TW: this story contains a scene of extreme bullying

GYM CLASS: 4th PERIOD

The boys' locker room was in its usual atmosphere during fourth period gym class. The boys were standing in front of their orange lockers, changing into gym clothes, chatting and laughing. Towels and clothes were tossed into lockers or giant laundry baskets, deodorant was sprayed on. Socks and gym clothes were pulled on. Sneakers were tied up.

The floor and benches were littered with various items and belongings of gym clothes, letterman jackets, jeans, sweats, wrestling singlets, deodorant spray bottles, jockstraps, protective cups and athletic tape. Various odors lingered in the locker room of dirty, wet towels, gym clothes, socks, underwear, cigarettes, deodorant, soap and male musk. The sounds echoed of chatting and laughing from the half-dressed boys, even a shower running.

Andrew Clark was getting ready for gym class, goofing around with his jock buddies as he changed into his gym clothes. He had the body of a Greek god: lean and muscular, yet smooth. He was pretty well developed as a teenage boy of 17. He grabbed a roll of athletic tape and began to wrap up his knee, ready to work with Coach Whitaker on some wrestling moves for the next meet on Saturday.

Andrew was a good kid. His mother taught him to be kind to others. To stand up for women and those who were weaker. If you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all. Andrew often did his best to treat others with some respect.

His father expected nothing less from Andrew since he was a star athlete. Being a former jock himself, he wanted his son to be number one. He made it pretty clear on his views about weakness and losers. He wouldn't accept defeat. He wouldn't tolerate losers. He thought Andrew's mother was a fucking moron to encourage that be 'kind to others' and 'do your best' shit. He wanted Andrew to be a man. A tough man.

Ever since Andrew was small, his Dad encouraged him to play sports. Whenever Andrew's team lost a game, his Dad would react poorly. He'd say harsh things about how losers are weak.

Andrew! You've got to be number one!

Larry Lester stood a few lockers down from Andrew Clark and his jock buddies, hugging his clean gym towel in his sweats. He observed the other boys in the locker room: they were lean and muscular with an appropriate amount of hair in the right places.

Poor Larry was skinny and a few inches shorter than his classmate, Brian Johnson (or as the jocks referred to him as Blondie Johnson). But the one reason why he absolutely dreaded gym class was because he had to endure the embarrassment of exposing his very hairy body to his peers. He was hairier than Stubbie Durkins—who had hair on his back and ass. Yet nobody made fun of him.

Swallowing nervously, the Lester boy approached his locker in trepidation. He tried to remain invisible to Clark and his friends. He hoped they wouldn't bother him while he got changed for gym. He began to remove his clothes while his dark eyes darted nervously around to make sure they weren't watching.

Too late! Stubbie had seen the little weak kid a few feet from where he was standing. He elbowed Andrew and Tom Patterson to get their attention and chuckled as he watched Larry get undressed, standing in just his underwear.

Aside from a few nerds and dweebs his friends teased, their absolute favorite target was Larry Lester.

"Lookie here, Lester the Molester is here," Stubbie said.

Andrew glanced over at Larry, listening to his friends laugh and crack jokes about his appearance. While Andrew found it funny, he knew what his jock friends were doing was wrong. He just stayed silent. He chuckled quietly at their jokes and resumed taping up his knee.

"Hey, Clark," Bobby Pitcher, another jock said. "Wanna mess with Lester?"

Andrew just shrugged and tried to play off the suggestion by making a lame excuse to not engage in this. His mother had told him to be kind to others.

"Maybe later. I don't wanna be late for Coach," he said. "The meet this coming Saturday is gonna be brutal. Coach said they got a new wrestler and he's a beast, man."

"Oh come ON, Clark!" Tom said. "You never mess with anyone. This is a perfect opportunity."

Andrew had considered cutting loose on someone--mostly because his Dad had told those stories about his glory days in high school: all the crazy things he did. Some harmless pranks on weaker kids. Every time he brought up those stories, Andrew sensed his Dad was disappointed he never did any of those things.

Hey, I screwed around. Guys screw around. There's nothing wrong with that.

Yet his mother told Andrew that he should not behave like that. It was the main reason he held back and refused to engage. If Andrew was totally honest with himself, he secretly didn't like it when his friends bullied the weaker kids. Especially in gym class.

There were times he wanted to say something, but he was scared his friends would turn on him. Cast him out. He had to maintain his jock image if he wanted to belong. He went along with some of it and made some neutral, yet subtle comments about how his friends should just leave them alone. Not enough to make his friends think he was on the weak kids' side--but just enough to know when they had enough.

His father would argue with his mother over how their son should behave. His mother did not like that kind of jock behavior picking on kids. Yet his father said that he should cut loose once in a while. It's how jocks should behave.

