Bully For Me

Bully For Me 1 to 4

By His story, buff

The author prefers not to display any email address. Please direct any feedback to puericil@hotmail.com and it will be forwarded

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This story is intended for ADULTS ONLY. It contains explicit depictions of sexual activity involving minors. If you are not of a legal age in your locality to view such material or if such material does not appeal to you, do not read further, and do not save this story.
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BULLY FOR ME! CHAPTER 1

by His story, buff

It was one year before my Bar Mitzvah that I first had strange thoughts about my coming manhood and bizarre urges that filled my mind with both dread and delight. My name is Kenny Lichtman and in 1958 I was a bright Jewish boy who had skipped a grade in middle school so that when I entered high school as a freshman, I was only 12 years old. I really looked the part of, what we would today call, a geek or nerd. Back then the appropriate names were either 'weirdo', 'odd-ball' or 'sissy', so the upper-grade boys ( and even some girls ) would snicker or shout those sneering jibes at guys like me.

It's not that I didn't know what guys like me might be in for. In fact, I had seen, but was not a victim of, degrading name-calling and even humiliation as early as sixth grade when, on several occasions, I witnessed how 8th grade bully-boys embarrassed boys in fifth grade in the school playground. On each pants-pulling prank the intended target was gradually surrounded by taller, older and stronger boys who, at first acting casual and even chummy, had conveniently hid their prey as they edged him over to the far side of the playground where he could be safely deprived of his pants and, in rare cases, even his underpants.

Their bullying method was almost always the same. Once trapped and out of shouting distance and unseen by the lax teachers and monitors, the poor kid was given a choice: " Pull down your pants or we'll kick you in the balls. " If the boy refused or resisted at all, he'd get a light tap on his nuts and punch in the stomach. He'd then be told to expect a hard punch to his nuts if he didn't drop his pants in ten seconds. At that point, the young lads always accepted the better part of valor and took their pants off themselves.

But if a kid had not resisted, but instead obeyed the bullies right away and dropped his jeans, then he was a special case and the bullies took things further. With the lad's pants at his ankles, the gang leader would pat him on the shoulder and say something like, ' Glad to see you know what's good for you. Now pull your underpants down too. ' If the boy resisted at that point, the bully would give a not-too-gentle slap on his shorts-covered nuts or even grab the poor kid's balls and give them a squeeze. That always got the boy to drop his undies while he blubbered and cringed.

Only once did I see a younger kid so scared that he did everything the bullies asked right away and with no hesitation. And that, of course, just made the older guys insist he humiliate himself even more. In that one case that I witnessed it took place after school was out but was still in the playground area. The boy from my seventh grade class had quickly dropped his pants. Then, already sobbing a little and quaking in his sneakers, just nodded yes and dropped his underpants down when told to do so. And -- this was the telling part -- when he went to cover up his crotch with his hands, one of the guys told him to put his hands on top of his head so they could get a good look. AND THE BOY DID IT!

He sort of hesitated for just a second, but the lead bully made a menacing fist and the lad raised his arms like he'd been told. That did it and his fate was sealed. The next order was given calmly, as if it was the most reasonable request in the world: ' You got 30 seconds, kid. Take off all your clothes and hand them over to us...OR ELSE!'

And he did. He even clasped his hands behind his head once he was naked without being asked. He stood there crying for a full two minutes before the bullies tossed all his clothes on the ground and began to walk away. The bully leader smiled and told his naked, shivering-with-fear victim that he could get dressed now, but that if he ever snitched on them, he'd be running home buck naked holding a pair of very bruised balls. Of course, that terrified the poor lad and he kept his mouth shut.

All through the middle-grade years ( 6th, 7th, and 8th ) I had watched the younger boys get bullied into dropping their pants in the schoolyard in the mornings or at recess or while walking home after school. Somehow it held a strange fascination for me. For the most part I felt sorry for the poor saps who were picked on like that. But that didn't stop me from looking forward to the next stripping scene where I wouldn't be the victim, just a not-too-innocent bystander who would hang around long enough to see the kid's disgraceful fate.

Naturally, I was scared to death that the bullies might turn on me some day. You'd think they'd pick on me at some point. They didn't though and I'm ashamed to admit why that probably was. Although I didn't bully anyone, I was right in there in the crowd watching and, after a few times looking on in fascination, I began egging the older guys on to show I was one of them.. a de facto bully-boy. 'To get along, go along' became my survival strategy. And while I dreaded ever becoming a stripped victim of bullies, I couldn't get the idea out of my head.

In the summer between 8th and 9th grades, I had about ten weeks of free time to both worry over and fantasize about becoming the pants-pulling target of older bullies in September when I entered high school. I figured I would likely be singled out because of my comparatively small physique, little-boy looks and timid demeanor which would likely make me fair game for teasing and humiliation of all sorts.

I continued to dwell on the excitement and joy that I felt watching a lad's stripping embarrassment. In the past, of course, It had been someone else being humiliated. But I was sort of sharing in it, almost as if the act of being forced to strip was an irresistible urge inside me. I dreaded being put in their place, but I could not get it out of my head. I saw myself in their shoes and then out of those shoes, out of my socks, off with my shirt, pants taken off and then...then, breathing deep, waiting to be told to go on... closing my eyes I saw myself slipping my underpants down to my ankles and stepping out of them. I became obsessed with stripping humiliation. I'd always had a vivid imagination.

Thinking about that gave me the chills but it also led me to think about why and how it might happen. I spent a lot of time daydreaming nude nightmares, imagining why and how it could come about... then how I'd feel when it did happen. It was like becoming addicted to the idea, hating it and needing it: needing the feeling I feared most

'It's just in my head,' I kept telling myself as I walked one morning through the park, past the swings and the duck pond, beyond the walking trail, beside which was a large expanse of light wooded forest. Very few kids go in there and no adults because there are no paths and the trees are close together. The wooded area went on and on, away from the roadway and the well cultivated section of the park. It was a place you could be alone and feel unafraid to play.

My daydreams drew me closer and then right into the forest as I mused, " This is just the sort of place a boy might get caught unawares, innocently wandering and perhaps getting lost and then maybe hearing the voices of older boys perhaps sent out to look for him. My imagination was running wild and I spoke my thoughts out loud as I walked.

