This is for magalina’s birthday…which was in August. :cough: I’ve never claimed to not be lazy.

D: It’s not as good as it should be…and I’m having one hell of a time with typing today, so there’s possibly five billion mistakes… Argh. Sorry. D:

Requirements: wig, braces, volleyball. Humor. (This is the best I could do for humor. o.o)

I’m not the nicest person around and maybe I know this and maybe I flaunt this and maybe I even kind of like it.

I guess some people would call me a bully and I guess that when people call me a bully I maybe take a little bit of pride in it.

But don’t get me wrong. I’m not a so-called bully to everyone. I guess I might maybe focus most of my attention on one particular person.

Christian Peterson has been getting on my nerves since freshman year of high school and he’s been paying for it too. He’s one of those obnoxious, know-it-all-and-I-know-I-know-it-all types…and he’s a flamboyant fag, you know…one of those guys who hang out with girls just because they’re like girls but not because they like them? Yeah. One of those guys. He’s one of those “I’m better than you, holier than thou, you’re an asshole” kinds of guys and I dislike him…and let him know all about it. I mean he’s got perfect dark hair and flawless ivory skin, and gorgeous deep blue eyes that almost make you forget about his geeky, dorky braces of his. Why shouldn’t I hate him?

Unfortunately, despite all the tripping, pushing, punching, and taunting I maybe do, he doesn’t seem ready to change or care. My threats don’t even make him flinch anymore. How much does that suck? Needless to say, it sucks a lot.

So I guess that’s why I decided to do what I did. Well maybe kicking him in the stomach and calling him a fudge-packer while grinding my foot into his groin region wasn’t the greatest idea…especially when his foot came up to kick me in the balls before I could do any real damage.

So now here I am, sitting beside him in Principal Bonter’s office. He’s staring at us as I stare at my lap and Christian sniffles nervously beside me.

“Mr. Monroe is on his way here,” Bonter finally growls through his massive mustache that I’d love to shave off with a dull razor…without shaving cream. “It’s a shame I have to hand you over to a counselor like this… I don’t even know how to begin to deal with you two.” His words grumble up from his enormous potbelly and I’d maybe like to kick him there too.

“I shouldn’t even be here,” Christian whines in his super soft voice that is incredibly annoying. No one answers him. Why should we? He’s just being a little pansy… And so we end up waiting in silence till a fucked up rainbow crashes into the room.

“Glad you could make it, Monroe,” Boner – I mean Bonter - addresses the newcomer, who’s playing with his Looney Tunes tie as he nods rapidly.

“Yes. Well. I had to feed my fish before I could come and my wife called me… She’s pregnant you know… She’s been that way for awhile now…” He abruptly leaps between Christian and me and the principal’s desk. “Boys! I’m so sad to hear about what happened between the two of you! You guys should be friends! Not enemies!” He continues rambling on about flowers and earthworms or some other hippie shit while I stare at his psychedelic shirt with its insanely insane colors and patterns. I’d like to burn that…while he’s still wearing it. “But I’ve noticed that the two of you have had some problems in the past… Since freshman year, even. This concerns me. I think it’s about time for the two of you to settle your differences…which is why I’m about to propose handcuffs.” He tugs a pair of handcuffs form somewhere in that ugly fucking shirt of his and dangles them in first Christian’s face and then mine.

“Handcuffs?” Christian asks, his voice doubtful and so fucking annoying.

“Yes!” Mr. Monroe grabs my arm and I jerk away…maybe a little too roughly, but it doesn’t seem to faze him because he grabs onto me again as I glare up at him.

“Now, now, Ryan…” he whines and I jerk away again as I feel something cold against my skin, and Christian’s arm pulls up too. That’s when I realize that we’ve been handcuffed together.

“What’s going on?” I demand through clenched teeth. “You can’t be serious.”

“I’m serious! You’ll spend the rest of the day together. I’ve already talked to your teachers and you’ll be going by Christian’s schedule. Oh, and just find me after school so I can unlock you. See you then!” He bursts out of the room just as fast as he entered and I maybe hope he trips and breaks his nose on his way back to his office.

Principal Buttface stares at Christian and me for a long moment before looking down to shuffle some papers on his desk.

“This is all your fault, you know,” I growl at Christian.

“Mine?” He rolls his eyes. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Why don’t you discuss this out of my office?” asks Bonter and after glaring at each other for awhile longer, Christian gives my arm a yank and pulls me out into the hall.

“It’s lunchtime,” Christian announces before I can start up yelling again. “I’m hungry…so why don’t we head to the cafeteria?”

“No way.” I cross my arms over my chest, pulling him close to me…so close that his breath’s hot on my neck and the front of his body leans against me. I elbow him away. “I don’t want to be caught sitting by your nerdy loser friends and my friends hate you.”

“But I’m hungry,” he insists, as if I didn’t hear him the first time. I definitely did, the annoying prick.

