The Subjugation of Rembrandt Logan Chapter 1: The Cat and the Mouse  

A near miss.

“Watch where you’re going, asshole!” The rider screamed at him after nearly colliding with him on her dirtbike. It was black with a green stripe that read “Monster” on it. A quick look back revealed the rider making a rude gesture with her gloved hand before vanishing around the corner.

Rembrandt made a mental note to avoid her as best he could. He didn’t want to have any drama on his first day of school. His first day of highschool and his first day of school period. His fingers trembled as he enter the school among the flood of similarly minded students. He’d never been around this many people before in his life. It was intimidating, but at least he had three years to get adjusted.

His morning started out decent enough. He made it through his classes and orientation without making any waves. The lessons were easy as the teachers gave light assignments and review material for their first day. The hardest assignment he had was finding the book for required reading by next week. He’d ordered it express on amazon right as the class had ended. So far so good.

Lunch came and he ate alone. There was a free spot in the back no one was sitting at, probably because it was close to the kitchen and the smell indicated that whatever the chef’s inside were up to it wasn’t making food. Rembrandt didn’t mind. He liked being alone. It’s what he was used to.

Last period came and it was gym class, his worst subject. Rembrandt was not an athlete in any respect. He was short for his age which was a problem in the world he lived in. A world with living giants that dwarfed him beyond reason. If things hadn’t changed so much he doubted he’d bother with school at all because of it. Not only was he short even for others like himself he was also weak, both physically and in constitution. His arms were slender, his chest smooth. His family teased that he looked like a girl with his soft features and pale skin. He also suffered from more allergies than you could name and asthma to top it off. He did not look forward to this class. Thankfully he had a reprieve. It the first day and he was not expected to have proper gym attire. Instead the coach handed out locker assignments and declared the day over.

Rembrandt decided to seek out his locker with his free period. Many students had the same idea, and his class wasn’t the only one to get out early. He hugged the sides of the hallway and made his way to locker 13-C while wading through a forest of legs. He got a few glances from the more curious students but most didn’t pay him much attention. His locker was at the bottom of a three stack. It had to be there. He’s sure some eagle eyed faculty member noticed his unique status and noted it on his transcripts. He would’ve dreaded the hell involved in being assigned a higher one, being forced to rely on the ogres around him. He fished out a folded piece of paper that had his locker combination on it and fiddled with the attached lock. He pulled on it but it didn’t open. Maybe he put the number in wrong? He looked back at his paper when the air escaped from his chest. He felt his body fly sideways and land roughly on the linoleum floor with a whining squeak from the friction of his face streaking against the smooth surface.

His ears rang as he struggled to gain his footing. A dense pain ached throughout his side where he had been hit. He lifted his buttoned up shirt to find a small bruise just below his ribcage that was tender to the touch. As he struggled to regain his footing he looked up to face his mystery assailant, and up, and up, and up, and up. Ten plus feet of up by his estimate. One of “them”. It was a young woman in tight jeans and a red and black leather jacket. She had tanned skin that bordered on brown and hair that was a auburn-blonde.

She was talking casually with another girl a fraction her size but still taller than him by a wide margin. That girl was thin with a heavy sweater and plaid skirt. She had paler skin, almost as pale as his and similar dark hair only straight and much longer. It went down to her hips. Neither girl even acknowledged him.

“Excuse me.” said Rembrandt as he looked toward the towering woman exspectant only to be ignored. He tried to push past the jean clad legs and black boots of the taller one only to be pushed back again even rougher. The girls shared a laugh before the shorter one walked off but not before giving him the briefest of glances and shrugging. With her gone he thought he might have a chance to get to his locker, he stepped forward only to find himself kicked in the gut by the wide toe of the boot. He was now on his back as the the girl turned slightly and he saw the pattern of her souls and the logo of L.L. Bean before it pressed hard into his sternum, pinning him to the ground. He tried rather pathetically to move the boot but of course he failed. The girl looked well built and her legs were thick and strong. She was easily twice his size and then some, probably closer to 11ft than 10. She opened her locker and placed something inside before her phone buzzed and she buried her face in that. Within moments she was texting.

Rembrandt couldn’t believe this! He was completely taken aback by this woman’s casual dismissal of him. He knew he was nothing to a titan like her and clearly she knew it too.

