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" part 7: Joe tries to explain things...
For a while I just wandered through the woods not knowing what to do. How could those guys be so damn mean. Bullying is one thing, but cutting a guys hair off, to make an absolute fool of him...
Jimmy, Mike and their buddies had humiliated me by inviting me to Mike's house on the pretext of hanging out, and ended up giving me a mohawk, shaving me bald except for a narrow band of spiky hair down the center of my head. How was I going to explain this to mom and dad, to my new friends, Terry and Bob, not to mention the rest of the school. Sure there were kids--"punks"--in our school who shaved away parts of their hair and even dyed it every color under the rainbow. There were several in our class. The majority of the student body, however, considered them freaks and constantly mocked them. You had to be pretty brave or pretty crazy to do something like that at our high school. Now I was one of them: a punk, a freak. Maybe I should dress the part too: leather, tattoos, nose rings, the whole bit. I laughed bitterly. It was all a distraction from the real issue: WHAT THE FUCK WAS I GONNA DO!
The first thing I had to do was face my parents. I made up a story that I did it on a dare with some of my friends. Yeah, that's it! We all had to dare something and I lost. Since I'm a person who always keeps his promises, I got my hair shaved. Some of the other guys did equally crazy things (yeah, like what?)
When they saw me, they just about fainted. I walked in the door, and I swear they looked like they were facing an ax murderer! I repeated my story. Although they seemed to believe it, they didn't understand how I could be so stupid, and were absolutely furious. I was grounded, they said, until further notice. Well, at least that would give me an excuse not to see Mike, Jimmy, and company for a while. But I wanted to start working out with Terry and Bob.
I had already told the folks that I was interested in joining the soccer team, and they were delighted. They still hadn't gotten over my mediocre performance in track, and wanted me to take up some other sport. Soccer sounded great to them. When I asked if the curfew could be raised for practice, they were obviously reluctant. They eventually agreed. I could go for weight and stamina training but THAT WAS IT! Outside of those times, no social life (not that I had any anyway!)
So, I had taken the first step: mom and dad knew. They could not, however, stop showing their disapproval. They kept staring at me, shaking their heads, and mumbling about how foolish and stupid a thing I had done, no matter what I had dared. I intended to use a similar story on Terry and Bob. Would it work? Would they want to have anything more to do with me, or would they be embarrassed to be around "a freak"? I didn't know.
Once again I was dreading to go to school. What should I wear? Was there any way to hide, even a little bit, the condition of my head (and hair). I thought about wearing a hat to cover up my new 'hair style'. Lots of guys wore baseball caps or stocking caps. They would work perfectly, but many teachers refused to let students wear them in their classes. I figured I'd just have to take my chances. With the gel that Jimmy put on my head already dry and stiff, my mohawk looked and felt more than ever like a broom in the center of my head. I was even wondering what a hat would look like jammed over that bush. Maybe I could plaster it down so that it laid flat against my head. I tried it but it wasn't easy. My hair sprang back up like a giant cowlick.
I was planning on going to the barber as soon as possibe to straighten things out--in spite of Jimmy's claim that he wanted to be a barber, his cut was far from perfect! I thought about having all my hair cut off or at least getting what I had trimmed back, but I was afraid of what Jimmy and Mike might do if I tried to change their "masterpiece."
After dinner, at which I was the center of attention (Michelle couldn't stop staring or laughing), I said that I was going to do my homework and then get to bed early. Actually I was exhausted. With the tension of the motorcycle ride, the dunking in the pool, and the unwanted head shaving, I was an emotional wreck. I needed to sleep. I couldn't keep my eyes open as I studied for history class. Finally I closed the book and changed for bed.
When I lay down, however, my brain kept replaying the events of the day and everything was coming back in an erotic way. The hunky guys on their motorcycles kicking up dirt as they tore through the field; the sexy boots they wore and made me clean for them; their ganging up on me in the swimming pool and pushing me under the water; and finally the forced hair cut and its aftermath--the beating I had received from Jimmy and the threats from Shawn. All of these things were making my cock rise.
