Reasons to Keep Spare Underwear in Your Locker (Commission
This story came about from someone on FA commissioning me! I'm really quite proud of this one-look to see some of the other characters in this in the future!
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Colin Dalrymple opened his eyes and stared blearily at the alarm clock that sat on top of a small pile of books gathered on his nightstand. The clock read 7:30 a.m., and the Lucario heaved an exhausted sigh. Reluctantly, he sat up in bed, turned off the alarm, and rubbed sleep from his eyes before staring off into space for a couple of minutes, going still and doing nothing but breathing. It was as though someone had flicked a switch or shifted a gear in his brain that put him into idle. After he had pushed aside the temptation to play sick, he got out of bed, going over to his dresser and starting to get ready for school.
A pair of white briefs, socks, a pair of blue jeans, and a black Minecraft t-shirt were thrown on without much thought. On to the bathroom, Colin brushed his teeth and gazed at himself in the mirror. If he had somehow forgotten what he looked like (or needed to describe himself to, say, curious readers), he would see a skinny, gawky teenage Lucario staring back at him with a bored, slightly irritated look in his eyes. Colin knew what he looked like, though, and remained oblivious to any readers wanting to know his appearance. All he noticed was a stray lash beneath his eye, which he brushed away with a finger.
Downstairs, he took two pieces of white bread from the loaf on the kitchen counter, tying the twist-tie neatly back into place. He put them in the toaster and pushed the lever down, idly futzing around on his phone until he heard them pop up. After smearing margarine on the toast (Mom always insisted on spreadable margarine, instead of just getting butter like a normal person), Colin got his house key, put on his jacket, picked up his backpack and set off for school, nibbling at his toast as he walked.
Mom and Dad were both off to work by the time he had to go to school, and they usually got home a few hours after Colin got home. He was an only child, so there were no brothers or sisters around the house, either. And his non-online friends could be counted on one hand, with a few fingers left over. But that was alright with Colin-he had long since gotten used to hanging around and gaming online, because the alternative was to socialize through school, which was like trying to find a dinner date in the middle of the London Blitz.
It was a cloudy morning, vaguely threatening rain without seeming like it would put in the effort to actually do it. The street that Colin walked along to get to school was even busier than usual this morning, and the soundtrack to the trek down Main Street was loud, arrhythmic blasts of car horns. It wouldn't be a problem if his headphones weren't broken, but the new wire wouldn't come in for another couple of days.
Colin walked past the drugstore, past the barber shop, past the phone repair store, past the kosher delicatessen, past the chiropractor's office, past the dentist's office that looked weirdly like a normal house, past the pizza parlor, past the carpet store, past the model train store, past the new vegetarian restaurant that would probably close in five months, past the other pizza parlor, past the library, and past the post office before finally coming to a sprawling red-brick building.
Cedarwood High School. Fuck.
It wasn't as though Cedarwood was a bad school. It was a public school, sure, but one of the good public schools out in the suburbs that got all the funding while the city schools tried to keep the heat on. There was no need for metal detectors around the entrances, and the textbooks were crisp and not ravaged by time, spilt coffee or gratuitous penises doodled on the pages.
There was, however, a firm social hierarchy, and Colin labored under no delusions as to where he stood. At the top, as in pretty much every high school, there were the rich kids-the sons and daughters of local businessmen and state-level politicians. Then there were the athletes-football players, baseball players, basketball players, lacrosse players, tennis players, so on. From there, there were the smart kids who were hot, the smart kids who weren't hot but were funny, and the smart kids who weren't anything else-that is, geeks. Within that category, there was an invisible arbitrary line as to who was mostly ignored and who was gleefully tormented-Colin fell into the latter. (The other categories ranged from the artsy try-hard kids to the creepy weirdos who inevitably dropped out or did something crazy, like the girl who set Melissa Papadakis' hair on fire a couple of years ago.)
The upshot of all this is that Colin was subjected to daily humiliations based on the whims of whatever douchebag jock he came across, and nobody really stuck their neck out to do anything for him. He had mostly come to terms with that by now, taking whatever came his way without much complaint. Most people took it that way, really-any emotional scarring that might come in the future would probably be repressed to hell and back, anyway.
