Smelly-boy-smelly-boy, Jonothon's a smelly-boy!

I am Jonothon. I am twelve years old, and I am that kid in class who never washes and never changes his clothes. I wear the same skintight cottonshirt every day, and like a pair of thin tights like medieval people wear.

The shirt and the tights are damp and stained off my sweaty body. I'm also kinda soiled at the back, if you know what I mean. My body stinks of B.O. and fish and faeces. My arm pits are smelly. I stink between my hips, like fish at the front, and faeces at the back. I have no friends. Nobody likes me. Everyone thinks I'm a smelly loser.

I get bullied and mocked by the bitchy popular valley-girls, they gossip and giggle about me, about how I stink, about my lame clothes, about how much of a dweeb and a loser I am, and when they see me in the hall they chant 'Smelly-boy, smelly-boy, Jonothon's a smelly-boy!' over and over and over. I still try to suck up to them 'cos I want to be popular and cool, and I'm so in love with the leader Shelly, but they make me feel like a smelly little freak. Slowly and quietly and gently the constant bullying and loneliness spoils and warps my mind.

As my mind begins to break, I begin peeping into the girl's changing rooms, obsessing over the leader of the popular girls, Shelly. My warped mind lusts over her. I begin peeping at them without my tights on. My boyhood yearns for Shelly as I watch the girls change for Ballet.

One day, Shelly is all alone in the changing rooms as I secretly watch her. She looks so beautiful and perfect in her tiny little bando tutu that I cannot resist her. I sneak up behind her and choke her gently but firmly until she is calm and does not struggle.

I drag her into the little girls room and fill one of the toilets with thick, wet logs of boy-soil, lots and lots and lots of smelly brown faeces until it fills the toilet-bowl. Then I make her kneel before it, I bend her over it, I push her head gently, yet forcefully into my soft, brown boy-soil. It gives me such pleasure to push down on the back of her struggling head and watching her face push slowly and firmly into the nice, rich faecal matter. Smothering her beautiful little 12-year-old face. Filling her pretty, pouty-lipped mouth with what came out of my bum-hole. Making her tongue taste and feel my filth. Making her nice blonde curtains all shitty.

I feel so, so powerful. I torture her with it, smothering her, permitting her a few seconds of breath, then back down into the sludge she goes! My pole twitches and leaks with newly-pubescent cravings as she comes up for air and squeals and begs and ...

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