PROLOGUE
INDIE BAAL-PEOR
I Didn't Ask for This... Maybe I did... Okay I did... But Not Because I Like You or Anything, Stupid
Hours before being summoned...
All I wanted in life was to lie down in bed and finally sleep without being disturbed just once. Okay, maybe not just that but I’d like to draw comic books. My mom tells me I’m really good at drawing, so do my brother and sister. I gave it a shot and it didn’t go anywhere because I kept getting rejected by all these different publishers. I remember sitting down with an editor who liked one of my comics, but he said my story was stupid so I threw the coffee in his face and walked out. Since then I’d put everything aside so I don’t recall drawing ever since… Drawing, at least, gave me some purpose. I don’t want to bore you with this sappy nonsense about my life story, it’s not that important, like me. All you really need to know is I’m a fat piece of shit who’s tired, a senior in high school, eighteen with no dreams, enjoys memes and eats tons of ice cream. But all that’s just a façade I tell myself to feel better… Dreams are nothing but a sham and fate is what we commonly mistake as our own stupidity. In life, you have to make your own destiny in lieu of the circumstances of your birth. I was no different.
It was in the morning after my midmorning shit that I was being beaten, not to death because that would kind of suck, but it could be worse. It was behind the high school by the dumpsters that I was being roughed and toughed. It was the local bullies of my class, not school, just my class, the school bullies were something else whom had their own hierarchy and these guys were on the bottom of that pyramid. By de facto this puts me as a low priority target, which is alright, because these shakedowns really help me out. I didn’t mind them beating me up, people pay good money for this, besides it’s what normal boys do to each other. They hit on one another, take each other to the back alleys and beat each other off, followed by a nice bareback wrestling session behind a hobo’s home (dumpster).
No, these bullies, if you could call them that, which amassed four, weren’t dumb or anything, in fact, they were the top students in my class. Straight As, athletes, girls sometimes guys chasing after them, you name it. For me it was the exact opposite, it wasn’t like girls would come up to me pressing their chests against my arm, gyuu-ing all over me and saying, “Indie, we need your help with this math problem!” No. The girls really didn’t like me, it was more like, “Hi Indie. How was your day? Did you eat lunch alone again? You should eat with us.” Oh, they hated me alright, they knew I was on diet trying to lose weight, those temptresses were trying to make me lustful but father trained me better than to fall in love with thots. Anyway, I was sort of these guys’ plus one girls’ punching bag, that’s all. Even I must acknowledge that people need to blow off some steam. These weren’t inherently bad people, every person has agency and as such you can’t look at people as being coherently good or evil, the world just doesn’t work that way.
The one kicking me in my belly was Fayn Fanden, aptly named after some Norwegian god or something. He was built like a tank mainly because he was a boxer. His coach said he needed practice on his legwork so that’s why he’s kicking me right now. He was a cool dude who really has a future ahead of him in the corporate world as a CEO, probably.
“Damn Indie, you’re taking today’s beating quite well, aren’t ya’?”
“Yes, it’s quite powerful,” I returned.
The one who stated that fact is Lucius Shahar. He’s the leader or cuck of the group who loves to sit back and watch while I get beat by his ghoulies. He wouldn’t admit it because he’s too damn arrogant, the bastard. It’s not necessarily that he loves to watch but the thing Lucius enjoys most is the reactions of his fellow subs. Just watching their faces in complete ecstasy makes him ecstatic, hence why, cuck. In fact, I don’t think there’s ever been a time where he’s laid a hand on me, he just always wants the attention and acknowledgements to be on him while his peers enjoy themselves smashing a defenseless dude. No homo.
Lucius crouches in front of me and shyly laughs like always, his cheeks always blush when he laughs, it’s kind of cute. He can never find it in himself to hide his high-pitched hyena chuckle though, “The guys are enjoying this very much, Indie. You can be quite helpful—,” he pauses to pat my back, “You know, I consider you a friend but you know how it is, it’d look bad if we were seen together. Maybe if you had some dignity to at least make yourself presentable I wouldn’t mind having you around.”
My arms covered my face during the beating, but I nod anyway, “Yeah, I understand your point. I really do, but thanks for the compliment,” I acknowledge.
“You know, Indie,” states ‘Momo’ Senbou who pinches my cheeks (not butt) from the openings. She would always sit on my chest and twirl my nipples, it’s what a lot of people knew her as, the titty twister. Well—I made that name up for her myself, which is libel. Momo would use all her new techniques on me, stuff she wasn’t sure would work but needed to see if it did. But alas, the most enjoyable for me were when she’d tug on my nips, it would look like she was milking a cow. Momo was a vixen that many people knew by her gaze alone. Verdant eyes matched by a sage wolf pendant she always wore, “I really like your glasses. I wish I had a pair myself.”
“Well if you’re blind then I don’t see why not,” I agreed, “But if not, you’d look like some hipster trash baby,” I would always bring up valid points such as these.
She pries my glasses and puts them on herself, “Well, your glasses do suit your face, I’m rather jealous how nice these look on you. At least they’re not like four-eyes’ over there,” she thumbs over to Durian Durim who had glasses that were too goddamn big for his face. Durian was always a weird one, weirder than me but I can’t tell you the exact reasons as to why. He always seemed to be chasing something without an end in sight, like me.
