Date: Mon, 22 Nov 2004 22:25:43 -0500
From: ArtHill579@aol.com
Subject: "High School Blues" Part 34 (Conclusion)

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. Please practice safe sex: this story is a
fantasy in which STDs don't exist!

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

Please support the Nifty Archives

****************************************
True Blue

"Hey `J', didya bring back those DVDs I lent ya? Good. Okay, just set `em
down over there. The other guys are out on the porch quenchin' their
thirst. They wanna go swimmin' after our work out. I don't know. I ain't
had time to clean it out lately."

"Why not get the fag to do it?" `J' said. "He does just about everything
else for you except wipe your ass after ya take a dump."

I laughed. "Yeah? I think it's your ass he's after, not mine. I seen the
way he looks at your butt when you bend over."

"How's that?" `J' quipped, "you lookin' at my butt, too?"

"You wish, dude," I said. "C'mon, let's go out on the porch before those
shitheads drink up all the beer."

I suppose it was a bad idea to be drinkin' beer before a workout. Coach
would have had our asses if he knew. But, shit, ya had to break the rules
once in awhile, right?"

"Okay, you lowlifes," I said, "leave them beers there and let's get
pumpin', that is if you wanna. Otherwise you can get your lazy asses outa
here."

Everybody piled down into the basement. I started out with the free style
weights and Shawn spotted for me. Then we traded places. Phil and Brad were
waiting their turns. Shit, we'd have to expand if anybody else showed
up. Shawn had planted himself on the Bowflex and had Tod helping him adjust
the rods. Everybody was really gettin' into it and we must've lost track of
time. They were all sweating like crazy and wanted to take a dip in the
pool, but I nixed it. With all that crap floatin' around and no chemicals
in the water I didn't want anybody comin' out with a sore throat or earache
and then bitching that it was my fault. (Hey, you own a pool, you got a
social responsibility, dude!)

"Okay, girls," I said, "no pool today." After they gave me a collective
groan and started runnin' off at the mouth I told `em to come back tomorrow
and help me clean it up and then maybe, I'd let `em go in. At that point
everybody left for home to grab a shower.

********************************* I was sweatin' like a pig, but decided to
have one more beer and relax on the porch before I took my shower. I was
layin' there surfing the tube when I started to itch. Damn, it was right in
the middle of my back and I had a bitch of a time reaching it. I rubbed my
back against one of the pillows on the coach, but it didn't seem to
help. Shit, did something bite me? I hadn't seen any mosquitoes around, but
they may have gotten in through the back door. There wasn't no screen, and
those dumb assholes that were here every day were always leaving the back
door open.

As the itching got worse and began to spread over my back and shoulders I
decided it was time for that shower. Whatever it was, a nice warm shower
would take care of it.

"FUCK!" I shouted when I got out of the shower and looked in the
mirror. Now my arms were starting to itch. I couldn't help but scratch `em
and they were really starting to sting and get red. What the hell was going
on?

Half an hour later I got a call from `J' who said he had a bitch of a rash
that was itching like hell. "My mom said she thought it was poison ivy," he
said. "She said this was the worst time of the year to get it, and asked me
if I'd been in the woods or something."

"Well, listen," I said, "I got it too, and it ain't gettin' any
better. What the hell can you do to stop it?"

"Mom said, there ain't nothin' to stop it. She just went to the drug store
to get me some fuckin' lotion, but she said ya really just gotta live with
it like measles. She said it lasts like a week or so. Shit, Mike," he said,
"I don't think I can last a day."

I had to laugh, even though I was itching like hell myself. `J' sounded
just like a little kid that lost his favorite toy.

By that night I had definitely stopped laughing. I paid a visit to the drug
store myself and the druggist said yeah, it was poison ivy, and it looked
like a pretty bad case. Shit! He gave me something he said would help. Well
it did--for about five minutes.

When I went back to look in the mirror it looked like my whole body had
broken out in sores. The drug store dude had warned me not to scratch it or
it might get infected or even leave scars. Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! I was gettin'
more and more pissed off. How could I go to school tomorrow like
this. Everybody would start laughing. Hey, I had a rep to protect! Well, if
anyone did laugh they might not be itchin' but they'd be hurtin' damn
bad. I'd take care of that.

