Date: Fri, 23 Jul 2004 14:21:56 EDT
From: ArtHill579@aol.com
Subject: "High School Blues" part 20

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 20: Joe's recovery...

Fuck, what a rush that was! I gotta admit, the fag surprised me in the
first few rounds. I didn't know he could dance around the ring like
that. `Course all fags are light on their feet. It comes from the ballet
lessons their mommy's make them take. But I got `im and I got `im good. I
always wanted to use some wimp as a punching bag, and that fucker was
perfect. I loved the feel of my fists sinkin' into his gut and his head
bouncing off my gloves. The fag musta' loved it too--at least for awhile. I
saw the freak lookin' at me between rounds with a boner. Shit that queer
was actually gettin' off on my punches. That's why I worked him over so
good. He really pissed me off. If he was enjoyin' it, well I'd give him
more than he could handle. I gotta admit I was gettin' off myself. The guy
was so pathetic he should have had a bulls eye painted right on his nose. I
connected every time and gave him the beating of his life.

When I backed him into the corner he was so weak I had to hold him up like
a fuckin' sack of potatoes. I pushed his arms over the ropes and then
started firing punch after punch into his totally unprotected belly. Pow!
The fag was so out of it by that time that he couldn't even raise his
arms. Fuck, I thought he might vomit on me or something! Somehow it made me
want to work him over even more. The power, man, the power! I pounded that
pussy into the ground. When I was finished with his face his eyes were so
badly swollen they were just slits, and his lips were so fat that he would
be givin' first class blow jobs to Greenburg and Mahoney. Fuck, they should
be thanking me for improvin' their cocksucker. Mike and Jimmy were yellin'
at me not to mess up his face too much. Fuck that! The faggot got just what
was comin' to him.

Pow! I finally put out the fucker's lights with a combo of punches and an
uppercut to his faggot jaw. He went down like the piece of shit he is. When
he came around I couldn't resist having a little fun with him and showin'
off for the guys. First I wanted to let `em see my new wrestling moves. I
left the fag standing like an asshole in the center of the ring while I
went to the ropes, got some momentum and got airborne. I rammed the poor
fairy with both feet right in the guts, almost knocking him out of the
ring. Then I got up and landed dead on target with my elbow and nearly
crushed `im. Finally I picked him up (piece of cake!) swung him around and
slammed him down on the mat. I was tempted to finish up with a back
breaker, but I remembered what Mike had said about not hurting the little
pussy too much. The hell if I know how the fag ever survived all that
pounding. Man, he musta been hurtin' big time though.

 I told the poor wimp to lick my feet and he did it--he actually did it!
Shit, my feet were filthy and this jerk is bathin' `em just like a
baby. The guys were goin' wild and slappin' me on the back. Then I got an
even better idea. I sat on Pinky's face with my ass crack directly over his
nose. I got comfortable and then I blew an enormous fart and then two more
right in his face. Man they were ripe. I could hardly stand them myself and
the guys would have left the room if they weren't laughin' so hard.

And guess what. That fuckin' pervert got another boner. How sick is that? I
blew some of the stinkiest farts of my life right up his nose, and he gets
off on it. Is this guy for real, or what? Well, I'll tell you one
thing. This is just the beginning. I got a lot more freaky ideas I want to
try out on him. This is really gonna be fun.

******************************************

Slowly I began to come out of my drugged sleep, something which was
becoming a habit since I had run into Mike, Jimmy and their buddies, who
decided to adapt me as their own personal punching bag. As I woke up Mike
was telling me that I didn't look so good (I felt worse) and that I should
spend the night and take care of my face. That way my folks wouldn't react
so strongly when they saw me tomorrow. For once I readily agreed with
him. I was horrified when I managed to stagger over to the mirror and see
my reflection.

I looked like a complete stranger. Both my eyes were swollen almost shut
and were beginning to turn black and blue. The ear where Shawn had
administered the powerful kick was twice the size of the other, something I
think they used to call a "cauliflower ear". I had bruises and cuts on my
cheeks and a big red blotch on my chin where Shawn had put out my
lights. On top of my head a chunk of my hair was missing where Shawn
grabbed me (an uncalled foul) to hold me still while he smashed his big
gloved fist into my face.

I decided I better put some ice on my swollen lips before I called mom and
dad since I was slurring my words and I didn't want them to think I'd been
drinking. Mike gave me a couple of ice packs and a bottle of peroxide and
said to take all the time I needed in the bathroom. He also gave me an old
cot to rest up on. I was relieved that the match was over even if I had
gotten the worst beating of my life. I was also terribly humiliated when
Shawn exposed my pink pubes, whirled me around, and then made me lick his
feet clean in front of all the guys. The worst though was when he sat on my
face and blasted it with farts. I didn't know if I'd ever recover from the
memory of that.