All of this is to say that when Colin entered through the front doors of Cedarwood High School, he was more or less resigned to a long day. Today was a gym day, unfortunately, which meant that he would have to deal with that asshole Josh again. He had a class during tenth period today, too, which meant that he had to wait longer to be done with school (and deal with any lingering jocks who wanted to start shit). And to top it all off, he had a history test that he barely studied for.
To quote Robert-François Damiens (the sort of historical figure Colin needed to know for the test but didn't), "the day will be hard".
The first guy Colin had to deal with was a Jolteon by the name of Nico Salucci. Unlike some of the other bullies Colin had to contend with, Nico wasn't a preppy rich kid-he was a working-class Italian kid whose great-grandparents came to the states through Ellis Island. He was, however, a hell of an athlete-he had just gotten a track scholarship from Dartmouth, and his name popped up almost a dozen times on the list of school records.
As Colin entered the bathroom before school started, Nico was just zipping up from his turn at the urinal, flushing and going over to the sink to wash his hands. He wore blue jeans, white sneakers, and a New York Giants sweatshirt. A small golden cross hung around his neck on a chain, and his fluffy head of black hair was slightly unkempt.
Colin had hoped that he could sneak past, use the urinal quickly, and head out again, but unfortunately the Jolteon saw him reflected in the bathroom mirror. "Heeeeey, look who it is!" Nico dried his hands and turned around, sauntering over to Colin with a faux-friendly look on his face. "How ya doin', bro?"
Colin could see right through that-not like it was hard, considering the predatory glint in Nico's eyes. "Look, dude, I'm not looking for trouble. Just let me get to class, alr-ACK!" A sharp shove from the Jolteon sent the skinny Lucario tumbling backwards, landing with a thud. At least his fall was cushioned by his backpack, although once Nico flipped him over onto his stomach his backpack was taken off and tossed aside.
"Trouble? Who said anything about trouble?" Nico sat himself down on Colin's upper back, making the Lucario writhe beneath his weight. "I'm just gonna be having fun with you, that's all!" Colin had gone through this dance many times before, so he knew what would happen since he was flipped on his stomach. He grit his teeth, squinching his eyes shut as he prepared himself...
...and there it was. Nico's hands darted down to Colin's waist, grabbing a hold of the elastic part of his underwear and yanking up hard. Colin gave a loud, undignified squawk as the fabric of his underwear was painfully driven up his sensitive ass crack, groaning through clenched teeth as Nico gleefully worsened the wedgie.
"You still wear tighty-whities, man?" The Jolteon snickered at that, pulling harder at the Lucario's underwear and watching the fabric ride itself up between Colin's cheeks. "I thought you'd grow past that by now! Freshman year's fine, but a sophomore like you should grow up a bit..." He continued to talk as though Nico was giving friendly advice to a younger kid, instead of sitting on his back and giving him a wedgie from Hell.
Colin would never admit it, especially in the moment, but of all his bullies Nico was the one he hated the least. Some of the others had this air of insufferable superiority, as though Colin was nothing but a cockroach they were grinding under their heel. He never got that feeling with Nico. Nico was more like a rough-and-tumble older brother who, while still sadistic, had a sort of playful air about him. Of course, this wasn't really going through Colin's mind when he heard a loud *rrriiiiiiiip*.
"Whoops! Guess you gotta go commando for the rest of the day, huh?" Nico laughed, yanking mercilessly at the Lucario's underwear until it was shredded. The Jolteon took the largest piece of the undies and tossed them aside, hopping off of Colin's back and striding out of the bathroom. "Later!"
Grumbling, Colin picked himself up, rolling his eyes as he discarded the remnants of his underwear and stepped out of the bathroom. His locker was just a few yards away, thankfully.
With the buzz and chatter of the morning filling the air, Colin walked along a row of identical maroon lockers until he came to 196. Quickly completing the locker combination, he fished around in his locker until he found what he was looking for-a twelve-pack of cheap men's underwear. With an irritated snort, Colin shoved a pair into his backpack and walked hurriedly back over to the bathroom.