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

My plan had worked like a charm. The next day at school, Mike, Jimmy, Phil,
Tod, and Shawn all looked like they had been boiled in a big pot. They
looked absolutely miserable and absolutely ridiculous. And the beauty of it
was that they never made the connection to me.

Jimmy came up to me later that day and said: "Hey fag, you had this shit,
how did you get rid of it?"

Trying to keep a straight face I said, "Well, Sir, I just had to keep using
the lotion. I also used a warm wash cloth and that helped with the
itching." I almost started laughing (was I turning from a masochist to a
sadist?) so I excused myself, saying that I was late for class.

By noon most of the jocks in the school, except Terry and Bob, were
scratching like a bunch of monkeys. To make things worse (for them) they
started sprouting boners just like I had. If their faces hadn't already
been so red you can be sure almost all of them would have been blushing
while trying without much success to cover their hardons. Even their
girlfriends teased them, asking them why they were so excited, and telling
them that they wouldn't go near `em again until they could control
themselves. It looked like most of the school which, like me, looked at the
jocks with a mixture of admiration and intimidation were savoring their
embarrassment and humiliation. And me . . . I was king of the hill
(temporarily!) I could call any of them "Zits" right about now. Even though
I'd pay for it, I was really tempted to do it.

Coach was furious when he saw several of his teams practically out of
commission. After chewing them out for being so stupid, he told them that
all practices were off for now, but that he was going to work them twice as
hard when they got better. Of course, what they didn't realize was that
every time they went back to use the weight equipment (if they could stop
scratching) they re-infected themselves. I didn't know how long that sap
would last, but it probably would be active for awhile. I had smeared it on
pretty well. If that equipment, as I suspected, had really been stolen from
Bob Greenburg, the thieves were finally starting to pay their dues!

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

Terry and Bob had not really spoken to me in over eight months, and I had
pretty much dismissed the idea that we could ever be friends
again. Besides, I had been too busy (until recently!) serving Mike and his
buddies to even think much about the two fellows who had been so kind to me
at the beginning of my freshman year. But every once in awhile I would
think about them and wonder: What happened to change the way things were? I
didn't know. The only thing that was clear was that, beginning with that
camping trip, they started to use me as a sexual outlet just like Mike and
his buddies. But still . . . there was something different about Terry and
Bob, something . . . `good.' I know it sounds like a bunch of crap, but I
can't think of another way to describe it. I could see it in the apology I
got from Bob (even though it wasn't perfect) after he had forced himself on
me. I could see it in Terry's face---the look of shame and regret after he
tricked me into that hike; when he had reluctantly participated in my
degradation by Chris and Dave, something that probably went far beyond what
he intended.

I also think Terry and Bob were disappointed in me, by the way I allowed
myself to be so dominated by Mike and Jimmy, basically because I was afraid
of them. From that first day when they challenged me and I was unable (or
unwilling) to defend myself, I backed down again and again. I lowered
myself and humiliated myself whenever they wanted me to. They took
advantage of my weakness, but who was responsible for that weakness?---Me!

I learned many things about myself in my freshman year of high school. I
learned that as much as I hated to be degraded and humiliated, I craved and
needed to be dominated. I was pretty sure now that I was gay. It was the
guys--especially the jocks--in class who attracted me; they were the
objects of my sexual fantasies. At the same time I realized I was a
submissive, a "bottom" as they say. I needed a strong, assertive man to
control and dominate me. But I wanted someone to care about me and someone
I could care about in return. Could domination and caring exist in the same
person and relationship? Wasn't that a contradiction? That was something I
still didn't know yet. But I wanted to find out.

That was one of the reasons I finally decided to swallow my pride and call
Terry: to ask him for the help that he had once promised me; to ask him to
be true to his word. I wasn't looking for sex, but for friendship. When I
phoned Terry and first heard his voice I told him without hesitation that
it was Joe Crawford. I expected him to hang up immediately. Instead there
was a long period of silence. Then with a kind of weariness he said, "Yeah,
Joe, what can I do for you."

"I want to talk to you Terry. We haven't talked in a long time and I have
some things I need to ask you and to tell you." Then I held my breath.