“Get off!” he yelled but the titanic woman was deep into her phone’s screen by this point. She saw something that made her eyes light up and started typing in earnest. The phone beeped and she laughed audibly.

“Please, get off!” Rembrandt tried to no avail. The girl just kept on texting.

He swivelled his head frantically in search of aid. Surely another student wouldn’t just sit by and watch as he was mistreated like this! There was not another student in sight. The hall was empty. Rembrandt felt tears forming now but held them down. He tried re-adjusting his position but his squirming only seemed to encourage the boot to apply more pressure to his sternum! At this rate he was sure something would crack! The phone beeped again. He heard the shuffling of her jeans as she put it away and then the locker slam shut. Finally the pressure was released and he took in a deep breath coughed. It hurt. He struggled to his feet and found his face came well below her head, her chest, her hips. He was face to thigh with her. He had to crane his head back to see her face and found only a sneer of contempt and annoyance. They met eyes for a moment but Rembrandt broke instantly turning his head. He heard her chuckle at that. Then he felt fingers around his throat and even more at his shirt collar. He was lifted abruptly and pressed hard against the locker. Finally face to face with her.

She had a scar. A deep on down the middle of her right eye that even brow her eyebrow. She narrowed her gaze at his staring, growling and baring teeth that were remarkably white.

“He gulped.”

“I’ll only say this once, bitch.” She warned in a raspy voice that was breathy yet intimidating. “When I’m here, you wait your turn like a good little mongrel. Clear?”

“Crystal.” Rembrandt uttered.

“That’s my name!...Don’t forget it.”

Rembrandt nodded.

Her scowl turned into a smile that was equally frightening. “Good.” she dropped him letting him fall nearly ten feet and collapsing on the floor.

Rembrandt was left in a heap, bruised, battered, and embarrassed.

Rembrandt returned home shaken, and confused. He went straight to bed neglecting the few assignments he’d received. This was not how he’d imagined school going.

The next day began in earnest. Rembrandt made certain to avoid both the roads and the parking lot to lower the chances of running into that biker again. He headed straight for the administration office and submitted a request to change lockers. He was put on a waiting list. The first major hurdle he had to deal with were his books. He’d been assigned textbooks and like most textbooks they were heavy. For most students this meant nothing. The average person could carry ten textbooks or more easily in one hand. For him specifically hauling these books around all day was impractical, which is why students were allowed lockers in the first place. Of course he didn’t want to run into Crystal again so he shouldered the burden anyway.

By third period his shoulders were sore from the weight of his backpack pulling down on them. Not only that, but for some of his classes, like chemistry backpacks weren’t even allowed inside to prevent equipment theft. This forced him to leave his backpack outside which unsettled him since he kept most of his belongings in there and leaving them in the hall unattended just screamed “Please, steal me!” in his head.

By lunch period he had decided he would need to visit his locker. The fear of Crystal still loomed so he had to be quick and quiet. He scouted his locker long after the lunch bell had rang and students had dispersed to the cafeteria and beyond. He fished out his locker code and made a note of it in his mind. He took a deep breath and with fast and efficient movement he managed to unlock it and store his belongings. He let the breath go. Safe.

Rembrandt’s next major challenge was gym. Being only a day he had yet to acquire a doctor’s note, not only that but gym clothes had indeed been prepared today, thus he was made to suffer great embarrassment by changing in the boys locker room.

He wasn’t a manly man by average standards, but compared to the truly adonis physiques on display he was practically a woman by comparison. Not only that but because of the extreme height discrepancy he was forced to endure changing among a forest of dongs bare or barely confined by their owners preferred choice of boxers vs briefs at head level or above. Emasculated didn’t begin to describe the inadequacy he felt. He scurried to a corner of the room to try and obtain as much of an illusion of privacy as he could.

He removed his dress pants and folded them neatly. He’d only just fit one leg through his gym shorts when he felt a sting on his rear end.

“Nice, ass!” one of the boys said. He was broad shouldered and blonde. He had a strong cut to his jaw and impressive muscles even for his kind. Rembrandt could guess by his body and attitude he was probably on one sports team or another. He bared a proud grin as he eyed Rembrandt up and down.

Rembrandt backed away tripping over himself in the process. A number of the boys laughed and whistled at this. He fidgeted up and struggled to get his shorts on. They were baggy even with him pulling the drawstring tight.

“Perhaps you’d prefer a girl’s pair?” The jock chuckled.

