Disclaimer: This story is basically a fantasy involving humiliation, mild violence, and sexual activity between teenage boys. If you 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 24: Joe discovers more about himself...
As I stepped out of the shower and dried myself off, I realized it didn't make a lot of sense to get dressed since my clothes were soaking wet. I would be drenched again in a moment. However, I had no choice. Stepping carefully down the stairs so as not to drip too much on the carpet, I hesitantly approached Mike and Jimmy who were still lounging in the chairs watching porn and smoking weed. "Hey `J' said Mike, "ya want the fag to give you a blow job before he goes?"
"Nah, I don't think so. Maybe tomorrow at school."
"Yeah, good idea. I just want to sit here and relax. We can get him to suck us off after class out behind the gym. Maybe some of the other guys might be interested too. I'll ask `em."
"Please Mike," I said, "don't make me do it at school. Somebody might see, and then everyone will know. Why can't I suck you here?"
"Shut up, fag!" Mike said angrily. "From now you do what we tell you or you won't have to worry about everybody knowing. We'll spread those pix all over the school. We'll even put `em up on the bulletin board and maybe on the net."
I blinked my eyes, realizing how securely I was caught in their trap. I was going to try pleading again, but I needed to get home. My parents were expecting me and would be asking all kinds of questions if I didn't show up soon. Besides I was exhausted from the stress of getting the tattoos and getting pissed on. The tattoos! What would I do about them? I had to think seriously about it. Maybe I could have `em removed. But Mike and Jimmy might..."Okay, Mike, I better go home now, my folks are waiting."
"Just don't forget what I told you fag--you do what we say or else. Understand?"
"Yes, Mike, I understand."
"Good boy," Mike said. Both he and Jimmy laughed as I went out the door in my dripping wet clothes. I was going to ask Mike if I could use the clothes dryer, but just wanted to get out of there as soon as possible. Besides, I figured the ride home should at least partially dry my clothes.
"Hey, wait a minute, fag," Mike said, just as I put my hand on the door. "I know something you can do for me before you go. You can give me a nice foot rub. They really ache after all that shit I did today--most of it for you."
I didn't dare protest this time since I didn't want another angry lecture and maybe a slapping around. I had learned that Mike was on a pretty short fuse. "Take off those damn pants," Mike complained, "you're drippin' water all over the floor. Hey, and take off your shirt too. I want to see those tats while you're rubbin' my big dogs." He laughed. "Hey `J', do you want him to do yours too?"
"Hell, yeah," Jimmy said.
"Um, Mike," I said timidly. "Do you mind if I call my folks first and let them know I'm gonna be a little late. That way I can do a good job and not worry about getting home on time."
"Yeah, okay," he said impatiently. "Little kid's gotta check with his mommy and daddy every time he breathes!"
After I made the call and got permission to stay awhile longer I got down to business. I felt my cock begin to stiffen inside my briefs. Mike and Jimmy soon commented. "Look at this," Jimmy said, "the fag is already getting it on just at the thought of servicing our smelly feet. Just like with Shawn in the basement."
"Ya like to rub our feet, dontcha fag?" Mike taunted. "Yeah, I see you do. Well you better do a good job or you're gonna get a swift kick in the balls. Then we'll see how your boner holds up.
I knelt down and took off both Mike's and Jimmy's sneakers. They were right about them being smelly--both the sneakers and the feet! They had been riding their dirt bikes most of the afternoon and their footwear was dusty and sweaty. Mike put both socked feet in my lap stepping on my hardon, and applying pressure on my balls until they hurt.
"Let's get going, dude, and don't get any of your fag precum on my feet. I' ll tell you when you can take the socks off. His socks were equally dirty and smelly. Mike and Jimmy were both wearing white athletic socks which were almost black on the bottoms from walking half the day without shoes all over the house and basement.
I started on Mike. I gently dug my thumbs into the ball of his right foot and circled around and around extending the pressure up the arch and finally the heel of the foot. I wrapped my hands around the top of his foot and started kneading the flesh, working my way down to his toes. He must have approved of my technique. "Oh man, that feels great," he moaned. "You're gonna love this `J '. Just wait."
"Well, don't make me wait too long," Jimmy complained, "my feet need some service too."
After I did both of Mike's feet he ordered me to take off his socks and repeat the procedure on his bare flesh. I spent a lot of time massaging each of his feet, working out the tension while he continued to moan. The odor, which at first was disagreeable, started to become a turn-on. My cock got even harder. In the meantime both Mike and Jimmy were making comments about my tattoos, how great they looked, and how appropriate they were.
"Look at this guy," Jimmy commented. "Have ya ever seen such a freak?" Pink hair, pink pubes, tattoos telling the whole world what a faggot he is, and on his knees servicing another dude's feet. Man I got to get a picture of this."
In a minute Jimmy was back with the camera, adding photos of my shameful acts to his growing collection.