I glare at him, hoping it’ll shut him up, but he whines some more about not eating breakfast so I sigh and drag him to my locker, maybe being a little too rough but definitely not caring.

At my locker I give him my sandwich and he stares at it as if he’s expecting it to blow up, which is actually a good idea. I’d maybe like to kill him, but I probably never would because prison’s nowhere I want to spend my life. Besides…being mean to him is too much fun.

“Just eat the fucking thing,” I growl and he shrugs and obeys, eating with his right hand so he drags my arm up every fucking time. I want to break his arm off and shove my fucking sandwich down his throat.

“Why’re you being nice?” Christian asks and I roll my eyes.

“I’m not. And I never will be. I just wanted you to shut up. Do you maybe want my juice box too?”

He nods and takes it, sticking in the straw as he stares up at me. His wet pink tongue comes out to suck in the straw and I wonder if he’s ever given a guy a blowjob because he’s a fag and all that. I look away from him as he continues to drink…only because his braces are gross.

-

How are your balls?” Christian asks as we walk to our first class together.

“Why don’t you look and see, queer?” I growl and sneer and he rolls his perfect eyes wile jerking me into the art room.

“You wish.”

I glare. And I continue to glare all during art while Christian draws and I keep yanking on the handcuffs the whole time so by the end of the class period, the person he’s been drawing looks like he’s wearing a huge afro wig. I realize that the picture’s supposed to be me and then I realize that Christian drew me with boobs and I maybe want to kick his ass for it and definitely would if we weren’t handcuffed together. I guess I have to admit that the picture’s not too bad except for the wig which Christian makes bigger…and the boobs…because if I was a girl my boobs would definitely be bigger.

As the day goes on, I decide maybe this isn’t so bad. Sure, there are a lot of stares and laughter aimed in our direction, which makes me extremely pissed, but I’m thinking Christian might not be as bad as I thought he was. Other than the fact that he’s a queer know-it-all who constantly participates in all of his classes so I can’t sleep unnoticed, I find out he likes some of the same things that I do, like some videogames and movies, but don’t get me wrong. When we get out of these stupid handcuffs, I’m not going to be his BFF or even just a normal friend. Maybe I’ll be nicer to him…but maybe not.

After school we walk to Mr. Monroe’s office as Christian talks, his attention half on me and half on a few of his female friends. Maybe he could hook me up with one of them once since he’s obviously not going to be interested in them.

“Well, today wasn’t too bad, was it? Ohh, Jennifer! See you later! Call me tonight, okay? Yeah, I thought we’d end up killing each other or something, but you’re actually not so bad!” he babbles. “Sorry for kicking you earlier!”

I open my mouth to maybe apologize back, but freeze as we reach Mr. Monroe’s office. The door’s shut and the lights are off. I stare down at the handcuffs and then narrow my eyes at the door, willing it to open so I don’t have to get an axe and beat my way in.

“Where’s Mr. Monroe?” I ask, feeling dread creeping into me.

“There’s a note on his door.” Christian impatiently pulls me to the door and peers at the note. “It says he’s not here.”

“No, really? Thanks Captain fucking Obvious. Where the hell is he?” No, no, no. He has to be here in the school somewhere though, right?

“His wife’s gone into labor.”

“His wife?” I do recall him saying something about her earlier…even though he seems kind of…gay.

“Mhm.”

“Well now what?” I’m angry. Really angry. I no longer find Christian as a tolerable person. He’s back to be annoying, so I give him a shove and he collides with the office door, pulling me with him.

“Ouch! Knock it off, will you?” he growls, shoving me off him.

“No! I don’t want to be cuffed to you anymore! This is like some bondage stunt gone wrong! We have to pick the lock.”

“You had no problem during the day,” Christian mumbles. “And unfortunately, we don’t have time to pick the lock. I have volleyball practice.”

My mouth drops open and I shove him again. “Volleyball? Isn’t that for girls? I’m not staying so you can act like a girl.”

“I don’t play. I’m the manager, so come on.”

-

I soon find out that volleyball’s actually not to bad of a sport after all. Helping Christian with managing allows me an up close and personal view of the girls’ legs in their short shorts as they jump around. Although I’d like to be home and I’m wishing Christian gets a ball spiked at his head so he can suffer from a concussion, this maybe isn’t such a bad thing.

We’re just sitting on the bench, silent as I try not to drool when Christian sighs loudly.

“Why do you dislike me so much, Ryan?” he asks quietly.

I tear my eyes away from the gym floor and stare at Christian. He’s looking down at our cuffs frowning. “Huh?”

“Why do you hate me so much? You always have been mean to me. What’d I do?”

I shrug. I have a lot of reasons. Know-it-all, gay, braces, draws me with a wig and small boobs, whines a lot, eats my lunch. “I don’t know.”

