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"You know exactly what I'm talking about." I scoffed, "It's about maintaining the hierarchy." "Do you think bullying me makes you more of a man?" he questioned. "I'm warning you," I said, my fists clenched. "You don't respond to the point, but attempt to intimidate me." "You better watch your mouth or I'll shut it permanently," I threatened. "No, but it is interesting that's the first thing that popped into your head," he observed pedantically, his smug smile so much more confident and brave in his own home. "Are you calling me a faggot?" I asked, anger bubbling inside me instantly. "Psychological research demonstrates rather clearly that people who bully others do so because they are either afraid they will become them, or they are insecure about their true sexuality." I could absolutely break him in two without even raising a sweat. "Excuse me?" I asked, the question ludicrous. I quickly grabbed up my stuff and put it back in my bag.Ĭecil asked, surprising me, just as I was about to leave, "Why are you so afraid of me?" I was putting my books back in my backpack when I stumbled and spilt all the contents on the floor. I have to admit his mom, who insisted I call her Shelly, had one of the nicest asses I had ever seen. His mom actually baked us cookies and brought us soft drinks. Cecil was very patient and had a crazy ability to show me more than one way to look at a problem. The study session went surprisingly well.
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Hard to believe two normal, good looking people could have reared such a flaming homo. I met Cecil's parents when I arrived, and they seemed pretty normal, his mom was surprisingly hot. I thought he might have been blushing, but that would be impossible. I asked what he meant and he just repeated, "I'm just saying, be very careful." It was our quarterback, Damon, who warned me with no sign of joking, "Be careful around him." I took it in stride because I was a man's man and could take the ribbing, just like I usually gave it. "Better keep your ass cheeks clenched," "Don't bend over," and "Don't fall in love," were all thrown my way.
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The guys even gave me a hard time when I made the mistake of telling them I was being tutored by Cecil. I was hardly in the mood to be doing schoolwork, particularly with a faggot like Cecil. It was his way or the highway, he had the balls to enforce it, and that was how I ended up at the faggot's house on a Saturday afternoon.still hungover after our big semi-final victory in district playoffs 36-13. He suggested a tutor and set me up with his brightest math student, Cecil.Ĭoach, who believed in academics as much as he did football, wasn't someone you argued with. That particularly embarrassed me because my coach doubled as a math teacher, and he stressed that I needed at least a sixty to get the top scholarships and I was at a forty-seven at midterm, not even passing, never mind a sixty. Lastly, although I was a great English student, strong in history and decent in the sciences, I really struggled in math. it's just the nature of evolution that the best-looking people normally end up together). I was the star linebacker of our team, had already been offered a dozen scholarships to some of the top football college programs in the country and was dating the hottest girl and head cheerleader in the school (yes it was a cliché, but it was true. I should note before I was turned and became a complete submissive faggot, I was the most respected and popular guy in school.
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The ultimate irony is that he would end up turning me gay. Once I'd finished beating on him (careful not to leave any telltale marks), he'd just look down his nose at me as if asking, "are you finished, because that was stupid and boring," and saunter away as if he'd put me in my place. What right did a beanpole nerd fag like him have to strut around acting superior? I literally wanted to beat him straight. He didn't seem to care what others thought and that only pissed me off even more. But mostly he brought the constant teasing, bullying and ridicule on himself. And his parents hadn't helped any either by naming him Cecil. I'd picked on him as far back as I could remember he was just a weird, skinny, uncoordinated loser who didn't remotely fit into a southern Texas town where football was the true gospel. I mean the guy dressed constantly in pink, his wrist was so bent he wouldn't be able to catch a basketball if his life depended on it and his voice was so high-pitched we all figured he had a cunt. This faggot deserved all the public humiliation he endured at our hands. Thanks to: Tex Beethoven, Robert, thor_p, and Wayne for editing. Summary: Straight football bully blackmailed and bent over.