 I was kind of proud of the fact that I held my own for the first two
rounds. Little did I know that the guys had told Shawn to go easy on me so
that my face would not be too badly bruised, nor that I get any broken
ribs. That probably would have exposed them to my folks who might have
blown apart their whole set up with me and with their "gym".  I lay down on
the dirty cot, every bone in my body aching. I was happy to be left alone
since all the guys had gone upstairs to have a beer.

The first thing I did was to carefully wash my face and apply peroxide to
the cuts and scrapes. I was especially careful in cleaning the cut on my
lips. Then I lie down and put both of the ice packs on my swollen eyes. I
found it better to put a cold washcloth on my lips. I was exhausted and
fell asleep for about three hour. The guys had the decency to let me
sleep. Actually they had decided to take out the dirt bikes for
awhile. Afterward they planned on getting stoned.

When I woke up, I was completely stiff. I got more ice from the frig and
refreshed the wash cloth for my lips. Then I dozed off again for another
hour, when I awoke hearing the roaring of motors. It was the guys coming
back with their cycles. Mike came down, looking hot in his motorcycle gear
to check on me. I said I should be ready to call my folks shortly. He said
he'd be upstairs if I needed anything and would bring me a burger and
fries. Brad and Tod were going out to Burger King to pick up some eats. I
couldn't believe they were being so nice to me. Now it seems to me that
this was their way of keeping me under control--alternately being nice and
rough with me, so that I was always emotionally off balance.

When I finally looked in the mirror again, I still didn't like what I
saw. My "fat lips" were still pretty swollen and cut in several places. The
ear that Shawn had flattened with his kick had gone down a bit. My eyes
were my biggest concern. Although the swelling had gone down some, the
bruises were now becoming more prominent. I would soon be looking like a
raccoon. Besides I had other scratches and cuts all over my face. I washed
them again and put on some antiseptic cream I found in the bathroom. I
figured it was now or never to call my parents since I didn't want to wait
until too late in the day. I certainly would have preferred sleeping in my
own bed, but I could see Mike's point. I would probably look better if I
returned home tomorrow.

"Hey mom," I said, trying to sound as normal as possible. "Listen we've
been having a great time and the guys invited me to stay over night, if
that okay with you and dad?"

"Joe, you sound funny," mom said, "you're not coming down with a cold are
you?"

"No mom," I said. "I think it's just my allergy acting up. So is it okay to
stay? I'll be back tomorrow probably right after lunch."

"Well, okay," she said. "I'm glad you finally found some friends your own
age to spend time with. But Joe, if it turns out you do have a cold, please
come home, take some cold medicine, and get to bed."

"Yeah, mom, I will. Thanks a lot. See you tomorrow."

After a while Mike brought down the burger, fries and Coke. I told him the
good news that I had permission to stay overnight. "Hey, come on up later
when you're feelin' better," Mike said. "The guys will be hangin' around
for awhile and they want to see you. Everybody thinks you did real good in
the match, even Shawn."

"Wow, did that make me feel good! I felt like a weight had been lifted from
my shoulders. Maybe I had proved myself to them. I had to be careful eating
the food since my lips were still sore and cut. The salt on the fries, in
particular, burned when it made contact with the cuts.

*********************************************

Upstairs the guys were still wearing parts of their motorcycle gear
following their ride through the fields and woods surrounding Mike's
house. There were muddy feet on every table available. It was about 3:30
pm. and Brad and Tod had just come back with the food. Nobody had waited to
get started on the beer, though; it was a warm day and their ride had made
everybody thirsty. There was talk about a dip in the pool but the water had
gotten just a bit too cold to be comfortable.

"Hey," teased Jimmy, "we should have the fag come up here and clean our
boots, or maybe he could just lick them."

"No more of that shit," said Shawn, "or I may just have to beat that little
perv's ass again."

"Yeah, well, `that little perv' held you off pretty good there for awhile."

"Shit," Shawn said, irritation in his voice, "I was just doin' what Mike
asked. He didn't want me to fuck up the fag too bad. If it'd been up to me,
the dude would be in the hospital right now in a coma."

"I say you were just lucky," Jimmy said, delighting in ruffling Shawn's
feathers.

"Well," Shawn growled, "you and me can go a few rounds some time and we'll
see who goes down first. Now chuck me one of them beers."

"Whenever your ready, man," said Jimmy, not the kind to back down to
anybody. "Hey, by the way, how did it feel to punch out the fag?"

"I loved every minute of it man. especially feelin' my fists slamming into
his stomach and hearing "uhhhh." "uhhhh" every couple of seconds. What a
trip! I thought he was gonna lose his breakfast there for a minute."
Everybody laughed.

