Tuff As Nails

Editor's note: this story contains scenes of incest or incest content.

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*Author's Note: Any and all persons engaging in any sexual activity are at least eighteen years of age.

Disclaimers: This story has been edited by myself, using Microsoft Spell-check. You have been forewarned.

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Ezekiel 'Tuff' Richards looked at the sideline, looked at Coach Brighton and shook his head in disbelief. Coach Brighton was calling for 79R. Again. Even after the Elgee Eagles had dropped Tony Lowell twice. First and then became second and fourteen. Second and fourteen was now third and seventeen. And Coach Brighton was demanding 79R again.

Tuff lined up behind Brent Roberts and called for the football. He turned, faked a handoff, then sprinted right between the three Eagles that were tackling Tony. Tony was also fooled; he scrambled frantically, thinking he had somehow fumbled the ball.

Tuff had advanced twenty four yards before the Elgee safety realized that Tuff had the ball and tackled the quarterback.

The referee also tacked on an additional ten yards for Defensive holding against the Elgee Eagles.

Looking over at the sideline, Tuff saw that Coach Brighton was livid. And again, the man called 79R.

"Pack, go Fifteen Sweep," Tuff said to Alan 'Pack' Hart, their tight end.

"But Coach..." Alan said.

"IS trying to lose this game," Tuff snarled.

Again, Tuff called the audible for 79R and did not miss the smiles on the faces of the Elgee players. Brent snapped the ball, Tuff again faked the handoff, leaving Tony Lowell looking confused. Tuff prayed that Pack would be where he was supposed to be as he hurled the ball.

The Baylor Lake bleachers erupted in screams as Pack ran in for a touchdown. With five seconds left in the game, their Homecoming game, the score was now Elgee Eagles 20, Baylor Lake Bandits 19.

Coach waved his kicker back to the bench and signaled that they were going for a two point conversion. And again, he signaled to Tuff that he wanted 79R.

Tuff didn't even bother trying to fake a handoff. He just took the ball and sprinted into the end zone himself. Tuff handed the football to the referee, then sprinted to the sideline.

"Brighton grabbed Tuff by his face mask and screamed, "I am the God Damned coach! I tell you fucking seventy nine R, you run fucking seventy nine R, you little fucking cock sucker!"

Tuff picked Coach Brighton up by his throat and held the man off of the ground.

"You ever raise your voice at me again? I'll rip your head off and shit down the hole, feel me dog?" Tuff said, voice barely above a whisper.

Tuff then threw the man to the ground. Manny Lopez kicked the ball; the Eagles tried to run, but the boy only made it to his fifteen yard line before he was tackled. The referee blew his whistle, signaling the end of the game.

The boys met at the middle of the field and politely shook hands with one another, telling each other 'good game' and 'we'll get you next time' and 'congratulations.' Coach Brighton did not join them. He sat on the bench and wondered where he would get the five thousand he'd just lost on tonight's game.

The Baylor Lake fans stormed onto the field, screaming and cheering. Many of the boys smiled as their cheerleaders squeezed them, as their female classmates hugged them, as their male classmates high fived them.

Tuff walked past the milling students and parents, nodding to one or two students that congratulated him. He entered the locker room, stripped out of his sweaty uniform, grabbed a bar of soap and a towel and stepped into the small communal shower.

Shower finished, he dried off, then pulled on his threadbare bargain brand jeans, his tee shirt, and his church socks.

He called them his church socks because they were holey. The tennis shoes were a size twelve; Tuff should have been wearing a size thirteen.

Other players were just starting to troop into the locker room as Tuff left out of the rear doors. Then he made the four mile walk home.

He had told everyone, told them and told them, do not vote for him. Tuff said that he would not be at the Homecoming Dance. But no one listened. Ezekiel Richards won Homecoming King by a landslide.

Britney Kendricks was crowned Homecoming Queen; no one was surprised. If she had not won the competition outright, she would have bought it. Her daddy was Harry Kendricks, owner of Kendricks Engineering, a large Oil-field company. Kendricks Engineering made Kendricks pumps, the pumps that were on nearly every off-shore oil rig in the world. And what Britney Kendricks wanted, Britney Kendricks got.

The girl actually felt slighted that Tuff Richards skipped the Homecoming Dance, felt slighted that she'd had to dance with the senior escort, Alan Hart, and not Tuff Richards.

At the Pak-N-Sak, Tuff lugged another dolly of St. Elizabeth Lager to the cooler and stacked the shelf rapidly. The last case, he opened and distributed the cold bottles in the barrel of ice near the front counter. A bell rang, indicating that someone had pulled up to the pumps outside. He recognized Britney Kendricks' 2012 Corvette.

