Disclaimer: This story is pure fiction involving humiliation, mild violence, and sexual activity between teenage boys. The characters do not represent any real persons. If you find such material offensive or in violation of the laws of your state/country, please don't read any further.
Breaks in the story (***) indicate major changes of scene/time or of the character who is narrating or speaking.
(c) Art M. Hill ArtHill579@aol.com All rights reserved (2004). If you enjoy this story, please email me.
"High School Blues" part 1: Joe's first challenge...
Hi, my name is Joe Crawford. This is the story about what happened to me when I took the big step from grade school to high school. I had just turned 15 years old. I was fairly tall and thin, with light brown hair and hazel eyes. I also wore thick glasses and had a bad case of teenage acne, that made me look pretty much like a nerd. I enjoyed school and got good grades. Up to that time, I had gotten along okay with most of my classmates at school, and had never really been bullied. That's why what happened to me that September day of my freshman year in high school was a complete surprise to me, and something I wasn't at all prepared to deal with.
My sister and I grew up in a small town close to the New Jersey shore. My father was hardly ever home since he worked in New York and had a long commute. He left the house very early in the morning and got home late in the evening. Most of the time, then, it was just mom, my sister, and me. Since there weren't many boys my own age in the neighborhood, and I didn't have a dad at home to encourage me, I wasn't very athletic. Still, I was in fairly good shape, since I worked part time as a stock boy in the local supermarket.
High School was a new world for me. I was used to a small town grade school where everybody was pretty much from the neighborhood. Now I was thrown into a regional school with hundreds of kids, most of whom I had never seen before. It didn't help that I was kind of shy and found it hard to make new friends. By that time I also realized that most of the other guys were really out of my league in sports. I did go out for track, the coach even telling me that I had real potential. But I never had much interest in it and didn't follow through. Needless to say, I never became an outstanding runner.
Since sports are so important for most teenage guys and for the girls who hang around with them, I found myself becoming more and more of a loner. The majority of my classmates excluded me from their activities and even from their conversations between classes and during lunch breaks. I also started to get picked on by guys who thought I was a wimp. They would jostle me in the halls, put chewing gum on my seat in class, and mark up my locker. I was ignored by the girls and had little success in getting dates. No, my social life was not going too well!
One afternoon after school I was walking down Main Street with a younger kid I knew who was still in grade school, when I heard a voice behind me say:
"Hey, there's that pansy Crawford that I was telling you about."
Then I felt a strong hand on my shoulder causing me to stop and turn around. It was one of my classmates from grade school, a tough dude named Michael Cunningham. He was a year ahead of me and a real jock. He was accompanied by another equally well-built guy that I had seen before but didn't really know. This other guy assumed a boxer's stance with his head lowered and both of his hands balled into fists, circling menacingly in front of me.
Since I had never been in a fist fight before, I froze, not knowing what to do. I was confused as to why this guy wanted to challenge me, and why my older classmate, who never gave me any trouble before, was calling me names and trying to get me to fight his buddy. My friend, Billy, who was smaller than me, just stood off to the side looking like he was in a daze. The sheer aggressiveness of this dude with his fists held up at me caused me to panic.
"Why do you want to fight me?" I asked.
"Because you're a damn pansy and I don't like you," he said.
"But you don't even know me. What did I ever do to you?"
"I don't give a royal fuck about that," he said. "I'm gonna kick your ass, unless you're man enough to stop me." He laughed when he said that, as if he knew I couldn't defend myself.
"Uh, okay, I'll fight you," I said, "but I have to go to the drug store first and get something for home."
Well, he didn't want to let me go but, after repeating my story several times, he said to go ahead but to make sure I came right back unless I was chicken-shit. He called after me that, since I was going into the drug store, I should pick up a first aid kit, because when he got through with me I'd need it.
Once I got in the store, Billy asked me what I was going to do. I wasn't sure. I had gone in the store to consider my options. Should I stay and risk getting my nose broken, or should I look for a way to escape. My first thought was to take the easy way out, and try to get my ass as far away from there as possible.