 "Every fag," Shawn continued, "deserves to get his ass handed to
him. They're freaks. Especially when they get the hots for you. They creep
me out. And this Crawford bastard is one of the lowest of the low. Did you
see the way he licked my feet with his tongue. He even sucked my
toes--probably thought they were little cocks! What kind of man would even
think about servicing another dude's dirty feet. And here this pathetic fag
gets down on the floor and goes right at it...and gets a hardon! I still
can't believe it. Then he ate up my farts like they were cream puffs."
Everybody laughed at that.

"Well, dude," said Mike, "ya see, we've got him trained. The first time
Jimmy and I ran into him on Main Street just after school started we made
him lick out feet. Jimmy had on his work boots and I had on my
sneakers. They were both filthy. He was so scared that he licked and
licked, even the bottoms that were covered with all kinds of shit. See, for
some weird reason it turns him on. Maybe it's that way with all fags. Now
Crawford likes to be dominated, so we've used that to our own advantage. He
follows orders almost like a fuckin' robot. It's a real blast."

"Yeah," Shawn said, "I hear ya. But why does the freak like feet and boots
so much?"

"You answered your own question, man. `Cause he's a freak. He'll be comin'
up in a little while and we can have some more fun with him. Ya know we
been thinkin' about getting a tattoo for the cunt. I want everybody to
think of something cool to put on `im."

"But that shit is expensive, ain't it?" asked Brad.

"Nah," said Mike, "I know a dude in the business who'll give us at least
half price. Besides I'm not paying for it--the fag is."

"Man, you sure got him under your control, don'tcha?

"Absolutely," Jimmy said. "And this tattoo is gonna prove that. It's gonna
mark him as our property and our fuckin slave!" All the guys laughed at
that.

"Way cool," said Shawn. "I wanna be there to see that!"

"Don't worry man, said Mike. "We're gonna have a party here in a couple of
weeks. I'll invite this tattoo dude to come here with all his
equipment. That's gonna be our entertainment."

"But if the fag gets out of line," Shawn said, "he should be punished. Give
him another lashing or another beating"

"We may lash him even if he doesn't get out of line," laughed Jimmy, "just
so he knows
 his place. Hey, I think I hear him comin'...stay cool."

******************************************

I had finally managed to get to my feet even though I was still stiff. I
figured it would be best to keep moving or I'd be totally stiff in the
morning. I walked over to the far door where Mike supposedly had his new
gym, curious to see what kind of equipment he had. The door was locked and
wouldn't budge. Briefly it flashed through my mind that it was a real
coincidence that Mike got his new equipment just a short time after Bob had
lost his. Besides, I remember something Mike said about Bob in the woods
that day before they tied me up and I blacked out, but it was all jumbled
in my mind. Could it be?...Nah, Mike might be rough and mean sometimes, but
I don't think he and the others would ever break into someone else's house
and steal property. Still the idea bothered me. Maybe because I had
forgotten about my wrist watch.

I headed toward the stairs which I took very carefully, holding on to the
railing. I heard laughter overhead coming from the back porch and headed in
that direction. As I emerged on the porch I had to control my cock, seeing
so much hot teen flesh in one place. The guys were lounging casually all
around the room drinking beer and passing around a bong. Food wrappers and
French fries lay scattered all over. Suddenly there was a blinding flash as
someone took my picture.

"Hey, here's the champ!" Jimmy yelled. "Yeah, here's the man, and he's got
the scars to prove it!"

"How about a beer, champ?" said Mike.

"Sure," I said. As I opened the can and took a swig I was careful not to
aggravate the cuts on my lips which burned from the beer.

"Wow, you really look messed up," said Brad. "How do you feel, man."

"How do you think he feels, asshole," Shawn piped up. "I would say he feels
like he's just been run over by a steam roller. Ain't that right, Pinky?"

I winced when I heard them still calling me Pinky, but decided to make the
best of it. Hopefully these guys would accept me now that I showed them I
wasn't a coward.

 "Yeah," I said, "I've felt better. I didn't have any idea what a boxing
match would be like. It's pretty rough."

"Well, then you should do a lot better next time," Shawn laughed.

My stomach fell. "If there's gonna be a next time, I hope you give me at
least a year to heal up from this one." Everybody laughed. Hummm. Maybe I
had scored a few points on that one.

"Hey Joey-boy," Mike said, "we're gonna take a look at a couple of our
bikes that got some problems. Clean up in here, will ya? If my dad comes
home he'll be pissed to see this mess. Pick up all the papers, cups, and
fries and put them in the garbage. You can put the beer cans in that box in
the broom closet. Then just sweep the floor. You remember where the broom
closet is, don'tcha? Thanks man, later..."

Each guy grabbed another beer, grinning at me and walked out, banging the
porch door behind them. I started to do as Mike had asked (ordered).
Walking around made me feel better. I guess I didn't realize at the time
that now Mike had me cleaning up after him and his friends. It was another
step down toward my total degradation.

(to be continued)