"Okay," Terry said simply, "I'm real busy today, how about tomorrow? Why
don't I come by your house. What's a good time?"

I could hardly believe it. Terry Mahoney was coming to my house! "How about
5:00 pm after school. Uh, maybe you can stay for dinner and meet my folks."

"Sounds good, dude," Terry answered "Later . . ." he said. I heard the
click of the phone as he hung up.

The next day at school I ran into Mike and his buddies. They had gotten
over their poison ivy and felt like it was business as usual. "This
Saturday," Mike said, "I'm having something special for some of my
buddies. Be there. You know what to do."

"Yes, Sir," I said automatically, but thinking all the time about seeing
Terry later that evening. Could he help me? Was he willing to help me?

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

I was nervous when the door bell rang at about 5:20 pm. I had been
fidgeting around, wondering if he would really show up. When I opened the
door, it was Terry. I tried not to check him out, but he was looking so hot
with white jeans, brown loafers, and a tight yellow button-down
shirt. "Come on in," I stammered. "Would you like a beer or something to
drink?"

"Uh, just some bottled water is fine," Terry said, then added "if you got
it."

"Yeah, I'm sure we do," I said, glad for the opportunity to get out of his
presence for a moment to let my nerves calm down. Terry had looked a bit
uncomfortable himself. "Have a seat," I said as an afterthought.

I came back with two bottles of water, one for each of us. Mom came in to
meet Terry and told him that she was happy to have one of Joe's friends
(gulp!) over for dinner. After she left, the silence in the air was
heavy. I was determined, however, to speak, not wanting this opportunity to
slip by. I also didn't want to start by complaining about or even really
mentioning the situation with Mike and Jimmy---at least not for now.

"Terry," I began sincerely, "I miss our being friends. I miss seeing you
and Bob and being able to talk to each other. And the other thing I miss is
the chance to train with you and try out for the soccer team this fall. You
know, I was watching the team practice in the spring, and I'd give anything
to be able to be part of that team and maybe do some of the things that you
do."

Terry seemed to be taking all of this in. He looked at me carefully and for
a moment (which seemed like forever) he said nothing. "Joe, I miss seeing
you and I know that Bob does too. We did some things to you that I'm not
proud of. We both used you, and that was wrong. We actually stayed away
from you because we thought you didn't want to have anything more to do
with us. Funny, we couldn't help listening to the stories about you,
floating around the school. We saw the way you let Cunningham and those
other assholes treat you. And then there's that pink hair of yours . . ."

All of a sudden we both started laughing. We laughed and laughed until the
tears rolled down our eyes.

"Yeah," I finally said, "I guess I've been looking and acting pretty weird
lately. But I was never really mad at you except for the time that you
tricked me on that hike. I was so humiliated, I couldn't believe that was
the Terry I knew and trusted. But I saw that you didn't really mean to put
me down like Chris and Dave did. And I have a confession to make. I really
liked the sex part. I guess by now you've figured out I'm gay. I'm also
very submissive (I couldn't believe I was opening my heart to Terry so
quickly). I really enjoy giving head and even having some guy use abusive
language while I'm doing him. It's a turn on for me. I just don't like
being plain abused. Does that make any sense to you?"

"I don't know," said Terry. "I've never known anyone before with that kind
of attitude toward sex . . . I mean, finding domination and humiliation a
turn on, especially by another guy. I admit it freak me out. But like I
said to you once: it's your life not mine, and you should have a right to
feel anyway you want about sex or anything else. And ya wanna know
something else? Bob feels the same way. He feels terrible about something
that happened between the two of you. He absolutely refuses to tell me what
it was, but I know he's real sorry about it ."

I couldn't believe what Terry was saying. It was like a weight being lifted
from my shoulders. At the same time I hesitated. I had my hopes crushed so
many times before that I had to wait and see if all that Terry was saying
was really true or just another trap. He seemed to understand my
hesitation.

"Somethin' else I gotta tell you," Terry smiled, "and I know you won't
believe this one. Chris and Dave have also come around. They're basically
good guys who can sometimes act like jerks. They told me that things got
outta hand and that they never intend to bully you again. I guess maybe
they just got too much pride to admit it. But see for yourself. Talk to
them. I bet you're gonna get a completely different response from them now
then ya did before.

