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Message-ID: <33274asstr$1005005402@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: cute_n_single@hotmail.com (ozeboi69)
Subject: {ASSM} Bio of a Bully - Entry 1: New kid on the Block 
Date: Mon,  5 Nov 2001 19:10:02 -0500
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Below is Chapter 1 of a new and original kinky gay serial called "Bio
of a Bully".  Hope you enjoy it.  

Pictorial and text-only versions of this, further chapters and other
stories can be found at:

ozeboi69's Novel Fantasies: Tales of the Unaccepted
http://au.geocities.com/aussieotr/tales/


Bio of a Bully - Entry 1: New kid on the Block 
Written by ozeboi69

I am so fuckin' hot.  I mean it, no kidding.  It's not vanity or
nothin' like that.  It's true.  Plain and simple.  I am fuckin'
a-grade hot. It's like at school, everyone wants a piece of me, you
know.  The chicks giggle and gawk when I walk by and all the blokes -
they all wanna be just like me.  Even some of the teachers - no
bullshit! It's great being like this.  I love it.  I can have anything
I want.  Anything or anyone.  I have the look of a fuckin' angel, all
sweet and pure, and that makes everything so much easier. If I was
another guy, like a doppelganger or something, I'd grab that other
motherfucker and shove him down there on his knees, shoving my cock
into his mouth nice and hard, pumpin' and thrustin' and making him
swallow every last drop.  Jeeze, that'd be cool! When I look in the
mirror, especially after a steaming hot shower...I get so fuckin' horny!
Seeing myself there, you know - my reflection and all - all wet and
glistening `cause my skins still damp - wow!   But there's not another
me.  Just one.  But that's probably better, you know?  No competition.
I'm un-fuckin'-touchable. So I just check myself out in the morning,
or strip off at night and have a perv before hittin' the sack.
Mmmm-mmm.  Man!  What a bod.  I am so lucky. My Dad, see, he was a
footballer. Played pro till he busted his leg in three places.  Never
recovered when he couldn't go back to the game, so the ball turned to
booze and he tackled that instead.  My Mum, she gave up after a few
years and hit the road, but I didn't want to go with her.  I like it
here in Adelaide, it's my home.  So I stayed with Dad.  Twelve years
old, I think I was.  Yeah, twelve.  And Dad and me, we had a blast.
Two blokes living alone, doing what we want with no one nagging us.
Anyway, it's my Dad that I take after mostly see.  I've got him to
thank for my looks.   And now that I'm eighteen and filled out a bit -
you know, lost all that baby fat that some people get (not that I had
much - I've always been pretty hot) - well, I'm even better looking
than I was when I was a kid. Oh - now don't get me wrong.  It's not
all him.  Can't be - he was nowhere near a looker as me, but I can see
where most of me comes from. You know, the blond, wavy hair, my
height, build....you know? Speaking of my build, man am I lucky.  I work
out, right? - do a bit of jogging, go to the gym, all that kind of
stuff, but I don't have to, see?  It's all there.  All I'm doing is
building on it, making myself even more of a stud muffin. I love that
word - "stud muffin".  Makes me laugh.  Some chick at
school....Chrissie?....yeah, I think so.  Chrissie.  I heard her use it
once.  I was walkin' by, just finished my gym class.  So there I was
in my shorts  and sneakers - no shirt - only fags wear shirts in gym
class - they're too scared that showing their flesh will turn `em on
and make `em obvious, even if they already are.  Anyway, so I'm
walking past these chicks and I hear I them talking....whispering
between themselves, like they didn't want me to hear or nothing.  But
I did. "Ohhhh," one of them says, "Check him out, there's Justin!"
