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← Prologue
2. School Circus →

1. Trouble

James Hiwatari%s's Photo   James Hiwatari, 07 May 2012

 

Mr. Smith and the other teachers took us to their office, forcing us to pass through corridors crowded with students. Jean seemed to be enjoying the attention, even though we were laughed and pointed at by a most of them. He waived, winked and sent flying kisses to any guy who acknowledged his existence. I, on the other hand, was hoping the Earth would swallow me before the situation became even more humiliating. At least none of my friends was there.

As we entered the office Jean went straight to the comfy two-seat sofa in the far corner. He did it so casually it seemed like he had sat there many times already, though this could not possibly be the case because he said today was his first day in school.

“Come here, Oscar!” he beamed, pointing to the seat next to him before any of the teachers could say anything. “Let’s face their wrath together!” And he made a gesture indicating that ‘face their wrath together’ might as well be a repetition of what we had done in the toilet. My legs automatically moved to do exactly as he said, despite my screaming brain telling me to turn away and sit as far from him as possible. I sat beside Jean, maybe too close for comfort, and turned pointedly to Mr Smith, afraid of meeting the blond’s gaze. The other two teachers looked at Mr Smith, but the man let his head drop without saying anything. The room was quiet for a few moments before my Geography teacher finally spoke, head still low.

“I’m sorry about all of this, Oscar. I know none of this is your fault.” To say I was surprised was an understatement. How could it not be my fault? As far as I knew, it was the guy who stuck his cock where it did not belong that always got the blame. “I warned Jean not to do something like this on school grounds, but looks like he didn’t listen.”

“I did, Edgar! I tried really hard!” The boy in question exclaimed, raising his hand as if he was in a classroom. His facial expression was completely innocent, very different from what it had been until now. “And I managed until lunch!” he carried on, still with no apparent malice. “But then Oscar was there, and he was such a Greek God of sexy perfection that even with all my willpower I couldn’t resist him!”

Astonished, I let my eyes dart towards Jean, forgetting for a moment that I was trying to avoid eye contact. His comment about my sex appeal made it impossible not to look. He could only be joking; I was definitely far from being a Greek God, let alone a sexy one. I was too skinny and my hair was too dry and I had a huge scar near my left eye that always made people uncomfortable. I was far from being anything perfect, but Jean did not seem to be lying. As if to prove he really meant it, he let his hand that was not in the air slip behind me to squeeze my ass. That hand then moved around, going up and down my back.

At that point I was vaguely aware that he and Mr Smith were still talking, but I could not pay them any attention. Having Jean’s hand so close to my body again made me think of too many things at once, to such an extent that I could not concentrate on anything at all. His touch made me feel good, but Jean was a guy. Guys were not supposed to make me feel that way. It was…unnatural. Weird. Wrong.

I had a girlfriend. We had been together for ages and I really liked her. We had been naked together and I had enjoyed playing with her boobs. I had been a perfectly normal fifteen year-old until Jean appeared and messed everything up. I lost my virginity to him. My girlfriend and I had been waiting for the right moment, building up for the perfect first time, but I managed to waste all that effort on an impulsive act of unexplainable lust. Why did I do it? Why did Jean’s hand feel so good resting at the hem of my trousers? Why did it feel so… right?

As if reading my thoughts, Jean’s hand squeezed my ass again. That was enough to pull me from my internal turmoil and back to the situation at hand, at least for the time being.

“When we get home tonight we’ll talk properly, Jean. I’ll call Oscar’s parents now.” Mr Smith walked to a table near by where the telephone was, keeping his head lowered and his shoulders slumped all the time. I had never seen him look so miserable before. His next words were directed to me, in a tone that would not be out of place in funerals. “I’m sorry to have to do this, Oscar. You are one of my best students and I don’t want to get you into trouble, but I have to follow school regulations. Can you give me a contact number for your parents?”

‘I’m digging my own grave,’ was the inevitable thought that crossed my mind as I gave him my father’s mobile. Knowing my parents, it was an entirely plausible prospect. They were not bad people, but they were very strict about discipline and doing things the way they were supposed to be done. It had been five years since the last time I had been seriously punished, but the scale of my wrongdoing then had been much smaller. Now they would probably skin me alive, if not worse.   

I felt my entire body heat up as Mr Smith told my father everything. He was trying to emphasise that Jean had taken the initiative and that it was not exactly my fault, but I could tell he was not being very convincing. As the conversation carried on my teacher’s expression went from hopeful to disappointed, and his tone changed from business-like formal to slightly pleading. What else could I expect? He was telling Dr. Joseph Schubert that his son had had sex with a male student. If anything, I should be glad Mr Smith had not hung up after the first few seconds of my father’s eloquent spitefulness.  

“Hey, don’t worry.” Jean whispered in my ear, taking the opportunity to caress my thigh with one hand and tug the front of my jeans with the other. “If all comes to worse you can come live with me in Edgar’s house!”

“You live with Mr Smith?” I asked, glad for the distraction. My teacher’s piteous attempt at keeping a dialogue with my father was beginning to make me nauseous.  

“Yeah, he sort of legally abducted me two years ago. He has a son almost as hot as you, though, so it’s not too bad.” I was not sure what to make of that. Actually, I probably did not want to think about what he really meant. “It’s his birthday today. You did a great job ruining it!” He winked.

“Didn’t Mr Smith say this was all your fault?”