"Maybe," I mused, " this lost kid, thinking he's being rescued, ends up surrounded by six or seven boys who start making fun of him.. telling him his clothes are of a little boy's style... and little boys should be careful not to get their clothes dirty... and then telling him... Umm well, telling me... I'd better take them off .... and before I can run, they say they want to play a game of hide and go seek with my clothes and that I better play along, if I know what's good for me."

All this time, while imagining this scenario and giving it voice, I was getting deeper into the woods and farther from the park paths. I suddenly realized it would be alright if I obeyed those imaginary bullies. They were just in my head, but the fear and excitement I was feeling was real. I could have it both ways! I could enjoy my fear, but still be safe from the consequences. I walked on and continued the threatening dialogue and, to make this game seem all the more real, I actually voiced the bully's commands out loud in a gruff, menacing tone of voice and reply to him in a normal but little-boy whimpering voice.. like it really would be if this were actually happening. No one was there to hear me, anyway and it made the experience I was looking for seem almost true.

"Here's how it's going to work,' sneered the bully voice in my head. " We won't hide your clothes, but you will."

"How do I do that?" I asked myself in a quaking, high-pitched voice, trusting the bully in my brain would have a good answer. And he did, too.

"Just close your eyes, spin around three turns and stop. Then take ten steps and remove your T-shirt and ball it up." the bully voice sneered. I didn't hesitate. I spun about and walked then pulled off my shirt and did exactly as I had told myself, that is, as the big bully ordered.

" Good, now with your eyes still closed," barked the bully, " keep walking and throw your shirt as far as you can with no looking because that would be cheating. Do it! Then keep walking for ten seconds before opening your eyes. "

I had walked another five steps one way, then stumbled forward another ten steps in another direction and then I opened my eyes. My shirt was nowhere to be seen. I had no idea where it was and I was only a little anxious but incredibly excited. i was going to get naked and not know where my clothes were! No! Even better: I was being forced to get naked and never find my clothes!

The bully voice wasted no time, " Kenny, take off your belt and loop it around your neck to keep it handy." I figured he wanted me to strap myself at some point in the game. It was feeling good to play by his rules. Twenty steps in two directions later I was told to stop and unbutton and unzip my short pants and... this was new and unexpected I was to walk with my eyes open and my hands clasped behind my head.

The bully inside must have known walking would be hard that way and that my short pants would begin to slip down a little at a time until they landed at my feet. The next command came and I heard it loud and clear: " Step out of your pants, close your eyes again and walk away counting 20 steps turning direction at 5, 10, 15 and at 20 paces stop, open your eyes and tell me what you see before you."

This was difficult, but I managed the stripping journey only falling down twice but bumping into trees a few times. at the 20th step I opened my eyes and imagined I saw a clearing where a half a dozen girls were sitting on the ground next of an oak tree. They were giggling at the little boy wearing only his footwear and his tight white underpants. They giggled and blushed but said nothing to me. Of course, I knew I was just imagining all this, it was only part of my game. But I actually thought I really heard giggling somewhere in the bushes. Just my vivid imagination, I thought. But the bully voice in my head downed out any forest noises. I took things further now.

' Remove your shoes and socks, Kenny. Toss the shoes over your shoulder without watching where they land.' Good boy,' he chuckled as I kept my eyes straight ahead.

" Socks off, Kenny. Roll them into a ball and toss them over your shoulder too as hard as you can with your eyes closed.'

I was now in just my underpants before an imaginary group of girls my own age. All my clothes, except my underpants, were somewhere in the woods, scattered all over the place, I knew not where. The next move took a lot of courage, but I could see I had no choice now. I looked down and saw the front of my underpants was moving, my cock was making a tent and my imaginary girls giggled and whispered " Do it, Kenny. " And then, in my my mind, they cried out very loud, " You know you want to. And you know you have to. "

The girls didn't say what I had to do, but it was obvious and was that immediately confirmed when the bully voice told me to drop my underpants, just like I had with my shorts, leave them at my ankles, close my eyes but face the girls looking at me. For a good five minutes I stood there near naked and, in fact, alone I was surrounded by a make-believe bully and an imaginary group of girls. My cock stayed semi-hard and the cheeks on my face were beet red.

'" Walk out of your underpants, Kenny." the bully voice commanded, " Pick them up and give them to the prettiest girl. ' It was a hard choice but I chose one with blonde pig-tails and the beginning of a blossoming bosom. Without a word from the boy bully, this girl undid the belt from around my neck and motioned with her head as she smiled. She clearly wanted me to bend over and present my bare butt for a sound strapping.

Of course, anyone watching that morning would have seen a 12 year-old boy wandering about in the woods this way and that, talking to himself as he randomly strayed, casually removing one piece of clothing at a time and tossing it as far as he could then moving on away from his clothes and into his dreamlike state, until he was wearing only footwear and underpants.

Such a hidden audience would hear the lad's fantasy conversation and see the boy toss his socks and shoes, step out of his underpants, stand naked for several minutes before picking his undies up only to let them fall to the ground. Watchers, were there any, would then see the boy give himself a sound strapping with his own belt.

It was just a fantasy game. I knew the bully and the girls gawking and giggling at my nudity was all in my head. But my game of bullied shame and my stark nakedness at the end of the game was real. The bully in my mind laid out my final and greatest humiliation: before these girls, I was to shut my eyes tight and take hold of my manhood, then slowly masturbate until the girls could witness my coming into the palm of my hand. I gladly did as I was told. I took my time. Perhaps ten or fifteen minutes, during which time I imagined hearing sounds of giggles and silly girl snickering.

So very real and enjoyable was my orgasm which left a palm load of cum in my hand. Imagined, but spoken out loud was the final bully command, " Lick up what's in your hand, Kenny, and keep it in your mouth for one minute before you swallow it."

I did so with my eyes still shut as I recovered from my naked, masturbation experience. I was delightfully exhausted when I opened my eyes and bent down to pick up my underpants.... which were.... where???? Not where I thought I'd dropped them many minutes ago into the hands of the imaginary girl in blonde pigtails. But, fantasy and imagination aside, my underpants were really gone!