Rembrandt ignored him as best he could and put his shirt (also too big) on. He tried to brush past him but was stopped.

“Name’s Jerry.” said the robust jock. His hand was almost as large as Rembrandt’s torso and he was taking more than his fair share of liberties with it. “My guess is you ain’t much for P.E. Just stick close to me and you’ll be fine.”

“No, thank you.” Rembrandt said weekly trying and failing to swat away the meathead’s molestation.

“Alright, no more loitering!” bellowed the deep voice of the male coach from yesterday. “Hustle out to the blacktop all of you!”

Jerry and most of the boys jumped at that and hustled to finish dressing, which allowed Rembrandt a moment of escape.

A standard physical fitness assessment was the plan of action for this class. The coach recited a number of basic exercises, jumping jacks, push-ups, sit-ups, pull-ups and the like. He also handed out clipboards and a printout to record your results. There would be regular assessments throughout the year and as long as you managed to improve in some way by the end of the year you would pass. They were told to pair up and then released to disperse.

Free to approach his mandatory physical exertion as he pleased Rembrandt made an effort to avoid pairing up with Jerry or anyone too tall in general. He hoped to find someone like himself. He was a rarity to be certain but not endangered, not anymore anyway. Surely there was someone at least close to his modest 154 centimeters. (5’1). He’d even take a girl if he had to.

His plan failed. He could see Jerry in the crowd and the overly familiar jock was making a b-line right for him. Rembrandt fled as best he could to evade him. He needed a partner now, height be damned. Anyone would be better than Jerry. He found a pair of bare legs attached to light blue sneakers.

“Please, partner up with me!” he shouted at them hoping their owner heard him.

“Sure, mongrel.” He heard in a raspy voice that sent a shiver down his spine. He trembled as he craned his neck backward to see the darkened face of Crystal looking down at him. She grinned.

102, 103, 104, 105, 106,. Rembrandt continued to count in his head as Crystal pulled up on the bar. She’d past 110 without breaking pace, by 199 she stopped not from exhaustion but boredom. She dropped down off the bar with a loud thud that kicked up a cloud of sand. She wiped sweat off her brow with the end of her shirt exposing her tight diamond cut abdominals.

“How many was that, bitch boy?” She gruffed out.

“O-one-ninety-nine.” Rembrandt stammered.

Crystal jumped up on the bar and casually pumped out one more. “Your turn, mongrel.” She barked.

There was a problem however. The bar was too high for Rembrandt by a mile if it was a meter. She gave him a glare and he tried in vain to jump up and reach the bar.

She laughed audibly at his struggle which caused him to turn his head in shame. She didn’t seem keen to offer up any help and he wouldn’t ask for it. Instead he chose to try and shimmy up the post of the bar. This took a considerable amount of time and energy to do and by the time he was able to hang from the bar itself he was spent. He tried once to do at least one pull up but his body failed him and so did his grip. He tumbled down and ate a mouthful of sand for his trouble.

“That’s 200 for me and a big fat 0 for you!” Crystal cackled. “Pathetic.”

This was only their first exercise.

The rest of the class went much like the first. Crystal providing exemplary, eclipsing, performances that trivialized anything Rembrandt could put up. Crystal was not a gentle partner either.

Rembrandt had feared pervy molestation and emasculation from Jerry. From Crystal he got that and pain. When doing sit-ups she nearly crushed his ankles while spotting, during his push-up attempt she stepped on his back with enough weight he thought he’d be crippled making even one push-up an impossibility.

During the run he was abandoned completely while Crystal sprinted off with a speed of a thoroughbred. This made his job harder as he was sure she expected him to keep the number of laps she’d done in the provided fifteen minute limit. He sighed and dismissed that for his own. Running was the one thing he was decent at.

By the end of it Rembrandt had managed to do two laps of the course with came in at a little over a half mile in fifteen minutes. That wasn’t bad for someone like him even it was nowhere close to the numbers his peers could put up which was probably in the double digits by minimum.

He was utterly spend now. Rembrandt laid collapsed on the field of the school as he panted to catch his breath. He recorded his time when the shadow of Crystal cast over him.

“How many laps?” she asked.

“Two.” he replied.

“Not you, idiot! Me!” she hissed at him.

“I-I...I don’t know.” he admitted. What did she expect of him? It would be impossible to keep up with her while trying to record his own.

