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. Please practice safe sex: this story is a fantasy in which STDs don't exist!
(c) Art M. Hill ArtHill579@aol.com All rights reserved (2004). If you enjoy this story, please email me.
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**************************************** True Blue
"Hey J', didya bring back those DVDs I lent ya? Good. Okay, just set em down over there. The other guys are out on the porch quenchin' their thirst. They wanna go swimmin' after our work out. I don't know. I ain't had time to clean it out lately."
"Why not get the fag to do it?" `J' said. "He does just about everything else for you except wipe your ass after ya take a dump."
I laughed. "Yeah? I think it's your ass he's after, not mine. I seen the way he looks at your butt when you bend over."
"How's that?" `J' quipped, "you lookin' at my butt, too?"
"You wish, dude," I said. "C'mon, let's go out on the porch before those shitheads drink up all the beer."
I suppose it was a bad idea to be drinkin' beer before a workout. Coach would have had our asses if he knew. But, shit, ya had to break the rules once in awhile, right?"
"Okay, you lowlifes," I said, "leave them beers there and let's get pumpin', that is if you wanna. Otherwise you can get your lazy asses outa here."
Everybody piled down into the basement. I started out with the free style weights and Shawn spotted for me. Then we traded places. Phil and Brad were waiting their turns. Shit, we'd have to expand if anybody else showed up. Shawn had planted himself on the Bowflex and had Tod helping him adjust the rods. Everybody was really gettin' into it and we must've lost track of time. They were all sweating like crazy and wanted to take a dip in the pool, but I nixed it. With all that crap floatin' around and no chemicals in the water I didn't want anybody comin' out with a sore throat or earache and then bitching that it was my fault. (Hey, you own a pool, you got a social responsibility, dude!)
"Okay, girls," I said, "no pool today." After they gave me a collective groan and started runnin' off at the mouth I told em to come back tomorrow and help me clean it up and then maybe, I'd let em go in. At that point everybody left for home to grab a shower.
********************************* I was sweatin' like a pig, but decided to have one more beer and relax on the porch before I took my shower. I was layin' there surfing the tube when I started to itch. Damn, it was right in the middle of my back and I had a bitch of a time reaching it. I rubbed my back against one of the pillows on the coach, but it didn't seem to help. Shit, did something bite me? I hadn't seen any mosquitoes around, but they may have gotten in through the back door. There wasn't no screen, and those dumb assholes that were here every day were always leaving the back door open.
As the itching got worse and began to spread over my back and shoulders I decided it was time for that shower. Whatever it was, a nice warm shower would take care of it.
"FUCK!" I shouted when I got out of the shower and looked in the mirror. Now my arms were starting to itch. I couldn't help but scratch `em and they were really starting to sting and get red. What the hell was going on?
Half an hour later I got a call from `J' who said he had a bitch of a rash that was itching like hell. "My mom said she thought it was poison ivy," he said. "She said this was the worst time of the year to get it, and asked me if I'd been in the woods or something."
"Well, listen," I said, "I got it too, and it ain't gettin' any better. What the hell can you do to stop it?"
"Mom said, there ain't nothin' to stop it. She just went to the drug store to get me some fuckin' lotion, but she said ya really just gotta live with it like measles. She said it lasts like a week or so. Shit, Mike," he said, "I don't think I can last a day."
I had to laugh, even though I was itching like hell myself. `J' sounded just like a little kid that lost his favorite toy.
By that night I had definitely stopped laughing. I paid a visit to the drug store myself and the druggist said yeah, it was poison ivy, and it looked like a pretty bad case. Shit! He gave me something he said would help. Well it did--for about five minutes.
When I went back to look in the mirror it looked like my whole body had broken out in sores. The drug store dude had warned me not to scratch it or it might get infected or even leave scars. Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! I was gettin' more and more pissed off. How could I go to school tomorrow like this. Everybody would start laughing. Hey, I had a rep to protect! Well, if anyone did laugh they might not be itchin' but they'd be hurtin' damn bad. I'd take care of that.