I searched the area for a good five minutes and turned about looking for my socks and shoes as well. They too had disappeared. Was I so disoriented that I got lost and so lost all my clothes? I panicked and tried to retrace my steps, walking gingerly in the woods as I was barefoot. I spent nearly an hour roaming about in vain, stark naked and, once again, intensely feeling conflicting yet complementary emotions of dread and delight.

Of course, at some point in my futile search for my clothes, I came to realize what must have happened; that someone had seen and heard me playing my game and, as a gag, had picked up my discarded clothes and walked off with them. I had to laugh or cry at my stupidity. I did both. But I also knew I would be in trouble if it got out that I deliberately took all my clothes off in a public park.

So I devised a plan that would turn me into a poor victim in everyone's eyes instead of a perverted little nasty boy. It would mean real and public humiliation, but I'd get sympathy and no blame. I had no choice but run home right away and just as I was, stark naked ( running bent over and with my hands cupping my cock and balls ) as if I was embarrassed because I had just been stripped naked by a bunch of bullies who'd run off with all my clothes.

It meant making sure people saw me naked and crying as I pretended to flee from the bullies. They could back up my story, the details of which would be very vague. I'd say I was too traumatized, had been threatened with a beating, and that they made me keep my eyes shut the whole time. So I couldn't say who had done this to me.

And to a great extent my plan worked. The kindly old lady who was in the park that day could see I was in distress and believed my tale. She lent me her shawl and walked me home. I cried all the way to make my shame look real, which it was. My family fell for my story too and called the cops who were a bit skeptical, but my stage tears convinced them it might have actually happened. I had told them I was afraid of having my balls kicked, which was something I knew bullies at school sometimes threatened to do when a boy resisted having his pants and underpants pulled down. So, I said, when these bullies told me to take off all my clothes and hand them over, I didn't dare disobey them. It was a believable, if unlikely, story.

Unfortunately, news of my troubles soon made the rounds. Enough people had been in the park that day to witness my nude race, to say nothing of the gossip from the cops who had a big laugh over my stripping plight, so word got out. Bad news ( and nudes ) travels fast they say and by mid-September everyone in my high school knew I'd been stripped naked by bullies. I had to live up to my reputation, too. I was a boy who too scared to put up any resistance. So I figured I was in for lots of embarrassing bullying in high school.

But it was what ten-year-old Ginny and her 11-year-old friend Kathy knew that would prove my total humiliation and my utter delight. For those two girls had been in the woods that day and saw and heard me playing my fantasy stripping game. They had picked up after me when I had tossed first my t-shirt and then my short pants.

Their giggles were real as they watched and heard me bark out fantasy bully commands to lose my shoes and socks. They saw my cock tent my underpants and saw me drop my underpants to my ankles, drop them in front of me and then, my eyes closed all the while, take a long time jerking off. Long enough to gather up my footwear and underpants and then sneak back into hiding while I completed my embarrassing game.

It was around the third week of school that Ginny and Kathy stopped by my house as I was returning from school. They were all sweetness and light as they told me what they had seen that summer day in the park. They even confessed that it was they who have nicked all my clothes and had watched my jerk off and lick up all my cum. So they knew my story to my family and the cops was a lie but they were happy to keep that secret to themselves if.... If I agreed to play my fantasy game for real. But that I wouldn't be taking orders from imaginary bully boys. Orders would come from Ginny, Kathy and any girlfriends they want to could watch.

At first, I thought they were just joking. That maybe they had stolen my clothes, but they couldn't be serious about this! Then Ginny looked me straight in the eye and said something that convinced me that this was all too real. With only a slight smile on her lips she said, " Of course, it's just like you said, Kenny. You know you want to. And you know you have to. "

BULLY FOR ME (CHAPTER 2)

It was the end of September 1958. It was my first year at Fremont High. As a freshman and only 12 years old, I knew I could expect some hazing from the upperclassmen; most boys who looked like they could be easily intimidated became targets of bullying. But I was a special case because of what everyone knew ( or thought they knew ) about me and what had happened the month before. News and rumors, resulting from my silly self-stripping game made the rounds and my fabricated, cover-up lie was almost as bad as the truth.

As it turned out, the bully torment wouldn't take place only in school. Between now and Thanksgiving weekend, I'd be attacked on many fronts, in many places and by three enemies determined to rain down humiliation on my head. I was in for cruel hazing by older boys in my high school. And later on it was younger girls in my former middle-school, that is Ginny and Kathy and their friends who played humiliating games just for the fun of it. But worst of all, I was being tormented, embarrassed and left sobbing at night and there was no one to blame for that but myself. I was my own worst bully.

It all had to do with what Ginny had said to me earlier when she and Kathy confronted me with the true facts of my nude run escapade. She had said words that I came to dread because I knew them to be true. Like a nightmare echo, I'd awake sweating and wetting from the image of Ginny's smirking face as she said "You know you want to. And you know you have to."

Night sweats from nightmares are no shame. But the bed wetting was. Yes, I peed myself, in fear at first, wetting the sheets which I hadn't done since I was seven. But in the past couple of nights, my bottom bed sheet got wet, but not from pee. I was experiencing morning wood and fully awoke to find my left hand gripping my slimy wet penis dribbling pre-cum. The mocking voice in my head hadn't been a boy's bully taunts. For the previous few mornings it had been either Kathy's or Ginny's voice. The dreams I was waking from were of me in that clearing in the park. I was shaking and doing as I was told as I took off all my clothes which, item after item, disappeared into thin air as i took them off and leaving me naked and sporting a boner, the boner I awoke to with my left hand holding and stroking it.

The nightmare shame was always at the back of my mind as I suffered and submitted to bully boys and bully bitches in school. The first few times in the school hallways and in the gym locker at school, it was no worse than most freshmen sissies have to expect. Even bullies have to be careful about when and where it's safe to pull off pranks and pull down pants. Getting caught doing something like that could lead to expulsion and transfer to reform school, which was even more like a jail than regular high school.

But at least once a week I'd find myself surrounded by four or five older boys who made no bones about their evil intent. That was ironic, of course, as what they did to me eventually made a bone in my underpants. My nightmare shame overcame me each time as the boys yanked my pants down and moved aside to let others, including girls, see me in my tight white undies.

