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JD and Jason Redux

copyright 2021 comidacomida

Life was a lot different when I was a kid-- Christ, I sound like an old man already. Either way, things weren't the same back then which, I guess, is one reason why I have a lot of trouble figuring out why so many people get their pussies in a twist these days with all the 'P.C. shit'. Shouldn't it be enough to just give people some common fuckin' courtesy and not worry about HOW someone says something? Isn't it more important WHAT they say? And don't get me started on cancel culture.

When I was growing up I was one of maybe three white kids on my block. I guess nowadays people would mouth off about 'cultural appropriation' or some shit because I "acted black"... whatever the fuck that's supposed to mean. Fuck, if you think about it, people saying I "acted black" because I was a thug... doesn't that make THEM the racist ones? Fact of the matter is, when you're in a certain situation where survival depends on you being able to blend in. No, I don't mean survival LITERALLY, but I guess there were some times when I was growing up that I feared for my life; I just mean shit like not getting beat the fuck up every day at school, or making it from 10-18 without being a victim.

When you grow up in a place where people are either bullied or a bully, you don't get to choose a third option and I wasn't about to be a victim. I had a solid crew to back me up and we ruled that high school. Everyone at school knew that Jack Campbell was the last mother fucker you wanted to mess with, and that, in my mind, was the best way for it to be. Things changed a lot though during my second attempt at senior year though, when new students started to flood the halls. That year was when everyone who had something lost a lot-- that nasty market crash that you may remember if you're old enough.

Homes were taken away from people, investors lost big, stock market dropped a hell of a lot... pretty much stuff that didn't really affect people who didn't have shit, so for most of us it was business as usual, all except for the new students whose families were forced to relocate to that hellish part of SoCal the rest of us knew as 'home'. That was when all of the families made the mistake of enrolling their soft little bundles of joy in our school, and that was the year I met a Kelpie named Just-Chasing-His-Tail.

A lot of people who don't know better just assume that there are plenty of Dogs in any low income area bordering a big city and, for the most part, that's true, but you can also say the same thing when it comes to Humans. It's one of those stupid, senseless 'duh' moments-- it's like saying "Any area that has a lot of people will have a lot of people in it.". How fucking dumb-- am I right? Anyway, it's true, sure, but what those folks don't get is that, just like you have your Human 'breeds' you also have your Dog breeds, and where I grew up Kelpies weren't all that common... like... at all.

Anyway, the new kid, a Junior, was from one of those families that got caught up in the whole economic crash thing so they did what they could, and that meant relocating to some crappy hole-in-the-wall apartment place in MY part of town, and that meant a major culture shock for their teenage pup, an GOD, was that Dog a 'pup'... he just didn't get any of it. Considering I was who I was back then, though, I planned on making a strong enough point that he would understand the culture REAL quick. Funny how things turned out though, I guess.

I met Just-Chasing-His-Tail in freshman level algebra-- despite having flunked out of pretty much every math class the school offered, they had to find some place for me to be and since I'd already had the class twice before it made sense. Unlike me, a third-times-the-charm student, that Kelpie was in the class as a teacher's aide... probably the only oblivious fuck clueless enough to actually take on that kind of cursed position at my school. He got the unlucky task of trying to help teach me... poor little bastard.

When he was first introduced to the class that year we all got his Green Name, but when it came time for him to provide us a common one he said he'd always been called 'Chase'. Seeing as we already had a Chase in the class, Benny, a kid who always wanted to join my crew smacked me on the shoulder and suggested 'Jason' as a combination of the J from 'Just' and 'Chasin'. Raising my hand like a boss, I said as much, taking the idea as my own. "We already got a Chase. If you're 'Just-Chasin' we'll call ya 'Jason'.

Crazy little fucker started wagging right then and there and, I kid you not, seemed happy about it. At first I thought he was being ironic or sarcastic or whatever but you could HEAR it in his voice when he happily barked out "Sounds great! Jason it is!"

So, Jason... yeah... at first I thought he was one of those "special" kids... you know: 'short bus' special. He was a grade down from me and the guys and they loved picking on him-- came up with tons of names too, and most were a lot less nice than 'Jason'. Can't think of a time they ever bothered roughing him up at all-- he knew his place, and pretty much took whatever they dished out at him. He was a piece of work, really... managed to get through the day without a single comment back at any of em... any of US, really.