Finally Mike had enough and pushed me away from him with his big feet. "Good job," he said. "Go take care of Jimmy now." Strangely, I was a bit disappointed Mike didn't order me to clean his feet with my tongue. God, what was happening to me? Jimmy was right: I was a freak. The thing is, I couldn't help it. The more I performed those degrading acts, the more sexually aroused I got. Besides my growing attraction to rough guys, I was developing all kind of fetishes, especially for dirty feet and sneakers. Of course, I was beginning to enjoy cock sucking too. What were these guys doing to me?
I repeated the procedure on Jimmy. If anything his feet and socks were even more smelly, and guess what? I liked `em even more!
Finally Mike said it was enough; that I was to put on my clothes and get the fuck out. "Besides," he said with a smirk, "it looks like you really need to take care of that fag cock of yours. "Oh, and by the way," he said, as I reached for the door, "awesome tats. When ya get home show `em to your folks." Both he and Jimmy laughed hysterically as I turned all shades of red. I rushed through the door and closed it behind me while their laughter echoed in my ears.
My clothes did dry out partially biking home but not enough to hide the fact that I was drenched. Again I found myself making up excuses to explain what had happened to me.
"Hey," I said to mom and dad who were sitting at the kitchen table talking and having coffee and pie. My sister Michelle must have been in her room.
"Joey!" said mom, "what happened? You look like you were caught in a rain storm. Be careful with those dripping wet clothes!"
"Yeah, I know, I know," I said as my dad just stared at me. "I was over at Mike's house with some of the guys and we started horsing around by the pool. A bunch of us got pushed in with our clothes on. I knew I would be late getting home so I just came the way I was. I'm gonna throw these clothes in the dryer anyway."
"Put them in the washer first," mom said. "I think you guys are crazy doing those kinds of things. It could be dangerous or you could catch a cold."
Again dad stood up for me. "Honey, all boys do a few crazy things. It's part of growing up, especially for teenagers. I would be worried if he didn't do those things once in awhile. The only thing I'm concerned about is drinking and drugs. I hope you understood me about that Joe?"
"Yeah dad," I said, hoping they didn't smell my breath--or my clothes! Lucky I had a few (soggy) breath mints in my pants pocket. I had managed to get the sticky wrappers off them and had been sucking on them all the way home.
"Sit down and have a piece of pie with us son," dad said. "We never get a chance to see you any more." (Yeah, because you are always out working!)
In spite of my desire to get upstairs to look at myself in the mirror and see the latest damage, I figured I should spend a little time with the folks, just so they didn't get suspicious. Besides the pie looked great and I started to feel my stomach rumbling.
"Okay," I said, "I'll be right there as soon as I change and get these clothes into the wash.
"Good," mom said. "I'll get some ice cream for your pie. I know you like it that way."
It felt so good to get out of those soaking wet clothes and into something dry. After I changed I threw my stuff in the washer and joined mom and dad. They were amazed as I devoured nearly half the pie together with three or four scoops of vanilla ice cream. Ummm, comfort food--and I did need comforting!
I did my best to look interested while we "chatted" for about twenty minutes. The whole time, however, my mind was on my new tats. I was as much curious as I was afraid to see them. Once again my cock started to rise just thinking about it, much like the time when the studs had used the magic marker on me in the woods. Go figure!
When I got upstairs I immediately stripped and went into the bathroom. I was shocked by what I saw. At Mike's house, with all the activity going on, I didn' t really have time to just look at the tattoos. There in large block letters (even upside down) I saw the words FAGGOT between my nipples and COCKSUCKER just above my pubes. Besides, there were elaborate bulls-eyes around my tits. Under other circumstances I would have admired the work (not the words) since it looked very professional and the colors were well done. BUT they were branded on my body! I tried to see my behind, which was even worse. The skin just above my butt proclaimed loudly and colorfully: FUCK ME. The only saving feature of the whole thing was that all three tats would normally be covered with clothes. The only real danger was in gym class, especially since we changed in common and were supposed to take showers after exercising. That's how my classmates discovered the magic marker tattoo which stated: I'M MR. ZITS--I'M A FAGGOT--PLEASE FUCK ME UP THE ASS.
Of course I'm sure this was Mike's and Jimmy's plan: to embarrass me in front of the whole gym class. Neither they nor the coach would know who did it and the guys presumed I wouldn't tell--not if I knew what was good for me. I was stuck, and couldn't do a thing about it.
As I looked slowly at my new tattoos my cock began to slowly rise. Within minutes it was at full mast and dripping precum. Something about what they had done to me and how they had done it was getting me more and more horny. They had branded me as their property and called me what they wanted me to be: a cocksucker and a faggot, somebody who was a cockslut and who took it up the ass from anyone who wanted to take me.
Once again I took a long bath and then put lotion on the tats to take away the sting. Jerry, the tattoo dude, had told Mike that he wanted to see me in three days to make sure that the tats hadn't gotten infected. The two of us would meet him at his tattoo parlor off of Main Street
During all the time I was cleaning up and getting ready for bed my cock stayed hard, and I couldn't wait to jack off. Once I climbed into bed I began to think about the tattooing. I didn't remember much because I was so intoxicated at the time, plus they kept shoving poppers under my nose to keep me in la-la land. I do remember Jerry seated next to me, shaving what little hair I had off my chest and swabbing it with alcohol. I also remember him placing the outline of the tattoo on my chest just above my nipples and tracing the words with black marker before beginning the actual work. I was nude on the table and all the guys were crowded around in a loose circle eager to see what would happen. Most likely only a few of them had seen a tattoo imprinted before. One thing for sure, it got them hot. The last thing I noticed before I fell asleep was seeing them rubbing their huge bulges through their jeans and hoping that my own cock would behave itself for once.