The fourth time that had happened, I realized that my cock was stirring and I actually whimpered and begged them not to pull down my underpants too. No teachers were about and the lads grew bold. My pleading had been whispered, but the chief bully boy shouted out for all to hear, " What's that you say? Speak up. You think should pull down your underpants too? Okay!" And he did. That became a running joke and was it repeated twice that week until one of the guys took it further by demanding I step out of my pants and underpants and hand them over to a girl he was now pointing to. I was blubbering like a little baby

But I thought I was saved from utter humiliation by that girl who didn't insist I come over to her outside the shielding circle of bullies. Instead she stepped right up and held her hand out. Awkwardly, I shucked off pants and undies over my shoes and gave them to her. She said thanks and reached for my balls which she promptly grabbed but, thank goodness, did not squeeze. Instead she leaned toward me and whispered in my ear, " This means we've ALL got you by the balls, boy." Then she handed me my clothes back and in a loud voice said to everyone in the hallway, " When you catch fish this small, you have to throw them back in the water." Everyone but me laughed. That day I got the nickname 'Small Fry'

From that point on, I knew I'd be in for public pantsing with girls enjoying my misery and maybe I would even be stripped by both girls and boys. My reaction to that was both normal and, at the same time, disturbing. I wept at the very thought, but my cock seemed happy. Bullies get bored and that did not bode well for me. A few of them had noticed my stirring manhood when they got my pants off and came to the conclusion that I got off on being humiliated. So they decided to see how far they could take that by upping the shame ante each time.

By the end of October I came to dread lunch time. I often got waylaid before getting to the cafeteria or was hauled out of line and frog-marched to the nearest boys washroom. There I'd be deprived of my lunch money and often one or more pieces of my clothing. A bare-butt swat or three was deemed de rigeur. The clothes sometimes involved my socks, but always included my underpants. My weekly allowance was spent replacing stolen undies.

Word spread. My washroom waylays soon meant several minutes stark naked getting strapped with my own belt. I was never stripped by these bullies. For they seemed to get special pleasure out of watching me take off my clothes myself after a rough order to do so. But forced self-stripping and lunch hours spent naked were the least humiliating dirty deeds I was made to do in the boys washrooms.

It began when a senior who was a linebacker on the school football team came on to me so menacingly and threatening that I peed my white undies right after dropping my dungarees to my feet. That earned me the name 'Pissy-Sissy' and after that episode water sports would often fit into their games of humiliation. Pissing myself was the least of my worries. I came to consider myself lucky if all they did was toss my underpants into a urinal and then take turns pissing in it so I had the choice of leaving them there, or wearing the stinking sopping wet undies. Given that choice, of course, I went commando.

But doing that a few times wasn't enough for some of them. I received my first, but not last, golden shower as I sat naked on the toilet in one of the stalls as five boys pissed all over me. They left taking only my underpants and, as this was another lunchtime foray, I had time to sponge bathe with clean water and tamp myself almost dry with paper toweling. It helped, but the golden shower tap had been turned on and for weeks I stank of piss as i attended class. Any hope of sympathy or finding friends went down the drain, so to speak.

But as the Thanksgiving holiday approached, one of the lads, a sophomore who hadn't previously taken part in my stripping humiliation, grabbed me on my way to the cafeteria and said he had to talk with me alone in the washroom. I followed, expecting there to be others in wait and even greater embarrassment. There weren't.. but there was. That is, this guy Larry was alone in his tormenting plan for me, but it did mean much greater embarrassment.

Larry was not like the other bullies. He did not want to publicly humiliate me. His revenge was going to be private and, psychologically deeper and longer lasting. Larry was Billy's older brother. Billy was that boy back in seventh grade who was made to strip naked and whose torment I egged on and even urged his tormentors to take all his clothes and leave him naked. It had been nothing but taunting and bully bravado. But Billy lived in fear all year and he'd told his older brother about it. Larry swore he'd get even for his kid-brother.

Larry told me all that in terse words spat out with hate burning in his eyes. He finished what he had to say and then told me to take off all my clothes. I figured he was so mad, he'd beat me up and probably kick me naked out into the crowded school corridor. But I was wrong. Larry told me to get on my knees and, as I did, he asked me if I knew what a blow job was.

Stuttering in shock and dread I said 'No'. He didn't smile. He calmly said that's okay, that I've got about 40 minutes to learn. Then he told me to close my eyes and open my mouth and stick out my tongue. He stroked until some clear pre-cum appeared on the tip of his cock. He rubbed the moist head against my lips ( like a girl applying lipstick ) and on to the tip of my tongue. He even dribbled some sweet pre-cum on my nose and into my nostrils.

“Part your lips, Kenny.” Larry ordered. “Keep your mouth slightly open just enough to... yeah, that’s it.” he said as he slipped his cock into my mouth and on to my tongue and in a few seconds grew larger and filled my mouth with hard, hot cock. The Larry gently grabbed my head with his two hands and slowly rocked me back and forth as his cock plunged in and then withdrew but not completely out of my mouth. He kept this up until I got the rhythm and continued without needing his hands to direct and move my head.

He kept this up for the longest time as he wanted my humiliation to last a long time. After about twenty minutes his breathing and mine were heavy and in sync as he rasped, “ Get ready.. Open wide.. yes!! I’m going to come. Close your lips and suck!” Just before he shot his load into my mouth he said, “ Take it all but don’t swallow yet. Hold it in your mouth until I tell you to swallow.”

His load was not sweet like what he had used to coat my lips. But it had a strange effect on me. Not the taste, which was bitter. I think it was the texture and warmth of it. It was slimy. I started to smile and then, in horror, I realized although I didn't like his cum, I had enjoyed being made to suck his cock. That's when Larry told me to swallow. As I did, it came to me that I had swallowed more than a load of cum. I had accepted it.

BULLY FOR ME (CHAPTER 3)

You'd think the on-going harassment I got from boys at school would be embarrassing enough, to say nothing of the forced blow-job Larry made me give him. But their humiliating treatment paled in comparison to what I got from my girl tormentors. Justine, that girl who had grabbed my balls while holding my pants and underpants, was a 15 year-old sophomore who started teasing me about my forced naked run in the park in August. In front of her friends she asked me if it wasn't more a strip-hugging than a strip-mugging?