My plan had worked like a charm. The next day at school, Mike, Jimmy, Phil, Tod, and Shawn all looked like they had been boiled in a big pot. They looked absolutely miserable and absolutely ridiculous. And the beauty of it was that they never made the connection to me.
Jimmy came up to me later that day and said: "Hey fag, you had this shit, how did you get rid of it?"
Trying to keep a straight face I said, "Well, Sir, I just had to keep using the lotion. I also used a warm wash cloth and that helped with the itching." I almost started laughing (was I turning from a masochist to a sadist?) so I excused myself, saying that I was late for class.
By noon most of the jocks in the school, except Terry and Bob, were scratching like a bunch of monkeys. To make things worse (for them) they started sprouting boners just like I had. If their faces hadn't already been so red you can be sure almost all of them would have been blushing while trying without much success to cover their hardons. Even their girlfriends teased them, asking them why they were so excited, and telling them that they wouldn't go near `em again until they could control themselves. It looked like most of the school which, like me, looked at the jocks with a mixture of admiration and intimidation were savoring their embarrassment and humiliation. And me . . . I was king of the hill (temporarily!) I could call any of them "Zits" right about now. Even though I'd pay for it, I was really tempted to do it.
Coach was furious when he saw several of his teams practically out of commission. After chewing them out for being so stupid, he told them that all practices were off for now, but that he was going to work them twice as hard when they got better. Of course, what they didn't realize was that every time they went back to use the weight equipment (if they could stop scratching) they re-infected themselves. I didn't know how long that sap would last, but it probably would be active for awhile. I had smeared it on pretty well. If that equipment, as I suspected, had really been stolen from Bob Greenburg, the thieves were finally starting to pay their dues!
Terry and Bob had not really spoken to me in over eight months, and I had pretty much dismissed the idea that we could ever be friends again. Besides, I had been too busy (until recently!) serving Mike and his buddies to even think much about the two fellows who had been so kind to me at the beginning of my freshman year. But every once in awhile I would think about them and wonder: What happened to change the way things were? I didn't know. The only thing that was clear was that, beginning with that camping trip, they started to use me as a sexual outlet just like Mike and his buddies. But still . . . there was something different about Terry and Bob, something . . . `good.' I know it sounds like a bunch of crap, but I can't think of another way to describe it. I could see it in the apology I got from Bob (even though it wasn't perfect) after he had forced himself on me. I could see it in Terry's face---the look of shame and regret after he tricked me into that hike; when he had reluctantly participated in my degradation by Chris and Dave, something that probably went far beyond what he intended.
I also think Terry and Bob were disappointed in me, by the way I allowed myself to be so dominated by Mike and Jimmy, basically because I was afraid of them. From that first day when they challenged me and I was unable (or unwilling) to defend myself, I backed down again and again. I lowered myself and humiliated myself whenever they wanted me to. They took advantage of my weakness, but who was responsible for that weakness?---Me!
I learned many things about myself in my freshman year of high school. I learned that as much as I hated to be degraded and humiliated, I craved and needed to be dominated. I was pretty sure now that I was gay. It was the guys--especially the jocks--in class who attracted me; they were the objects of my sexual fantasies. At the same time I realized I was a submissive, a "bottom" as they say. I needed a strong, assertive man to control and dominate me. But I wanted someone to care about me and someone I could care about in return. Could domination and caring exist in the same person and relationship? Wasn't that a contradiction? That was something I still didn't know yet. But I wanted to find out.
That was one of the reasons I finally decided to swallow my pride and call Terry: to ask him for the help that he had once promised me; to ask him to be true to his word. I wasn't looking for sex, but for friendship. When I phoned Terry and first heard his voice I told him without hesitation that it was Joe Crawford. I expected him to hang up immediately. Instead there was a long period of silence. Then with a kind of weariness he said, "Yeah, Joe, what can I do for you."
"I want to talk to you Terry. We haven't talked in a long time and I have some things I need to ask you and to tell you." Then I held my breath.
