BULLIED

by Belly Boy

And it was only after the three bullies had been tossing me back and forth, two holding me while the third pumped punches into my pot belly, for what felt like forever. And I saw the three girls sitting idly, watching, with a secret sort of fascination under their outward hauteur, the spectacle of a big, potbellied wimp getting his stomach beat up, and suffering elaborately from it.

Only after the toughs had picked me up by the arms and legs, lifted me, hoisted me so my belly hung down, and started uppercutting me in the stomach with their free hands, did the one girl get up and slowly, affectionately, tell the boys it was going too far, and they'd had their fun, and it was time to move along before someone wandered by and heard me OOF-ing like that.

And the boys drop me and go and leave me with the goddesses.