I thought about what Mike had said: that I should be the permanent boot cleaner for the cyclists. I would be able to get my fill of muddy boots to feel and sniff. I would just have to be a little more careful about getting caught. I remembered the muddy boot tread pressed against my face. I remembered my head pushed into Mike's boot and the strong smell of leather and sweat surrounding my face. I remembered Jimmy's rough hands sliding over my head as he treated me just like a piece of meat that needed to be trimmed. My cock began to get harder and harder at these memories.
Then I thought about Shawn's challenge to a fight. We would get into Mike's ring, put on some boxing gloves and go at it. I imagined Shawn landing punch after punch, driving his leather fists into my gut, blackening my eyes, and knocking me out with a hard combo to the jaw. I imagined him hurling abuses at me, telling me to get the fuck up, that he was not finished with me. When I got up he would pour on more of the same, backing me into a corner and using me as his punching bag while his buddies cheered him on. Finally he would KO me with a powerful fist to the gut followed by a hard right-left combo to the jaw. I would be lying on the mat as he smirked down at me, spit in my face, and placed his foot heavily on my chest.
All of a sudden without even touching my cock, I had a powerful orgasm. Jizz shot all the way up to my face and I was a sticky mess. When I finally cooled down, I was horrified by my thoughts. How could I get pleasure from the physical and verbal abuse I had received from those guys? It's like I got pleasure from being bullied. With those contradictory thoughts going through my mind, I finally fell asleep.
The next morning I got up, showered, and looked in the mirror. My mohawk was as bushy as ever. Jimmy really had done a job on me. But for better or worse I was stuck with it, for the time being. Now for the big debate about how to cover my head. I finally opted for a baseball cap--even though I hardly ever wore one--and headed for the kitchen and breakfast. Mom was getting breakfast ready and she complimented me for having enough good sense to cover my head. Little did she know I had to slick down my hair with a ton of goop to keep it from springing up and blowing my cap up to the ceiling. (okay, a bit of exaggeration)
When I got on the school bus everything was normal. I saw Terry as usual. He wanted to know when I could start practicing. I told him I was really looking forward to it and would like to start as soon as possible. "Okay, dude," Terry said. "Meet me at Bob's house tomorrow after school. What time do you have dinner?" I told him on the late side, so we would have plenty of time. "Hey, why don't you have dinner with Bob and me?" Terry asked. "I usually eat at Bob's house when we exercise."
"Maybe next time," I said, thinking about my curfew. "I got to talk to my dad about something important this evening."
"Suit yourself, dude. Just remember it's an open invitation."
Why was it that Terry made me feel so good? I really wasn't attracted to him the way I was to Jimmy, Mike, and the others, but just as a friend. The same with Bob. What was it about bullies that turned on my sex drive? I pondered these matters until we arrived at school and Terry said he would see me at lunch time.
Things were okay until lunch when I was going through the cafeteria line. I saw Jimmy, Mike and their buddies sitting at a table close to the cashier, acting rowdy and eating like pigs. They looked up when I approached their table and grinned. All but Jimmy that is, who apparently wasn't very happy that I was wearing a hat and covering up his work. I had to pass by his table to make my way to where Terry and Bob were sitting on the other side of the cafeteria. Jimmy stopped me as I passed his table.
"Hold on fucker. What are you doing with that cap on your head? From now on you show off your new hair cut or your gonna have more trouble than you can imagine. Got it?" He suddenly snatched the cap off my head, stuck it under his butt, and sat on it. "Hey, Zits," he bellowed, "love your new haircut!" They all cracked up.
"Please give it back Jimmy. I don't want everyone here to see me with my hair like this. Please!"
"No way, dude. I gotta say you really hurt me, Zits. I go out of my way to make ya look cool, and then you criticize my work and embarrass me in front of my buddies." Snickering from the others. "Ya know I've busted guys in the mouth for less than that. So unless you want to lose a couple of those pretty little teeth of yours you get your ass out of here and eat that slop with whatever losers you call friends."
