The Locker Room by january2012
Summary:

Bullies can make their victims in to anything. They can belittle them, insult them, hurt them, or in Brandon's case, make them their seat.


Categories: Teenager (13-19) Characters: None
Growth: None
Shrink: None
Size Roles: M/m
Warnings: None
Challenges: None
Series: None
Chapters: 1 Completed: Yes Word count: 1671 Read: 6616 Published: May 12 2015 Updated: May 12 2015
The Locker Room by january2012

I crept into the corner of the locker room, feeling uncomfortable changing my clothes around the other guys. I took off my jeans and very quickly replaced them with gym pants. I had hoped no one saw, and I thought the same thing as I took off my button-up collared shirt, instead favoring a t-shirt. I was scrawny compared to the other guys, who were mostly athletes, tall and muscular. I was a puny thing, five-feet tall and weighing next to nothing, a total of 105 pounds. I was bullied a lot by the athletes, especially Brandon, a 6-foot tall giant, who more than doubled my weight.

A shadow cast over me and I looked up. Speak of the devil.

“What are you doing in the corner, midget?” Brandon teased condescendingly. “You emo or something?”

Being shy already and intimidated, I looked down, hoping he would throw out some insults and go away. It was not that easy though. I felt a sharp pain in my face and I was suddenly sent into the locker in front of me. I had been slapped straight into the locker, I think. I felt woozy, and Brandon just laughed as he towered over me. He punched me in the stomach, which made me lose my breath and crouch to my knees.

The coach blew a whistle and the students cleared out. Finally, I thought. But Brandon did not budge.

“Uhh, class… started.” I said lowly, hoping this thing could just end.

“This is where the real fun begins,” Brandon said. I gulped. He grabbed me harshly by the shoulders and threw me onto the wooden bench. I tried to catch my breath but it was knocked out of me as Brandon did some elbow-drop wrestling move right onto my neck. I struggled for air, which seemed quite entertaining for the laughing bully. I gripped his arm with both of my hands, but I could not even wrap them around. He was so much stronger than me.

I gasped as he took the weight off of me. I did not have the strength to get up, though. He looked at me and laughed. It was an evil cackle. The six-foot-tall athlete turned away from me and stood over the bench, one leg on each side. My eyes widened as I stared up at his towering backside, and he began descending. His white athletic pants gripped tightly against his ass as he lowered himself onto my chest. I could see my body press down as he let more and more of his weight go into his seat. I kicked around and opened my mouth to yell, but he was blocking my airway.

“This is not even all of my weight,” he said tauntingly. He looked back, amused at my tormented expression. “The rest will be saved for your face,” he said.

I panicked. I kicked more and released a whispered scream, but the sound was one not even someone across the room could hear. He began to move his butt up, scooting himself closer and closer to my face. I gagged when he was on my neck, then suddenly everything went black as he sat squarely on my face.

He sighed relaxingly, as I thrashed around and squirmed my head, which seemed to be to his liking, as he scraped his butt around my face. “Ready for full weight?” He asked and laughed, finally relaxing all his weight completely onto the bench- but more so onto my face. I felt my head somewhat flatten, and I thought I heard my nose crack. My screams were muffled beyond belief and my ears were ringing. As if that was not enough, he continued to press weight onto one cheek, and shifting it to the other, squishing my face constantly.

Brandon leaned forward and I gasped for air, but he sat back down before I could exhale a scream for help. He was merciless as he dropped back down hard, my nose definitely cracking under the weight. “Gotta keep things interesting,” he said, and began to lift his butt up but then dropped back down- hard. He seemed amused by my muffled cry, and the feeling of my face compressing deep into the cheeks of his ass, because he continued to do this. At some point, he must have gotten bored because instead of lifting up a little, he instead stood up, his butt towering high above my face, and dropped fullweight onto the bench, and onto me. His butt smashed hard into my visage, and I cried as I felt my nose smush against my face, surely broken, and his butt sunk deep into my face, filling the sockets of my eyes and sealing my mouth shut.