"Those kids are a lot bigger than we are," I said to my friend. "Maybe we should go out the other door and just go home."
"No," he said simply, "I think you gotta go back. They ain't gonna stop until you face 'em. I'll go with you."
I walked aimlessly through the store, stalling for time as long as I could. Finally I became ashamed of my own cowardice. I walked out of the store and into the late afternoon sunlight, seeing the two guys waiting across the street. I tried to talk myself out of my fear, knowing that if I didn't face these guys they would probably make my high school years miserable.
As we crossed the street, I heard the kid I didn't know (his name turned out to be Jimmy Gannon) say to Mike: "Here he comes. I thought he'd try to hide or something." Then he started to snicker and yelled: "Hey, pussy, did you forget the first aid kit? You'd better send your little friend back to get it. Your gonna need it before I'm through with you, fucker." In spite of his words, I had to admit that for some reason I was attracted to this mean dude. He had spiky blond hair, blue eyes, and an arrogance that complimented his good looks. He was dressed is greasy denim jeans and jacket, and wore clunky work boots.
Mike immediately took charge of the situation and said we should go into the empty lot behind one of the buildings and settle this. My friend and I followed them like puppy dogs into a weedy, overgrown area behind Main Street.
Then Jimmy turned around and said, "Come on, dude, let's do it!"
In my confusion I didn't see Mike come up behind me and bend down. Jimmy gave me a hard push and I tripped over Mike, falling heavily on the ground. The wind was knocked out of me, and while I was trying to recover Jimmy came flying through the air and landed on top of me, knocking my glasses off. Soon he was sitting on my chest, putting me in a schoolboy pin with his knees pressing down on my arms. I groaned in pain. He gave me a hard slap across the face and asked me what I was going to do now.
"Please let me up," I panted, "I never did anything to you. Let me go."
"I never did anything to you," Jimmy said in a high girlish voice. "Please let me go!" Both he and Mike cracked up.
"Told ya he was a fag, He talks just like a girl!" Mike said to Jimmy.
My face was still stinging from the slap Jimmy had delivered, when he did it again. He began slapping my cheeks over and over again, rocking my head back and forth. The whole time he was cursing and calling me names like "fag" "homo" and "fairy". All I could see was his handsome face (somewhat blurred without my glasses) staring down at me while the palms of his big hands connected with my burning face. Mike stood behind Jimmy watching my humiliation with a smirk on his face.
"Put out his lights, Jimmy," said Mike, "he ain't gonna give you no trouble."
"Dude, I don't even like to touch him," Jimmy said. "Look at all the zits on his face; they might be catching. I could feel a bunch of 'em pop when I slapped him. Shit!" he said, as he wiped his hands off on my shirt.
I struggled to get him off me, but realized he was much stronger than I was. I couldn't budge him. Oddly enough, I started to have mixed feelings about my situation. I was still frightened, but I was also feeling strangely aroused. Jimmy's warm, muscular body pressing heavily on my chest, as well as his good looks and commanding presence, began to cause my cock to stiffen.
I was desperate that these two guys not see the tent rising in my pants, fearing they would do something worse to me, or spread it around the school that I really was a homo. Finally Jimmy said: "Do you give?"
"Yes," I said desperately, "you win. Please let me up."
"Not so fast," he said. "You're gonna do what we say from now on, or I'll take that pretty little face of yours and shove it up your ass. You got that?"
"Yeah," Mike said, "and then we'll tell everybody at school what a fag you are."
For a moment I was silent, almost in a trance.
"I didn't hear you, fucker!" Jimmy said angrily.
"Yes!" I said, as tears began to form in my eyes. "I got it."
"Aw, look at the little girl crying. I bet she wants her mommy!" Before letting me go, Jimmy grabbed my shirt by the collar, slapped me a couple more times, and then spit right in my face. He got up, booted me in the ribs a couple of times, and turned to leave.
"Wait a minute," Mike said. "I want this pansy to lick my sneakers."
Jimmy grinned and said, "Yeah, so do I. Get over hear, Crawford, and start licking."