Before I left he twisted my arm until I almost dropped my food tray. Then he helped himself to whatever 'slop' he wanted on the tray.
Totally humiliated, I headed quickly toward Terry and Bob, trying not to draw attention on the way. I was not very successful since heads began to turn as I passed each table. Soon there was a chorus of gasps and giggles throughout the cafeteria, and I began to turn five shades of red.
"What the fuck," one guy said, "look at Crawford! He looks like a plucked chicken." At that everybody at his table cracked up. The only ones who weren't laughing were my two new friends whose faces registered shock and astonishment.
"Dude!" Terry exclaimed, "What the hell did you do to yourself? You look like an alien." I tried to play it cool even though I was a bundle of nerves inside. I was desparate not to drive off these two cool guys who had freely offered me their friendship.
"I guess it was a mistake," I mumbled. "I thought I wanted to change my image and I got carried away. I told the barber to give me something wild like a mohawk."
"Man," commented Bob, "it doesn't even look like a good mohawk. More like somebody just took a razor to your head." (caught!)
"Um, the barber I usually go to is kind of old fashion. He, uh, really didn't know how to do a mohawk. By then it was already too late, so I told him just to finish up. I'm gonna go to somebody else who knows how to straighten it out as soon as I can."
"Dude," said Terry, "it's your hair. Do what you like. If that's what you really want, stick to it, and don't let any of those assholes make you back down with their teasing and dumb remarks."
Man, he was cool, I thought. He really respected me, and didn't care what anyone else thought. Of course he was a jock, popular, and very well built. Nobody would dare to tease him. Still...I felt bad about lying to him. Lies seemed to be coming to me easier and easier these days.
Terry had a thoughtful look on his face. "Hey Joe," he said. "You sure somebody didn't do this to you as a sick joke?" I could tell his anger was on the rise. "Did some dumb shits force this on you, 'cause if they did I'll beat their asses into the ground."
I could have been flattered by two muscular, good looking guys fighting over me. And to make it even better, Good vs Evil, the White Knight and the Black Knight...No! That was the kind of fantasy that could get somebody hurt, and I didn't want that. I would rather continue being two different people-at least for now: Mike's and Jimmy's wimp and Terry's and Bob's friend. Maybe, just maybe, if I could build up my body, I might have the courage and the strength to fight off those bullies that were so dominating my life. But I wanted to do it myself and not with anyone's help.
"No, Terry," I said. "I just wanted to look cool. I can see now I did it the wrong way. But I'm gonna follow your advise and stick to my decision."
"Okay, dude," he said. "Remember we have a date tomorrow at Bob's. The first thing we do is to work out a program to strengthen your upper body. Your legs are pretty good from track. You ready to get going?"
"Yeah," I said, without any doubts. "I'll be there for sure."
Bob gave me careful directions to his house which I could easily walk to from school in about half an hour. He told me to be there around 4:00 PM--"and bring some work out gear with you."
I would clear it with mom and dad, and if I felt brave enough, I might even ask if I could have dinner with them at Bob's house and meet his family. Little did I know at the time, I would never make it to Bob's that day.
Man, what a rush it was to see the fag slink into the cafeteria looking like a scared little mouse and trying to hide his mohawk under a baseball cap. We decided to wait until he passed our table to start hassling him. He had been having his lunch with those two asshole jocks Mahoney and Greenburg. We had to put a stop to that. He was our toy this year and we weren't sharing with nobody.
Anyway, Crawford tried to make himself invisible as he passed our table, but no way was he gonna get by us. Mike said, "Here come's the fairy. Let's get 'im."
I frowned at the guy and he almost fainted. What a wimp! I tore the cap off his head and told him that from now on he had to show off his new hair cut...or else. To make my point clear I stuck his cap under my ass and stared him down. Like a good little fag he whined a bit and then walked off with his mohawk blowing in the breeze. Everybody in the cafeteria cracked up. Cool. We would have him totally broken very soon. In the meantime we had a little plan to make our point.
(to be continued)