It actually amused him; that the stuck up beauty would actually pump her own gas.

Stepping behind the counter, he kept an eye on the car. His eyes did open slightly when she stepped out of the car. The dress she had bought for the Homecoming Dance was form fitting. The white gown was strapless and Britney's quite impressive chest seemed to be the only thing holding the ankle length gown on.

When she turned to put the nozzle into her tank, Tuff saw that the gown was slit up the side to just below her hip. Her very shapely thigh was quite visible as she bent at the waist to squeeze the nozzle.

When she finished, she stuck the nozzle back into the pump. Then she opened the passenger door, grabbed something off of the passenger seat and marched, with great purpose into the store.

"Evening," Tuff said easily.

"Here, ass hole, this is yours," Britney snapped, tossing a cheap plastic and rhinestone crown at him.

"Told y'all don't vote for me," Tuff said, almost amused.

"Well, we did; you owe me a dance," Britney snarled.

"I owe you shit; I told y'all I wouldn't be there," Tuff said. "Not my fault none of y'all believed me."

It had been hard enough to get Ricky Benoit, the store manager to agree to give Tuff off for Fridays. Tuff wasn't about to ask for both Friday and Saturday off, just because it was their Homecoming Dance. And even if Ricky had agreed to give Tuff the night off, Tuff didn't have a suit to wear to the dance. Tuff didn't have the money to take a date either, and he saw no reason to go if he didn't have a date.

"You owe me a dance and I will get that dance," Britney vowed, face red with anger.

"Owe you shit, Britney but thanks for bringing me the crown," Tuff said lightly and nodded in greeting to the three giggling girls that came into the store.

"Hi Tuff," one of the girls simpered, which made her two friends giggle excitedly.

"Hi Melissa," Tuff smiled.

Then he leaned forward, squinting at the girl.

"Hey, wait a minute, come see?" Tuff demanded.

Melissa sashayed to the counter, swiveling her hips. She stopped at the counter, small chest thrust forward.

"Oh, my, goodness; you got your braces off!" Tuff exclaimed.

This caused the three girls to squeal. Giggling and squealing, they ran back out of the store, jabbering excitedly to one another.

"They didn't buy anything," Britney noted.

"Never do," Tuff smiled, watching as the trio ran across the nearly deserted highway to the trailer park across the street. "Can't afford anything."

"Well, what you expect? They live in a trailer park," Britney sneered.

"Uh huh, anything else?" Tuff said, twirling the gaudy crown on a thick finger.

Britney Kendricks was beautiful, stunning, with waist length strawberry blonde hair, large green eyes, a pug nose and pouting lips. Her breasts were quite large and sat high on her chest; it was whispered that the breasts were store-bought. Her waist was narrow and her hips and buttocks swelled nicely. Her legs were sculpted, shapely and she often wore clothing to emphasize her legs.

The Sunday after his next pay day, Tuff walked from his Baylor Lake, Louisiana trailer to Stolzle's Shoes, in Kimble, Louisiana. The walk was nearly twenty four miles and Tuff slapped his forehead just as he walked into the parking lot of the shoe store. He did not know if the store was open on Sundays.

Fortunately for him, it was. An attractive red head smiled at him and flirted as he looked at different athletic shoes. He kept his face bland even as he wanted to wince at the prices of their shoes.

"Oh, that's a good one yeah; they got them a good innersole," the sales clerk said when he finally selected a cross-trainer model. "What size you thinking?"

"Think I'm a thirteen," Tuff said. "The cleats I'm wearing are a thirteen."

The girl measured him. Tuff again kept his face bland as her eyes flickered at the sight of his holey socks. She measured both feet, then her eyes flickered to the crotch of his cheap jeans.

"Man! Know what they say about big feet, huh?" the girl asked and Tuff blushed hotly.

"They wear big shoes," she smiled cheekily and got to her feet. "You actually a thirteen and a half, double E. Think we got that in that size."

Tuff tried on the shoes and actually sighed with relief. They felt wonderful. Nearly his entire paycheck went to the shoes, but, no matter what his mother said, it was not an extravagance, it was a necessity.

"And, guy opened these up and stole himself a pair, believe that? Some people huh? But can't sell them no," the girl said and stuffed an opened bag of athletic socks into the bag with the new shoes.

"Thank you, ma'am, I really appreciate that," Tuff said quietly.

"Welcome," the girl said cheerfully.

The twenty four mile walk seemed worse. His old shoes bound his feet; each step drove the point home.

"Where you been?" Marie Richards accused when he entered the trailer.

"Store," Tuff said, holding up the bag.