"You loved every minute of it, didn't you, Kenny?" grinned the girl who was three years old than me and decidedly more mature in a sexual and physical way. " Your having to strip made you want to hug yourself... or hug and caress a certain naughty part of yourself, didn't it? That was a lot of fun, wasn't it. Kenny? "

Justine kept her torment to just teasing the first two times her gang hassled me. But the third time she and her bitch-buddies caught me alone after the final bell. They dragged me into the girls’ washroom on the second floor and Justine made it all the more embarrassing and frightening with what she said.

" It must have been very disappointing for you, Kenny, being stripped by boys in the park." Justine said in a fake-sympathetic way. " when you really wanted to be stripped by girls. Well, here's your chance to do what you REALLY WANT. "

My stuttering response was that I didn't want to strip at all... not in front of anyone. That was greeted by giggles and gawking as Justine and her mates were looking right at the crotch of my pants which was beginning to tent.

"Liar, liar, pants are higher" Justine laughingly sing-song sang before ordering me to drop them. Gulping and blushing, I dropped my trousers to my feet but she just shook her head and laughed.

"When I said 'drop them' " Justine patiently explained, " I meant drop your pants including your underpants, Small Fry."

This was no worse than what had happened earlier in the hall when she grabbed me in the balls, so I did as she demanded. But I was not prepared for her next demand.

Like the voice that was in my head on my park naked escapade, Justine told me to stroke my erect cock until I came into the palm of my hand. This might have been a coincidence, I kept telling myself as I jerked off in front of these girls. But Justine shattered any such hope when I reached my climax and spewed a full load of cum on to my left hand.

She said, word-for-word, exactly what I had said ( what my imaginary girl with blonde pigtails had said ) " Lick up what's in your hand, Kenny, and keep it in your mouth for one minute before you swallow it." Somehow, she knew not only the real story, but everything that Ginny and Kathy saw and heard that day.

In the washroom, the nightmare words that had haunted me came back loud and clear and, without even thinking, I lifted my hand to my mouth and licked myself clean and kept my spent load in my mouth as tears fell from my eyes. Justine walked in a circle around me as I stood, exposed with my pants and underpants at my feet, my cheeks blushing deep red and my cock still swollen but drooping. She waited, smiled and finally said, "Swallow."

The other girls were impressed with Justine's control over me and said they couldn't believe I'd actually do it. But Justine just smiled and assured her friends that a sissy knows enough to do as he's told. They let me go with all my clothes, but not my dignity nor my manhood intact. It was the day before Thanksgiving after all and we all wanted to get to our homes to celebrate this most joyous family holiday. But I had little to be joyful about or thankful for that weekend.

Thursday was normal with turkey, yams, stuffing, and lots of pie. I tried to put my school hazing troubles out of my mind the next morning as I dug into a slice of minced pie for breakfast. But I was shaken from my holiday spirit when the doorbell rang and in walked two very unwelcome guests, Kathy and Ginny from a few streets over. They were in the neighborhood, they said to my mom who had answered the door, and were wondering if they could borrow me for the afternoon to help with their homework. Ginny explained that her older sister was useless at math and no help at all, but that she had heard I was a whizz with numbers.

"So would it be okay if Kenny came to my house and did some tutoring this afternoon? Please Mrs. Lichtman?"

The preteen girls were so polite and lavished such praise on her son that my mother, who didn't notice my blanching face and tearing eyes, said it would be a wonderful way to show thankful I could be for being given the honor of coming to the aid of two pretty young girls in distress. I could be their knight in shining armor.

Rather than feeling honor, I felt only horror about what these mischievous minxes might have in mind. But I could hardly tell my mom why I dreaded spending any time with them. So I just accepted my fate and hoped the four hours of so-called 'homework' they had planned wouldn't be too humiliating for me.

When we arrived at Ginny's house I discovered that her parents had taken off for the weekend and had left Ginny's 15-year-old sister in charge to act as babysitter for her younger brother, her nine-year-old sister and any young playmates she might invite over. Ginny's parents were rather old fashioned and believed in the wisdom of ' spare the rod and spoil the child ' especially for naughty boys, which Ginny's brother Paul could attest to.

The eleven-year old lad was used to spending an hour at least once a week doing corner time with his hands atop his head, naked with his underpants at his ankles, and his bare boy-bottom glowing red from a strapping from his dad's shaving strop. In fact, when we arrived Paul still had another ten minutes of corner time left. He'd made the mistake of sassing his older sister who was standing with her back to us as we entered the living room where she was busy refreshing the colorful tone on her little brother's bare buttocks. When she turned around to greet us, my jaw dropped and my face went white.

"Hi, Small Fry," she said with a wink and a sweet smile. Ginny's older sister turned out to be none other than ball-crunching, Justine, my nemesis. The penny dropped! Now it all made sense, that was how Justine seemed to know more than she should about me and my nude game in the park. Little girls with juicy secrets tend to tattle to their big sisters.

Justine could see from the horrified look on my face that I knew she, and very likely her little brother, knew every detail of my fantasy romp in the nude, my acting out with a forced stripping and humiliation game, and the real story behind that false tale I had concocted to explain my nudity that fateful day.

Justine dropped her sweet, innocent charade and got down to business right away. And by ‘business’, I mean humiliating me and showing everyone just who's boss.

" So, Kenny," she said. " what was the most exciting for you in the park last summer? Pretending that you were forced to get naked? Or was it the thought of being made to strip naked by girls that was so much fun? "

I was frozen in fear but my cheeks were burning with shame. At first, I couldn't say a word. I felt so defenseless and weak in the knees. After an awkward silence I managed to whimper, " I'm not sure I know what you mean. "

Justine's tone took a darker turn as she spoke through gritted teeth, " See my brother's ass, Kenny? It's burning red because he was disrespectful to me. Imagine what your ass is going to look and feel like if you keep acting like you don’t know what's happening and who is in charge here. "

I didn't know what to say, so I just burbled out a pathetic and whiny, " Okay, but I don't know what you want me to do."

"Yes, you do" Justine said as a she shrugged her shoulders. " You want to ... no, you need to ...do as you are told. But I need you to do it without being told. If you make me have to tell you, I am going to assume you are disrespecting me. So stop stalling and just do it."