As I imagined myself looking up into Jerry's scruffy but handsome face and his big hands brushing over my nipples as he prepared to brand me, my cock let loose and I had another powerful orgasm. The cum shot out like a fountain, drenching both of the new tattoos above and below my chest: Faggot and Cocksucker. When I saw the cum partially hiding the tattoos I suddenly started to laugh. I laughed and laughed because the whole situation was so bizarre. Why and how did I ever get to this point and let things get so out of control? The answer, of course, is that I had no choice. Mike, Jimmy and their buds were much stronger than I was...but didn't I like most of what they did, didn't I even encourage them, and end up with more boners and orgasms than I ever had before?
The next morning Terry called and asked if I wanted to take a hike in the woods. I asked if Bob was coming and he said, no, that Bob had to help his dad with work around the house. He said that one his other buds would be coming along and that we should have a fun day. When I arrived at Terry's house I saw that he had a cooler ready with some sandwiches, munchies, Coke and beer. He said we could have lunch on the trail and make a day of it. That sounded good to me since I told my parents I would be out for most of the day.
It took us about an hour to get to the park where Terry wanted to hike. "What about your friend?" I asked Terry. "Is he going on his own?"
"Yeah," Terry said. "He likes to get an early start. He's gonna meet us up on the trail near the camp site. We both know the spot."
For some reason I felt a bit uneasy about that arrangement. It seemed like a strange plan, but I quickly dismissed my doubts. I knew that if I was ever gonna change my life I had to stop being afraid of my own shadow, and be willing to have a more positive attitude. Besides, I pretty much trusted Terry who seemed most of the time--in spite of the blowjobs--to really care about me and my feelings. Terry was looking hot in cutoffs which revealed his bubble butt and strong muscled legs, hiking boots, and a tight shirt with the sleeves cut off to reveal his bulging biceps. I was struggling to keep my cock down.
I had a hard time keeping up with Terry, since I was not as fit as he was. The trail was not that difficult, but it kept rising in a steady incline. Terry said that the view from the top was awesome. It made you feel like you were all alone in the wilderness.
As we got up near the top of the trail I heard a strangely familiar voice yell: "Hey Terry, dude, is that you?"
"Yeah, Chris, we'll be there in just a minute."
Chris! I was hoping that it wasn't the football dude that I had so much trouble with and who spermed my face in the school bathroom along with his buddy Dave. Suddenly I was filled with anxiety. Terry noticed.
"What's wrong, dude?" Terry asked. "These are a couple of my good friends. (A couple?!) I'm sure you'll like them," he said casually, but with what I thought looked like a slight smirk on his face.
As we emerged into the clearing sure enough it was Chris McKiernan and his buddy Dave, both also looking super hot with baggy gym shorts, athletic shorts, and high top sneaks.
"Well, well," said Chris, "look who we have here: our little friend from school with the funny haircut. Hey, Crawford, how ya doin'?"
"Great Chris," I said, trying to start off on a friendly note. Did Terry know about what had happened in the bathroom that day? Was he planning something by having all of us meet in a place where there was obviously no help?
At first everything was okay. All of us were hungry after the vigorous hike. Chris and Dave had also brought some food. They wanted to start a fire since they had brought some hot dogs and burgers. Looked like we were in for a real feast. Dave and I gathered wood for the fire while Terry and Chris got the food ready. I could swear the two of them were watching me and smiling.
We got the fire going and soon the delicious smell of dogs and burgers was filling the air. The guys had even brought along baked beans which they heated up near the fire and tasted like the best beans I ever had. Still I couldn't really relax as I ate since the guys--especially Chris and Dave--kept staring at me. All the guys were guzzling the beer that Terry had brought. They also lit up a bong with weed that Dave had supplied. We passed it around and even I took a few hits, having become quite an expert since I met these guys. The weed and the beer both helped me relax.
After we ate our fill, Chris stood up and stretched. "Man, am I full," he said to no one in particular. His shirt rode up exposing his flat stomach. When he did that I couldn't help look at his muscular chest and his awesome abs. " Hey Terry, dude," Chris said abruptly. "Remember I told you about the time Dave and I slimed Crawford here in the crapper at school?"
"Yeah, Chris," Terry smirked. "How could I forget it?"
"Well, Dave and I wanna unload down the faggot's throat now…kind of a good way to finish off a great meal. Wanna join us?"
"Yeah, sure" Terry answered. "sounds like a good idea to me."
They high-fived each other and Chris, looking down at me, still sitting Indian-style on the ground, said: "Then it's a done deal. How about that faggot? You ready to take a couple loads of our cream? Course you are!"
I had frozen at Chris' plan and most especially Terry's complicity in it. I just sat there as all three jocks approached me with huge bulges in their pants.
(to be continued)