Date: Mon, 2 Aug 2004 11:15:58 EDT
From: Tamb803@aol.com
Subject: "High School Blues" part 22

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.

Copyright Art M. Hill ArtHill579@aol.com All rights reserved (2004).
If you enjoy this story, please email me.

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

"High School Blues" part 22: Joe gets marked...

I was a bit worried by Terry's warning that I should be careful "dealing
with Cunningham and his buddies." It's not something I didn't already know--
after I had been whipped, beaten, and extorted, and forced to suck their cocks--but
the attraction toward those guys kept building. I was coming to like their
arrogance, their macho posturing, and even the way they abused and took
advantage of me (physically, psychologically, and sexually!) It was like I was being
brain-washed. I knew well that it was because my cock had taken control. Every
time I thought about how they had marked me with their sperm, I felt a hardon
coming. Yeah, I think I would suck any of them off on demand.

I guess by this point it was clear to me that I was, at the very least,
bisexual. Unfortunately it seemed like all of them were straight, having girl
friends, and constantly bragging about how they had fucked this chick or that one.
They always seemed to have girls hanging around them in spite of their "bad boy
" rep around school. But I couldn't help but be fascinated. It was this
dangerous fascination which was to lead to the most humiliating experience I had
so far with these "friends" of mine.

That Friday at school, after I gave them the usual $100 which they had come
to expect to help pay for their new bikes, Mike and Jimmy told me excitedly
that they had picked up the bikes at the dealership yesterday, and would have
them on display at the party tonight. Some of the other guys had already seen
them and were jealous as hell (I was hoping against hope that I wouldn't have to "
help" them too!) They reminded me that I should be at Mike's house no later
than 7:00 pm when the party was to begin. "It's somethin' real simple," Mike
assured me. "Just some beer and pizza." We told our girlfriends that this
was `a guy thing' so it'll just be us."

After telling my mom where I'd be and that I'd have dinner there, I started
out on my bike for Mike's place around 6:30 pm. My face was still quite
bruised from the beating I had taken from Shawn although it was beginning to fade.
The cuts and scratches had all healed. Since the weather had turned cold I wore
my sweats and even a light windbreaker. The days were also getting shorter--it
was the end of October--and it was almost dark by the time I arrived in Mike'
s neighborhood. As I pulled up to the house I saw the usual array of dirt
bikes together with Shawn's van and and Tod's pickup truck.

It seems as if I was the last one to arrive. When Mike answered the door I
could already smell the beer on his breath although he still seemed in pretty
good shape. As I came in I saw mostly familiar faces. The guys gave me a variety
of greetings including the familiar Zits, Pinky, and Champ (apparently
referring to my surprising performance in the boxing match.) Mike introduced me to a
slightly older dude named Jerry whose muscular arms sported a number of
tattoos. Jerry told me a little bit about his work and said that if I ever wanted a
tattoo, he would give me 20% off the regular fee. A couple of the other guys
including Mike had a tattoo on their arms and they looked pretty cool. Maybe
one day...

The two new bikes were on display in the garage and I thought it was no
wonder the guys were jealous. They were brand new Hondas and they were beauties.
Both were fire engine red. When I saw them, even I was proud that I had made it
possible for the guys to get those awesome bikes. Only Mike and Jimmy knew how
the bikes were "financed" and they showed them proudly as if they had paid
for them by their own work. I guess I was to remain an anonomous donor. (Of
course it was really an act of kindness--or selfishness--since, if the other guys
knew, all of them would have been after me for financing too!) The guys were
particularly friendly that night. Even Shawn made some small talk with me and
directed me to the pizza and beer. Both really hit the spot and I was beginning
to relax and have a good time.

I noticed that Mike and Jimmy were spending a lot of their time with the
older guy, Jerry; maybe he was a friend they hadn't seen in a long time. The guys
kept pushing beers on me, and I was so flattered by their attention that I
kept taking them and feeling at last like a might be "one of the guys" even if
they teased me be calling me Pinky and stuff like that. I started drinking
wiskey chasers with the beers as everybody seemed to be doing. But I was getting
ahead of the others. Once again they were using my innocence against me,
getting me set up for their next humiliation.