She left it at that. Everyone in the room, with the possible exception of Paul, seemed to know exactly what she meant and what was expected and what was demanded but not stated. I took a guess and proceeded to take off my shoes and socks... then my shirt and undershirt.

I unloosened my belt and, looking up at a now smiling Justine, handed it to her. Then I unzipped and unbuttoned my pants and let them fall to the floor. I kicked them off and took a quick look around at the girls and Paul who had turned his head to watch. The smile on his face was tight in sympathetic pose but his head nodded slightly as if to say, 'Now you get it." I dropped my underpants to my ankles and stepped out of them.

Justine sighed, " At last! Now I assume you know what comes next. Or do I have to spell it out for you?"

I guess I hesitated too long because she went tsk-tsk and said, "Bend over, Kenny. I'm sure you know naughty boys are never too old for a spanking on the bare. Don't you agree?" Without waiting for a reply, she lit into my butt with my own belt until my backside glowed like her brother's butt. But she wasn’t finished embarrassing me.

She turned to her sister and said, " Yes, Ginny, you were right about Kenny being a sissy who is scared of girls and does whatever they tell him. In fact, he's such a sissy that I don't think he has the right to wear boys' underpants. He should wear panties instead. So run upstairs and get me a few of those fancy panties I got last year and some regular ones of yours. Kenny is going to give us a sissy fashion show."

While Ginny was rummaging upstairs for humiliating, girlie underwear for me, Kathy decided to test what Justine had just said about sissies.

"So, Justine, you're saying a sissy like Kenny will do whatever any girl tells him?" asked Kathy with a twinkle in her eye.

" Most tend to, Kathy, " replied Justine in an all-knowing, big girl way. " But in Kenny's case, from what you and my sister heard him saying in the park, I think he just needs to be spoken to with a little female authority to get him to do most anything. See, Kathy, Kenny is a special type of sub-sissy, he's scared of girls making fun of him, laughing at him and downright humiliating him. But, at the same time, he craves humiliation, especially forced on him by girls who make him strip anywhere and anytime they want. Isn’t that right, Kenny?"

"Well, uhh," I managed to say as I stood there, buck naked, shaking with fear and in amazement at how Justine could see right through me, almost as if she could read my mind and even knew my inner thoughts and dreams that left my sheets wet in the morning. " I do kind of think about that sort of thing ... well, a lot actually."

Just before Ginny stepped downstairs with her hands grasping several panties, Kathy picked my underpants off the floor and asked Justine if she could get a big bowl from the kitchen. My underpants were placed in the bowl which was then handed to me.

"Piss in the bowl, Kenny." ordered Kathy. " and get your boy panties all soaking wet and stinky."

I was trembling with excitement. I was naked, pissing on to my underpants because a girl told me to.

Kathy giggled at first, but then her smile seemed to show her self-assurance. She must have decided to push her power further and she told me take the scissors Justine got for her and cut my underwear up into small bite sized pieces. That was the word she used and I had the feeling why she chose that expression.

When my undies were all cut up into dozens of piss-soaked cotton swaths, Kathy order me to take out one piece at a time from the bowl, chew it and swallow. And repeat that until I had eaten every bit of my underpants."

Everyone, all the girls and even Paul, were waiting. No one said a thing as I picked up the first bit of cloth, put it in my mouth and began to chew then swallow. Tears fell from my eyes as I grabbed the second bit of piss-panties and ate it too. Paul was told he could sit down on the floor and Kathy and Ginny were invited to join Justine on the couch as they all watched in amazement and satisfaction as I continued to dine on my piss-soiled underpants.

It only took five or six minutes for me to finish, as I chewed and swallowed faster and fast as I began to get into the humiliation of it all. I must have talked myself into being happy about this humiliation. Justine started the applause as I swallowed the last piece. " No more boys' underpants for you, Kenny." she cried.

That's when Ginny handed me my first pair of somewhat pain black colored cotton panties. Then a blue pair of hers followed by some shiny ones that Justine had in her bureau drawer. The girls and Paul had a great time pretending to be assessing my girlish figure, even though my hard cock was tenting their panties. My underwear, sissy fashion show lasted about a half hour.

On Justine's orders I got into the plainer pairs for what she called my naughty photo-shoot. She said. “Seeing you were happy to self-strip and strap yourself in the park, it only seems right you should also self-spank, strap or swat too.”

She told Ginny to fetch a few wooden cooking tools from the kitchen. Ginny returned with a long wooden spoon and a wood spatula. Justine took these spanking tools and told me to pull down my panties in back so as to expose my bare buttocks.

She told me to stand there a moment while she went to get her Brownie camera from her bedroom. When she returned, she gave me the spoon and had me reach back and whack my butt until it was very sore. I did the same in different panties with spoon or spatula for a while.

When my ass was beginning to turn lack an blue she told me to remove my panties ( the blue ones ) and to jerk off in them until I came in the crotch.

All of this was being recorded on the film roll of her camera. But I reckoned there was no way Justine would take that to a drug store to develop that film. She'd be arrested or something. At the very least, the store owner would tell Justine and Ginny's parents and they'd get in deep trouble. I figured Justine took the pictures just to impress her brother, sister and Kathy.

I ended up going home with three pairs of girl's panties and promised I'd secretly wash them as needed and wear them whenever they told me to. And I'd go commando all other times so I'd never wear boy underpants again. That seemed to please them all.

As I was at the door saying my good-byes, Justine took the finished roll of film from her camera and asked me if I wanted any prints for a sissy portfolio. I laughed at her and said I knew she couldn’t get those shots printed anywhere in town or even sent to Kodak in Rochester.

Justine smiled and replied, " But I don't have to. I've rigged up a darkroom off the rec-room and I have all the equipment, paper and chemicals to print them myself."

BULLY FOR ME CHAPTER 4

I stood in the doorway and, had I been wearing boots, I would be shaking in them. Justine had taken pictures of the most humiliating stuff I had been put through today. I'd thought it was just a way of making me feel 'on display' or maybe just a joke to fool her younger brother and sister into thinking she was going to blackmail me.

