*The stillness of a pond rarely betrays its depths*
(Noxii -- the hurtful ones (Latin); was the term used for Roman gladiators put into the arena without training to die for the crowd's amusement)
(The Committee of Public Safety wasn't a committee and didn't keep people safe)
(This story is ridiculous -- It would never happen; parents and law enforcement do not matter in this tale -- essentially decorative shutters, nothing more)
(This story is a comedy if a bit dark at times -- be warned)
(Every bit of sex in the story happens amongst high school seniors (18 or over) and faculty)
(Lastly, I have no idea where this story is going; I'm making it up as I go along)
Keeping my head down
My name is Jason Welch and I'm a high school senior. Three years ago I was diagnosed with an aggressive lymphatic cancer; I nearly died - twice. I had extensive physical therapy that should have lasted a year but fear of my past condition led me to obsess about being healthy. I was never a big guy and I didn't bulk out or anything like that. That wasn't in my bone structure, so I packed as much strength into my light frame as I could.
This story started when I was at my best friend Jeff Lincoln's house and he was pretty agitated. Our three closest friends were there as well. To say there had been problems at school would have been a colossal understatement. Half way through last year a girl named Mia Andropov transferred into our school from out of state. For some insane reason she pulled every dirty trick in the book to supplant, or co-opt our ruling elite and 'stole' the election for Class President.
Most of the student body wasn't impressed; student government was a joke, our big activities were men's soccer and women's lacrosse and Prom was a casual affair. But then some teachers began acting funny; our Principal and three other popular male teachers left suddenly and our new Principal turned out to be a brutal bitch and played favorites -- read Mia and her crowd. Our overall male teacher population dwindled to three.
Then the Principle created the Student's Disciplinary Committee; guess who was in charge? It started off with normal infractions -- use of cell phones in class, running in the halls, skipping school and the like. The punishments were rather extreme but the Principle turned a deaf ear so complaints went nowhere.
Now being 'in' with Mia was the only way to survive socially. She could kick you off, or let you onto, any extracurricular activity, confiscate or return any of your gear -- clothes included. You couldn't date the 'wrong' person either. She had near total control of everything. For me, it was eight more months of this crap and I was off to college. I was keeping my head down and going unnoticed, thus my current predicament.
Today, during lunch period for the senior class, Mia and her cronies broke down and humiliated Bob Tyler, Captain of the Soccer Team. He wore the black Speedo of Shame (the tiny fraction of girls so treated wore black bikinis), had to paint himself blue and run around the hall holding a sign a large sign over his head that said "Loser" and calling himself a loser while he did so.
We had lost the game on Wednesday to a team we had fought with for three years running -- they were damn good. Apparently that was all the excuse the Disciplinary Committee needed. Bob and the Soccer Team had been the last bastion of resistance to the new regime. Half way through the humiliation, Bob left school for good. His father came by later in the day to clean out his locker.
"We have got to do something, man," Jeff demanded. "They took out Bob and several of the other players are ready to roll over."
"What can we do?" Vince McCall, our goalie, groaned. "No teacher will support us."
"We take them out -- bum rush them and put such a beating on them they back off," Jeff growled angrily. He and Bob had become real tight while I was sick and they were on the Soccer Team.
"That's nuts," I insisted as I stood up. "We are not going to beat the crap out of anybody. Let's do our time, keep our heads down -- finish out the Soccer season, and put this place in our rearview mirror when June arrives. We are not thugs. If they leave us alone, we leave them alone. If they want to be queens of the school, I'm okay with that."
"We need every warm body we can muster, Jason," Jeff pleaded. "Do this for me."
"Jeff, the moment this goes beyond the room Mai will find out and then you really are screwed. I am your friend and I am telling you to let this go. We can survive this," I responded.
"Jason, before long they are going to stop needing excuses -- they will just come for you," Jeff sounded bitter, angry and defeated.
I hoisted my book bag and looked over the room.
"I'm leaving and everyone else should too," I told them. "Forget this craziness and go home." Don Feretti followed me out the door.
"Stay dude; we need you." I shook my head and left. I was disappointed in them but also I was disappointed in myself. The problem was Jeff's idea was terribly bad and had no chance of success.
The next day was Friday and I was hoping to make it up to Jeff by palling around at the Mall or going to a movie and pick up some chicks from a different, saner high school; God knows no one was dating at our school anymore. I was in home room with Larry Brickman, the fourth conspirator, when they came for him. He looked my way but all I could do was shrug. I had told them it was a dumb idea.