Durian pushes his glasses up, “My glasses aren’t too big for my face—My doctor said they were perfect for my shape and size,” he scoffs and pulled out a little black book. He often wrote random things down in his ‘little black book’ at random times. He’d say it was his ‘journal’ but everyone knew it was his diary since he’s a little gay boy. He’s not actually a little gay boy, I’m just libeling him.
“Are you overcompensating for something, Durian?” I add.
He shakes his head rampantly as he writes, “For someone getting beat, you sure talk a lot, Indie,” He had a point. Fayn stops kicking me and Durian looks at his watch, “Shouldn’t we be going? It’s almost time for class… We might be late,” Durian levies a hand to me, “Get up.”
Naturally I grab it and he helps me up. Durian puts his hands on my shoulders, “If you had the patience and determination to get back into shape, people wouldn’t take you as being creepy or disgusting. Be like me, I play the long game, I sit and wait.”
“I’d really rather not. That’s like asking me to become a doctor, I wouldn’t have any patients.” That makes Durian sigh louder than my parents do at me on a daily occasion. Momo tilts her head and puts my glasses back on my face with a smile. She holds her hand up to my cheek and rubs softly. It was nice since I hadn’t felt womanly affection like this in about three years.
Lucius comes around and puts his arm around me with a bright grin, “You mind if I drop some knowledge on ya’?”
“Yes.”
Lucius continues anyway, “Durian’s right, Indie. Have some pride in yourself, stop being such a lazy ass and maybe you wouldn’t be in this position—Am I wrong?”
“Lucius, if you preach to me your prayers will go unanswered, you should know that.”
He nods and rummages through his pockets. Lucius pulls out his wallet along with a few bills, “Here’s the money we promised, this is from all of us. We’ll try to have next week’s payment ready on time, but if not, we might need a bit of an extension if that’s fine.”
I salute him, “Gracias. Your business is much appreciated. But get me my damn money on time, I don’t like waiting, there’s a bunch of shit I’m trying to buy—like this city building expansion set for my Legos.”
Lucius dips his head, “I really am sorry… Won’t happen again,” he responds with a frown.
Fayn smacks my back with a smile, “How’s my leg work, Indie? Is it tremendous? I hope you didn’t get hurt too bad,” He brushes the dirt he kicked on me, by accident, off, “I was being a little soft ‘cause I thought you might get hurt pretty bad.”
I was hurt real bad but I didn’t show it, “No, no, it’s improved a lot. I’m sure the coach will be real proud—I see some nice tone in your legs so whatever you’re doing really seems to be working out. You should keep it up—maybe add some cardio, aye? A few miles around the track won’t hurt you, you cunt.”
Fayn clicks his teeth, “True, I’ll consider it.”
Momo grasps my arm, “Cheer up Indie, we’re rooting for you. I’d wished people’d do the same for me, you know?” Lies on top of more lies followed by lies.
I push all of them aside, “Cheer up for what? I’m cheer, what’s not to be cheer about? I’m the cheeriest cheer you ever seen. I’m here, I’m cheer, I’m queer—wait—” I pause, “No, I don’t mean it like that. You guys know what I mean, I was just trying to do a rhyme,” But now I have to do the time for the crime I’ve committed.
Lucius unravels his arm and cuckly chuckles, “Bon voyage, Indie, see ya’ in class,” He along with everyone else turn their backs on me. Lucius stares back, “Keep the money safe, Indie. Don’t spend it all in one place,” Which is exactly what I would go on to do with it.
I place the money in my pocket, “See you guys later…” We part ways, but something forces me to turn around. I reach out to them trying to stop them, wanting to join them… But they had already travelled beyond my grasp, the distance too great.
The last remark I overhear is, “You guys hear about the eclipse? I heard it was gonna happen in homeroom around ten.” I lower my hand and retreat to the bathroom.
What can I say, they weren’t bad company but they did like kicking my ass. They even paid good money to do so. I always hated asking my parents for money. I’d rather earn it myself, and I typically did it by doing something that was quick and easy like this. I never really cared how I earned the money as long as I was the one that earned it. I don’t want a regular job, I don’t want to work, I just want people to give me money, but not charity. I provided a service rather than a good and it was a good service I gave.
But standing there in the bathroom alone I look at myself in the mirror and hold myself in great contempt. I lift my shirt as high as I can, which wasn’t saying a lot, bruises run down along my back. Some were yellow from healing and others newly black and blue from earlier. My nips sensitive and red like molten steel from the twisties. I poke at them and it hurts like a bad break up. I lower my shirt so I can stare at myself properly, which was hard to do. My eyes just dart around the toiletries while I hold myself.
I run my fingers through my hair which was a mess. Greasy but not like a greaser. I was sweaty without having broken a sweat. I was so goddamn big I didn’t even fit in the mirror. I felt like God’s practical joke.
I really didn’t have a purpose, did I?
No direction, a boat in the middle of the ocean with no ‘x’ marking the spot.
Why was I condemned to this?
There has to be something better.
How much longer can I continue like this…?
End of Prologue Part 1
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