"Oh, baby," says another, "No shirt.  I like it!" "Yeah, he's a real
stud muffin."  That was Chrissie who said that, but I think she was
being sarcastic.  I know she liked me.  And she didn't complain when I
broke into her bedroom her that night and had her.  Ha!  Not that she
could with my cock rammed so far in her mouth that she couldn't make a
sound!   Anyway, she always watched me whenever I walked pasT and
stuff, but she was being sarcastic that day.  Tryin' to impress her
friends by being cool.  Mind you, after my visit to her bedroom...she
moved schools and I never saw her again, but that was cool.  Didn't
want to anyway.  I hate the way sheilas always rave on about love and
commitment and all that crap.  You bonk `em once and they expect you
to marry them.  But I think that's why she moved schools, see?  She
couldn't bear to face me again cause she knew I wasn't interested.  It
was just a root, that's it.  I don't need anyone...well, except maybe
for a good fuck every now and then, and boy have I had some of them!
You see, I'm straight, right?  Don't get me wrong there.  I'm not a
faggot.  I hate faggots.  There's only good for forcin' them down on
you and making them suck you off.  But I'm not interested in girls
either.  I don't want a girlfriend - they're too much trouble, nagging
all day, getting a headache at night.  Nah...not for me.  Chicks are for
fucking and fags are for sucking.  For sucking me, that is, not the
other way round.  Fucking and sucking.  Kinda rhymes, doesn't it!
Anyway, that's my motto. But enough of that shit.  Suppose you want to
know more about what I do and stuff, huh?  Well, I'm a high school
student.  Year 11. I won't tell you the school though - don't want any
queers reading this and showing up at the gate hoping to catch me in
my gym shorts.  Fuck the lot of you, I say.  If you're a queer and
reading this, then fuck off.  Stick your nose up someone else's arse
and leave my business to myself.   As for the rest of you, you're
probably wondering how I can be eighteen years old and in year 11.
Well, you see, I've never been that smart.  Study is for pussies.  I'm
like my Dad, you know - an action man.  I get full grades in stuff
like gym, and electives like metalwork and carpentry.  But the other
stuff?  I mean, who gives a fuck about the American civil war?  They
got the whole fuckin' thing wrong anyway, fighting for freedom and all
that crap.  What a load of horseshit!  Let the bastards do what they
fucking want, alright?  Who the fuck were the Yankees to push their
views onto the south anyway? Personally, I think the southerners got
it right.  Not about blacks and all that.  I don't have any problem
with niggers, so long as they're not queer.  But slavery?  Hey - I
like it, you know.  Get some pissant little fuckwit to do all the work
and leave me my time to do what I want.  They got fed and sheltered
and stuff, so what's the problem?  Most of them probably didn't have
that much brains between them anyway.  Let them free and they would've
starved without help. I've gone off again, haven't I?  I do that, you
know.  My mind races so fast sometimes that I can't keep up with it.
Too much to think about see, like who I'm gonna take next or what I'm
gonna do after school....you know how it is. So anyway, I'm in year 11.
Got kept back see, once in primary school and once in high school.
Fuckin' year 7.  Can you believe it?  They kept me back in grade 7
`cause they thought I wasn't ready for high school.  And then the
cunts kept me back in year 8 too.  Boy was I pissed about that!  Two
fucking years in a row! But it's okay.  I got my own back.  That
bastard, Mr Green, my homeroom teacher - fucking faggot, he was - he
didn't know what hit him.  I waited for him after parent/teacher night
and got him in the car park.  It was dark, see?  Most people had gone.
He didn't fuckin' know what had hit him but I tell ya, we were calling
him Mr Blue after that. I waited till he came out, see?  Watching him
in the classroom through the window.  When I saw him pack up, I went
over to his car and hid and when he got there I fuckin' pounced, man.
It was brilliant.  He went down faster than a prostitute's undies.
Broke his nose on impact.  Then I kicked him a few times in the gut,
stomped on his face and that was it.  Short and sweet.  The prick lay
there bleeding and groaning, and I took off before anyone came along.