"I'll bet," Marie snarled. "You was fornicating. Weren't you? You was fornicating, sinning. I seen the way them girls is, all dressed like the whores they is."

"Mom, here, bag's right here. Receipt shows when I was there; want to check?" Tuff said.

"And what'd you buy? Drugs?" Marie accused.

"Yeah, Mom, they got stores sell drugs. And give you a receipt, in case you want return their drugs," Tuff said, rolling his eyes.

"Don't you sass me," Marie said.

"Then don't say stupid stuff, huh?" Tuff said.

At school on Monday, Tuff noticed that Coach Brighton had a beautiful shiner and a busted lip. At practice, Coach yelled at the players, singling Tuff out for the majority of his criticisms.

Then Tuff jogged from school to the Pak-N-Sak for his five to one shift.

At seven thirty, Pack came in. He played as if he was going to grab a beer out of the ice barrel and Tuff smirked. Pack knew Tuff would never sell him the beer. Even if they were teammates, friends, Tuff was a straight shooter.

"Hear Britney's pissed at you?" Pack asked as he put the large soda and the beef jerky onto the counter.

"Heard I don't give a shit?" Tuff asked.

"Dude, what? Just fuck her, let her find out how small your dick is and move on, huh?" Pack said.

"Uh huh, and what if she likes small dicks?" Tuff asked, handing Pack his change.

"Then tell her Manny's even smaller than yours," Pack laughed.

The Baylor Lake Bandits ended the season with a 7 and 2 record. Cabrini Catholic High School and Kimble Academy were the only two teams that beat the Bandits. And, Cabrini beat them again in the first game of the play-offs.

The Winter Festival was held a month after their football season ended. Being a public school, Baylor Lake High School was not allowed to have a Christmas Dance, a Christmas celebration.

Again, Tuff told everyone he would not be attending; please do not vote for him to be the Festival King.

"Oh, you are going, and you are taking me," Britney declared smugly.

"No, I'm not," Tuff said. "I'm working."

Three days before the Winter Festival, Ricky Benoit informed Tuff he would be scheduled off for that Friday. Tuff simply shrugged his shoulders and continued stocking the shelves.

The next day, Britney again informed Tuff he would be escorting her to the Winter Festival. And again, Tuff told her he would not.

"But you're not working," she whined, actually stamping her foot.

"And how'd you know that?" Tuff asked, baffled.

"Daddy told your manager give you Friday off," Britney preened.

"I make nine dollars an hour. Six times nine is fifty four, Britney, so, thanks a fucking lot for costing me fifty four bucks, stupid bitch," Tuff snarled angrily.

Britney gasped, beautiful face a mask of shock.

Just after lunch, just as he was about to walk into his American History class, Britney stomped up to Tuff.

"Here, ass hole," she snarled, thrusting a bank envelope at him.

"What? What's this?" Tuff asked.

"Your fifty four bucks," Britney sneered.

"Aw, fuck you, Britney," Tuff snarled, shoving her hand away.

That Friday night, instead of going to the Winter Festival, Tuff was behind the trailer park, letting Melissa and her two squealing, giggling, preening friends beat him at basketball. The air was brutally cold with the humidity blowing in from the Atchafalaya Basin, but the eighteen year old boy and the three younger girls didn't notice as they ran back and forth, squealing and screaming.

Finally, Mr. Trahan, the man whose trailer was next to the court stuck his bald head out and yelled for them all to go home, quit making all that noise.

"Heard Britney was wanting you go with her to that Winter Festival?" Melissa dared ask as they walked toward her trailer.

"Uh huh, and heard Bobby Broussard wanted you go with him," Tuff said.

She blushed hotly and looked at the ground. Then she looked over at the handsome young man. He had a square, strong face, a mop of unkempt brown hair and warm brown eyes.

He was tall for his Cajun heritage, nearly six feet tall. His thin shirt bulged with his rippling muscles and his jeans were taut across his thighs.

He had to buy bargain brand jeans, had to buy jeans that would fit over his massive thighs, so usually the waists were too big. For three bucks, Melissa's mother would take in the waists for Tuff. Melissa knew that Tuff's waist was a slim thirty two inches, but he often had to buy size forty waist jeans and slacks.

"So, why didn't you go?" Tuff asked when they reached Melissa's trailer.

"Denise needing her some glasses," Melissa whispered.

"Same here," Tuff said. "Um, pay the light bill? Or... spend a bunch of money on a suit I might wear once."

"It's going get better yeah," Melissa promised, more for herself than for his benefit.

"You studying? Only way you getting a scholarship got to do real good in school," Tuff encouraged.

