Read Story: SEASON 1 EPISODE 1

I lived with my mom until I was nine years old. It was around that time that she developed a pretty bad drinking and drug habit,

found a boyfriend who loved to sell drugs and beat her ass regularly. My dad finally had enough, and stepped in and took me away from her. He was a hard man, who expected an increasingly impossible workload from me. A man that expected perfection. I was an honor student most of my life. I was that kid that was in every single advanced placement class that a student could be enrolled in. I was a three sport athlete. I didn’t drink, smoke or do drugs. I was the perfect kid, and everyone that came around me tried and tried to tell my dad, that he needed to step back…. to be happy with the young man whom he was raising.

People around me noticed that I was the kind of kid who always seemed strung very tight. Being a big kid who was pretty meek! was bullied mercilessly. No one felt bad beating on a kid bigger than them. What they didn’t know was that I tolerated it because it was nothing compared to my home life…

When was eleven, got sick with the flu. I screwed something up one day, I don’t remember what exactly, and my dad came down on my ass pretty hard. I can remember standing in the bathroom of the shitty trailer that we lived in at the time. He was yelling at me red-faced, and I remember I was just trying to not throw up. I remember him asking me if I thought was a big man now, that I could just face him down. I remember the dread that welled up in me as I realized that while was trying to avoid puking had missed answering one of his questions.

He backhanded me through a shower door. I remember hitting my head on the rear wall as I slammed backward. I also remember puking on myself…

The fucked up thing is I remember that as the one clear time that he actually hugged me… When he said he was sorry.

As I grew up I became more and more isolated, and as that isolation grew so did the anger inside of me. It grew to the point that by the time I was a teenager it started to play out in my psyche. I played football, and I wrestled. I excelled in these sports because the rage got to come out and play… Here’s how fucked up I had become, I actually enjoyed hurting people on the field, or on the mat, because it was the only time I could let the stranger out to play, and no one would get angry at me. I craved the approval of everyone around me. It made me an easy target for bullies. I was always the kid trying to make everyone else look bad. The apple polishing brown-noser who went out of his way to look superior. In

truth, I just wanted someone to approve of me.

The summer between my junior and senior year in high school, I finally snapped. Three random guys decided that looked like a tasty mark, and they jumped me in a field about a mile from my house. I was lucky, but I left all three of them bleeding in the dirt that day. Two were hurt badly enough that I worried about whether or not the police would respond, and whether or not I’d be arrested 4:28

for what I’d done. I ran from the three boys I left laying there in the field that day.

I started looking for fights. I went out of my way to get into trouble with people who used to bully me… The problem was, I wasn’t the fat little meek kid anymore. I was 6′ 1″ tall, and two hundred and fifteen pounds of solid muscle, I could bench press 320 pounds. I could squat nearly three times my body weight. I could pick a full grown man up by the throat with one arm. I was an all state football player. I dominated guys in the heavyweight wrestling class that had fifty pounds on me, no one wanted to fight me anymore…

I got increasingly violent as I got older. I started to scare the people around me. My friends knew some of what was going on at home. I think they suspected the rest…..

One day three months into my senior year I came home from school. In my jacket pocket was a report card with a C on it. I sat and waited for my dad to come home from work. He arrived about 8 that night. He came into the house and I could tell immediately tonight was not the night to broach the topic of the C. He was in a mood, one that stated that if fucked with him tonight there was no way was going to enjoy it. Mentally I promised myself that I would show him the grades tomorrow…..

I never got the chance. He went straight to my room, and pulled

the report card from my jacket pocket. How he knew it was there I’ll never know. He thrust it into my face, screaming at me. Something you need to know about a child that grows up with an abusive parent. They get bigger, but the scared child never really leaves them. You beat them down enough and they just cower in a dark corner when things get bad.

I made excuses. I lied. I never saw the right hook that put my head into the drywall. I fell down, crying… for some reason those tears still shame me today. My dad, disgusted that I wouldn’t stand up for myself, left the house.

I decided that night that I had two choices. Leave, or kill myself. This will sound trite after the fact, because I’m not anywhere near religious, but from somewhere I knew deep inside me that killing myself would anger any god that created me. Instead, I went to my room and packed. I shoved as many clothes into a backpack as I could. I took my school books. I hoped that I would be able to be

gone before my father returned. I wasn’t. He laughed at me as I told him was leaving. He told me not to come back that night, that if was going to be a baby about a little punch and walk out, I could sleep outside. At 17, I walked out of my father’s home. I called a friend, and not wanting to be a burden, asked him to drive me to a bar I knew my mom frequented….

My mom was living the life you would expect of a chronic alcoholic. She worked in a bar, and when she wasn’t behind the counter serving drinks, she was in front of it pounding thern. When I showed up she saw it as her opportunity to put one over on dear old dad, and she let me move in. got a beautifully lumpy futon in old dad, and she let me move in. got a beautifully lumpy futon in her living room as my very own. She lived across town from the high school went to, and being three months into my senior year, I didn’t want to leave my school. She didn’t have a car, so she hooked me up with a bus pass… I knew my life was really going places now….

I told myself patiently that just needed to wait it out a few months, Graduate from High School, get a job, and learn to support myself. I realize how selfish I was now

So every morning I got up at 4 am, and caught the city bus to school. Being a small town, the bus routes only ran to the area that my school was in every three hours. That meant in order to be ontime for my first class, I needed to arrive at school two entire hours early. I was terrified my first few times riding by myself… now I realize the giant intense kid in the back was the one fucking with people.

This went on for about three weeks. The grinding monotony of my life. It didn’t really get better, the scenery just changed. My mom put in an effort to stay home for the first few days, and then went back to drinking hard. I was fine with that. I just wanted to be left alone, with the rage inside me… then one day, while walking the halls of my school saw a girl I had never noticed before.

She was short, five foot nothing, about a 100 pounds. Petite, but with curves just where you wanted them. I remember watching her walk by the first time, noticing her piercing green eyes, and her slightly upturned pixie nose. I turned and watched her walk away down the hall, and simply admired the tight jeans that hugged her perfect apple shaped ass. I remember thinking, “that’s the girl I’m going to fantasize about tonight when beat off.” And that’s exactly what I did that night, laying alone in the shitty apartment my mom rented, on my dumpy little mattress.

The next morning was shocked when she got on the bus three stops after me. The devilishly horny fuck inside me laughed about how easy this was going to be, mean come one, we were the only two teenagers on the city bus! She’d have to talk to me! The virgin inside my head however screamed about how she didn’t want to talk to me. Sad to say, but the virgin won out. I never talked to her. I didn’t try to learn shit about her. I just sat there with my headphones on for the next week and stared out the window.

Aching for the moment when she stood up in front of me, so I could see those tight jeans stretched across that perfect ass. She let me stare at her for about a week before she finally came over and simply sat beside me. “Hey, I’m Jacky.” She said to me. I just about busted my load in my pants simply having her talk with me. Her beautiful green eyes looked deep into mine, and she said, “look, we’re going to be here on the bus everyday we might as well talk and get to know each other.”

I was really excited, the happy teenager porn movie started playing

in my head. In my mind’s eye I could see her stretched out underneath me and pumped my throbbing cock deep into her.

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