First period was Science. Colin wasn't opposed to science in principle, and was in fact quite interested in computer science. This, however, was biology, which Colin did not care about in the slightest. The teacher was Mr. Ivanoff, a dull, ponderous Torterra whose voice rarely strayed from a disinterested monotone. At least today wasn't a lab day-that meant Colin wouldn't have to deal with his lab partners, a Plusle and a Minun who babbled at each other in breathless excitement throughout every session. Still, sometimes Colin thought that would be preferable to listening to an old grass tortoise drone on about Punnett squares for forty minutes. At least they sounded like they were alive, y'know?
Next class was English, which Colin didn't really mind. He was never interested in the sorts of books they were supposed to read (although Frankenstein was pretty fun), but it was something he was at least competent in. The teacher was a young Cinccino by the name of Ms. Flowers, although she insisted upon the class calling her Abby in an apparent effort to gain cool-teacher cred. She had the fizzy energy of a shaken-up bottle of soda, and her passion shone through even when she was directing bored high schoolers to mumble their way through a scene from The Tempest.
After that was Technology. Colin didn't know why they stopped calling it Woodworking, because that's basically what it was except for at the end of the year when you futzed around with making a website. The teacher was a Tyrantrum called Mr. Ralston, who was in his thirty-third year of teaching and showed no signs of slowing down. It was generally accepted among students and faculty that he would be leaving the school in a pine box-and he'd probably have his students make that pine box beforehand just to prove they could.
Spanish came next, and while Colin didn't really like it at all it was a pretty easy class. It was taught by a squat Raichu named Mrs. Perez, who was a perfectly sweet woman when you could understand a single damn word of what she was saying. Truth be told, he spent most of the class dreading what came after it.
Gym class. Inevitably the worst part of any day it's a part of, it was a vortex of everything Colin hated about school. It not only involved physical activity (which he was suspicious of at the best of times), but sports as well. Sports were physical activities applied to competitions, and as such a million times worse. The teacher was a big, burly Mudsdale named Mr. Kovacs, who was an offensive lineman for some college football team twenty years ago and at all times vibrated with clenched-fist rage, as though every single person he met had just rear-ended his car.
Colin wearily entered the locker room, serving as the tail end of a group of skinny kids who always dragged their feet when it came to getting to gym class. Already the locker room was busy, a bunch of jocks stripping out of their normal clothes and down to their underwear. Most of them kept their underwear on as they changed into their gym clothes-with one dismaying exception.
"You're laaaaaaate!" With that grating singsong and a towel snap to one unfortunate Eevee boy's rear, Joshua Lennox made his presence known. "You're on Lennox Time now, bitches! Get here ten minutes early, or get the towel!" The fact that the time in between periods was only about four minutes did not seem to deter Josh any. He strode down the rows of lockers completely naked, a big sadistic grin on his face as he towel-snapped all the weaker kids, to the guffaws of his buddies.
The Infernape was six foot three, tall and toned. His father was a successful used car salesman, his mother ran a bustling hair salon, and Josh himself was the star wide receiver of the school's football team. As such, he was one of the most popular kids in school, even though he was aggressively, overwhelmingly awful in almost every way.
Colin flinched as he felt the towel smack against his own rear end, hissing out in pain before tensing up. He could feel a looming presence behind him, and the feeling was confirmed when a strong hand gripped his shoulder. "We're gonna have some fun after gym, got me, Dalrymple?" Josh hissed, his naked form pressed up behind the Lucario in a manner that made Colin's face scrunch up.
With that, Josh made his way over to his locker to get dressed, naked ass swaying to and fro as he walked.
Gym class was, predictably, miserable. It began with laps around the gym, with Mr. Kovacs bellowing at the stragglers to hustle while the athletes of the class lapped them with mocking laughter. Once that ordeal was over with, it was time to practice for the fitness test. First came the situps; it was the one discipline that Colin wasn't awful at, but whenever he was done he felt like he had torn every abdomen muscle he had. Then came the push-ups, which Colin floundered pathetically at-he could barely pull off one. The pull-ups didn't go much better-when it came time for Colin to hop on, he could only manage two very shaky ones before letting go, gasping and panting. Josh, of course, could do pull-ups in his sleep, and when it came to his turn he did so. Every so often he'd glance to the side, shooting Colin a shit-eating grin. The Lucario just fumed.