"Twenty six to ten!" Melissa yelled just before dashing inside of her trailer. "Ha ha! Beat you. Twenty six to ten yeah!"

"Uh huh," Tuff smiled and opened the door of his own trailer.

"What was that little tramp screaming about?" Marie demanded.

"Mom! God! She's not a..." Tuff exclaimed.

"Don't! Don't you dare take the name of the Lord in vain!" Marie screamed.

"What that Bible say about judging others, huh?" Tuff demanded. "Melissa's a good kid, Mom. She's not a tramp. She's not a whore. She's a good kid."

"You hear me? You don't be saying the name of God like that," Marie shrilled.

To make up for missing Friday, Tuff worked a double shift on Saturday. He sighed when he saw Britney's Corvette scream to a stop just outside of the door of the Pak-N-Sak.

Fortunately for him, the store was crowded. Fortunately for him, the store continued to be quite busy. Finally, Britney tired of waiting for an opportunity to scream at him and stormed away.

The Valentine's Day Dance was approaching. Tuff did find it amusing that they could not celebrate Christmas, but they could celebrate a day named after a Catholic saint.

Britney let it be known that she expected Ezekiel Aaron Richards to be her date for the Valentine Day dance. Tuff let it be known he would not be her date for the dance; he would not be attending.

Again, Ricky sidled up to Tuff and let him know that he would not be working that Friday.

"I uh, uh, listen, I uh, I took a lot of shit you didn't go to some Winter dance?" Ricky said.

"Then you about to take a whole truckload of shit," Tuff said.

"And how you know Harry Kendricks anyway?" Ricky asked.

"I don't," Tuff said.

"Really?" Ricky asked, dubious.

Britney smiled smugly as she approached Tuff as he put his books into his locker.

"So, what time you picking me up? Oh, and my dress is red, okay? That way you know what color corsage get me," she announced.

"Not picking you up, not taking you, not going," Tuff said.

"You're not working that day," Britney challenged.

"Britney, get this through your head," Tuff yelled. "I. Am. Not. Taking. You. I am not taking you. Shit! Really? Would rather go with Pack than with you, stuck up bitch."

"You, Tuff! Are, you're not gay, are you?" Britney asked, genuinely curious.

"Gets you off my ass? Then yeah, I'm a fag, okay?" Tuff yelled, then stomped away.

"Dude, you're not, huh?" Pack asked as Tuff sat down in their homeroom.

"No, I'm not," Tuff sighed.

Then he smiled at Pack.

"But you do have the dreamiest eyes," he said.

"Aw, shut up, homo," Pack laughed.

Tuff should have known Britney would not let it go, would not simply accept that he wouldn't be taking her to the Valentine's Day dance. She cornered him as he tried to enter the cafeteria at lunch time.

"Why don't you want to go to the dance with me?" she demanded.

"Believe it or not, Britney? There are some things your Daddy can't buy you, all right?" Tuff said.

"Plus that?" he asked as he opened the door. "I just don't like you."

Britney's entourage all told her that Tuff was a jerk, an ass hole, lower than whale shit. She would be much better going to the dance with Pack, or Brent, or Tony.

The Friday of the Valentine's Day dance, since he didn't have to work, Tuff climbed onto the roof of the trailer, lay back and watched the stars. He could locate and name nearly one hundred of the small twinkling lights. He studied them, imagining what the ancient astronomers must have felt as they gazed upon the distant, mysterious heavens.

As part of her graduation gift to him, Mrs. Bergeron, Melissa's mother did not charge Tuff for altering the dress slacks that he wore underneath the white graduation gown. She had him try on the slacks with the dress shoes.

Because the shoes were a size eleven, Tuff stood on the backs of the shoes, flattening them down. His heels stuck out over the sole. But Principal Savoie had announced that tennis shoes would not be allowed on the small stage.

Suddenly, Mrs. Bergeron understood why Ezekiel never wore a coat, no matter how cold it was outside. The boy didn't own a coat. She now understood why the young man wore tee shirts that looked ready to fall apart. . Tee shirts cost money. And she understood that the young man didn't have money for dress shoes, shoes that he'd probably wear once, maybe twice.

"And I been charging him three dollars each pair of pants," she thought.

Marie scrounged together some money and bought herself a sensible skirt and blouse and some sensible shoes. Feeling quite attractive in her new clothing, she proudly attended the graduation ceremony, sat with other parents, bored siblings, family members in the crowded gymnasium.

"And now, some words from our valedictorian," Principal Savoie intoned.

Behind him, the twenty nine students looked bored, some fidgeted, some whispered with their neighbors. All wished he would just hand them their diplomas and let them leave the cramped, hot gymnasium.