"Okay," Terry said simply, "I'm real busy today, how about tomorrow? Why don't I come by your house. What's a good time?"
I could hardly believe it. Terry Mahoney was coming to my house! "How about 5:00 pm after school. Uh, maybe you can stay for dinner and meet my folks."
"Sounds good, dude," Terry answered "Later . . ." he said. I heard the click of the phone as he hung up.
The next day at school I ran into Mike and his buddies. They had gotten over their poison ivy and felt like it was business as usual. "This Saturday," Mike said, "I'm having something special for some of my buddies. Be there. You know what to do."
"Yes, Sir," I said automatically, but thinking all the time about seeing Terry later that evening. Could he help me? Was he willing to help me?
I was nervous when the door bell rang at about 5:20 pm. I had been fidgeting around, wondering if he would really show up. When I opened the door, it was Terry. I tried not to check him out, but he was looking so hot with white jeans, brown loafers, and a tight yellow button-down shirt. "Come on in," I stammered. "Would you like a beer or something to drink?"
"Uh, just some bottled water is fine," Terry said, then added "if you got it."
"Yeah, I'm sure we do," I said, glad for the opportunity to get out of his presence for a moment to let my nerves calm down. Terry had looked a bit uncomfortable himself. "Have a seat," I said as an afterthought.
I came back with two bottles of water, one for each of us. Mom came in to meet Terry and told him that she was happy to have one of Joe's friends (gulp!) over for dinner. After she left, the silence in the air was heavy. I was determined, however, to speak, not wanting this opportunity to slip by. I also didn't want to start by complaining about or even really mentioning the situation with Mike and Jimmy---at least not for now.
"Terry," I began sincerely, "I miss our being friends. I miss seeing you and Bob and being able to talk to each other. And the other thing I miss is the chance to train with you and try out for the soccer team this fall. You know, I was watching the team practice in the spring, and I'd give anything to be able to be part of that team and maybe do some of the things that you do."
Terry seemed to be taking all of this in. He looked at me carefully and for a moment (which seemed like forever) he said nothing. "Joe, I miss seeing you and I know that Bob does too. We did some things to you that I'm not proud of. We both used you, and that was wrong. We actually stayed away from you because we thought you didn't want to have anything more to do with us. Funny, we couldn't help listening to the stories about you, floating around the school. We saw the way you let Cunningham and those other assholes treat you. And then there's that pink hair of yours . . ."
All of a sudden we both started laughing. We laughed and laughed until the tears rolled down our eyes.
"Yeah," I finally said, "I guess I've been looking and acting pretty weird lately. But I was never really mad at you except for the time that you tricked me on that hike. I was so humiliated, I couldn't believe that was the Terry I knew and trusted. But I saw that you didn't really mean to put me down like Chris and Dave did. And I have a confession to make. I really liked the sex part. I guess by now you've figured out I'm gay. I'm also very submissive (I couldn't believe I was opening my heart to Terry so quickly). I really enjoy giving head and even having some guy use abusive language while I'm doing him. It's a turn on for me. I just don't like being plain abused. Does that make any sense to you?"
"I don't know," said Terry. "I've never known anyone before with that kind of attitude toward sex . . . I mean, finding domination and humiliation a turn on, especially by another guy. I admit it freak me out. But like I said to you once: it's your life not mine, and you should have a right to feel anyway you want about sex or anything else. And ya wanna know something else? Bob feels the same way. He feels terrible about something that happened between the two of you. He absolutely refuses to tell me what it was, but I know he's real sorry about it ."
I couldn't believe what Terry was saying. It was like a weight being lifted from my shoulders. At the same time I hesitated. I had my hopes crushed so many times before that I had to wait and see if all that Terry was saying was really true or just another trap. He seemed to understand my hesitation.
"Somethin' else I gotta tell you," Terry smiled, "and I know you won't believe this one. Chris and Dave have also come around. They're basically good guys who can sometimes act like jerks. They told me that things got outta hand and that they never intend to bully you again. I guess maybe they just got too much pride to admit it. But see for yourself. Talk to them. I bet you're gonna get a completely different response from them now then ya did before.
