Football Blues 2

Football Blues

Hazed by a Redneck, Part II: The Woods

Continued from Hazed by a Redneck, Part I: The Taking.

Nate pushed Cody's trembling body into the backseat of the pickup truck and shoved his knee into Cody's back.

Bobby jumped into the driver's seat and revved the engine. Country music blared over the suped up speakers.

Cody was no match for Nate's strength, and had no choice but to lay helpless under the rough hands of his aggressor. His nose in the cloth bench, Cody smelled motor oil, cigarettes, and harsh liquor that'd soaked into the seats years ago.

A half dozen crumpled beer cans, an old rag, and a used condom littered the floor along with a crumpled pair of camo pants. When the truck pulled out, Nate shoved the dirty rag into Cody's mouth and wrapped duct tape around his head.

Cody nearly gagged on it. He promised himself that he wasn't going to cry, no matter how bad it got.

"Fucking gross, Bobby! What is this condom doing back here?!" Nate belted.

"Oh," He chuckled, "Sarah Taylor. Wednesday night - it was hot, dude!" He lit up a cigarette.

"Oh man. That bitch is gross. What were you thinkin?"

Bobby laughed. "She ain't hot, but she was good. Look how much I jizzed!"

Nate leaned over the seat, pushing his knee harder into Cody's back. "Oh man. You had to make me look, didn't you?" He grunted.

Cody tried to adjust his body under Nate's weighty leg, and got a slap to the back of the head for his efforts.

"Quit movin', pussy. You're mine, now." Nate pushed Cody's face deeper into the seat until Cody squirmed for breath. "Let's go to Doc Harper's old place! Down by the creek," Nate suggested.

"Good idea."

Bobby turned the truck sharply to the right and sped down a paved road. Cody had never heard of Doc Harper, and he certainly didn't like the sound of hanging out at "his old place" with these two. But from the way he saw it, he had no choice.

Suddenly, Bobby tossed a green nylon bag onto Cody's back. "Use those," he said.

Nate opened the bag and pulled out two storage straps. He pulled them out and used them to bind Cody's hands so tightly that Cody grimaced, drawing another sharp head slap. Moments later, the truck turned onto a rough road, probably no more than a dirt path. Cody figured they'd gone at least ten miles from town by now.

Bobby parked the truck behind some thick brush, got out, and scoped the area for signs of life, leaving Cody alone with Nate.

"This is probably a fantasy of yours, isn't it, you little bitch?" Nate growled sinisterly, and grinded his knee deeper into Cody's back. "Being alone out here with two big cocks! Well, I'm not into that faggot shit. I'm just gonna remind you who you need to show respect to around here. You got that, bitch?!"

When Cody didn't reply, Nate twisted the straps on his wrists. Bolts of pain shot through Cody's arms like lightening, and he nodded and moaned.

Bobby opened the back door. "Let's go, man, I found a good spot."

"Alright. You take him from here. He's pissin' me off!"

"O.k. I'll get him locked down. Why don't you go get us a case of Bud?"

"Good idea. Keys?"

Bobby tossed Nate the keys. When Nate climbed out of the backseat, Bobby pulled Cody out by his hair. With no hands to keep his balance, Cody fell to the ground like a sack of dirty clothes. The scrub brush nipped his arms and the fall would definitely leave a bruise on his knee, but he was glad to be away from Nate's rough embrace, if even for a few seconds.

"Dude! You ripped his fuckin' shorts! Dumb ass! I don't wanna see his little pencil dick. We'll put those camo pants on em'!"

Even in the shade, the heat of the late summer beat down on them, and both Cody and his kidnappers were quickly covered in sweat. Bobby pulled off his soiled shirt and tossed it in the back seat. He grabbed the camo shorts and a few other items that Cody couldn't see, and then Nate to hurry up and get the beer.

They both watched Nate drive off.

To be continued...

Sexy Pic!

Hot Pic!

Hazed by a Redneck, Part I: The Taking

For as long as he could remember, Cody had been the skinny kid.
“Cute, but too skinny,” the hot bitches at his high school always said when they talked about him behind his back.
It was bad enough that the hot chicks wouldn’t date him. But to make matters worse, his mom wouldn’t let him play contact sports – she always said that he’d break something.