Finally, Mr. Kovacs dismissed the class to the locker rooms, and Colin prepared himself. Sometimes Josh didn't have time to do much more than a quick wedgie or purple nurple-maybe that would happen today. On the other hand, he remembered what the Infernape whispered in his ear before class, and a new pang of dread shot through his belly. For Colin and Josh, "fun" meant two very, very different things.
Most of the other kids had wisely decided to make a hasty exit, throwing on their regular clothes and hurriedly applying deodorant before scampering away. When Colin returned to his gym locker, there were only about eight other people there-most of them Josh's friends from the football team, a couple of others just leering to enjoy what was to come. And there, a few places down from Colin's locker, was the tall, toned Infernape, arms crossed smugly over his chest, completely nude.
A lot of guys changed in the locker bathrooms, whether out of modesty or out of fear of seeming gay. Not Josh-the Infernape got naked right out in the open of the locker room, his confident swagger unabated as his dick swung down to his thighs. Sometimes he humiliated weaker kids with his body, teabagging them or shoving his ass right in their faces, but other times he just showed off that toned, hairy body of his. There were whispers that Josh might be bi, or even gay-whenever they were brought up, Josh shrugged and gave intentionally evasive answers, just to fuck with people.
Colin rolled his eyes, looking at the Infernape as bravely as he could. "Well? Let's get it over with," he said. Josh and his friends leered at him like he was a mouse threatening a lion with a sewing needle. A brawny Arcanine (a linebacker for the football team) leaned over to murmur something in his Machoke friend's ear. Whatever he said made the two of them snicker, covering their mouths and snorting.
The Lucario looked up at the Infernape again. "Well? C'mon. We don't have all da-OHSHIT!"
Josh moved quickly. With a couple of quick steps the Infernape was right next to Colin, big grin as infuriating as ever. "What's the rush?" he said, before grabbing a hold of Colin's waistband. The Lucario knew what was coming, but even then protested. "No no no, wait, I-AAAAAAAACK!"
Josh's gathered buddies let out an appreciative roar of approval as the nasty jock pulled up, up, up on Colin's underwear, giving the Lucario his second brutal wedgie of the day. Josh laughed wildly, hiking his right arm up as far as it could go. Colin's waistband reached halfway up his back at first, but a couple more tugs got it even higher. Colin gave pained little whines under his breath, standing on his tiptoes to relieve the terrible pressure on his ass and balls.
"Pull his pants down! Someone pull his pants down!" Josh called out, and the Machoke from earlier came over, yanking down the Lucario's pants to show off Colin's blue butt, exposed by the deep wedgie. The Infernape cackled at the sight, before turning back to the Machoke. "Yo, Rob, could you help me get this higher? I wanna make this atomic..."
Rob was more than willing to oblige. He grabbed the yelping, cursing Lucario's waistband (now around level with his kidneys), his hand alongside Josh's. "Alright, on three," the Infernape said. "One, two-"
There was a loud grunt, an ear-splitting wail, and a loud, satisfying RRRRRRRRRRRIP. Colin's feet, previously about half a foot in the air, landed back to earth, hands immediately rushing back to massage his sore rear. Josh and Rob held the other two-thirds of Colin's underwear, the Infernape giving the Machoke a teasing punch in the arm. "I didn't want you to go so hard, you big dumb fuck!" he said, before standing over the groaning Colin again. He noticed that one of his friends had his phone out and was filming it the whole time-a Gallade who was the backup quarterback.
"Yo, don't go anywhere, guys! Hold up! Keep filming, dude!" Josh lowered into a squat, getting his face up nice and close to Colin's. "Hey, faaaaaaaag-got!" he singsonged, earning a poisonous glare from the Lucario. "Guess what you're gonna get next..." Colin was about to open his mouth to say something, but it was immediately cut off by a panicked yelp once Josh turned himself around. His thick, juicy, hairy bubble butt was inches above Colin's face. Josh's friends burst into cheers and laughter as the cocky monkey sat himself down, smothering the Lucario in his ass cheeks. The Infernape kicked his legs out in front of him and rested his arms behind his head, pantomiming relaxation as he sat on Colin's face.