Served him right for keeping me back. So anyway, that's why I'm so old
and still have a year to go.  I hate school, except for the fact that
everyone fucking drools over me.  My old man won't let me leave - it's
the one thing we disagree on - but I guess it's not that bad.  I hate
school but at least I get my way there.  I've got the freedom to do
what I want, when I want and being in school gives you the advantage
of people putting bad stuff down to the exuberance of youth.  Not that
I'm caught out too often!  And like, when you make someone suck cock
and stuff....they're not gonna tell.  They're too scared about what
other people will think of them, and they know that if they ever
dobbed on me, their fuckin' life wouldn't be worth living. The other
good thing is that, being eighteen, I'm older than most of the other
kids.  A few of them in their last year are eighteen, but they don't
really count. They've got nothing on me anyway.  In my Junior year
like I am, the other kids look up to me, like I'm the oldest and
stuff. I'm a natural leader anyway, you know?  My friends follow me
blindly, doing what I tell them, scared of making me upset.  That's
pretty cool.  I like them being scared of me.  I like being in control
and one look from me can make them pee their wimpy little pants.  It's
cool. There was this one guy once who tried to stand his ground.  He
came to our school from St Clair's, a private Catholic school.
Thought he was hot shit.  Did lots of weight lifting and stuff;
thought he was tough.  I showed him though.  It was one of them times
when it was really worthwhile, you know?  He wasn't no faggot - he
could take down nearly anyone if he wanted, but not me.  I like a good
challenge and he was one of them, though not as much as that other
faggot's big brother. Now that was a really cool challenge.  I almost
lost that one - thought I was going to, too.  But that's another story
for later. This Catholic boy.  His name was Fab, short for Fabio, an
Italian guy.  Good bod.  But he had all these poofy ideas about
humanity and pacifism and stuff, you know?  Like the stuff they teach
in Church. 
Anyway, Fab came to our school and like all new kids, I had to check
him out, and he was hot.  Not as hot as me, but still hot.  He was in
my English class, looking like a right nerd - glasses and a tie.  Made
a few of the girls look twice.  I remember the first day I saw him
looking like that.  I thought, "Oh yeah, he looks easy pickings.
Could be fun seeing how much those huge fuckin' lips of his can take."
And that fact that he made a few of the girls - not all of them - look
at him instead of me, well....that just made my blood boil, you know.
So I knew I had to take him on. He was really rakish, I thought.  He
wore baggy clothes and I thought he was hiding skin and bones, not
muscle.  Man, was I wrong!  Not that it mattered in the end. 
I cornered him after school and told him that he owed me for stealing
my thunder.  Well...not exactly.  I told him some other crap, but said
that I would meet him in the park on Saturday, one-on-one, to teach
him a lesson.  He said that he wasn't going to fight me and that he
didn't know what he'd done wrong, but he didn't look scared or
nothing.  I told him he had no choice and if he didn't show up then
I'd kick his arse on the Monday after school in front of everyone. So
he showed up on Saturday like I told him.  I'd picked a secluded part
of the park where no one went, hidden behind trees and things, so no
one could see him giving me a head job.  Not that there's anything
wrong with forcing a guy to do that, but sometimes people don't
understand, you know.  Don't want them thinking that I'm a faggot. The
grass was wet from the rain the night before, but it was an okay day.
The sun was out but there was a cool breeze, so I wore my gym shorts
and no shirt.  I like a cool breeze touching my skin - it turns me on
big time.  So Fab shows up in a tracksuit, right on time like a good
little Catholic boy. "Fuckin' pussy!"  That was how I greeted him,
lookin' at him decked out in all his clothing.  "What's the matter?
Afraid to meet me like a man?  Are you a faggot or something?"  I knew
he wasn't, but it was good saying that, just to piss him off. "What's
your problem?" he asked.  "I haven't done anything against you?  Why
do you want to fight me?" "'Cause I hate you, that's why," I said.  I
crouched down, as though it were like a serious wrestling match or
something and said, "Come on." He looked at me for a minute then
sighed and peeled off his top.   
"Fine," he said. I tell ya, man, it threw me for six.  Looking at him
standing there - his body was nothing like I'd imagined.  I thought he
was like a weed or something, but when he took off his top it was
like, wow!  And I knew he'd be tough, but that just excited me even
more.  I couldn't wait to shove my cock in his mouth and make him take
it.  The tougher they are, the harder they fall - isn't that what they
say? I checked him out, looking him up and down to size him out.  Fab
just stood there, waiting for me start, which was the dumbest thing.