I threw a fair amount of shit his way too after awhile... I think more than I did to almost anyone else without involving my fists. I did it because he was a teacher's aide, yeah... but also because I guess I knew he could take it. Sure, most of the other Dogs in the school were Rottweilers, Dobermans, Pitbulls or other Terriers but there was something about that out-of-place Kelpie that left me with the weirdest feeling of-- you know, I'm still not sure what to call it... I guess it just made me feel something different.

Jason was like me in a lot of ways, I guess, but I guess I didn't realize it at the time, or maybe I didn't want to admit it. I knew there was something special about him... some kind of 'thing' that encouraged me to-- no... it MADE me go after him... like some kind of challenge. He was such an unassuming fluffy ball of fur with a pink nose-- an honest to goodness god. Damn. Pink. Nose! No other Dogs in our school had a pink nose and that meant he should have been miserable as the most obvious target for EVERYONE! Why was he so unphased?

Despite spending about an hour with him a day in math class, I wouldn't say that we ever talked. Sure, we spoke, especially since, unlike everyone else, he refused to leave me alone and pretty much made it his crusade to teach me despite my obvious disinterest. He used some of that time to try and strike up a conversation or two but I didn't usually speak to many people other than a 'the boys'. 'The boys' weren't really friends... they were just a group of other bullies I hung out with to make me feel better about beating on people who weren't interested in fighting back. It was another survival mechanism; I spent so much time trying to be a bad ass it didn't really leave a lot of time to let anyone in.

Jason, though... the first time I REALLY spoke with Jason was a different thing altogether. It was a whole year later, and I was part way into my second senior year while he was going through his first one. Our separate PE classes shared the locker room at the same time. It wasn't like I'd planned to speak with him... it was after P.E. and I was in the locker room. The coach made me help put the equipment away because I hit a freshman in the face with a dodge ball... crybaby. Sure, he might not have been playing with the upperclassmen, but the least he coulda done was to pay attention-- crybaby.

Anyway, I was at my locker getting undressed when I heard something. I was plenty used to hearing the cries of the bullied, but it wasn't the usual kind of sobbing though, and it didn't have any pleas for mercy or whining about "oh you're hurting me". It was the kind of crying that I didn't hear very often... the kind where whoever was crying didn't want to cry and was trying to fight the tears back. I knew that kind of crying, because that's the way I used to cry when my mom was unconscious on the sofa after a booze bender and would get angry if I woke her up. I'd never heard anyone else cry like that so you can imagine I'd be a little curious, right?

Although it took me a minute to navigate around the lockers, I discovered Jason was sitting on a bench, face in his hands, naked. I know some schools in the Midwest and on the east coast have separate locker rooms for Humans and Dogs but the utility pipes in the town where I grew up were used to the kinds of fur issues that Dogs bring so ours were integrated-- I'd been in high school for over four years at that point... plenty of time to see a lot of guys naked, Humans AND Dogs. Still, I think walking in on a naked Dog crying was pretty much a first for me. I don't remember exactly what I said, but I think it was along the lines of "uh."

Jason looked up at that, ears raised, focusing on me immediately. The sound of his crying stopped in an instant, though the fur around his eyes was still damp. There was something about that Dog that caught me just then. Whether it was the most intense, golden eyes you could imagine having boring into you, or just the memory of those echoing, choked sobs that I thought would never come out of someone like that Dog, I still don't know... what I did know, though, was that things were not exactly what I expected them to be. He wasn't who I expected him to be... and I had started to wonder if maybe I wasn't who I expected I was either. I remember feeling sorry for him. For the first time in my life I felt sorry for someone other than myself.

He spoke first, but I can't remember what it was he said, but it was something about inviting me to throw more shit his way. Of course, that was the last thing on my mind. I sat down next to him, wrapping the towel tighter around my waist (I HAD been about to change clothes, like I said), and just... talked. I asked him a lot of questions... I don't really think I ever bothered asking anyone questions, at least, not as many as I asked Jason. I was surprised by his answers.

Despite being from a wealthier economic background, Jason came from a home life about the same as mine. From how he described it, his parents weren't just nasty to each other, but they were nasty to him too. But he was from a middle class upbringing so his parents could afford for him to have counseling, and all that other expensive shit that doesn't do anything except teach you how to hide your feelings. Apparently it worked pretty good too, because I never realized how fucked up a life Jason must have had, especially considering he'd lived most of his life as a part of the middle class before getting tossed down into the shit with the rest of us.

