Bio of a Bully Ch. 7 Pt. 1byozeboi69©
Fuckin’ Fab. I couldn’t believe the cunt had done it.
The day after I took Fab down, the cops were crawlin’ all over school. They were everywhere, man! The whole fuckin’ school was dragged into an assembly and the Principal got up to talk to us.
“As many of you may already know by now, the school has befallen another tragedy, in what can only be described as a disastrous year of misfortunes for many of our students. I ask each of you to remain calm in this crisis and use each other and your teachers to support you through such a sad ending to our year.”
Fuck he crapped on sometimes!
“You’ve all seen the police around the school yard this morning. During their investigations, many of you may be questioned, beginning from this morning. Those needed for questioning will be pulled out of class at the appropriate time, however – and I want to stress this – being questioned does not mean you are presumed guilty of any crime. The police are simply trying to piece together events which have taken place. I ask you all to cooperate and any student found to be hindering police or staff actions, or making this more difficult than necessary for fellow students, will be instantly expelled. Of that I am most adamant.”
The assembly broke out in a rumble of panic. I wished he’d get to the point, but when he did, I wished he’d never fuckin’ spoken.
“For those of you not yet aware of the situation, one of our senior students, Fabio Donetello was found dead this morning in the school gymnasium. Without going into too much detail, it is strongly suspected that foul play was involved.”
The murmur erupted into a huge explosion of noise, the whole fuckin’ school bursting in chatter. Everyone was talking, except me. I just sat there, stunned and I could feel the blood draining out of my fuckin’ face. The cunt had hung himself trying to break free!
I freaked! I wasn’t a fuckin’ killer. There was no way that fuckin’ rope could have hung him. Some other cunt must’ve come in after me and finished the job.
I could see eyes looking at me. All the fuckin’ dweebs looking at me like I was the guilty one. No fuckin’ way!
It was coming up to exam time at school, end of year tests. After telling us not to go off alone anywhere, the Principal told us that when exams started next week, we could do them after the Christmas holidays if we wanted. Big fuckin’ deal! I’d already nicked the exams and photocopied them so Scott’s brother Michael could find out the answers for me. The was no fuckin’ way I was gonna waste that effort!
That whole day the school was like a fuckin’ morgue and all the rumours started flying around – how the janitor had found him, how he was fuckin’ mauled to pieces or hanging from the ceiling….. Nobody seemed to know the real details, but the stories were a lot more exciting than the boring truth, which was that Fab had just strangled himself. Stupid faggot! If he’d just sat there like a good little poof, he woulda been just fine! The other kids steered clear of me, even my mates made excuses to fuckin’ disappear quick.
I couldn’t believe the cunt was dead. How the fuck could he have been so bloody stupid?
Scott was the only bastard who gave me the time of day, but I could see him looking at me like he knew it was my fault too, so eventually I hauled the prick into the toilets.
“Listen here, you little fuck,” I said to him, “I know what you’re thinking and you’re wrong, okay? I didn’t fuckin’ do it. I’m no fuckin’ killer – it was the cunt’s own stupid fault.”
Scott looked at me carefully, and I could see him working out what to say.
“It’s okay Justin,” he began, talking real slowly, picking his words like they were fragile bits of fuckin’ glass. “I’m not saying anything. I know you wouldn’t do something like that. Whatever happened, it….it must have been an accident.”
“It was no fuckin’ accident!” I shouted out him. “The cunt did it to himself. He did it deliberately to get back at me! There’s no fuckin’ way that rope could’ve strangled him….” I cut myself off, kicking myself for fuckin’ admitting I’d strung him up. I could see in Scott’s eyes that he picked up the confession.
“It’s going to be okay, Justin, I promise. You know….you know how I ….feel …about you, don’t you? I won’t let them blame you. You can say you were with me. I’ll back you up.”
“And who’s gonna believe that fuckin’ crap, huh? Me hanging out with you? They’ll know I’m fuckin’ lying.”
“Then don’t say it!” he snapped. “I don’t care what you say to them, just stay calm. I know it was an accident. I won’t tell them anything, I promise.”
And I knew the dweeb was good for his word. I was so fuckin’ panicked that all I could do was nod at him and walk out. I was shaking all over and didn’t know what else to do or say.
The pigs called heaps of us in for questioning, asking what we were doing last night and if we knew who’d want to kill Fab. I knew some arsehole would squeal – faggots always do under pressure, so when it was my turn, I covered my arse just in case. I told the pigs that I’d had a brawl with Fab in the school yard, then left him there. I didn’t didn’t tell them that I’d strung the fuckin’ rope around his neck. - No fuckin’ way!
I took Scott into the park that night and worked him over, making him take it hard to work out my anger. He took it all, like he knew what I was doing, swallowing my cock whole and sucking it as hard as I was shoving it in, never saying nothin’ in case I clobbered him too. But he watched me the whole fuckin’ time, just like everyone was at school. He cunt never took his eyes off me, staring up as he sucked my dick…
When I came, it was the worst fuckin’ climax I ever had. My cock was all dull and felt like it had no feeling, like I’d wanked once too often. There was just this pumping feeling happening below but no great explosion like there should’ve been. I knew it wasn’t the faggot’s fault, but I wanted so bad to pound him in the head and smash his fuckin’ face into the nearest tree. I wanted to rip his tongue out his mouth and slap him about with it, like it would make everything okay if I just showed the cops how far I could go bashing up a faggot – like, always stopping before killing him, just pounding him enough to make him suffer, that’s all. And I wanted to grab Scott and crush him in my arms in the biggest fuckin’ bear hug ever, ‘cause I knew he’d hug me right back and tell me that everything would be okay. But I couldn’t do either and I walked away as alone as I fuckin’ felt.
The next day was no better, with cops crawling all over the school again, taking fingerprints, moving in and out of the gym all day, asking more fuckin’ questions than they had the right to. And the whole fuckin’ time, I kept freaking, waiting for them to try to pin the fuckin’ death on me.
I took Scott again at lunch time, dragging him to the back of the oval behind some trees and making him suck me off again. He didn’t make a sound. He just blew me like I wanted and swallowed my load like he was told.
After lunch, I sat through the last fuckin’ classes of the day – english, history, maths…. but each one was just a fuckin’ blur. All I could see was Fab hangin’ there in the gym. I imagined how he must’ve looked, his face all bloated and swollen, his tongue sticking out, while his body twisted slowly on the fuckin’ rope. But it was his bloody fault, not mine, the stupid twit!
When the bell rang at the end of the maths lesson, I shot up outta my chair ready to take off out there like a bat out of hell, but the cops were there waiting and nabbed me as I walked through the door.
“You have the right to remain silent…” I have no idea what they actually fuckin’ said. I thought I was gonna be sick and all I remember is their mumbling and a blur of staring faces as they put the handcuffs on me and took me to their car.
My Dad was at the cop station in a flash when he found out what had happened, demandin’ that a fuckin’ lawyer be sent for before I was asked any more questions, but I knew it was pointless because they would’ve taken my fingerprints off all the fuckin’ lights and stuff I’d set up before Fab had arrived.
I figured that I was done for and that if I lied too much then the pigs would make it worse for me, so I told them what had happened…sort of. I didn’t tell them about the other dweebs. I just told them about Fab, putting on the act like I did for the teachers, nice and innocent, telling them how I’d found out he was one of the cunts who had kidnapped me. I told them how I wanted to pay him back for what he did and scare him, and that there was no fuckin’ way that the rope could’ve strangled him.
It was then I found out that the prick had got the rope caught trying to escape. He must’ve been tugging at the ropes that were tying his hands back, making him choke himself, but the fuckin’ cord got caught and that was how he died.
And then I was in the slammer. And my Dad was looking at me through the bars just staring at me like I was some complete fuckin’ stranger, shaking his head and telling me that I was no son of his.
My lawyer told me that I oughta plead guilty to manslaughter but not to murder. He told me that there were “extenuating circumstances” and that I might be lucky to get off on probation. But I knew he was bullshitting. I knew that I was too old for the juvenile court and I was going to jail like an adult. That fuckin’ cunt, Fab had won after all.
In court, I did like the lawyer said and the judge set a court date for three week’s time. Three fuckin’ weeks! And then he said that he was afraid that Fab might’ve told me who else was involved in the kidnapping and so he wouldn’t let me out on bail.
The remand centre was like a fuckin’ nightmare – all brick walls and bars on the windows – fuckin’ pointless since they were so fuckin’ high and so fuckin’ small, you couldn’t see out of them anyway.
The cunts strip-searched me, laughing as they poked around in my privates, then put me in a cell with two beds. The room was small, only about 12 feet square, with one bare light bulb in the ceiling, covered with mesh, and the door was solid metal. I sat there on the empty bed, looking around room, wondering what the fuck was going to happen. After everything I’d fuckin’ done for all those faggots, this was where I landed. I wanted to rip every one of their fuckin’ heads clear off their shoulders.
I couldn’t stop shaking as I sat there hugging my knees. Since the whole thing started, my head had been in a fuckin’ whirl and I couldn’t stop my mind from spinning. Every time I tried to focus, all I could see was a picture of Fab in my mind, hanging there with his eyes all bulging and his tongue hanging out…
And then there was my Dad. He came to visit me later that day, looking at me through the glass window of the visitor’s room like I was some kind of fuckin’ monster.
“You fucked him up the arse,” he said to me, “and then you killed him!”
“No…” I said, but he wasn’t listening.
“My own son.” He looked like he was gonna cry. We’d been the best of mates ‘til now and seeing him like that made me want to die. “I can’t believe it. My own flesh and blood…”
“Dad…” I started.
“No!” he cried, jumping to his feet. “No ‘Dad’! Not anymore. Not now, not ever. No son of mine is a murdering faggot!”
Tears began to well up in my eyes. “But, Dad…”
“I said, ‘No’! From now on, you call me Peter. I don’t ever want to hear you call me ‘Dad’ again. I’m just glad your mother’s dead and can’t see what you’ve become.”
The tears were streaming down his face now, and I couldn’t help but fuckin’ copy him.
“I’ll tell them what kind of son you used to be,” he said. “I’ll tell them what you want them to hear, but after that, no more. If you get out of this, I want you out of my house, you hear?”
“Dad!….” I protested.
“I want you out!” And he fuckin’ left me and didn’t come back. I never saw him again until the court case.
The screws dragged me back to my cell and slammed the door shut behind me, locking me in there for the rest of the day. I fell on the bed, howling like a fuckin’ baby. The whole thing was like a nightmare. It couldn’t really be happening. I dunno how long I lay there... an hour, two... I was nearly asleep until suddenly I heard the clank of the metal door slam shut, and then a voice.
I jumped a fuckin’ mile and looked up to see this huge, ugly mother-fucker coming towards me. He was maybe 50 years old or something, wearing nothing but boxer shorts. He was covered in tatts, all over his chest and arms. His gut hung down far enough to keep his knees warm and his tits were pointing towards the floor. He must’ve weighed at least 250, maybe 300 pounds, and his arms were about as big around as my legs. The prick sat down on the bed beside me and put his arm around me.
“No need to be scared,” he said. “I’ve been in here plenty of times, though not with anyone as pretty as you, kid. The trick is to make your friends real fast and then they’ll look after ya. See?”
I tried pulling away from him but he kept his arm around me and pulled me in closer. I could smell a stench from his skin, like salt and some sour odor mixed together, and there were beads of sweat on his face.
“There’s nowhere to go, my friend,” he said in a low voice. “No point tryin’ to pull away. If you want to get by in here, you’re gonna have to try a bit harder to be nice. Know what I mean?”
The cunt grabbed my face and turned it up so I was looking at him, then suddenly tried to kiss me.
“Get away, you goddamn faggot!” I yelled, struggling to break free.
“Oi!” he growled, and backhanded me across the face so hard I saw stars. He shoved me down on the bed and climbed on top of me, clawing at my shirt and ripping it open.
“You’re gonna be nice whether you want to or not,” he said, crushing me with his weight. I tried reaching up to hit him but he pinned my arms to the bed and started mauling at me with his mouth, kissing and biting me fast and frantic like he was starving for it.
“Oh, yeah,” he cooed. “You’re a sweet piece of meat, you are. You and I are gonna be real good buddies…”
To be continued…