Never let your opponent get in the first swing.  Puts you at a
disadvantage if he tackles you first. 
So anyway, I sized him up and was impressed.  He was thin, but it was
all muscle, with a nice, light coat of hair on his chest.  His skin
was pale, like it hadn't seen much sun, but that didn't shock me.
It's like I said earlier about fags and Catholic boys being scared to
take off their shirts and be a real man. I liked the chest hair he
had.  I didn't have any but I always thought it made you more of a man
to have a bit of hair, you know?  Not that it bothered me being smooth
and muscular.  At least I had the muscles.  That made me just as much
a man as anyone Anyway, I looked him over and he stood there waiting.
When I was done, I stepped towards him and was impressed that he
didn't take a step back.  Most guys back off, so I knew he was
confident and that made the fight even more exhilarating. "Time to eat
dirt," I said and I jumped forward to grab him.  But instead, the
bastard caught me around the wrists and took me off guard.  I wasn't
used to anyone being ready like that and before I knew it, he had
twisted my hands so far back that I fell to my knees.  My hands were
pinned together above my head, my back arched as he held me there,
looming over me like he was some kind of undefeatable God or
something. I gritted my teeth, straining against his hold, but he held
me fast, determined not to let me get up.   Then suddenly, he stepped
backwards and let me go, making me fall face first into the wet grass.
He sat on top of me before I could turn around and grabbed my arms,
pulling them up and back, pinning me to the ground.  I gasped in
surprise.  I couldn't move.  And I could feel the ground, all soggy
and stuff from the rain, rubbin' into my chest and making me all wet
and dirty.  It was kinda a nice feeling, really, now that I think back
on it, but at the time, I was too fuckin' pissed off to notice. "Give
up," he said.  "I don't want to hurt you.  Let's just call it quits
and no one will know what happened." "Cunt!" I cried out.  "I'll
fuckin' kill you!"  But there was nothing I could do to break free.
The bastard knew it and he twisted my arms harder behind me, making me
cry out in pain, riding me like I was a fuckin' surfboard with
handlebars or something.  It was the first time I had ever started to
lose a fight and no one had ever made me yell before like that, so I
got really angry and was even more determined not to let him win.  I
was the undisputed champion.  No one could touch me.  And now he was
making me the wimp and I hadn't even handled him in the slightest. I
gritted my teeth harder and held on.  He would get bored with the move
quickly if I did nothing and then he'd let go and I'd get him.  But it
seemed to last forever. When he finally let go, I twisted around
underneath him but he quickly grabbed my hands again and pinned them
to the ground above me. 
"Give up," he said again.  "This is pointless.  Give up and we'll call
it even." "Fuck you!" I growled.  My back arched as I tried to raise
my hands, but he pushed me down with his body weight, holding me there
still.  My chest was all wet and covered in bits of grass and I could
see him trying to make sure that none of it got onto him, `cause he
wanted to stay as clean as he fuckin' could, probably so his old man
or fucking mother didn't find out what he was doing. And then I
remembered the moves I'd seen on the WWF and I kicked up my knees,
hitting him in the back with them.  He lost his balance and I pulled
my hands free, throwing him off me. Before he could get up, I
leapfrogged off the ground and landed on him, slamming my elbow into
his stomach.  He doubled over and cried out in pain.  Now that was a
sound I liked to hear.   
I jumped on top of him fully, pushing him from his side onto his back,
but before I could grab him, he swung an arm up and hooked the
motherfucker right under my throat, pushing me over and off him.  Then
he rolled away from me and got up onto his knees, just like I did. 