"I hope it's not too bad down there!" Josh said, addressing Colin as he waggled his hips. "We just got done with gym, and you know how much I work up a sweat!" This earned only a defeated "mmmmph" from beneath his ass, making Josh laugh out loud and grin for the Gallade's video.
Colin was ashamed to say that Josh was not the first bully to sit on his face-this wasn't even the first time this week that this happened-but his ass was easily the most miserable to be trapped under. It wasn't the heaviest or the sweatiest, but it was the hardest to get smothered by-perfectly sized for your face, with no pockets of fresh air to be found. And it was so fucking hairy, too! Every so often, Colin took as much of a breath as he could manage, only to end up with a nose full of Josh's ass hair. Colin's fists balled and unballed as he wriggled beneath Josh's weight.
The Infernape gleefully mugged for the camera, flashing the horn signs and sticking his tongue out as he had his way with the wimpy Lucario beneath him. "Maaaan, you're gonna be late for your next class, aren't you?" he taunted. "Think they'll ask why your face smells like my ass?" Colin, as a matter of fact, had lunch after gym, though it wasn't as though he was going to have much of an appetite after this.
After a while, Josh stood up, giving an enthusiastic whoop and heading to his locker. Colin just stood up, changing back into his clothes and going over to his regular school locker. Seemed like today would shape up to be a four-pair day.
After a quick lunch of a ham and cheese sandwich, it was time to deal with that history test. Colin had thoroughly rinsed off his face beforehand, so no one had anything to say about the locker room incident (thank God), but he still dreaded this. Mrs. Moritz was enough of a pain in a normal class (cranky old bitch that she was), but she was just as annoying during tests, too. The short, fat Blastoise sat behind her desk like a statue, eyes narrowed behind horn-rimmed glasses, watching for the very first sign of cheating. There was no bullshitting this-Colin walked out of the classroom praying for a passing grade.
At least it was followed by one of the few classes he actually liked. It was called "Multimedia", which involved everything from video-making to Photoshop to coding. Coding was Colin's favorite, even if the software was kind of crappy (he had no idea why they still used Alice). It was taught by a tall, friendly Luxray named Mr. Carson, and there were hardly ever any douchebags there. When the bell rang to end the eighth period, Colin sighed.
Ninth period was Geometry, which wasn't too unbearable-he was always pretty good at math. He didn't like the teacher, though-a sour-faced Watchog called Mrs. Dressel who groaned with exasperation whenever anyone had trouble with a concept.
The last period of the day, Health, was a waste of everyone's time. The one thing it had going for it was that it was only every other day-aside from that, it was useless. Drugs are bad, condoms are good, lather, rinse, repeat-give or take a ten-minute diatribe about Big Pharma courtesy of Ms. Hollander, the middle-aged Leafeon who still had a Ralph Nader bumper sticker on her minivan.
Finally, the bell rang, and Colin picked up his backpack and made his way out of the classroom. Not everyone had class tenth period, so the halls were less busy now than they were in the middle of the day, which was both a good and a bad thing. The good thing was that there were less people around that could notice him. If he was quick enough and lucky enough, he could go back to his locker, gather the rest of his things, make a speedy exit to walk home, and maybe this endless day would be ov-
"Well, would you look at this? Who do we have here?"
The bad thing, of course, was that it was harder to hide with less people around. That meant that, once someone who wanted to mess with Colin caught sight of him, there was no way out. The Lucario looked up at his two new visitors with an irritable frown. "Oliver. Trent."
Oliver Bishop and Trent Fairfax, being preppy, WASP-y Absols, were often mistaken for relatives. They weren't, of course, but it was easy to see why someone would think so. They were both tall, perfectly toned young men of the same species, and they were both so unbearably smarmy and smug that it seemed like every word out of their mouths was an invitation to knee them in the balls.