The next time he stood up there was blood staining his white pants. “That is what I wanted,” he said. I wanted to yell, but I was scared. My face was messy from blood and I feared what Brandon would do if I were to get someone’s attention. I flinched and cowered on the bench, choosing to beg for him to stop, to show some mercy.

He laughed at this, and chose this time to jump up and drop back down, crushing my face into oblivion. His butt was solid, and it hurt a lot. He scraped his butt back and forth at a rather fast pace, wedging my nose into his crack. It smelled of sweat and fart, but that was not the worst of it. After a few seconds of finally sitting still, the athlete gassed me directly onto my flattened nose, making sure to rub it good into my face. The scent reminded me of rotted eggs and sour milk, and I wanted to throw up. I coughed and gagged into his overpowering rear, wondering how he could still be laughing about such a thing. Did he not realize how painful this was, how torturous he was acting? Anyone who might walk in would swear someone shit themselves, and I was getting a face full of that smell.

“Your face seems to be softening,” he said with a laugh. I felt him rotating, and my face was distorted as he spun himself around, until he was facing forward. I could feel him lean forward, the weight of his butt pressing more so on my eyes and forehead than my mouth and nose. He must have been seeing how flattened my head looked. He scoffed, which I did not like the sound of. Was he not satisfied? I heard some buttons clicking a few moments later. Was he texting?

He spun back around. My face felt mingled from all the spinning and crushing, and I began to breath heavily, as he had not stood up to give me breaths for a long while. I was not getting used to the crushing either, as he felt like my skull was going to collapse. However, the smell of his fart mostly went away, a faint acrid odor lingering. I heard the locker room door open. I am saved! At least… that is what I thought at first, but the sound of the door opening was followed up by laughter. This must have been Brandon’s athletic friends. They were not as big as him, but they were still colossal compared to myself.

“Have a seat,” Brandon said, acting like I was some piece of furniture or something. I felt three more butts plop down, one on my chest, the other on my stomach, and one on my crotch. This was absolutely awful, I thought, feeling my entire body compress deep into the bench. The pain was unreal, it felt like my bones were going to snap, and like I was going to become paste, or part of the bench.

Apparently there was one more person. The weight on my face increased drastically, one of Brandon’s friends sitting on his lap. Any cartilage that was intact in my nose had finally given way, and my cheeks and forehead began to creek under the weight. I could not even manage a muffled cry below the extreme weight, guessing there must have been over 450 pounds on my head. The only part of my body that I could move around were my legs, and I could not even more those due to my lack of oxygen.

I felt the weight lift from my torso. They were leaving! Finally! Only they weren’t, and my face began to squash into the hard wood of the bench even more. They were all going to sit on my face! I panicked but could do nothing. I tried to lean my head forward, or shake them off, but I could not even move it. At this point, the back of my skull began to cave as the last friend sat down. They were poorly balanced, being this stacked on each other, feeling Brandon’s butt squish this part and that of my face, trying to keep one position.

They quieted down from their laughter, listening perhaps for any sort of scream, or maybe listening to my creaking skull. Then, they began to giggle. They began to bounce- all of them. The weight on my face was unbearable, Brandon’s buttcheeks surrounding my face, almost touching down on the bench with each bounce. Finally, it stopped, and if I could, I would have sighed out of relief, despite the immense pain I was still in. But then, I regretted letting my guard down immediately, as Brandon let out a silent, long, hot fart right into my flattened face. It was the most disgusting thing ever, and it was choking me. I felt like my eyes were singed, and like the smell of crap would never leave my nostrils. After releasing the full force of the gas, Brandon wiggled his butt around, eventually completely crushing my skull. Anyone that walked it would not see my head, but just my body sticking out of a few boys sitting on top of each other.

“You are going to be my new seat forever, scrawny,” Brandon said, emphasizing “seat” with a squelching bounce.

This is a living hell…

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