It seems that all I did when I was with these guys was pass out from one
thing or another. Well it was starting to happen again. The room began to spin as
I had my last beer and wiskey combo. Mike and Jimmy saw me wobbling and came
over and sat on the sofa on either side of me. "How ya feelin' buddy?" Jimmy
asked with a wink at Mike. "I would say you've got a case of too much too
fast. Don't worry, it'll pass in awhile."

Just at that moment I fell unceremoniously into Jimmy's lap. "Hey man," Brad
teased, "looks like your boy is finally gonna give you a blowjob--and right
here in public." (little did Brad know!) Jimmy grinned as everybody laughed.
Playing along with the joke he spread his legs and pushed my face right into his
groin. I tried to get up, but he held my head down between his legs. I
smelled the now-familiar musky odor of his crotch, finding it extreme enticing. "Oh,
yeah," he said, "suck that cock, fag, take it all the way down your
cocksucking throat." Jimmy threw his head back, arched his back, and groaned in a mock
orgasm while bouncing my head up and down in his lap. All the guys cheered
and applauded. Jimmy pushed me back up and motioned for two more drinks. "Here'
s to our secret benefactor," Jimmy said under his breath as he pushed the
brimming glass of wiskey into my hand, "Thanks for helpin' us out man!" I downed
the wiskey with no encouragement and at that point totally passed out. Here we
go again!

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

"Okay, dudes," I said, "time for the main event of the evening. Time to mark
up the fag for good."

"Yeeeeeeah!" everyone yelled, "Do it! Do it!"

"Okay, okay," I gestured dramatically. "All you guys know Jerry. He's gonna
be the MC at the initiation of our little buddy tonight."

The guys started chanting: "Jerryyy! Jerryyy! Jerryyy!"

Several of the guys picked up the fag and carried him down to the basement,
which should have had a sign by now reading "Fag's Torture Chamber." We
started by taking off his clothes. He began to help us out, maybe thinking his mommy
was getting him ready for beddy-bye. He was so clumsy that we had to restrain
his arms while we finished the job ourselves. All the guys laughed again when
they saw his pink pubes. Too bad he didn't have a boner at the moment. I
figured he probably would before the night was over.

Brad and Tod hoisted pussy boy up onto the worktable, laid him on his back,
and got him ready for his latest "body work." Hummmmm. I thought, maybe while
he's out of it, we should give him nipple rings too...I'll check it out with
Jerry when he finishes the tats; he does nipples too!

Jerry had brought a large black leather bag with him which he now placed on
the floor next to the bench and opened up. The guys quickly brought him a
folding table for his equipment, a chair, alcohol, and some hot water.

I yelled for everyone to shut up. "We all agreed that the faggot should have
a tattoo so that everybody would know who he is. Well, we really couldn't come
to an agreement on what it would be. We ended up with three: "Cocksucker" "
Faggot" and "Fuck Me". Now since we couldn't decide, we figured why not all
three! What do you dudes think about that?" Everybody cheered and whistled in
approval.

Not knowing what was going on, the fag also drunkenly cheered, which caused
the guys to break out in hysterical laughter, some of them rolling on the
floor. I had to laugh myself. We were having so much fun humiliating this faggot,
and now we were about to degrade him more than ever before. Hair grows back,
and color doesn't last, but these tattoos--well, there almost forever! You didn'
t know I was a fuckin' philosopher, did ya? Anyway, I couldn't wait to see
the poor cocksucker's reaction. We'd have him put on a show for us with his new
"decorations." That was gonna be awesome.

"Now," I said, "It doesn't take a fuckin' genius to know where we wanna put
these tats, but I'm gonna tell ya anyway. "Cocksucker" over the tits; "
Faggot" over his excuse for a cock; and "Fuck Me" right on the pussy. Ya like
that, ya bunch of horny studs?"

"Alright!" everybody screamed. "Jerryyy! Jerryyy! Jerryyy!" Jerry gave
everyone a `thumbs-up' and then got down to work. The guys crowded around
watching intently.

"Hey Dudes!" Jimmy said, "Give the guy some room to work. Artists need space!
"
Everybody backed up a bit without taking their eyes off the table.

I whispered into the fags ear: "Hey, Joey-boy, listen to me, man, and listen
good. I want you to lie perfectly still. We're doin' something real special
for you. Let's just say it's your reward for helpin' us out getting the bikes.
If it hurts just let me know and we'll take care of it. We don't want our
champ to be uncomfortable. Tell you what, just to make sure you don't move, we'
ll use a couple of straps to hold you in place. They won't hurt, buddy," I
said in a soothing voice. Tod ran a wide leather strap around his waist, looped
it under the table and pulled it snug. Phil and Brad each ran straps--one
across his legs, and the other around his neck, placing a pillow under his head.
We also tied his arms fast. At that point the bastard wasn't goin' nowhere.

Jerry laid out his first design on the Pinky's chest. He traced the letters
with indelible ink from a pre-made stencil: F-A-G-G-O-T. He first washed his
chest and then used a topical anesthetic to numb the area. Jerry was told to
place the tat directly above his nipples. `J' suggested that Jer also put small
bulls-eye tattoos around his nipples. "Can do," Jerry said. "Can do." We all
watched in awe while Jerry began to fill in the letters he had traced on the
fag's bony chest and then to circle the nipples which would be tattooed later.

We decided to let Jerry figure out the right colors and his decisions were
just right. He did the word FAGGOT in bright red with a bright purple border--
talk about faggoty colors. He handled his instruments like the expert that he
was: mixing the colors, manipulating the needles, injecting just the right amount
of dye. When the fag would wince a bit and begin to come out of dreamland we
gave him a healthy dose of his favorite fragrance--poppers--and he was sailing
away again. It took almost one hour to complete the first tat since Jerry was
a very careful worker. After the nipples were finished everyone was ready to
take a break for some brews and more pizza. Jerry, however, was determined to
finish non-stop. He didn't want to stay around all fuckin' night, he said. So
the rest of the guys went up to the porch while Jimmy and I stayed with Jer
and shot the bull while he worked.

Phil came down with some beers and cold pizza. That beer sure tasted good
right about now. I lit my bong and Jimmy and I past it back and forth. We offered
it to Jerry but he shook his head. Jerry loved weed but not while he was
working. "Shit man," he said, "when we finish up this dude you'll see how I can
handle that stuff." We both laughed as Jerry began Zit's second tat--
C-O-C-K-S-U-C-K-E-R.

Jerry had decided that this one should be centered right above the fag's pink
pubes. This one went a lot faster than the first one. Jerry explained that
this always happened as he got to know his clients body. Before long Zits had
both FAGGOT and COCKSUCKER impressed on his body as well as the bulls eyes
around the nips, which made him look like a two-bit whore.

When the guys got back there was a moment of silence like nobody could think
of a thing to say. Then everybody started to talk at once: "Fuckin' awesome!"
"Sweet, dude!" "Yeah, that's it! That's it!" "Fuckin' genius!" After
everybody calmed down we flipped the fag over for the final touch--his pussy tat!
F-U-C-K  M-E. Once again we strapped the poor bastard down so he didn't move
and ruin the tat.


At first we thought it would be a riot to have one word on each cheek, but
Jerry argued that if we wanted to embarrass him to the max the tat should be
where there would be the most chance of seeing it. Where he finally put it would
make it easy to pull up his gym shirt or pull down his shorts and there it
would be. This tat would be sort of curved: FUCK over the left cheek and ME over
the right. Jerry made the tat even more awesome by pulling the first letter "F"
 down around the left butt cheek and the last letter "E" down around the
right one almost making it look like another bulls-eye.