"You're kidding aren't you, Justine?" I asked in a quivering voice that betrayed my doubts. "You're not really going to develop those photos of me, are you? I mean, you've already seen me naked and acting silly, why do you have to have pictures of it?" I knew the most obvious answer, but I was hoping against hope.

"Of course I am going to develop them, silly. Why shouldn't I?" She said in mock puzzlement. " But I certainly don't intend to show them to anyone..... that is, unless...."

A few seconds of silence before I dared ask, " Unless....what?"

"Unless," Justine grinned like a wolf or perhaps a sly fox, " Unless you don't do exactly as you're told, Kenny. Or if you snitch, of course, which I am sure you won’t do because of what I said at school. We've ALL got you by the balls. And by 'all' I mean anyone I want, but it definitely includes my sister and Kathy and..." Justine paused and looked over at her brother, Paul. " and sometimes my kid-brother when I want him to play naughty games with you."

"Okay," I said, trying to sound more mature and braver than I actually was, " You've had your fun and I've gone along with it so far, but.."

"The fun... well, our fun, has only begun, Kenny-Small-Fry," Justine hissed in a cruel yet lofty manner. " We know your park naked game, we know your lie has given you a sissy-rep at school, we will soon have photo proof of your enjoying stripping, masturbating and wearing girls' panties. All those photos can be posted all over the school and the neighborhood and sent to all your friends and family... or I can keep them secret and safe."

"But that's blackmail!" I cried, more out of fear than anger for there were tears in my eyes.

"Exactly!" grinned Justine, " What are you going to do about it?"

Silence... awkward, chilling and telling. "Nothing, I guess," I finally answered.

"Oh no, not nothing, Kenny." she giggled. "You're going to do exactly as you are told. Now go home and come back here tomorrow morning. We're going to go on walk in the park and play some interesting games. Wear your new blue panties."

On my way home I kept thinking of all those degrading, humiliating things Justine was making me do. My body was shivering in the late November air, but I knew there was something else giving me the deepest chills. Being naked and not covering up in front of girls had made me blush, sure. But being made to do it all was sort of fun. I actually liked the fit of Justine and Ginny's panties and was looking forward to tomorrow, even if I was being blackmailed into doing who-knows-what.

I was walking slowly, reliving in my mind what had happened. The more I thought about it, the slower my pace because I was having difficulty walking while sporting the biggest, hardest boner I'd ever had. By the time I got home, the front of the panties I was wearing were soaked in cum.

I got up bright and early next day and showered and, for some reason, decided to stimulate myself until I got hard down there. All the time I was imaging Justine's voice telling me to stroke slowly and let some clear pre-cum ooze out on to my finger tips.

" Lick your fingers clean, Kenny." whispered Justine's voice in my head. " And play some more with your puny, little pee-pee. " She was so nasty... in my head. She even made me get boy-juice, as she called it, on to my index finger and ordered me to slowly stick it up my ass. I was used to cleaning my ass hole in the shower with a soaped up finger, so that wasn't too weird. But her voice told me to push my finger in and out a lot and buck my hips and that felt wonderfully weird.

I arrived at Justine and Ginny's house right after breakfast ( I ran all the way ) and they were waiting for me. It turned out Kathy brought a friend of hers along, an eighth grader named Cassidy whose brother, it turned out, was one of the meanest bullies in my high school. The number of kids in on my misery and humiliation was growing by the hour.

Paul, and of course Ginny, would be joining us on this park walk of shame, as I knew it would become. So the six of us made our way to the park, the five of them chatting and giggling away, and me quiet and anxious about Kathy's pal whose nicely developed bosom and bubble-butt did wonders on my already stiffening penis that was jam-packed and creaming into Ginny's blue panties which I had washed and dried the night before.

Ginny and Kathy led us to that very spot in the wooded area where my self-stripping game ended with me buck-naked, masturbating and then realizing my clothes had been stolen. Why, I had to ask myself, did my thinking back about that now make me giggle and my cock get stiffer? I was feeling fear and delight at the same time and then I noticed that Paul too looked like he'd rather be somewhere else.

Justine took charge of the morning's activities, no surprise there, by having the others sit in a circle while I stood in the middle. She announced that there would be four games played today and that while I would be the main participant, a few or all of them would be playing along too but, of course, in very different roles. She then ordered me to take off my shoes and socks, placing the socks inside my shoes and hand them to Kathy. My inevitable humiliation was starting out slow.

While I was doing that, Justine began emptying her knapsack of what she called 'game toys for naughty boys'. I could see a ping pong paddle, a safety razor, an milk bottle filled with water, a carrot, a cucumber, some rubber bands and a feather duster with a short wooden handle. Strange toys, indeed!

"Kenny is a lot of laughs, guys." said Justine. " He is very amusing and, not only does he make everyone else laugh, he enjoys his own laughter so much, that he laughs until he cries or even pees himself. So we're going to help him with that in a game called 'Tickle 'til I Tinkle'."

That didn't sound too bad. After all I had already earned the title 'Pissy-Sissy' by wetting my undies and later had a few golden showers in the boys washrooms. So laughing so much I'd pee was no big deal. They began by tickling the bottoms of my feet. I had to lie on the ground, legs hoisted high with my bare feet held, first by Kathy and Cassidy and later the others took their turn in getting me to laugh the most.

It was like kid bondage and torture, painful in a giddy-til-you-cry kind of way. I was prone and defenseless anyway, but Justine and Ginny held my arms and shoulders to the ground so I couldn't even wiggle about which made the tickling feel even worse and I felt kind of trapped. But if getting me to pee by tickling my feet was the object of this game, they failed. But, of course, that was just the start.

"It looks like Kenny is tickle-tinkle proof on his bare feet," declared Justine after each had their go. " But maybe he's more ticklish on his armpits. Kenny, take off your t-shirt and give it to Cassidy, then put your arms up and clasp your hands behind your head so we can get at your armpits."

I did as she ordered, handing my shirt to Cassidy who said in a soft, mischievous voice, "Say goodbye to your shirt” But being bare-chested was the least of my worries as Justine examined the fuzz and few hairs on my armpits and said they had to go because they'd make tickling difficult. The water, soap and razor did the job quickly and as Justine was used to shaving her own underarms, it was done with no nicks and my pits were smooth as could be. Luckily, I had no hair on my chest. Their tickling began as I stood at attention, arms raised and elbows pointing out to the sides.

Paul was not joining in on the tickle game, but all the girls were and they used the feather duster as well as their fingers to lightly touch my pits. I admit I laughed a lot and it was kind of fun. Not as much fun as the girls were having, but still it was silly and no harm done. But I still didn't pee myself.

Justine wanted me out of my trousers which I dutifully handed over to Ginny. The idea was to lightly touch my inner thighs to get me to laugh. I spread my feet far apart, but once again, soft fuzz on my legs had to be shaven first. Standing in only a pair of panties, I could see what was going to happen next. I'd soon be saying goodbye to more than just my shirt.

The soft female touches on my previously manly thighs brought sighs but not much mirth and no pee. So Justine took the next step toward tickle torment. Down came my panties which I immediately handed to Justine and my curly pubes came into view. Of course, Cassidy was the only one there who had not seen this before. And, as I had rightly guessed, she wouldn't be seeing them for very much longer, as soap, water and razor went to work.

And not just on my fuzzy balls, which Justine had said would be the next tickle target. No, all my pubic hair was to be removed, not for tickling purposes, but because then I was hairless from my eyebrows on down to my toes. Justine said that made me look more vulnerable. It sure made me feel more girlish than I already felt.

Ball tickling was mixed with ball-finger-flicking, so tears formed in my eyes but not those of mirth and merriment ( well, not mine anyway ) and it certainly did not encourage pissing. No, I lost the tickle game and the "P"-prize went instead to Paul who won the honor of peeing in the now empty milk bottle. Paul was the only other guy there and so had the right shape of equipment to insert into the bottle and produce enough urine for the next game, a gargling contest.

This was beyond embarrassing, humiliating and punishing. This was disgusting and I said I wouldn't do it. To my surprise, Justine said I wouldn't have to if I didn't want to...BUT, she added, I would have to gargle with my own cum instead. I figured she wanted me to jack off into my palm like I'd done in the park before, then lick it up and gargle. But that wasn't quite it.

"This is going to be a bad boy CUMbination, " she quipped. " My little brother has joined us girls here because he is going to help you with your game. You wouldn't gargle with Paul's piss, so you are going to jerk-off and cum into his mouth and then you are going to kiss him sucking out all your fresh cum from his mouth and then you are going to gargle with it. "

I looked over at Paul whose head was lowered and his cheeks were burning. Was he ashamed or was he excited. I couldn't tell. I agreed to Justine's terms and Paul got to his knees before me and began giving me my first ever blow-job. He took his time and was amazingly skillful at it. I just closed my eyes and imagined it was a girl doing it. Wow! Was that ever great!

The girls were eerily quiet as they watched. But as things grew more intense and I was about to shoot my load into Paul's mouth, Justine whispered something into her brother's ear and, even with my swollen cock deep in his mouth, Paul managed a smile and opened his mouth wide and stuck out his tongue. My cock exploded and cum flooded on to his tongue and along the sides of his mouth.

"Get up, Paul." ordered Justine, " and give Kenny a big French kiss. And you, Kenny, are to suck out all the cum from Paul's mouth and hold on to it until I tell you to gargle."

I wasn't gay, even though Larry did force me to suck his cock and swallow just a week ago. Now I'd have to French kiss a boy in front of four girls. I closed my eyes and did it. When my mouth was full Paul pulled away and I opened my eyes to see Justine a few feet away. She had her brownie camera in hand and had apparently taken lots of pictures. She told me to get to my knees now, open my mouth wide and gargle. She took photos of that too.

After I swallowed my pride and my cum, Justine announced the next game would be pin the tail of the donkey... or, she said, a cuter version, 'Pin the tail on the ass'. Paul was dismissed and allowed to go back home with all his clothes, his job was over and this was his reward for giving me a blow-job, he got to keep his clothes. Kathy, Ginny and Cassidy would compete in this game ( Justine acting as judge ) and I, needless to say, would play the part of the ass.

The object of the game was to see how far they could shove the 7 inch long wood handle of the feather duster up my butt. This would not be easy if I tightened up and my butt muscles physically resisted. Justine put it to the girls this way, " Just get Kenny to enjoy the sensation of being bum-fucked and he'll loosen up and the duster will slide in farther."

Wet soap was used to lubricate the handle and Kathy had a go at it first. It hurt a lot at first. But under Justine's directions, Kathy eased it in and out slowly and it eventually got nearly half way up. Ginny took her sisters' advice and cuddled my balls then slowly, softy stroked my cock. In no time she managed to get the handle five inches in.

In the end, so to speak, Cassidy did best in the game and from my perspective, it felt the best. Like Ginny did, she stroked me as she slowly slid the feather duster up my ass. But the she had a brilliant idea. She got between my legs so that with one hand shoving the handle and one hand caressing my balls and stroking my cock. As her face was right at my junk, she was in the perfect position to give me a blow job, my second one that morning. And she was much better at it than Paul.

She won both ways, I think. Because she left me with just the feather part sticking out of my ass ( so she won the game ) and she won a small load of cum from me, which she spat on my balls before getting up.

With the duster still up my butt, the girls took turns smacking my butt cheeks with my belt, the ping-pong paddle and wood kitchen utensils. Then I had to get on all fours and crawl around for ten minutes with my feather tail wagging as Justine insisted I wiggle my butt while she took more pictures.

It turns out Pin the ass was just the warm up to the next humiliating game, " Go Fuck Yourself, Kenny! " For that, Justine brought out the cucumber and the carrot which she also lubed up with wet soap. In this game I was the only active participant as I had to shove these phallic veggies up my butt and whack myself until my ass was glowing even more. And Justine recorded it all on camera for her collection.

The last game was not unexpected and for this game I was on my own. The game was 'Hide and Go Seek.... All Your Clothes' The four of them, each with some of my clothes, dashed off in four different directions within the wooded area of the park and each of them came back empty handed.

Justine smiled as she said, "We hid them, now it's your turn to seek them. Good luck!" And off they went. Sore feet, many scratches and half an hour later, I had all my clothes, even my panties, and I made my way back home.

(End of File)