What was going on here, I wondered? It sounded like the whole world was
suddenly coming around to my side. It couldn't be. This didn't happen in
real life. Of course, what brought me down to earth was Mike and his
gang. If anything they were more abusive than ever, and now considered me
their personal slave and cumdump. And like I've said so many times, there
was a part of me that needed and enjoyed that kind of treatment. It was
like a drug for me. It was clear that I had two sets of feelings that
didn't match each other. Maybe they weren't meant to. I was determined,
though, to take one thing at a time. And for the first time since the
beginning of freshman year I felt that better days were coming.

I got my courage up, then, and asked Terry the crucial question. "Does all
of this mean that I can practice with you guys and try our for the team.

Terry smiled and shook his head yes. "One of the reasons we didn't ask you
sooner is that we had to replace all Bob's equipment. We knew you would
feel more comfortable at Bob's house than in a gym. We've just `opened for
business' and we want to work out a new schedule of training for you. So we
can sit down with Bob and come up with a plan."

I wondered, then, if I should tell them about my suspicions about Mike's
exercise equipment . . . or would that just make things worse? I decided to
hold off on that for now.

When Terry and I arrived at Bob's house the next afternoon I was not at all
sure how I felt. I had suppressed my anger at the way Bob had treated me
when I offered to help him. He had verbally and sexually assaulted me---he
had raped me---when all I was trying to do was be his friend. Did he
deserve a second chance? In a long talk we had later that evening he asked
for it and told me how much he regretted the way he had treated me. My
philosophy had now become "show me that you really mean it", and that would
take time. Meanwhile, we could still become exercise partners even if we
weren't exactly friends.

I knew instinctively that I would be facing, as Mike had said the other
day, `a hell of a year.' Mike, Jimmy and the others had been a big part of
my life this past year. Did I want that to continue, or did I want to try
and change it? That was one of the first and most urgent things I needed to
decide . . . and deal with. Did it worry me; you're damn right it did!
Mike, Jimmy, and Shawn might beat me within an inch of my life. But I knew
that I was beginning to get my act together. For the first time I was
really thinking about the choices I could make. I also began to hope that
if it came to a real confrontation with Mike and the others, that Terry and
Bob would be there to help me.

If I decided to do so, I could workout hard, build up and tone my body,
maybe even get on the soccer team; then I could fight for self-respect if I
needed to. I could refocus on my studies and work especially on the things
that interested me and at which I excelled, like science and math. I knew
that those two subjects could open up many possibilities for a future
career . . . Then I stopped in the middle of my resolution-making and asked
myself that same question that I would ask others: "Show me you that really
mean it."

I hadn't given up my sexual preferences and maybe I never would. Domination
and humiliation still turned me on sexually; I couldn't deny it, but now I
realized that those things couldn't be my whole life either. There were
other things that made me who I was, and I had a lot of exploring to do
before I found out what they were. With those thoughts in mind, I was
finally beginning to come to terms with my high school blues.

***Author's note: This chapter concludes my story. I know I could have
carried it further---brought Mike, Jimmy, and the others to justice,
perhaps---but I felt it best to end in this way. We all know that life is
full of ambiguities and loose ends. Bullies do their thing, but its not the
physical but the emotional scars that can mess up our lives. Joe represents
a person who is a survivor. (What else could ya call him after all the
things Mike and I put him through!) Obviously he doesn't have all the
answers---especially about himself. He's still conflicted about his
feelings. But he intends to keep going, and to find out as much as he can
about who he is and what he really wants. He has learned the hard way that
the world can be a hostile and cruel place. He needs to be strong, and he
needs to have friends that he can trust and stand by him.

This first story I've written for Nifty Archives has been one hell of a
trip and a real turn on for me. I kinda let my fantasies run wild and that
probably made the story a bit bizarre and disjointed in places. I do wanna
thank all my readers and especially those who took the time to write emails
of approval or disapproval. Special thanks to several Nifty authors who
have really encouraged me (and turned me on with their hot stories): Chaz,
Victoria Boy, SykQuinn, and Percxyz among others. See ya all the next time
around, guys!