CHAPTER 12: THE BOYS ON THE BUS

One fateful afternoon when I was a sophomore I got on the school bus that would drop me off near my mom’s house instead of working after school at my dad’s store like I usually did.  I rode my bike to school at least half the time, but I think it had been raining that morning.  And I varied between two bus routes depending on whether or not I was going home or to work for my Dad after school.  This time I was heading home.  The bus was packed that day the only seat available was in the very back of the bus next to Randy, one of the older boys who had a reputation for bullying other kids around. 

About midway I passed by Billy who was riding the bus for some odd reason, I guess his Camaro was getting fixed or something, but he avoided any eye contact with me.  I could tell it was deliberate, the way his face was set, like chiseled stone.  I tried to sit down in another seat where a senior had stowed his backpack next to him on the seat, as I made my way further toward the back of the bus, but the guy just pushed me back into the aisle.  So I had to keep moving toward the back seats. I got to the very back seat on the bus and expected that Randy wouldn't let me sit in the seat and that I was going to have to hold onto the rail and stand, but Randy patted the empty place next to him and hesitantly I sat down.   He was a bully, and I knew he was the one who had originally gotten my nickname, “LD” started around the school.

I set my backpack down on the floor between my legs, opened it up and pulled out a copy of Children of Dune, a classic science fiction book I’d just started, and began reading it.  Suddenly I was shoved over against Randy as George, a short Hispanic boy, slid into the seat next to me sandwiching me between them.  George was one of the hairiest guys in high school.  The “V” of his shirt opened onto a hirsute chest denser even than Coach Ferris.

"Is this your new girlfriend?" George teased Randy, shoving me against Randy who justled me back against George.  I dropped my book and it slid down beyond my backpack, before I could retrieve it George kicked the book under the seat toward the front of the bus.

For a while the two boys talked around I as if he wasn't there, telling dirty jokes.  Randy told a nasty joke about "Dick Tracy" sucking the spit between his teeth when he inhaled in an effort to sound nasty.  It was a comic castration joke that set up the question, “Are you Dick Tracy?” with the punchline, “Just Tracy, ma’am, no dick.” Then George lifted my left arm up to the top of the seat so it stretched across the back of the seat bar behind his shoulders and scooted closer, sandwiching me firmly between the two of them.  Randy did the same thing with my right arm.

"Pull it out, Randy." Randy said, maintaining a conspiratorial tone, and George slid porn magazine out of his pack and laid it between them on my lap, and turning the pages, as they looked at the pictures. The magazine was hard core.  The magazine flipped open to a photograph of a woman being splattered by a huge load of cum from a man who was hung like king donkey.  No kidding.  This porn Kong had a dong thick as a wrist and long as a forearm. The pictures were more graphic than anything I had ever seen before. 

My two captors were also joking with Guy Williams in the seat ahead of us who was leaning over the back of his seat laughing and joking all the time looking at the pictures. They kept leaning close together and talking about sex, and talking to each other about girls, "beaver," and how pussy smells.  The kind of talk that I had never encountered at home except between Chuck and Jimmy, when he came by. 

They turned to a large two page photo of a hairy muscular man penetrating a woman.  His penis must have also been enormous since a fair amount of shaft still remained visible.  There was a substantial amount of thick white spooge dripped sloppily from her stretched pussy.  He had a thick trail leading up to his navel right at the edge of the photograph.  I’ve have always had a fetish for trails, and his was perfect.

When Randy poked his finger against another photo spread of wide her beaver he encountered my erection popping up hard as a branch beneath the magazine and he quickly recognized what was going on underneath the magazine in my pants.  He announced way too loudly, "Well looky looky at what's going on here," and picked the magazine up off my lap. I started to pull my arms free to cover up my tented shorts, but the two boys laughed and grabbed my hands and arms before I he could bring my arms down from behind their shoulders and behind the seat.  I felt hands on my arms as someone twisted them up behind the seat and held them hard against the back of the seat pulling my butt up off the seat as he pulled my arms down behind the seat.  I looked around to see Victor and Jason in the seat behind us and they had both my arms pulled down and locked against the hard back of the seat. The pain in my shoulders back across to top of the seat back, forcing me up.

Even though I have a small penis—and it was even a bit smaller back then—straining against the material of my shorts it was pretty obvious what was going on, especially with my crotch thrust forward.  George tapped it with the magazine to get it to bounce beneath by shorts. My body reacted and it bounced a few extra times as the muscles controlling my erection involuntarily contracted.

While Guy painfully secured my arms behind the bus seat, drawing me up into a half standing-half sitting position, George and Randy pulled my shorts and briefs down my legs and off my feet, knocking my shoes off with them.  I was kicking and trying to stop it, but the pain in my arms limited how much I could move, and since I was wearing the baggy shorts with only an elastic waist-band, it all happened pretty fast.  I struggled while they were pulling my pants down, kicking and trying to stop them, but they boys just trapped my legs with their own, pulling my legs apart and revealing my "stiffy" for all to see.

The boys howled with laughter.

"Where's his dick?" Jason chortled.  He was up and leaning halfway over my shoulder from the seat behind me to catch a look at my woody.

“He’s got an outee” Guy answered.  Somehow Guy had gotten the magazine from George and tapped my penis with it a few times making it bounce like a spring, thumping back against my belly.  My penis had gotten dark red like it does when I get super hard.