He wondered how he was supposed to get any bigger if he had to avoid the kind of stuff that could put meat on his bones.

The worst thing about high school, though, was the population of dumb hicks who went there with him. It seemed like a day couldn’t go by where some asshole didn’t stuff him in a locker or put him in a headlock and wipe some sort of bodily fluid on his face.

As a rule, Cody tried to keep his head low. But his striking good looks (despite the skinniness) and short temper usually made that difficult. He certainly never instigated the trouble, but he wasn’t about to sit there with his mouth shut while he was humiliated day in and day out.

Recently, two of the nastier hicks had started calling him “pussy.”

It pissed Cody off to no end – he was no coward, and certainly not a pussy by any definition.

The offenders’ names were Nate and Bobby. Nate was a varsity offensive lineman on the high school’s mediocre football team. Despite his bullying attitude, the popular girls loved him – he’d supposedly slept with twenty-two drunk co-eds in his junior year alone.

Cody didn't know what they saw in the guy. Sure, he was good-looking and had the body of a fitness model. But this jock was a real jackass who walked around slapping underclassmen in the backs of their heads and rubbing his commando crotch against unsuspecting teammates like he was some kind of dog in heat. He was known for wearing gym shorts (and no underwear) to class, and getting a hardon just to see who'd look.

Ego personified.

Nate was the asshole who typically instigated the name calling and ass slapping. That was because Nate's best friend, Bobby, was usually too stoned at any given point of the day to know what was going on.

Bobby, unlike Nate, wasn't one of the most popular guys in school.

Because of his bad attitude and inability to be a team player, Bobby had been kicked off the football team at the end of his Freshman year. And at a high school like Cody's, playing football was your only ticket to get to fuck the A-List girls.

But Bobby was lucky. Even though he wasn't the most popular guy in school, nobody messed with him. He didn't have to put up with the same kind of shit that Cody did every day.

That was because Bobby was a true redneck, in the most basic sense of the word.

He lived for only three things - to smoke pot, to get laid, and to torment the other kids at school. He drove a Ford F-150 that was adorned with oversized tires and a sticker of a naked whore holding a rebel flag.

The truck was almost always covered with mud, a true sign of redneck bliss, in Cody's opinion.

Unlike Nate, Bobby wasn't clean cut. He had shaggy hair and usually wore John Deere ballcaps and worn-out Levi's crowned with some kind of offensive belt buckle.

The "taking" all went down on Friday afternoon, on a "bye" week for the football team. With two days free from practice, the varsity players were restless and full of hormonal energy. Consequently, they'd been tormenting the underclassmen since Monday.

Cody had kept his head low all week, and breathed a sigh of relief when the bell rung, signaling the end of his last horrid class and a weekend free of assholes.

He was so happy that the weekend was here that he practically skipped down the hallway toward the bus that would take him home.

It wasn't until he was outside that they caught him.

In the midst of the masses streaming toward the busses, Cody didn't see them until it was too late.

Suddenly, a tanned, meaty arm wrapped itself around Cody's delicate neck in a mock headlock.

"Hey little buddy," Nate grinned with brewing cockiness. "I missed you this week. Why 'you been avoidin' me?" Nate squeezed Cody's nipple while the warm sweat from his white tee soiled his shoulder. Cody cringed with pain, and Nate winked at him.

"I, uh, what are you talking about?" Cody whispered, stifling his anger.

"What?" Bobby snarled, his bloodshot eyes hidden by his camoflague hat. "Don't play dumb, pussy. You know you' been hidin' from us." He spat a wad of tobacco on Cody's white tennis shoe.

A bolt of rage shot through Cody's quivering body, and he pulled away. "Fuck you, you dumb hicks!"

Before Cody turned towards the bus, Nate grabbed him by the arm and twisted it behind his back. "Not so fast, faggot. You're coming with us."

Locked into submission, Cody had no choice but to be dragged behind the row of bushes that led to the parking lot, and to Bobby's monster truck.

To be continued . . .

Stories

So I started this blog originally to post pictures. But I have some fantasies that have been floating around my head for years. I'm going to try to capture them here in the next couple weeks. Keep checking back. I'm going to try to post often. If you see me slacking--send me an e-mail (link on the sidebar) and give me a swat.