerned enough to insist that he go for counseling, which he did. They even promised to help him rebuild his exercise room, although financially they wouldn't be able to do it for awhile.
"What happened to your friend Bob Greenburg?" Jimmy asked one day. "I don't see him around much, and he seems to have dropped out of soccer." Jimmy didn't sound his usual sarcastic self, but seemed to be genuinely concerned. With my usual innocence I said:
"I don't know if you heard, but the Greenburgs were robbed. Whoever broke in stole all Bob's exercise equipment. It just about killed him. Now he's depressed and doesn't seem to be interested in doing much of anything."
"Oh, man," said Jimmy, "that's really the pits. No, I didn't hear nothing about it. That shows ya how much I keep up with the news around here." He looked mystified. "Do they have any idea who did it?"
"No," I said. "Whoever did it seems to have been professional. I don't think they left a single clue. That's what Bob heard from the police. They told him he might never get his stuff again."
"Oh yeah?" said Jimmy, "those guys must have been really good to pull that off. Anyway, I sure hope they catch them for Greenburg's sake. Let me know if you hear anymore about it. I sure feel bad for him."
"Sure, Jimmy, I'll do that." I was surprised that he really appeared to care about what happened to Bob. The two of them never seemed to get along. I was trying to be nice to Jimmy since he and Mike had abruptly postponed the match between me and Shawn (again). They said the family was doing some work in the basement and it might take awhile to finish it. They didn't seem to be in any special hurry. Strangely enough I was both relieved and disappointed at the same time about the match with Shawn being postponed.
I'm glad I asked the faggot about what was going on with the Greenburgs. I tried to be real cool about it so he wouldn't get suspicious, but hell, he's such a dork I think I could make him believe anything. Still, no sense taking chances. Mike made real clear that none of us should open up our mouths about what happened. But I still wanted to stay in touch with the fag since he was tight with Greenburg and Mahoney.
It was funny and pretty pathetic when I saw the look of relief on the fag's face when Mike and I told him the match with Shawn was off for the time being. Shawn was pissed big time, but he understood that it would take awhile to move and set up our new exercise equipment. Mike's basement was divided into two equal parts. The one part was where we had the ring set up and Mike's old equipment (a pile of shit, if you ask me). We would keep that just the way it was. That's where Shawn would twist that faggot like a pretzel.
In the other half, where there was a lot of junk piled up, we would set up our new gym. First we had to clean the whole place up and maybe paint it. Then we would move in the new stuff and maybe put up some mirrors. Boy was I anxious to try that Bowflex and the new weights. That was gonna be awesome!
Mike's folks weren't a problem. Like I said, they were out most of the time. To tell ya the truth, they weren't very close to each other, and if ya ask me I'd say they were headed for the big D. But what the fuck did I care? The main thing was to keep them out of our fuckin' way. When Mike told his dad he was gonna fix up the basement and paint it so we'd have a better place to exercise, he just waved his hand like he couldn't care less. I think he was happy, though, that we were doin' it. I don't know why, since he never went down there-all the better for us!
Meantime it was time to squeeze the faggot again-this time even harder. When we met him the following Friday at the usual place in school he handed over the $100 bucks to Mike, just like that. Man, he was so pathetic we almost laughed in his face. This dude had a serious problem-namely, he was spineless. What kind of guy would allow himself to work extra and give the money to another dude simply because he told him to? What kind of dude would face pissed-off parents and bad grades in school because two other dudes said they would beat him up?
The fag was lower than a worm that you squash under your foot. Hummm, that reminds me. We gotta get the fag to lick our feet again soon; remind him of his place. I think I'll step in a pile of dog shit before I see him-just to make things interesting! Maybe I'll give him a few gut punches too. Get him ready for Shawn, who's just itching to take him apart-piece by piece.
"Hey Zits," Mike said (remember, I was playin' the nice guy: for now!). "Remember our deal? Today's the day when you give us that $100. You got it?"
"Yes, Mike," he said, in that girly voice of his that made me want to smash his face. "Here it is." Mike stuffed the cash into his jeans. "Good boy, see ya next time."
"Hey J," Mike said as we walked out of school. "Phil and Brad are finished with the painting. We'll let the room air out for a few days and then move the stuff in." Mike was even more anxious than I was to start usin' the exercise equipment."
On our way out we ran into Greenburg. "Hey Bob," Mike said, "How's it goin'? I heard about what happened. Sorry about that, man."
"Since when did you ever give a shit about what happened to me?" said Greenburg with an angry look on his face and his fists balled. Maybe talking to him wasn't such a good idea.
"Maybe we never got along, Bob," said Mike, "but that doesn't mean we can't feel bad when something aweful like that happens to a guy." Mike could really lay it on!
"Well, thanks," he said. "I appreciate that."
"Cool," Mike said, "I hope they catch the bastards who did this." We walked off.
"Way to go, dude," I said. "You're the man. Hey! You ain't gettin' the hots for that guy, are ya?"
"Shut your pie hole!" Mike said. "Never hurts to make the dude think you're on his side, does it?" I was forced to agree.
"Hey," I said, "don't forget to give me my share of the fag's tribute. I got expenses too, ya know!"
"Yeah, like what?" Mike asked.
"Well, Carol and me are goin' out tonight. Gonna take in some eats, catch a flick, and then go back to her place to fuck."
"What about her folks? asked Mike.
"Shit," I said, "they got a guest room over the garage with outside stairs. They don't know we turned it into our own private little love shack."
"You lucky son of a bitch," Mike said. "How about double datin'? You and Carol, me and Diane. Then we can have a double fuck back at the 'love shack'.
"Okay, dude," I said, "but you better not fuck up our arrangement."
"Don't worry," Mike laughed, "I'll stuff Diane's panties in her mouth so she doesn't scream whill I'm drillin' her."
(to be continued)