On the way to first period a saw firsthand how bad Mia had come down. Jeff, Vince and Larry all wore the Speedo of Shame, a blindfold; their hands cuffed in front of them and were lead around on leashes and collars by a female crony of a member of the committee. These girls took great amusement in walking them into objects, people and stepping on their bare feet. More female students than I was comfortable with joined in humiliating those doomed three.
They came for me at the start of second period; four girls smartly dressed and possessed with the belief that they ruled the school.
"Jason Welch," the lead blonde by the name of Tammy Nugent intoned, "you have been summoned before the Disciplinary Committee."
That was how it always began. My teacher, Mrs. Freeburg, looked vindicated that she'd finally ferretted out the last untouched male in her English class. I took my satchel and fell into the midst of the four girls; every last one I'd known since middle school if not longer. Neither side spoke. They were on top, I was a nobody. I was happy being a nobody.
They took me to the auditorium which seemed absolutely dark, sinister and cavernous with only exit lighting and rear stage lighting on. I had to get close to the foot of the stage to make out the individual committee member's faces -- very dramatic, but then I'd met Death before while being resuscitated during the darkest days of my illness. I couldn't help myself; I was simply not afraid.
My four female minders stood behind me (again with the intimidation) and I studied the faces of Mia and her eight hand-picked executioners. I resisted the urge to give Penelope Finnegan, the first girl I ever kissed and dated, a wave. I'd always had a crush on her. Belatedly I realized I was supposed to be sweating this out in suspense but I couldn't think of anything I'd done wrong.
"Do you know why you are here?" Mia finally spoke.
"No," I replied.
"So you know nothing of the plot to disrupt the workings of this committee?" she stood, leaned forward on the table and looked down at me. She was tall with some of the darkest blue eyes I've ever seen and some really expensive 'fake' glasses too.
"Do you mean Jeff's...ranting?" I sounded curious. "I didn't take him seriously. He was pissed, he and Bob were tight but it was five guys in his den and four of those weren't onboard as far as I could tell when I left."
"Why didn't you tell us immediately of the threat?" Mia persisted with a raptor's gaze.
"I didn't think it was...," I got out then she played a recording of the meeting. Fuck a duck, Don betrayed us all. Jeff, Vince and Larry ended up in bondage gear and it wasn't me who recorded the meeting. That bastard even tried to get me to stay. She let the part of the tape with me on it to play out; Mia ended the recording after Don's last appeal to make me stay failed.
"That sounds like you knew of a credible threat to us, right?" she directed to the eight other members of the committee. They all agreed though I suspected Penelope was reticent.
"You have been found in violation of committee rules and will be punished," Mia announced. A pretense of a vote would have been nice; and out-and-out dissention would have been miraculous.
"Okay," I shrugged.
"You have been found in violation of the committee rules," Mia repeated, as if I missed something.
"Okay," I offered in a softer, more compliant tone.
"Are you mocking this institution?" she purred with open hostility.
"No Mia; I have never been here before so I don't know what I am supposed to say or do," I said.
"Is that true?" Mia flashed her gazes at Traci Orr; blonde, pig-tails and the cheery-eyed dimples of a sadistic clown on crack cocaine. Translation; I would definitely fuck her if she was tied down but I wouldn't follow her into a dark alley without first updating my Will.
"Yes, Jason Welch is the sole remaining senior males to come before us. As of homeroom today we have taken down all the rest," Traci went over her records. "He's always been so weak and pathetic; we never singled him out for special attention." Oh, they were hunting down and mentally breaking all the men on campus -- how abysmally horrifying.
"Jason," Mia turned back to quiz me, "do you eat the cafeteria food?"
"Yes," I responded to the weirdest question so far.
"Don't you want to attack us for what happened to your friends?" Mia drilled away.
"No," I responded. "I warned them this would happen if they persisted." Until this moment, I hadn't understood why Jeff didn't see reason -- my brother was drugged. We'd all been drugged.
"Do you want to suck our toes?" Mia questioned. I resisted the desire to run for the closest exit at that point because I didn't think I could get out of school before they overwhelmed me.
"I can't see any of your toes, so I don't know," I started sweating. "But I think you have very beautiful eyes, if that helps."
"It doesn't," Mia snapped. "Tammy, offer him your left foot so he can suck on your toes." I turned to Tammy who, without an ounce of regret, shed her shoe and presented her toes to me, on the floor, to sample. She had nice, sheer black socks on that I had no desire to taste.
"Go ahead," Mia cajoled me, "we know you want to. No one will judge you here."
"Really?" I brightened up, "In that case, seeing as how she's been in those sox and shoes since 6:30 or so, I politely decline."