“Well, you were being the embodiment of sexiness in an inconspicuous place where any horny teenager could get his hands on you. It was kind of your fault too.”

Mr Smith hung up then. He told me to get my things and only return to school next Monday. I left the room pointedly refusing to look at Jean. I was trying not to think about his last words, about my share of the blame in this whole mess. I knew that, as far as my father was concerned, I would probably take it all; and that was all that mattered.

(...)

My parents were still at work when I got home. Walking from school I tried to clear my mind and prepare for the confrontation that was about to come, and at home I did everything I could to chill out: watched the most ridiculous TV programs, read some pointless comics, ate the last piece of cake still in the fridge. Yet my thoughts somehow always returned to Jean and the way his hands felt against by body, or the way his ass felt around my cock. I should not be having these thoughts, I should not be enjoying these thoughts; but the growing bulge in my trousers indicated otherwise.

Thankfully I had time to take a cold shower before my parents arrived.

(...)

I was in the living room. Mum usually arrived earlier, so that by the time dad came dinner would be almost ready. The fact that they arrived together that day probably meant Dad had told her, and that they would both lash out at me like two birds of prey going for a defenceless mouse.

“Your teacher phoned me today when I was at work.” My father began as soon as he set foot in the room. Mum was standing behind him. “Can you think of a reason he would do that?”

“I…”

“We had a very interesting conversation, Mr Smith and I.”  

“Dad…” I tried to get up from the sofa, but was prevented from doing so by my father’s hand rising in the air. He was standing in front of me, making me look up to him like I was a little boy again. When he spoke he sounded calm and controlled, but his words were drenched in sarcasm. As a child I had heard plenty of that tone. My memories of these occasions were never pleasant ones.

“He told me that my wonderful boy, the star student who always handed his homework in time and never skipped a class, was found in the company of a certain juvenile delinquent today. Do you have any idea of what they were doing?”

“No, dad, I…” he stopped my pathetic attempt of an excuse by sending me a warning look.

“No? Oh, that’s intriguing. I would imagine one would remember having sexual intercourse in the school premises, particularly if said lewd activities took place within the last six hours.”

“I didn’t…”

“Do you know what else he said?”

After so many failed attempts at defending myself, I did not try to say anything this time. I was kind of hoping dad would continue with his shaming monologue, that he would spare me the humiliation of admitting I had lost control and fucked another guy. Unfortunately I was mistaken. Joseph Schubert said nothing else. This time he wanted me to answer and confirm to him that I had thrown away fifteen years of his strict upbringing to indulge in an unnatural and disgraceful act.

“Yes, I know.” I admitted, lowering my head. Dad raised one of his thick blond eyebrows and mum moved to stand to his left. She was not as tall as him (dad was a staggering 6’4’’) but from my sitting position she still seemed taller than she should have been. It was she who spoke next.  

“Well, then, care to talk us through your school day? I bet it was very special, wasn’t it?”

My legs, hands, and even my teeth began to shake violently. I closed my hands into fists and clenched my jaw to make it stop. Noticing this, dad’s smug face changed to reflect his pride for the battle already won, while mom’s stern gaze could pass for one of disgust.

“It was not my fault. He came on to me and made me do those things. I couldn’t help it.” That was what Mr Smith had said, that it had all been Jean’s fault. I had to believe him, even if I knew my father did not.

“Interesting,” Dad caressed his well-trimmed goatee. Mom’s eyes narrowed. “There are three things in your confession that make me want to give you the worst beating ever known to mankind. If you can guess what those three things are, I might settle for something slightly less drastic”.

My father spoke so nonchalantly he could have been inviting me to eat ice cream in the park, just like he did when I was a little child. And just like then I knew he would carry out his threat in full. I knew that if I did not say anything he would just grab me and take me to my room. But still my mouth refused to open, my jaw clenching even more.

“Right then, let’s go.” With one quick movement his strong had had latched onto my arm, gripping it so tightly I thought it would break. He yanked me forward, making me trip and fall against his chest.

“I fucked a guy! I broke school rules! I’m forbidden to show up until next week!” I finally screamed, the words propelled forward by the sharp pain radiating from my arm. He grabbed my other arm and forced me back a little so that I could face him.

“You got the third one wrong.” He declared, lowering himself a little as his hand took hold of my jaw, forcing me to stare straight into his eyes. My whole body was shaking by that point. “The correct answer is: not only did you break school rules to engage in lustful deviance, but you let yourself be seduced like a gullible girl!” His other hand also let go of my arm to slap my cheek, making me taste blood soon afterwards. “This is incomparably worse than disobeying school rules or going against the laws of nature, Oscar. No son of mine shall be so shamefully demeaned.” He threw me back against the sofa. Such was his strength that I hit my head against the wall behind it.

“This is truly disgraceful, Oscar!” my mother declared, in the same tone my father had used. “We did not educate you to become a sissy. I’m extremely disappointed in you.”

“I’m going to force your new-found femininity out of you even if it is the last thing I do.” My father declared. Without warning, he grabbed me by the arms again and led me to my room. The pain in my head was so disorienting, I stumbled a few times on the way, but he kept pushing and did not allow me to recover my footing. I was practically dragged into the room and thrown on my bed. I heard the door close behind me and felt my heart stop.



Thank you Frosty for editing this thing after so long! I hope updates from now on can be more frequent. And I hope people have nor completely forgotten this story yet! 


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Copyright © 2011 James Hiwatari; All Rights Reserved.

← Prologue
2. School Circus →