"How come his belly button is way down there?" George said.

"It's an itty bitty stiffy." Randy guffawed while watching Guy continue to drum my penis with the porn magazine like a toy.

Guy tossed my underwear onto the girl in the seat across from us, and she looked around and saw my erection and giggled, whispering to her friend and pretty soon all the kids in the back of the bus were looking back and laughing.  A couple of the kids from the front of the bus even ran back to look, before the bus driver yelled back "What's going on back there?" and someone answered, "Nothing, L.D. just told us a joke."

"Showed us his joke." Someone else corrected, joining in on the fun at my expense, and the kids started laughing all over again.  The bus driver told everyone to settle down and drove on while the boys kept their hold on me in the back of the bus.  I looked up and could see Billy sitting there like he was oblivious to what was going on amid the chorus of students all craning and whispering trying to figure out what was going on.  You could see the story travelling forward from seat to seat leaving a wake of giggles and turned faces as looky-loos turned to snag a better view at what was going on.

This was worse than the incident at the pool.  It was the nightmare of being naked in front of all the other kids at school.  And what was worse I had an erection.  I wanted to die and disappear, and almost immediately my penis got soft and started to shrink back into my body until only tip was exposed--like when it gets cold in the winter--even though it was hot in the bus. The boys pulled my shirt up to my underarms, but it fell back to my waist as I struggled.

"My little brother has a bigger dick and he's only in 2nd grade."  George said. 

"Yea, Little Dick," Randy asked, "So what happened to the rest of your dick, L.D.?"  Randy asked. Some of the kids around us laughed.  Some had that cowed look that people get when they see someone getting bullied but they don’t want to get involved less the bullies turn on them. But in my mind at the time, every kid on the bus-hell-even the bus driver was laughing at me.

“That’s enough!” That came from the senior with the backpack toward the front of the bus, I think his name was Bart.  As the bus turned onto the road where my stop was, I struggled harder and begged them to give me back my pants. I’d been trying hard to hold back the tears, but now they came. In a deluge of chokes and sobs.

"Awww," Randy said, "L.D.'s cryin'."  His voice was mocking.

"Cocksucker's crying!"  Jason laughed.  He was enjoying this more than most.

“Give him his stuff back.” The senior added, then warned them, “Don’t make me come back there.” And finally as the bus reached my house George handed me my shorts and I scrambled into them and picked up my backpack and books from under the seat.  My shoes were nowhere to be found.  I went running toward the front of the bus where the bus driver was waiting impatiently. The senior sitting with his back pack looked at me as I moved past him and shook his head in disapproval. 

As I got off the bus I heard a "thump, thump" as my shoes landed on the pavement near me, and I looked up to see Ray, Mark's best friend, closing the window he’d just thrown them out of.  He made the briefest eye contact with me, but otherwise his face was pretty expressionless. Billy was sitting next to him.  Further in the back George and Randy were waving at me and laughing and Jason was holding my underwear up in the back door as the bus pulled away.  Billy was the only face I saw that wasn’t laughing.

I was still crying when I opened the door and fled into the shelter of our house.  Luckily no one was there.

It would take less than two hours for Mark to hear about what had happened.  By the time he got home, he already knew.  In fact he said he’s seen a picture of me with my pelvis raised up off the seat.  He said it looked like I was showing off my teeny weenie like it was something to be proud of.  Mark was pissed.  He told me that I had a reputation as a “dickless wonder” and an “wimp”.  He said I deserved what had happened since I never stood up for myself.  And now, after this, things would only get worse.

"If these guys fuck with you again you better do something to stand up for yourself.  I mean it!  When you let them walk all over you it affects me!"  Mark said that, and he meant it.  "They already think I have a baby dick like you do!"   I was more utterly embarrassed and humiliated listening to this coming from Mark than I had been getting exposed on the bus.  “It is embarrassing to be your brother,” he vented, “Fuck!”  And I could hear the frustration in his voice and wondered what had happened.

"Have you ever known her to work this much, to work all those double shifts?"  Mark asked.  "Have you asked yourself why she is doing that?"  He paused. "Dad left, and I'm sorry about that.  It really fucked up everything!  I know Chuck was as asshole to you, I know you were his private cocksucker, but nothing like this could have happened if he had been here.  Mom is falling apart at the seams, and it's your fault!  So I am taking back control for our family. If I hear that you have been doing anything like what happened today, or that you got stripped on the bus, or anything else, there'll be hell to pay.  I mean it!"

I remembered what my Aunt Edith had said at my birthday party well over a year ago.  She had told me that soon he would have to start being polite to my "bigger brother" Mark.  Her insight was unexpectedly prophetic.

"If I hear that you tried to defend yourself.  Even if you got the shit beat out of you, then I will be proud of you.  But if I hear that you let them humiliate you without doing anything to stop it--well, whatever they did, won't be nearly as bad as what happens when you get home! LD, they only do this because you let them, and a counselor told me that means that you either think you deserve it or that you enjoy it."

I didn’t think back onto what he’d said about what a counselor had said to him until a long time later.  It just didn’t register at the time, though on some level it had or I wouldn’t have remembered it.

David (1995)

Author's Note: As you read these chapters, please leave comments.  I would truly appreciate your feedback.