“Useless!” She spat snatching the clipboard from him. “You’re lucky I remembered it myself or you’d be slagged right now!”

“I’m not your slave!” Rembrandt snapped.

Crystal eyed him hard. He held his resolve. If he was going to be bullied he wouldn’t just sit back and take it without putting up something.

“For now.” Crystal chuckled before shoving the clipboard into his gut. He’d only done two laps, she’d done over twenty.

“Get a good look at your partner today!” The coach bellowed. “They will be your partner for the rest of the year!”

Rembrandt’s blood ran cold.

He decided to wait until the rest of the class had dressed to enter the boy’s locker room. There were still a few stragglers since it was the end of the school day, but at least Jerry had left so that he could dress in some peace. He still got more than a few curious looks of very baser intentions but he could ignore those. He’d spent most of his life being objectified in some way or another and didn’t expect that to change in highschool.

Finally the school day ended but it hadn’t seen fit to finish tormenting him yet. Crystal was waiting for him.

He remembered his yesterday and waited patiently for her to finish at her locker like instructed. She was talking to that same girl from yesterday who occasionally peered at him with little regard.

Rembrandt tried his best to tune out their conversation as best he could. Something about books and a school event coming up. Apparently Crystal also owed her a bit of money her friend had decided to forgive earning a grateful hug. The Crystal who talked to her was unrecognizable to the one he’d known so far.

Soon the girl walked off again and Crystal turned back toward her locker and continued to waste time. In total he’d been waiting nearly twenty minutes since getting to his locker to actually use it.

“So the worm can learn.” Crystal said finally stepping aside and allowing Rembrandt access to his locker. “It’s Remmy right?”

Rembrandt didn’t answer. He wouldn’t engage with her if he didn’t have to. Why even bother making conversation since she seemed to detest him so severly.

“You were right to avoid, Jericho.” She announced unprompted. “Fag’s a real bottom buster. He’d chew that tight ass of yours alive.”

Rembrandt flinched at that. He suspected such but it shook him to have his worries so bluntly validated. He didn’t respond to it. Crystal was clearly teasing him.

“Although?....You’d probably enjoy it!” she giggled. “You look like quite the queer boy yourself.”

Rembrandt grit his teeth.

“I hit the nail on the head, Remmy?” She sniped. “The cock head!”

“It’s Rembrandt.” he replied quietly.

“Speak up, bitch boy!”

“I said it’s REMBRANDT!” he shouted loud enough to echo throughout the empty hallway. “Not, Remmy!”

He was snatched and pinned against the locker just like he had been the day before.

“Don’t you dare ever raise your voice at me again.” Crystal seethed into his ear. It was a cold, quiet threat in contrast to his yell and what he’d expected from her. “I’m half tempted to just let nature run its course on this. See you turned out and dumped.”

Rembrandt stared daggers at his tormentor even as she choked the air out of him with her grip on his throat. She moved in close to his face and inhaled through her nose. She quivered for a moment at the smell of him.

“No, no, no.” She said to herself. “That would be a waste.”

She dropped him.

“Hurry up and get your shit!” she ordered.

“Don’t wait up for me!” Rembrandt rasped back.

Crystal palmed her forehead with a frustrated laugh. “You’re really naive, huh?”

Rembrandt said nothing.

“Since you don’t seem to know anything, let me inform you, Remmy. You’re marked.”

“Marked?”

“Everyone’s biding their time to get at the new kid and the only reason you haven’t been pounced on yet is because I got to you first.”

“No you didn’t!” Rembrandt snapped. “The only thing you’ve done is be a complete bitch to me!”

“It doesn’t really matter what you think.” Crystal revealed. “It’s happening with or without your knowledge. So here’s the deal. Stick with me and I’ll keep them off your back! In return you do what I want, when I want.”

“No deal!” Rembrandt rejected. “I’m fine on my own. I always have been.”

“I can respect that.” Crystal said. “You have more of a spine then I thought. We’ll see how long that lasts you.”

Rembrandt finally retrieved his things and shut his locker.

“My offer remains open.” Crystal said as he began walking off. “Just know this, the longer you wait, the rougher it’s gonna be.”

“Whatever.” Rembrandt said storming away.

Crystal took in the view. Remmy really had a nice body. Just her type. He was slender with hips wider than a boy normally did. It was a unique look that was hit all the right notes for her. She felt a tingling in her loins. Soon enough he would be hers. He just didn’t know it yet.