“Oh… I never hated you, you know. Sometimes you scared me and made me mad, but I’ve never hated you… I always thought you were probably a really nice person on the inside and so I tried not to be too mad.” He glances up and meets my eyes. I look away.

“I’m sorry,” I hear myself saying, maybe meaning it. Most likely meaning it.

“It’s okay…” His hand shifts in the cuffs, grazing my fingers and I tense. His touch is soft. If there weren’t plenty of girls around, I’d maybe not mind it. I clear my throat, shake my head, and focus on the girls.

A few minutes pass before Christian speaks up again. “Hey…Ryan…”

“Huh?” I keep my eyes on my legs.

“I…uh…I really…” I hold my breath. What’s he going to say? Something sweet and sentimental that might make me gag? “I really have to pee.”

I let out my held breath and laugh. I admit. I’m relieved. Sentimental bullshit doesn’t bode well with me. “That’s too bad. You can wait till we pick the lock.”

“But… But I really need to go now… I’ve had to since art class.”

“You… Ugh. Great. Just fucking great,” I grumble. “I get the privilege of being handcuffed to you and letting you piss right next to me. This really might as well be a fucking BDSM video seriously.” I glare at him.

“Shut up!” he whines, blushing. “I’m not too thrilled about it either, but I really need to go. Really.”

I close my eyes and let out a long sigh. Just great.

-

Christian and I stand in front of a row of urinals as he wrestles one-handed with his fly.

“Hurry up,” I snap, staring down at the floor.

“Well, sorry but this is a little difficult one-handed!” he hisses back.

“Then use two, you dumbfuck!”

He glares up at me, jerks his right hand to his crotch, and pulls mine with it so the back of my hand makes contact with the front of his jeans. He unzips himself and pulls out his dick and I think my eyes might pop out of my head but not because I’m looking and interested or because it’s bigger than mine or anything…but just because he’s a fag and my hand’s dangerously close to his cock.

He steps in front of a urinal and I clench my hand into a fist to keep it away from him as he takes care of his business.

“Ryan,” he mumbles a moment later. “I’m going to zip back up now.”

I grunt and brace myself, but as attempts to tuck himself into his pants, I tense even more. I feel heat radiating from him and I can’t breathe. The scary thought that maybe I want to feel that heat even more pops into my head and doesn’t go away as he struggles with his zipper. I’m aware this thought maybe makes me seem like a fag myself but I suddenly definitely don’t care.

I shove Christian backward into the nearby wall and he cries out, pulling me along with him. I fall into him heavily, losing the breath that I didn’t even have in the first place.

“What’re you doing?” Christian demands, his voice shaking with fear. Instead of feeling satisfied for scaring the little pussy, I actually maybe feel kind of guilty instead.

“I have no idea…” I reply before taking Christian’s mouth in a hungry kiss. I think he maybe tries to pull away but after a moment he kisses back. It feels good. Maybe too good. Maybe because my hips are grinding against Christian’s as he moans into my mouth. Damn it. Damn queer.

My uncuffed hand reaches between us, unbuttons my pants, pulls myself free and reaches into Christian’s half-zipped pants to circle around his hard cock. I’m pretty positive I’m officially queer at this point…at least for the moment. Damn it. But that doesn’t stop me from gripping both mine and Christian’s erections and stroking them at the same time until we both come.

I lean against him, my body shaking. I hate Bonter. I hate hippie-fucking Monroe and his pregnant fucking wife and their mother fucking handcuffs. Christian reaches between us and I feel him pulling his pants back up and fastening them but I still keep leaning against him. My legs are shaking. My head hurts.

“You okay?” Christian asks, awkwardly patting my back.

“I don’t know,” I mumble. “Maybe.” I lean back and zip my pants back up, frowning. “If you tell anyone about this, I’ll slit your throat and bite off all your fricking fingers.”

“I won’t tell anyone… You know, Ryan… I always kind of liked you despite you being mean to me…” he whispers and I stare at him. He’s got to be joking. He was supposed to be afraid of me! Not in love with me. What a fag.

“Christian! Ryan! Boys!” Mr. Monroe’s voice carries to us and I back away from Christian as far as I can and attempt to straighten my clothes and smooth down my hair as Mr. Monroe bursts in. “There you are! I’m so sorry about leaving! It’s a girl!” I shield my eyes with my free hand, in an attempt to protect myself from being blinded by his shirt as he unlocks the handcuffs. I hope he doesn’t see the cum smeared across our shirts and pants, and if he does, he doesn’t react. “There you go. All set. Back to the hospital! Bye!” He bustles from the room and I let out a deep breath.

“We’re still not friends you know,” I tell Christian and he nods.

“Okay. Do you want to come over for dinner or…something?” He raises his eyebrows and smiles hopefully, braces gleaming.

My imagination runs wild with this so called something and I shrug and smile back at him. “Maybe…”

End.

That wasn’t very good. Sorry. D: