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You punch the bag, uncaring if it hurts your hands. They aren't wrapped anyways. None of it matters if you’re still a girl at the end of the day, still seen as something feminine. Don’t get it wrong, you like women, womanhood is cool as fuck, just not on you. You wonder if there’s a word for the way that you are feeling. Are you just a fag or are you something else, something worthy?
With a yell, you hit the bag again, uncaring of the way blood splatters on your knuckles. It makes you feel more manly, stronger. People are always making fun of your strength til you wrestle them down and punch them in the face. It’s funny, how they always end up under you, begging for a mercy you’ve never given.
No one ever has any proof of what you’ve done, always out of school grounds and never in places that could get you found out. You’re mom knows and she doesn’t care, always a smile on her red painted lips when she sees a bitch beat up for being well- a bitch. If you were a woman you’d want to be like her; well you are a woman (no you aren’t, everybody knows that) but she’s cooler than you are.
You stick to baggy flannels and too big pants and hide your chest as best you can and (everybody knows that if you aren’t a girl then you’re definitely a fag, or maybe a transexual) it doesn’t matter, not really.
“Wow, you’re really fucking that up aren’t you?” You know this voice, this drawling mean voice. Billy Loomis.
“Can I fucking help you Billy?”
“Come on pretty boy, that isn’t the way to talk to your best friends.” There’s Stu Macher, following Billy around as always.
“I wasn’t aware that you two are my best friends,” You say wryly.
The three of you have a sort of history. Been friends since before you were talking, thick as thieves. You found them fucking one day when you popped over to Stu’s for a visit. Billy had held a knife to your throat then, made you promise not to tell anyone or he’d gut you. You know he would, but he’d hold you as you died and that was enough.
“How could I tell anyone when I’m-,” You stop there, too aware of your audience. Two boys fucking isn’t exactly acceptable but it’s better then being a transsexual.
Billy looks at you for a moment, really looks at you and suddenly you are in fear for your life. He knows you have a secret now, a secret that you haven't told him. It’s the equivalent of being on your period around a shark.
“Awww sweetheart,” Billy coos, uncaring that neither he or Stu are wearing clothes, “you can tell me. What is it pretty girl?”
“I’m not a girl.” you snap sudden and afraid, ready to lose your two favorite people over this, ready to be completely humiliated for it.
“I know,” Stu says, with as little tease as he can get, which is still teasing. “You aren’t really that subtle.”
You don’t hesitate, tackling him even though he’s naked, wrestling him to the ground.
In the background Billy laughs, yanking the two of you apart after you’re both bloody.
"Watch it,” Billy warns, spinning a knife in his hand uncaringly.
You hiss at him because you’re exhausted.
Stu looks between the two of you and yanks you away from the punching bag. “What the fuck happened to your hands? I thought you knew better than this monster.”
You bristle, can’t help it, feel angry, can’t help it.
“I’m fine,” You spit and Stu fixes you with such a look that you flinch.
“Do you think I’m fucking stupid?” He snaps, and grabs your hand, staring at your bleeding knuckles. “You did this,” He shakes your hand, “for a reason. So what is it?”
You don’t look at him.
“Fucking fine. Let's go.”
Billy takes a look at you and grins. “You’re in for it now.”
Billy and Stu have always been possessive but they’ve never cared when you beat someone up, so why is this different?
They take you back to Stu’s, neither speaking the entire drive.
It’s only when all three of you are in Stu’s room that Billy speaks. “What were you thinking? You’ve been fighting your entire life. You know how important wrapping your hands is.”
It’s clear that they’re expecting an answer. “I don't know, okay. I jut fucking can’t stand being called a girl today, fucking hearing that name all day long.”
Billy considers, says, “Pretty boy, look at me.”
You look. It doesn’t feel like another option.
“You’re still a guy even if people don’t know you are. Hell, you’ve beaten up enough people to be a man.”
“I wasn’t aware that beating up people made a man.”
Stu laughs, “So what if you’re a transsexual and a faggot. We don’t care.”
You whack him on the shoulder, secretly pleased. “Says the other faggot.”
Billy yanks you down onto the bed with them. “Exactly what Stu said. You’re ours and that’s all that matters.”
“Maybe,” Stu trills, elongating the words, “We should remind him why he doesn’t get to hurt himself. If he wants to get hurt he should be coming to one of us.”
They have girlfriends, you remind yourself. They're joking, you tell yourself. It doesn’t matter, you beg yourself to remember. At the end of the day they’re still assholes.
Suddenly there’s a mouth on your mouth and you don’t care anymore. Billy kisses like he’s trying to suck the soul out of your body, trying to claim you from the inside out. It’s the clack of teeth and him biting down on your lip. It’s everything.
You’re being yanked away and you go to snap a protest, a question, a plea, anything but then Stu kisses you. Stu kisses like it’s a game, coaxing your tongue into his mouth, sucking on it gently. You shiver, trying not to grind on his leg.
“It’s okay baby,” he says into your mouth, “You can grind on my leg all you want.”
You don't know how he knows what you want but you take the invitation anyways and let him position his thigh between your legs. You grind down as hard you can, electricity racing up your bones like it belongs there.
“I’m going to suck you off now.” Billy tells you, yanking off your loose sweats. You’ve been wearing boxers lately, ones they gifted you. Come to think of it, most of your more masculine clothes, they gifted you.
They were the ones that convinced you to stop shaving, the ones that cut your long hair short, the ones that did your first stick and poke tattoo.
Someone yanks off your boxers and Billy puts a mouth on your clit dick and sucks lightly. You scream, the feeling too much and not enough at the same time. You need this, it’s everything in the world.
“That’s it, pretty boy, I know you can take more. Billy’s good with his mouth isn’t he?”
You nod helplessly, and Stu shakes his head, “Words prince, I wanna hear ‘em.”
“So good,” You moan, and then he grazes your dick with his teeth. That has you thrashing, crying, needing it so bad that it hurts.
“Please please please, I need it, please Billy.” You babble, nearly sobbing in Stu’s arms. “What do you need baby?” Stu asks you teasingly and you shake your head helplessly. You don't have any words.
Billy looks up at you, dark eyes amused. “That’s it pretty boy,” Stu croons, “just a little more okay?”
You nod. You’d give them anything right now, do anything for them in exchange for a good orgasm.
Billy keeps sucking, the feeling too much and not enough all at once, you don’t know how to handle this, but you need it. Stu squeezes your hand and you let him, trying your best to hold on.
“Come baby boy.” Stu whispers, and with a scream that borders on violent you do, body tensing up and letting go.
Billy sucks you through it, only coming up when you’re through the aftershocks and it’s about to hurt.
“About that punishment,” He says and you groan.
Tomorrow you’ll deal with the so-called punishment that they have set out for you but for now you relax in their arms and breathe, content in your masculinity.