I won't tolerate losers in this house! Your intensity is for shit!

He kept thinking about how he didn't do well at the last match. His Dad yelled at how he didn't tolerate losers. Weakness.

He had heard that since he started playing T-ball. His fucking old man. How he insisted on winning. One time in 2nd grade, he got clobbered with a soccer ball, his old man told him to walk it off. Tough it out. Be a man.

"C'mon, Clark!" Rogers said. "Think of something. Anything, man! Now's the time."

As Andrew began to hear the words of encouragement from his friends and his father's words about weakness, about his stories, the peer pressure began to mount...it was then his crystal blue eyes fell on a roll of tape that he had been using earlier for his knee.

Andrew suddenly felt like he was having an out of body experience—he was watching himself grab up the roll of tape and approach Larry.

Larry didn't have time to react when he saw the athlete approach him. His dark eyes widened when he saw a mischievious look on Andrew. In a flash, Andrew jumped on Larry, pulling his gym shirt over his head, blinding him. His friends laughed and cheered Andrew on, hooting like gorillas.

"What are you doing?!" Larry cried muffled. "Stop! Leave me alone!"

The jocks just laughed, mocking and jeering his protests. Andrew slapped him in the head to disorient him. His friends took turns shoving Larry around and slapping him in the head. Larry became disoriented and dizzy from the whole ordeal.

Once Andrew was satisfied, he bit his tongue and twirled the athletic tape on his finger. He figured the kid would struggle.

"You're in for a little makeover, Lester," Andrew said. Then looked at Tom, "Hold him down!"

Tom bent Larry over the bench, restraining him with a wrestling move so that he couldn't move—his back was to Andrew. Bobby pulled his pants and underwear down, exposing his hairy bottom.

Larry was whimpering as he was restrained, blinded and terrified. His neck hurt from being held down. He felt the back of his pants being moved. He heard the roars of laughter from his tormentors and the dreadful sound of tape being unraveled. He wondered what they were going to do to him.

Andrew stretched the tape at a good length. He placed one end on Larry's left buttcheek, creasing it down and stretched the tape across the boy's bottom to the right, making sure it was nice and tight.

Once the deed was done, Andrew felt a rush of adrenaline and swell of pride at what he had done to this kid. He could imagine his old man praising him when he told him what he did when he got home.

Eventually, Larry was released. He lay on the bench, feeling dizzy from the blind man's bluff game and the stiffness of the tape on his skin. Larry stood up with difficulty and pulled off his shirt from his head, looking at his taped ass with confusion. He was greeted by a loud chorus of screaming laughter by Andrew Clark and his jock friends.

Andrew was met with praise by his friends; each of them exclaiming how legendary this was and how it was going to be something to remember for the rest of his high school days. They patted his back, ruffled his hair and shook his hand. He actually felt proud about what he did.

Larry struggled to get the tape off his ass, debating whether or not to rip it off fast or peel it slowly. Larry had attempted to get it off, but it was really stuck tight. Feeling humiliated over the whole ordeal, Larry tried to pull his pants up, which proved difficult since the tape prevented him from bending over. Tears began to well up in his eyes because it not only hurt bend over, but the whole ordeal was humiliating. He lowered his head to hide his face, pressing his back against the lockers.

"Aww...Lester's gonna cry," Rogers mocked.

"Yea, boo hoo, Lester," Andrew added cruelly. "Be a man and tough it out!"

The jocks mocked Larry by making sobbing noises and pantomimed crying, which was followed by boo hoos and laughing.

Coach Dean Whitaker heard the raucous noise coming from the boys' locker room and went in to investigate. He spotted Andrew and his friends with and a depantsed Larry Lester in just his underwear standing like a cornered animal. He frowned at the scene wondering what had just happened. It was when he heard Andrew being congratulated by his friends for doing this, it was pretty obvious who was responsible for this.

"What the hell is going on here?!" he demanded angrily.

The laughter had eventually stopped when reality dawned on them that Coach had arrived at the scene. Larry stood quietly, his head lowered with shame.

"What's going on, son?" Coach Whitaker asked, looking at Larry. "C'mon..."

"I..." Larry said meekly. "I'm...stuck...sir..."

Some snickers slipped from the group of jocks. Coach Whitaker frowned.

"Stuck? How are you stuck?"

Larry shook his head, his face was red. Tears were already threatening to fall from his dark eyes. He didn't want to tell the gym teacher that Andrew was responsible for fear his friends would retaliate.

"Well, son...show me what happened," Coach Whitaker asked. "I can't help you if you don't show me."

Larry reluctantly showed the coach what happened, making the gym teacher frown a bit as he tried to decide how to proceed with this.