I could see that he was really angry now.  He's eyes were wide open
and I could almost see the adrenaline pumping through his veins.  He
tried to attack me this time and when we caught each other in a power
vice, I made sure I pushed my chest into his so he'd get all the
fuckin' wet grass over him too, like it was on his back now. We held
each other hard, both of us pushing against each other trying to see
who was the strongest.  He didn't have the advantage this time of
catching me off guard, but he still held fast.  I was fuckin' pushin'
and straining, trying to force the bastard back, but he wouldn't'
budge, trying to do the same fucking thing back at me. So we stayed
there pressed against each other in the power vice for ages, man,
muscles ripping at the seams and it was a real endurance test to see
who could hold out the longest.  I knew it would be me.  It always
fucking is - I've got a real good tolerance for pain - kinda enjoy a
bit of it really - and when it comes to inflicting it on others,
there's nothin' that's gonna stop me. So eventually, I could see he
was beginning to weaken.  Bit by bit, I could feel his arms starting
to move backwards and felt his chest pressing harder into mine as his
back started to arch.  I could feel the hair on his chest, all soggy
from me, tickling me a bit and I liked that feeling, knowing that it
was me making him press his bod into me. 
And then, when I felt him give way a bit more, I twisted around,
bringing his right hand up over his head and forcing the fucker to the
ground.  He was still on his knees, so when I let go of his hands,
they hit the ground first followed by his head.  How cool was that -
making him head butt the fuckin' ground?! I didn't give the prick a
chance to get up again.  I dropped on him real hard with my elbow in
his back, making him flatten out completely on the ground.  We were
both covered in wet grass now and the cool air was making my nipples
as hard as my cock.  I sat on his back, bringing my knees up and
hooked his arms back over them.  Then I grabbed the cunt around the
throat with my arm and held him there, choking him.  I think on the
WWF they call it a Boston Crab or a Camel Clutch or something like
that, but it's a fuckin' cool move, whatever it's called, `cause
there's fuck all they can do to get out of it, and if they stay in it
for long enough, they pass out.  How fuckin' cool is that?! Anyway, I
didn't ask him if he wanted to give up.  It wasn't an option I was
gonna let the fucker have.  So I held him there for a while and then
with my free hand I reached around and started hitting him in the
chest too, just to make him suffer a bit more.  They weren't that
hard, the blows, `cause it's hard to get any force into your fist when
you're hitting someone from that angle.  It's kinda awkward, you know?
But that was okay - it didn't need to be hard.  I was only doing it
for effect, to make him suffer that little bit more.  Shit - I wasn't
trying to kill him or nothing, just make him see who was top dog. I
got bored after holding him there so long, so I finally let the fucker
go.  He didn't move much, laying there under me all limp, head to one
side, arms outstretched, breathing really heavy.  I knew he was a
goner so I got up and walked around him, circling like a vulture. I
grabbed his hair, pulling him to his feet, then decided that maybe he
hadn't had enough after all.  Someone as tough as him needed a much
fuckin' tougher lesson than normal, so I grabbed him in a reverse
headlock. Fab wrapped his arms around my waist, trying to break free.
I barely felt it, he was so fuckin' weak now, but the cunt still
managed to push me back against a tree.  Fuckin' incredible!  I don't
know how he did it.  Must have been one last surge of adrenaline or
something.  But whatever it was, I made sure it didn't happen again.
I dropped to a crouch, slamming his throat into my knee as we went
down. When I let him go, he rolled over onto the ground gagging.  My
move was brilliant, if I do say so myself.  I'd crushed his windpipe
and he held onto his throat gasping for breath, rocking back and
forth.  I grabbed his hair again and pulled him up to his knees,
pushing his face into my crotch. "Suck me," I said. He shook his head
as much as he could with me holding onto him like that.  He was proud.
I liked that.  It made my cock go even harder when they resisted. 
I tightened my grip on his hair, making him wince, and said it again. 
"Suck me, you fucking faggot, or I'll fuckin' ripped your ears off." I
pushed his face into my crotch harder and growled, "Suck me" a third
time. The prick was determined though and he tried getting up from his
knees.  I let go of his hair with one hand and punched him hard on his
back, knocking him back down so he was kneeling again. 
"You fuckin' suck me off or so help me, I knock you into tomorrow."