He wasn't hard to it like I was-- that middle-class family life had kept him soft. Realizing that life wasn't kind or comfortable over the course of his year 'in the real world' made him realize that life would always involve him getting shitted on, and the only time he ever let it get to him was when he was alone-- when he could let it all out by himself. He made extra effort to reach out to others and to be perfect and happy; he kept his tail wagging and his ears up because, if he could convince others that nothing was wrong maybe he could convince himself. That thought hurt because I realized at that point that he wore a mask, just like I did.

I told him about my home life and I NEVER told anyone about my home life. He listened to it without saying a word, and, when I was done, Jason just said "I know how you feel."... and, god damn it, if I didn't for once in my life believe someone when they said it. There he was, this too-soft middle-class Dog, having dealt with me berating him for a year in math class, the target of a half dozen bullies, able to pass by us in the hall every day without even bothering to acknowledge our insults and threats, but willing to sit with me in a locker room, alone, and talk about stuff like that. I had connected with someone, and that feeling... fuck... that was priceless.

When we had both said what we were going to say, Jason lowered his head and spoke in a quiet voice, "You know... out of that whole group in senior hall I walk by every day, I think you're the only one who ever really bothered me."

Something about that admission brought a certain perverse glee to me; I had bothered him when no one else had. A half second later, though, it created this deep, empty hole inside me once I realized that, beyond anything I had realized during the year I'd been at his throat, I didn't want Jason to hurt. Like me, he'd already felt too much. Jason started crying again right then and there, no longer bothering to hide it. So what could I have done? Well... something pretty fucking out of character, is what: I hugged him.

It was the weirdest thing in the world, this strange sense of comfort that hit me at that moment... it was like I found something that was missing out of my life, but I'd found it once his cold, wet nose brushed across my collar bone. More than just the tickle of his whiskers, I felt like I had more of a purpose than just picking on whoever got in my way... like I had someone who looked up to me... who was worth being strong for. Jason was a good boy, and in that moment, I realized that I would be willing to beat the living fuck out of anyone who would so much as think about making life harder for him.

He and I had both experienced hell in our lives but, unlike me, though, Jason hadn't given up. He was better than me, and I knew that it was my job to make sure that he always was. He looked up at me, eyes still wet, "You know, I thought you were just a huge bully, Jack, but I guess I was wrong. I still can't think of anything that could have spelled it out better for me.

I didn't have the heart to tell him that he was right; a bully was all I ever had been. I couldn't do it, ya know... because around him, I felt like I could be something better. I've also never been really good at words, so I kept it simple. "Don't call me Jack... you sound like a TA, pup. Just call me JD like everyone else."

I didn't fight it when Jason slowly slipped out of my arms. I didn't defend myself when he rested his elbows on my shoulder, and I didn't pull away when his bubblegum pink tongue emerged from his muzzle and daintily flickered across my chin. The Dog gesture was strange but having the delicate, timid expression of fondness tickle my lips wasn't as bad as I thought it might have been; just as reaffirming was the gentle sway of his tail behind him.

He remained kneeling in front of me, his ears lowering as their insides blushed. I could tell he was a little shy about what he was going to say, but he was kneeling, which caused the towel around his waist to part slightly and I could also see a red sliver of flesh peeking out of his sheath arousal on him. "I... I was wrong about you, JD..."

I shook my head, unwilling to accept his admission of fault. "Nah... you weren't. I'm an asshole... but I'm not a blind one. know enough when I see someone that shouldn't have to put up with shit every day at school."

"T-thanks..." he said, eyes glancing back down to the floor.

Despite being a Dog, Jason was on the thinner side and me, being the 6'2", 240 lb wall of stupid muscle I was, it was easy to control him. Reaching out, I took hold of his arm and pulled him a little closer. "That's not all you wanted to say... was it?"

His eyes rose up again to meet mine, and I saw a fire inside him that made me loosen my grip, but not my interest. Slowly releasing my hold, I rubbed my fingers through where my hold had disrupted the way his fur lay on his arm. At length, Jason shook his head, "No... that's all. Nothing else--" but he stopped speaking as I let the towel around my waist fall open, helping him realize via the eight inch truth that he was not the only one interested in things going further.

I smiled at his obvious bewilderment. "You sure, pup?"

There was a time when I would have been cocky about it, but not with him... not with Jason. It was just a question; I wasn't about to force anything on him, but I wished, right then and there, that he would stay with me, and admit to something more. For once, out of all the god damn times I asked for something, I got it.

It was the first time a Dog ever went down on me... but no, I ain't goin' into details, so don't ask. I may be an asshole but I don't kiss and tell... so if you got a problem with that, then fuck off.