How I Became Alison Ch. 04

My mind raced with this new information... Alison - the actual Alison, as in the girl I was meant to be impersonating - was in real life dating that fucking asshole of a man who had beaten me up and teased me relentlessly all throughout high school! My goddamned bully! This was just getting too fucking surreal!

You will recall, old Mister Spandwick had just fucked me good and hard in the ass, all the while pretending that I was his granddaughter Alison... He'd even constructed a bedroom for us to fuck in which was modeled after the real Alison's bedroom... Pretty sick, I know, but you have to admire the attention to detail. Everything was perfect... Even the pictures in this fake bedroom were the same pictures she had in her real bedroom... And one of them were of her and her boyfriend, whom I now saw was Brad Coulson!

Just seeing his smug, know-it-all grin brought back a shit-ton of memories...

"Piss-face! Piss-face!" That's what they had all chanted, laughing at me even as I had collapsed in the corner in shameful tears. And there Brad Coulson had been, grinning like the smug asshole he was, large, muscular arms across his mighty chest, clearly pleased with his handiwork. He delighted in humiliating me, hurting me, degrading me. And why? Just because I was a faggot. A no-good queer. I was a loser, and he was the square-jawed alpha-male, just doing his civic goddamned duty.

My most painful memory from high school involved the Fellini twins, Greta and Cammila. They were exchange students from Italy and were absolutely gorgeous. They could have been supermodels, with their olive skin, green eyes, dark hair... Tall and thin yet with a voluptuous pair of breasts apiece which jiggled mightily whenever they walked. They were by far the most well-endowed girls at school, and were the instant objects of lust by all of the male students and teachers alike.

They loved the attention. They flirted and flaunted as they saw fit, but once Brad Coulson got a look at them, it was all over. He laid claim to them - both of them, Greta and Camillia Fellini - and all of the other boys knew to lay off unless they wanted a fat lip.

Of course, I myself had no affection for the twins. Sex with girls just wasn't my thing, as you may have gathered. Also, they were pure evil. Sure, they smiled and giggled and their eyes twinkled, but inside those perfect bodies beat the hearts of twin devils.

"Why you no look at us?" they asked me once, cornering me in the school library.

"Um, w-what do you mean?" I said, quickly glancing around to make sure that Brad wasn't anywhere about. Last thing I need was for him to see me talking to his twin exchange-student-sex meat.

"All the other boys, they like our big breasts!" said Greta. "They watch them as they bounce up and down! Like this!" And here they both demonstrated, bouncing lightly on her tiptoes, which caused their enormous jugs to indeed bounce up and down. They giggled as they bounced. It was all a joke to them.

"The other boys, they wish us to suck their cocks! We see their little willies getting so hard in their pants! It is so cute!" laughed Camilla.

"But not you!" said Greta. "Your willie does not grow at all!"

"We think you are a little faggot!"

"Yes, a little faggot!" Greta agreed. "Where we come from, we think homosexuals are very, very bad!"

"Yes, we think they are unfit!" laughed Camilla. "We think they shouldn't be allowed to live!"

"Um, that's nice," I responded, looking down at my feet. "Well, nice chat, I have to get going now. See ya."

"Okay, bye-bye, little faggy!" they chanted, shaking their boobs at me, then looking at each other and giggling madly as they waltzed off.

That had been a humiliating experience, certainly, but it didn't reach apocalyptic proportions until that afternoon after school when I was getting changed in the boy's locker room, and Brad had wandered in.

He was well-over six feet tall, and he had the kind of chiseled body that any man would want. "Hey, faggot brains!" he said to me with a smirk.

"Hi, Brad," I mumbled, finishing tying my shoe.

"I heard you had a nice conversation with my girlfriends!" he laughed.

"Yeah, they're a real charming duo," I agreed. "Well, I'd better get going..."

He put out a muscular arm and slammed it against the locker, blocking my path. "They told me you hurt their feelings! Made them feel unattractive!"

"No, that's not what happened," I said. "They came over and they were like..."

"Well, let's just ask them, shall we? Oh, girls?"

And from around the corner of a row of lockers they strolled, all cute and innocent. "Hello, little faggy!" they said and giggled.

"Uh, what's this all about?" I asked.

"This is about you being a good boy and apologizing for your rudeness!"

"Okay, listen, I'm real sorry, okay? Didn't mean anything by it. Now, really I have to..."

He then grabbed ahold my arm with his hand and squeezed it back, sending me to the floor in agony.

The twins laughed, clapped their hands. "Oh, you so strong! Brad is so strong!"

Brad turned, blew them a kiss, then glanced down at me. There were tears in my eyes, the pain lanced throughout my entire body. All it would take was the barest of twists and he'd break my entire arm, I could feel the bones giving out.