 "Hey," I said, "How about putting a big cock right in the middle pointed
toward his ass hole? That would be awesome!"

 Jerry laughed, "You are evil, man. You must really hate this poor shit."

"I don't hate `em, man, I only want him to come out and tell everybody who
he really is. Actually I'm doin' him a favor, ain't that right, `J'?"

"Shit, yeah," Jimmy said, "Jer, we've been tryin' for months now to bring
this wimp out of his shell. So we find out he's a faggot and we wanna help him
accept it. We figured that if he had it written right on his bod he'd have to
be honest about it!"

"Okay, okay, man," Jerry said, as he got back to work, "I really don't give
a shit. You're callin' in a favor and I'm happy to oblige. In fact I'm
findin' this job real stimulating." Laughing, he showed us the boner in his dirty
jeans--it was huge. "Yeah," he said, "I gotta admit I'm really gettin' off
on this. Now let'me draw in this big cock you want. That's gonna be on the
house."

After stenciling on the tat Jerry once again swabbed the area with alcohol to
prevent infection. Zits started to laugh like someone was tickling him. He
must have been comin' awake again. Out came the poppers and off he went again.

"Hey man," Jimmy said, "what colors are ya gonna use for his pussy?"

"Well `J' for this one I thought I'd use the same red but with a turd brown
border. What do ya think o' that?"

"Shit! That's perfect!" he howled. "How about making that shit border wavy
instead of straight. That way it'll look like the shit is splashing right out
around that cock."

"Yeah," Jerry said, getting enthusiastic about the project. "And I'll put a
couple of blotches further out on his ass to look like the shit really hit
the fan." Jerry was laughing so hard he had to stop for a minute so he didn't
mess up the tat. He took a break, knocked back his beer and lit up a cig.

Jerry spent about another 45 minutes on what we called his "ass-terpiece."
The guys all went crazy when they saw the tat on his ass. "Look at the fucker!"
 they almost said in unison before breaking down again into hysterical
laughter.

All the guys started to chant again: "Jerryyy! Jerryyy, Jerryyy!"

"Fuck!" screamed Shawn. "Look at that motherfucker! He's not even awake yet
and he's got a boner! The motherfucker's got a boner!" Damned if he didn't
have a hardon again, the horny bastard!  Wonder what he would think when he
saw himself this time. What a hoot that would be.

While Jerry was working on the last tat I was thinkin' about those nipple
rings. It would really finish things off right. Trouble was it might finish off
the fag too. We didn't want him totally freaking out or he might spill the
whole thing to the principal or his folks. We would forget about the rings--for now.

Meanwhile, Jerry was putting the finishing touches on FUCK ME. Was this guy
good or what?! "Hey Jer," I said, "any problems?"

"Not really, man, but what were all those damn marks on his back and ass. It
almost looks like somebody whipped him."

"Well, Jer, old buddy," I said, "when our little friend here gets out of
line we gotta punish him just so that he knows his place."

"Hell man," Jerry said, "that's some pretty heavy shit. I'm not telling you
what to do, but he could sue your asses off and maybe put you in jail for a
couple years. Same with these tats--I could lose my license and my business, so
you better keep him quiet."

"Don't worry, dude," I said in a soothing voice. "We got the fag totally
under our control. He's terrified of displeasing us and knows better than to
open his mouth about anything."

"So man," I said, "what's all this artwork gonna cost me?" (meaning the
fag, of course!)

"$250 apiece, so $750 total. Tell you what. Give me $100 for now and then we'
ll see about the rest. I want to see how this comes down before we start
exchanging any more cash."

"Jerry, your the man! I promise you nothing will happen except a lot of
laughs for us and a lot of embarrassment for the faggot. Like I said before: it's
time for him to come out and tell everybody who he is.

(to be continued)

***Author's Note: for parts 22 & 23, I was inspired (and turned on) by one of
the hottest stories I've ever read: "Tattooed" by BuffHSDude, ASSGM, 1998.