What was going on here, I wondered? It sounded like the whole world was suddenly coming around to my side. It couldn't be. This didn't happen in real life. Of course, what brought me down to earth was Mike and his gang. If anything they were more abusive than ever, and now considered me their personal slave and cumdump. And like I've said so many times, there was a part of me that needed and enjoyed that kind of treatment. It was like a drug for me. It was clear that I had two sets of feelings that didn't match each other. Maybe they weren't meant to. I was determined, though, to take one thing at a time. And for the first time since the beginning of freshman year I felt that better days were coming.
I got my courage up, then, and asked Terry the crucial question. "Does all of this mean that I can practice with you guys and try our for the team.
Terry smiled and shook his head yes. "One of the reasons we didn't ask you sooner is that we had to replace all Bob's equipment. We knew you would feel more comfortable at Bob's house than in a gym. We've just `opened for business' and we want to work out a new schedule of training for you. So we can sit down with Bob and come up with a plan."
I wondered, then, if I should tell them about my suspicions about Mike's exercise equipment . . . or would that just make things worse? I decided to hold off on that for now.
When Terry and I arrived at Bob's house the next afternoon I was not at all sure how I felt. I had suppressed my anger at the way Bob had treated me when I offered to help him. He had verbally and sexually assaulted me---he had raped me---when all I was trying to do was be his friend. Did he deserve a second chance? In a long talk we had later that evening he asked for it and told me how much he regretted the way he had treated me. My philosophy had now become "show me that you really mean it", and that would take time. Meanwhile, we could still become exercise partners even if we weren't exactly friends.
I knew instinctively that I would be facing, as Mike had said the other day, `a hell of a year.' Mike, Jimmy and the others had been a big part of my life this past year. Did I want that to continue, or did I want to try and change it? That was one of the first and most urgent things I needed to decide . . . and deal with. Did it worry me; you're damn right it did! Mike, Jimmy, and Shawn might beat me within an inch of my life. But I knew that I was beginning to get my act together. For the first time I was really thinking about the choices I could make. I also began to hope that if it came to a real confrontation with Mike and the others, that Terry and Bob would be there to help me.
If I decided to do so, I could workout hard, build up and tone my body, maybe even get on the soccer team; then I could fight for self-respect if I needed to. I could refocus on my studies and work especially on the things that interested me and at which I excelled, like science and math. I knew that those two subjects could open up many possibilities for a future career . . . Then I stopped in the middle of my resolution-making and asked myself that same question that I would ask others: "Show me you that really mean it."
I hadn't given up my sexual preferences and maybe I never would. Domination and humiliation still turned me on sexually; I couldn't deny it, but now I realized that those things couldn't be my whole life either. There were other things that made me who I was, and I had a lot of exploring to do before I found out what they were. With those thoughts in mind, I was finally beginning to come to terms with my high school blues.
***Author's note: This chapter concludes my story. I know I could have carried it further---brought Mike, Jimmy, and the others to justice, perhaps---but I felt it best to end in this way. We all know that life is full of ambiguities and loose ends. Bullies do their thing, but its not the physical but the emotional scars that can mess up our lives. Joe represents a person who is a survivor. (What else could ya call him after all the things Mike and I put him through!) Obviously he doesn't have all the answers---especially about himself. He's still conflicted about his feelings. But he intends to keep going, and to find out as much as he can about who he is and what he really wants. He has learned the hard way that the world can be a hostile and cruel place. He needs to be strong, and he needs to have friends that he can trust and stand by him.
This first story I've written for Nifty Archives has been one hell of a trip and a real turn on for me. I kinda let my fantasies run wild and that probably made the story a bit bizarre and disjointed in places. I do wanna thank all my readers and especially those who took the time to write emails of approval or disapproval. Special thanks to several Nifty authors who have really encouraged me (and turned me on with their hot stories): Chaz, Victoria Boy, SykQuinn, and Percxyz among others. See ya all the next time around, guys!