After a moment's hesitation, I began to crawl over to Mike, but I guess I didn't move fast enough, because Jimmy kicked me right in the ass. I went sprawling in the dust. With both of them laughing and telling me to move it, I scrambled over to Mike's feet. My face was burning from the slaps and the embarrassment of what they were making me do. My butt ached and felt almost numb from the kick. Mike was wearing tattered washed out jeans and scuffed up white high-tops.
"Lick, you freak," he said, "or I'll beat the shit out of you."
I started to lick the dust off of his sneakers while Jimmy said, "Look at this guy, can you believe what he's doing? How low can ya get?"
"I told you he was a damn homo," Mike said. "He's so fuckin' scared he'll do anything so we don't beat him up any more. Well, maybe we'll just do it anyway. I'm gonna think about it."
I continued to lick all around the tops of Mike's shoes. Then he told me to turn over and shoved the dirty tread on the bottom of the sneaker in my face and told me to lick it clean. It was covered with grit and pebbles from the road, and I choked and gagged as my tongue came in contact with god only knows what.
"Swallow it, Crawford" he said.
After I had licked both of Mike's sneakers, I had to do the same for Jimmy's oil stained boots. He had a glob of something greasy on the bottom of one of his boot treads which tasted like tar, and I started to wretch as I licked it off. Finally when they finished humiliating me they walked off and said:
"See you at school tomorrow, fairy."
"Wait a minute!" I shouted, "where are my glasses?"
"Oh, you mean these things?" Jimmy said. I could just make out the thick black frames swinging from his left hand.
"Yeah," I said, "Please give them back. I really need them. Please!"
"Tomorrow, four eyes. You'll get 'em back tomorrow if you ask me real nice. Otherwise I might have an accident with them," he chuckled. They both disappeared around the corner, still laughing.
I got up looking for my friend who seems to have disappeared during the scuffle. I was grateful that we had been in a pretty private place and no one else had witnessed my humiliation. Then I dusted myself off and began to walk home. I was wondering about the boner I still had and needed to rearrange several times in my pants. Luckily I didn't have any obvious bruises that I would have to explain to my parents. Of course, all that might change tomorrow at school. I wasn't exactly looking forward to it.
I had known this guy Crawford through most of grade school. He got pretty good grades so I guess he was smart. But he was a wimp when it came to sports and had almost no friends. When we had lunch out on the playgrounds he was always standing off by himself. He was timid like a girl and hardly said a word if you spoke to him. He couldn't play football, baseball, or basketball worth shit and when we were choosin' up teams he was always the last to be picked. Nobody wanted him on their team. He was a loser.
All the chicks got turned off by his looks and the way he acted, and none of them wanted to go out with him. Whenever he asked one of them to go to a school dance or something they always had an excuse-like they had to stay home and wash their hair.
Anyway, this guy bugged me and I started thinking about hasseling him. I didn't do anything, though, until we started high school. I saw him with some other little shit walking down Main Street one day, and decided to see what he was made of. My friend Jimmy was with me and after I told him about the wimp, he wanted to be the one to break him in, which was fine with me. Well, the wimp reacted just about the way I expected- scared to death of Jimmy's challenge. He looked for a way out but we wouldn't give it to him.
Finally we got him in one of the vacant lots and made short work of him. Jimmy sat on him, slapped him around until he said "Give" and then told him that he would do anything we wanted him to do. Naturally he agreed. Then I noticed he had a boner and realized that he was a faggot as well as a coward. This was gonna be fun.
Well I decided to see just how far I could push the fag, so I told him to clean my dirty Nikes with his tongue. To my complete amazement he did it. No arguments, no excuses. He just stuck out his tongue and started licking-the bottoms too. It was hilarious. Then he did Jimmy's boots. Now we knew we had him. I took the faggot's glasses so he would have to beg for them tomorrow. Jimmy and I walked away in disbelief.
"Hey dude," I said to Jimmy. "This freak is gonna be our toy this year. I intend to really fuck with his head.
"Yeah," said Jimmy laughing. "Wait until the guys hear about this. We're gonna have us a walking punchin' bag, and he can't do anything about it."
(to be continued)