Fab whimpered and I saw his hands reached up to pull down my shorts.
I yanked his head back and made him look up at me. 
"With your mouth, you little pussy.  Pull it out with your mouth." I
thrust his face back into me and smiled.  I loved seeing him helpless
against me.  Fab was good, his strength made that moment all the more
sweet.  It's like, if there's no challenge, then you just do it, you
know?  But when you gotta work for it, like with Fab - then it's real
special and I cum all the more and fuckin' drown the bastards! I felt
his teeth grab the top of my shorts and pull them down a bit.  My cock
was rock hard now and fuck did it fly out!  It hit him in the face
like a fuckin' wet fish slap or something!  And when I felt the cool
air touch it, man did I go apeshit!  I didn't think I could get
hornier than I already fuckin' was! "Take it," I ordered. Fab
whimpered again, just like all my cocksuckers did, but he took it like
I told him.  I pushed it in further, making him choke and thrust
faster and faster till I came in his mouth.  Then I grabbed the top of
his head and his jaw and forced his mouth shut so he had to swallow
it.   
After that, Fab avoided me as much as he could.  When I did see him at
school, he tried to be defiant but I could see that he was afraid of
me.  He thought that I had won by a fluke and challenged me one more
time, but now that I knew how strong he was, I was ready for it and
quickly made him suck cock again.   
 From that day on, he treated me with the respect I deserve.  I still
make him suck me off every now and then, `cause it turns me on so much
to have such a strong guy on his knees pleasing me with no choice,
unlike the other wimps that service me sometimes, but other than that,
I let him join my gang of friends and he hung out with me and them as
much as I let him. I made him buy contacts and get rid of the glasses
so that he didn't look so much like a nerd.  And after a while, the
chicks realised that he belonged to me and lost respect for him.  They
still drooled over me lots and once I put Fab in his place, they soon
forgot about him and went back to dreaming about me only - just like
it should be. Talking about the kids at school, it reminds me of that
football coach, Mr Agliadis.  He was here way back at the beginning of
the year, though not any more.  He had to leave once I'd showed him a
thing or two.  Tried to get me onto the football team, you see?  I
wasn't interested though.  I hate football - it's a game for fags.
All that hugging and arse slapping, and chasing around after another
man's ball.  Sure, society says it's a "man's" game, but I reckon it's
for faggots.  It's like "scrums", you know?  It's just an excuse for a
group hug.  Hippie-lovin' crap if you ask me. Anyway, he wanted me to
join the fuckin' football team and when I said "no", he kept asking
me, again and again, like a broken fuckin' record.  But I soon showed
him though.  I found out what he really wanted and taught him what
it's like to mess with me. That's the problem with being so fucking
hot.  Everyone wants a piece of you and there's only so much I can
give, you know?  Doesn't matter if it's another kid, a teacher, or
some faggot's big brother.  They all want the same thing.  And I'm the
man to give it to them, but one at a time, you know?  I can only do so
much to please my adoring fans.  They all fuckin' want me, but they
just have to take a number and wait. That coach, Mr Agliadis - now
there was a hot bod too.  I like older men.  They've got the
definition, and the domination that I like to take away from them.
And when you do that once, you've done it for life, `cause they know
they're not supposed to do it with students.  Doesn't matter how old
they are. But right now, I gotta get to school.  Geography is first
today - fuckin' learning about "this goes with that" and that strong
winds mean more than a ripper fart. I wanna tell you about Mr
Agliadis.  He was a fuckin' hot session, he was.  It's like that
faggot's brother.  Man!  Was that Awesome with a capital `A', or
what?!  I've had so many fuckin' encounters that it's unbelievable.
And that's just with other people - not counting my sessions with
myself in front of a mirror. I'll tell you about them next time, when
I've got more time.  Right now, the old man is yellin' out for me to
move my arse.  Gotta go.  Fuck I hate this school biz sometimes. 
Outta here.


Further chapters and other stories at
ozeboi69's Novel Fantasies: Tales of the Unaccepted
http://au.geocities.com/aussieotr/tales/

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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