"Ohhh boy," he said with a sigh. "Alright, son, let's get this off you."

Coach Whitaker got a grip on the athletic tape and began to pull the tape slowly. Larry emitted a loud scream of agony that reverberated in the locker room as the adhesive stuck to him. Dark body hair came off along with bits of Larry's skin, turning it a raw red color.

"It hurts! IT HURTS!!!" Larry sobbed; tears were falling from his eyes.

When Andrew observed this, he looked as though he had woken up from a horrible nightmare. It wasn't funny anymore. Larry was sobbing hoarsely; he was in pain and was suffering. Some of the jocks looked at each other with a mixture of disgusted amusement, shame and unease.

"Lester, calm down!" Coach Whitaker said. "Dammit! If you keep moving, we can't get it off."

"It hurts, Coach!" Larry wailed hoarsely.

"I know. We'll get it off. It'll be all over soon. Just calm down and stay still, Lester."

Coach turned to the group of jocks who were witnessing this. It was pretty bad. He figured the nurse would have to get involved with this.

"One of you go get Nurse Dennis," Coach Whitaker instructed.

"Yes, sir," Bobby said, taking leave of the locker room.

"The rest of you get the hell out of here!"

The jocks found their way towards the exit of the locker room. Andrew began to feel guilt claw inside him. Hearing Larry's screaming and seeing how much he had hurt him just now had brought forth feelings of remorse for his actions. How could he do such a thing? He went to join his friends outside.

"Not you, Clark," Coach Whitaker said. "You stay right here."

Andrew sighed with a frown. Leaning against the wall and watching a sobbing Larry as the gym teacher pulled more of the tape off slowly; Larry's screaming and sobbing filled the locker room. Andrew felt sick as it dawned on him that this was all his fault. How could he? He tortured this poor kid because he wanted his friends and his old man to think he was cool. 

Eventually Nurse Dennis arrived on the scene with ice packs and gauze. Vernon had also joined the scene. Coach Whitaker had filled him in on what Andrew had done. Vernon glared at the guilt ridden athlete.

"Clark, get your sorry ass in my office...NOW!" Vernon said sternly.

"Yes, sir," Andrew said quietly.

Andrew made his way towards Vernon's office. He sat down to await his punishment. He could still see what he had done: poor Larry Lester screaming and bawling like a baby, his skin raw and red. He couldn't imagine that poor kid having to go home and explain what had happened to his Dad. That he, Andrew Clark, was responsible for the whole ordeal. The humiliation Larry had endured just now must've been unreal.

Andrew lowered his head, feeling tears prick his crystal blue eyes. Sniffling, he tried to push them back. He kept hearing his father's words about how weak he was.

Andrew! You're weak! You've got to be Number One! I won't tolerate any losers in this family!

That son of a bitch! It was HIS fault! He was the one who told him it was OK to screw around. He did and this is what happened. He caused unneccessary pain and suffering to some poor innocent kid because of what? Because he had to prove himself. Because he wanted to be cool. He couldn't believe how fucking stupid he was.

"Andrew Clark!" Vernon called as he arrived at his office. "Let's go!"

The athlete got up with a sigh of remorse and trepedation as he entered Vernon's office. The vice principal sat at his desk, staring at the varsity letterman who disappointed him. Andrew couldn't even look up at the angry face of Vernon, but he could sense that he was in deep shit.

"What you did was absolutely disgraceful, Clark," Vernon said disgusted. "I expected more from a varsity letterman."

"I'm sorry, sir," Andrew replied ashamed.

"What you did would be considered grounds for benching and banishment from the team," Vernon said. "But Coach Whitaker said the championship is coming up in a few weeks. And given you are Shermer's star athlete..."

Andrew was barely listening to Vernon's stern lecture. All he could hear was Larry screaming. His humiliation. How he was crying. He was trying to figure out a way to apologize for such a despicable thing he did. There was no way. Nothing could take this back. He had scarred Larry for life.

"Clark?" Vernon said. "Are you listening to me?"

"Sorry, what?" Andrew said, shaking his head as he snapped back to reality.

"I said you are getting detention Saturday, Clark."

"Saturday, sir? But my meet..." Andrew protested.

"You can miss one meet, Clark. I have spoken with Coach Whitaker about this and he has agreed to let you miss it. Consider this a fair punishment than being benched from wrestling the rest of the season."

"Yes, sir," Andrew said softly, still feeling the guilt clawing at him.

"Good. Now get out of here," Vernon said, handing Andrew a detention slip.

As Andrew went back to the locker room, Larry was gone. His jock friends were gone. The screaming still echoed. Andrew changed out of his gym clothes and headed to class. His parents were going to be so disappointed in him that he got detention. Especially his old man.