Date: Mon, 2 Feb 2004 10:58:41 EST
From: Tamb803@aol.com
Subject: "High School Blues" part 7

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)