Nevertheless, they were top of their class, and near the top of the social hierarchy. Oliver's dad was the county comptroller, and was one of the few stubborn remnants of the old county GOP machine as it steadily grew bluer. Trent was a couple of years younger than Oliver, but was already the captain of the school's tennis team. There were rumors that he would leave school and join the junior tennis circuit, but Trent didn't really talk about that.
The two of them wore khaki cargo shorts, neatly ironed Polo shirts (Oliver in blue, Trent in grey), and the kind of grins that only people whose dad owns a yacht have. "We heard you got totally owned by Josh after gym class today," Oliver said, leaning against a locker. "Your ass still sore?"
Colin rolled his eyes. "Don't you two have a Young Republican meeting to go to or something? Any orphans you can burn a hundred dollar bill in front of?" He knew that he was gonna be in for a hell of a time soon, so he might as well make some jabs at them to make himself feel better.
Oliver clucked his tongue, brushing some of his fluffy white headfur out of his eyes. "You sure that's the sort of tone you wanna take?" Trent, silent up to now, gave a leering grin not unlike the one Josh wore. "Ready, Ollie?"
The older Absol shot his arms forward, pushing Colin down on the ground again. The Lucario landed with an "oof!", trying to wriggle away from the preppy pair as he felt Trent sit on his back. "Shit, Colin, I didn't know you were this poor!" Trent tugged on the waistband of Colin's third pair of underwear for the day. "This is some really cheap stuff. I bet it tears right away!"
With that, the tennis star grunted and yanked up sharply. Colin's eyes widened and he hissed out a pained curse under his breath. He had cultivated an admirable callus against the emotional toll that bullying can take, but he never quite got used to the feeling of cheap fabric slicing into his ass crack.
Oliver watched Trent with a small grin, getting down on his knees next to the prone Lucario. "I think this should teach you not to talk back, Colin," he said, evenly, as he lowered Colin's jeans and revealed that abused rump of his. "But just in case, I'll give you a little something extra..."
When Colin felt that smooth hand run up his right ass crack, he started jolting and bucking beneath Trent's weight. "No, you don't!" he called back, angrily. "Don't even fucking-OW!"
Oliver raised his hand and clapped it down on Colin's exposed cheek, making it jiggle from the impact. "How many do you think I should give him, Trent? Ten or twenty?" The other Absol thought for a second, keeping up the constant wedgie. "Twenty! Try and get 'em all in before they rip."
Obligingly, Trent pulled as hard as he could on Colin's underwear, making the Lucario yowl and groan even before Oliver got to work. The older boy rubbed his palms together to get them warmed up, before lifting a hand up and giving Colin's left cheek a harsh spank. WHAP!
"Just remember, if you don't count 'em, they don't count," Oliver said, smugly, as he started in earnest. He alternated between Colin's cheeks, right then left then right then left, working at a steady, unhurried pace. Although Trent was the athlete of the pair, Oliver maintained a great body of his own, and he had strength to match. He was going to make some frat's pledge week hell on earth in a few years, that was for sure.
Colin tried his best to keep count. "One! Two! Three! Four! F-five!" God, they were really starting to sting...by ten, he was practically choking out the numbers, forcing them out so they couldn't tell his voice was starting to waver. Oliver, for his part, didn't slow down, keeping up the pace and intensity for all twenty strokes. By the end of it, Colin had his face buried in the linoleum floor, trying not to cry.
Trent looked down at his handful of underwear with slight disappointment. "I thought they'd rip by now," he said, before giving them one last tug. Sure enough, they split right down the middle-RRRRRRRIP!-and Colin gave one last yelp before the two Absols got up.
"C'mon, Trent. You've got tennis, right? Hey, you and your parents are still on for George Merchant's over the weekend, right? Good, my dad'll make reservations tonight. Fuck, I've been craving the prime rib there lately..."
As the self-impressed prattle of the preppy Absols faded off, Colin picked himself up off of the ground. His ass still stung like a motherfucker, and he had just gotten his third pair of underwear ruined today, but he had successfully stifled his tears. He opened up his locker and picked out a fourth pair of the cheap underwear, putting it in his backpack.
Today kind of sucked, but he wasn't about to start feeling sorry for himself. He walked down the stairs and to the front entrance of the school, heading home.