"You know, this whole time I've been calling you a faggot, I just thought you were some kinda wimp, you know? It never occurred to me until today that you are actually a certified, for-real homosexual! That is disgusting, man, Grade A Disgusto!"

"Grade A Disgusto!" the twins agreed, bouncing up and down in excitement, blood lust in their eyes.

"So I'm afraid just merely tormenting you and teasing you doesn't cut it anymore," said Brad, his smile wide. "Sounds like I'm going to have to hurt you... real fucking bad!"

"...no... Brad... don't..!" I muttered through the waves of pain. "...please..."

Brad looked at the girls. "He says I shouldn't hurt him!" he said. "What do you think?"

The twins had nothing but lust in their eyes. They were loving every second of this. They looked at each other, winked, and then Greta removed her top and her perfect breasts fell out. She bit her lower lip as she rubbed them. "We think," she said - and I don't know if it was just my imagination or not, but it seemed to me that their accents had suddenly vanished, "That if you ever want to fuck us again, you'll break that little faggot's arm."

"...Brad... ...please..!" he pleaded.

He just looked at me, shrugged his shoulders, and twisted my arm so hard that the bone snapped neatly in two.

I screamed bloody murder, falling to the filthy gym floor and writhing in agony. "You son of a bitch! You goddamned son of a bitch!" I screamed. "Holy fuck!!"

The twins did not bounce up and down in delight. They did not giggle. They instead came over to where I writhed and they both took turns spitting on me.

"Dirty faggot," said Greta, and spit.

"Filthy homosexual," said Camilla, and spit.

Then they came to Brad. "Kick him in the ribs," said Greta. "Hard. I want to hear those fucking ribs crack!"

Brad would do anything at that point. He kicked me with his boots as hard as he could, then again, and again, and again. With each kick, another rib broke.

"You are a real man," said Greta. "A true man." She massaged the muscles of his right arm while Camilla massaged the muscles of his left arm. Then they traced their fingers down to his crotch. Camilla got down on her knees and unzipped his pants

"Kiss me," Greta whispered to him. "Grab my tits and kiss me while you fuck my sister's face."

That was the last thing I remembered. When I was found the next morning, I told the janitor that I must have slipped on the floor. I wouldn't believe it either, but no one ever bothered investigating it. After all, who would they believe? The coolest boy in school and the most beautiful women? Or the little, wimpy faggot that no one liked?

So now you will perhaps have a clearer idea of why I hated Brad Coulson. Even after the Fellini twins went back to their home country, he still made it a point to torture me every day. It never let up, not for a second. There were so many times I imagined him getting hit a bus, his bones and skull crushed into a smear of blood and gristle along the pavement. I imagined pissing on his grave... But there was never such justice in the world. After graduation, he had gone on and succeeded, whereas I was still living with my parents in their dirty hovel, turning tricks just to make it.

It made me so angry to remember that I smashed that framed picture on the floor and stomped on it. Tears stung my eyes. Asshole. He wasn't even here and he could still reduce me to baby tears.

All right, I'm done with my flashback. Thanks for indulging me. I was still standing in Alison's fake bedroom. I was still wearing her red heels, still wearing that blonde wig.

I looked around the rest of the room in sudden disgust. Jesus Christ, I had to get out of this! What was I even doing here? It was just ridiculous! I kicked of my high heels and marched out of there.

"Alison, where are you going, darling?" Mr. Spandwick yelled out after me.

"I'm going home!" I called out in my own voice.

"B-but, Alison, what did grampa do to make you upset? I wanted you to spend the night with me!"

"My name isn't Alison! " I told him, ripping off the blonde wig.

The old man crossed his arms. "You know, we never discussed payments."

"Payments? What the hell are you talking about?"

"Room and board. The real Alison gets an allowance of a thousand dollars a month from her parents. I think we should be able to get you, say, a thousand a week?"

"A thousand dollars every week?"

"Plus room and board. This is your home now. Your only job is to be Alison at all times. Do you think you can do that?"

I let go of the door handle. "But what about my parents..?"

"I don't think you understand. I'm offering you a new life."

We think you are a little faggot! I heard the Fellini twins chant.

"Forget it," I said. "You'll just have to find a new Alison." And with that, I slammed the door shut behind me.

I know you're thinking to yourself, Wait, so that's the end of the story? Just like that, you turned your back on thousands of dollars and a life of luxury, because of some painful high school memories?

Well, no, that's not the end of the story... I guess you could say it's all a part of the hero's journey... This is just the part where I temporarily turned my back on my destiny. Stay tuned!